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The Bride Of Spring
Catherine Archer


Lady Raine Had Need of a Husband…But not just any man would do. She required a man of honor to protect her young brother's inheritance. And from the moment she laid eyes upon Benedict Ainsworth at court, she knew her search was over. But her scheming had just begun….Entranced by Raine's breathtaking beauty, Benedict, Baron of Brackenmoore, would have moved heaven and earth for the intriguing lady. Though when she tricked him into a marriage of convenience, he was determined to make her his wife in more than name only…!









“My lord, we must converse on a most important matter.


“I would have you know that though we are wed and I am forced to accompany you to your lands…I do not intend to be your wife in any other sense.”

Benedict’s brows rose in shock. She had come right out and denied him her bed.

“You seek to send me from you?”

She bit her lip with uncertainty, but there was defiance in her eyes. “I do.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You have no right to do so. I am your husband.”

“You will not be so lest you force me.”

He moved toward her, his anger a tight ball in his belly. “What makes you think I would force you?”

Her gaze widened. “I…I simply assumed…”

“I have never forced myself upon any woman—never had to.” His gaze raked her meaningfully.


Dear Reader,

Spring is in full bloom and marriage is on the minds of many. That’s why we’re celebrating marriage in each of our four outstanding Historicals romances this month!

We are delighted with the return of Catherine Archer, who captures the essence of our theme with The Bride of Spring, book two of her outstanding SEASONS’ BRIDES miniseries. Filled with emotion and wry humor, this medieval tale highlights intrepid heroine Raine Blanchett, who, realizing she must marry to protect her young brother, decides to have some say in the groom. She cleverly orchestrates a “forced” marriage, unaware that the man she has chosen, intriguing knight Benedict Ainsworth, will become her true love.

Another heroine who knows her mind is Lady Sara Fernstowe in Lyn Stone’s My Lady’s Choice, in which Sara determines to wed the semiconscious and oh-so-handsome warrior she’s just saved from near death. Award-winning author Cheryl Reavis brings us a powerful story about a second chance at love and marriage in The Captive Heart. Here, a British officer’s wife is imprisoned by her husband, but rescued by a Native American frontiersman.

And don’t miss Tanner Stakes His Claim, book two of Carolyn Davidson’s terrific EDGEWOOD, TEXAS miniseries. It’s a darling marriage-of-convenience tale between a squeaky-clean Texas sheriff and the amnesiac—and pregnant—saloon singer he can’t stop thinking about.

Enjoy! And come back again next month for four more choices of the best in historical romance.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell,

Senior Editor




The Bride of Spring

Catherine Archer





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Available from Harlequin Historicals and CATHERINE ARCHER


Rose Among Thorns #136

* (#litres_trial_promo) Velvet Bond #282

* (#litres_trial_promo) Velvet Touch #322

Lady Thorn #353

Lord Sin #379

Fire Song #426

† (#litres_trial_promo) Winter’s Bride #477

† (#litres_trial_promo) The Bride of Spring #514


This book is dedicated to all of my readers.

Thank you so much for your letters and for making it

possible for me to do the work I love.




Contents


Chapter One (#uba43afc0-cb15-50a9-ad35-2306d716048f)

Chapter Two (#ufb629b4c-2b11-5610-a9d5-e616e45abab6)

Chapter Three (#u36251836-9eb9-5ce9-999c-8e7c72854248)

Chapter Four (#u25325b8d-1f60-55a0-b06b-677d6a56cbbd)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


England, 1461

Raine Blanchett waited among the courtiers gathered outside King Edward’s audience chamber. She, unlike the other finely garbed nobles, was not here to see the king.

Raine was in search of a husband. The knowledge that she must find one soon was beginning to press more firmly upon her with each passing day. Yet the long month she had been at court had seen no development as far as her hope of finding a husband was concerned.

Coming to court had seemed such a grand notion when she had told her brother, William, and their childhood nurse, Aida, of the decision. Arriving here had shown her that even the best propositions are not always simple to carry out in practicality.

Raine was honest enough to admit that it was her own fault that things were not going well. She did not want just any man. A handsome face and a witty tongue would not suffice. She wanted a man who would look after her eleven-year-old brother and his estates until he came of age. She wished for this man to do so without succumbing to an unacceptable urge to “dip into the pot.”

What he looked like, his age—naught mattered but that he would be fair and honest and strong. Strong enough to keep Cousin Denley from thinking he could continue to harass them. In the last weeks before her decision to come to court, his persistent offers of marriage had changed to clumsily veiled threats to force her, should she not come around.

Raine knew that William would not fare well under such as he. It was no secret that the dull-witted Denley wanted to marry her so that he could gain control of the vast holdings her brother had inherited six months ago, when their father died.

The thought of her father’s death brought a now familiar ache to her chest, but Raine refused to give in to her sorrow. She knew her father had wanted her to go forward, to look after her brother and his heritage. Though neither of them had ever spoken of his utter despair after her mother’s death, her father’s dependence and trust in Raine had begun that day. She had the sense that he would want her to do whatever she must in order to see that William and the lands were taken care of. Raine meant to do just that.

When she had first arrived at court, Raine had gone about the usual method of meeting prospective grooms. She had made herself presentable in the beautiful new gowns she and her ladies had fashioned. She had smiled and danced, and tried to seem appealing. The problem was not a shortage of male interest. It was the sort of males she had attracted.

Each of the three that she had taken a particular interest in had ended in disappointment, including Lord Henry Wickstead, whom she had thought far beyond a greed for lands and money at his great age. He, like the others, had proved to be far from her ideal. When she had made an effort to find out about them and their situations, she had learned that each was in financial difficulty and in search of a wealthy bride. It did not seem to trouble them that Raine, though not unprovided for, was no great heiress. It was clear that they looked to all that young William possessed, and rubbed their hands in glee.

Yet precious weeks had been wasted in discovering these would-be suitors’ true intentions. She had realized that she must find some method of learning something of a man without expending great amounts of time. It had been one week ago that Raine had hit upon the notion of going directly into the king’s audience chamber and finding out exactly what each courtier there hoped to gain from him. Surely that would reveal much about a man’s financial situation, at the very least. No one seemed to question Raine’s presence each day, appearing too occupied with his own concerns. Her method had certainly proved efficient, but it also gave her to understand that the task she had set herself was a difficult one.

No one had, as yet, passed this preliminary test.

Only desperation kept her from tucking her tail between her legs and going home. She could not count on Denley to continue to heed her refusals of his suit. Raine feared that he would not hesitate in forcing her to marry him, or worse yet, doing some harm to William in order to inherit the estates. As their second cousin and only living relative, Denley stood to gain all if something were to happen to her brother.

Quickly Raine pushed that thought away. Nothing could happen to William. With their father gone, he was all she had left.

She cast another hopeful, and admittedly desperate, glance over the courtiers who were gathered in the waiting area, then sighed.

It was only a moment later that the king’s steward opened the door of the audience chamber and pushed it wide. He bowed to those gathered. “You may go in now. His majesty King Edward will see you, each in turn.”

As Raine entered with the others she looked toward the dais, where the lavishly dressed Edward was seated, his direct gaze assessing those gathered. Not for the first time she wondered about the young king. There were those who said that though he was endowed with intelligence and sense of purpose, he lacked his father’s strength of character. Raine knew that only time would tell. He was barely twenty. Did he miss his own father, who had died not so very long ago as a result of his efforts to gain this very crown? Or had the responsibilities of his position robbed the dark-haired young man of his freedom to grieve, much as her own change in circumstances had done to her? Looking into the young monarch’s already wary eyes, Raine felt they must.

Yet Edward and his grief, all else, must fade in the wake of her own need to care for and protect William.

The hours of the morning dragged on, and as each man present submitted his case to the king, he removed himself from possible consideration as a husband. Some were married; others, well…they were simply not suitable.

Raine was beginning to believe that she must abandon hope of finding a likely candidate for another day when there was a slight commotion at the door behind them. Though she was very close to the back of the chamber, she could not see the cause of the disturbance over the heads of the men, who craned their necks in order to discover what was going on.

It was only when King Edward stood and smiled with a pleasure and enthusiasm he had not shown in the past that she realized anything of real import was occurring. The young king waved a beringed hand. “Come forward, Benedict.”

Many gazes, including Raine’s, swiveled to follow a head topped with coal-black hair and a pair of very wide shoulders encased in burgundy velvet. The unknown man seemed to fairly glide through the crowd as he went forward with easy grace. Raine raised up on tiptoe, yet could still see no more of this man than his shoulders and the back of his head, even when he gained the dais and Edward reached out to offer him his hand. At the king’s welcoming gesture, those in front of her craned their necks even more in order to see.

For a moment King Edward and the man he had addressed as Benedict spoke quietly to one another. Suddenly the king frowned with concern and stood, drawing him to the side of the dais. There the two men continued to converse quietly.

A subdued murmur of what Raine could only describe as envy rippled through the crowd.

A thoughtful frown creased her brow as she wondered who the newcomer might be. What manner of man could consider himself friend to the king of England? For that was what their relationship appeared to be.

Raine tried to press forward, but could get no closer to the front. The crowd was too dense.

She heard a tall, blond, haughty-faced young man to her right snicker aloud to his equally haughty companion. “Arrogant bastard.” Both were garbed in scandalously short houpellands.

Raine, concealing her own opinion on who seemed arrogant, asked, “Who is he?”

The blond man looked down his long, aristocratic nose, and there was no mistaking the disdain in his voice. “Benedict Ainsworth, Baron of Brackenmoore. He was a great friend to Edward’s father and quite instrumental in aiding him in his bid for the throne.”

Raine nodded, her voice unconsciously weary as she said, “And very well rewarded for his troubles, no doubt.” She had seen much of greed in this chamber over the past days, though ’twas often couched in clever terms and a humble countenance.

The young man shrugged. “Not to my knowledge, though who can say? It is rumored that he and Richard of York were great friends as boys and that Ainsworth supported him out of friendship. But, as you say, it is likely that he did seek some personal gain even if the reward is not widely known.” His face showed how little impressed he was by this Ainsworth.

But Raine herself was intrigued by his disclosure that the man had gained nothing from the crown. Perversely, she found herself arguing the point she herself had introduced. “But as you said, no one speaks of any gain he has made from his support of Richard. Perhaps he simply did do so out of friendship.”

It was only then that the young noble seemed to truly look at her, his curious gaze running over her fine, ermine-trimmed velvet gown and jewels with appreciation. “And what care would you have for such things, my young beauty?”

Raine turned her head so he would not see her roll her eyes at his all too obvious avarice. “I was but curious to know of one who would be so heartily welcomed by the king. Is he wed?”

The young man smiled with deliberate charm. “I think not, but have no care for that. I am Sir Robert Fullerton and I am not wed. I would be most interested in conversing with you on matters more interesting than Ainsworth….”

“Yes, perhaps later at table.” Raine nodded absently, putting him from her mind. She was already thinking about how to find out more about this Benedict Ainsworth, though she hardly dared think—

“Your attention!” King Edward spoke then, drawing her gaze back to the dais. She raised her head to hear what he had to say. He smiled out over those gathered. “I offer my regret to you all, but I really must attend a very important matter at this time. I must ask you all to leave now. I will hold open court again on the morrow.”

Raine felt disappointment wash through her. She had so wished to hear why the man had come to King Edward. Now she would never know, for they meant to send everyone from the room, including her. There was nothing she could do.

She turned with the others to make her way from the chamber. She heard the mutterings of displeasure that came from either side of her and sighed. Clearly she was not alone in her disappointment at being sent away, though she doubted the motives of the others were the same as her own.

Frustration and a desire to try to get one clear glimpse of the man slowed her steps. Raine allowed herself to fall to the back of the crowd. But before she had an opportunity to turn and actually get a look at Benedict Ainsworth the steward was calling for everyone to make haste.

Raine scowled. If only she could make herself small, so small that she could do as she wished and not be noticed. Her shoulder brushed the heavy, red-velvet drapes that hung along the stone walls to keep out the chill. And as it did so, an idea came to her.

Perhaps she could not make herself so small that she was invisible, but she might be able to disguise her presence. Quickly, not giving herself time to consider, Raine ducked behind the drape. She held her breath, waiting for a damning voice to signal that her action had been noted, even as the heavy velvet settled in thick folds about her.

Benedict Ainsworth, Baron of Brackenmoore, faced King Edward with resolve as he waited for the other nobles to leave the chamber. He knew that the decision he had made before coming to Edward would cost him in goods. Maxim Harcourt was indeed dead, and at his brother Tristan’s own hand. There was no denying it, or the fact that Maxim’s own brother, whom no one Benedict knew had ever so much as seen, felt that he was owed some retribution.

Benedict also knew that there had been very good cause for Tristan having killed Harcourt. Yet Benedict was prepared to make the reason for the man’s death known to none save the king himself. That was why he had taken the audacious step of requesting this private audience with Edward, would never beg such favor for any lesser reason. He was not unaware of the weighty glances that were cast his way as the room emptied.

When the last of the courtiers had filed from the chamber, Edward turned to his steward. “You may leave us as well.”

The man looked at Benedict with an assessing frown. Ainsworth said nothing. The steward’s opinion of him mattered not in the least. He had more important things on his mind.

When the steward had gone, Edward swung around to face him with a smile. “Shall we sit?”

Benedict sat in one of the chairs Edward indicated, to the left of the dais. The young king took the other. “You have expressed your desire to speak with me in seclusion. What is it you would like to say to me?”

Benedict leaned back in his chair, looking closely at this young king. He was somewhat like his father in appearance. Whether or not he would ever attain Richard’s wisdom and devotion to England could not yet be known.

Benedict gave himself a mental shake. Assessing the king was not why he was here. “Your majesty—”

The king interrupted him. “Please, you were my father’s friend and seemed like an uncle to me when I was a lad. Do not stand on ceremony now because of that,” he said, gesturing toward the velvet-draped throne beside them. “You may address me as Edward, as you always have.”

Benedict nodded. “I think I must not be too presumptive, your majesty. Your father and I were friends, but that does not mean you owe me any more familiarity than other men. You are king of England now.”

Edward smiled at him. “I am king, but I hope that you will remain friend to me in spite of that, as you would have to my father had he lived to take the throne.”

How could Benedict do other than bow his head in acquiescence? “I would feel privileged to count myself that, sire. But I must keep this meeting upon a more formal footing because of its nature. As I said when I arrived, I would ask a boon of you, my lord.”

Edward nodded, obviously seeing the seriousness of his intent. The grave expression of ruler settled on his intelligent young face.

Benedict went on. “Some months ago, my brother Tristan slew Maxim Harcourt.”

Edward propped his fingers together thoughtfully. “I have had some correspondence with his brother, Alister Harcourt, on this matter.”

“As have I, sire, though I did not know that the fact of his having a brother was more than rumor until the man’s first letter arrived. He is, understandably, angry at what Tristan has done, as you must know from your own contact with him.”

Again Edward nodded as Benedict continued. “Clearly he feels himself justified in his anger, and due to the circumstances, I would not fault him on that. Yet I must tell you, your majesty, that he does not know the full events that led up to his brother’s death, which, I feel, exonerate Tristan.”

“Why do you not then apprise him of the facts?”

Benedict hesitated. “The situation is…well, delicate. You see, it involves my brother’s wife, Lillian Ainsworth, formerly Lillian Gray.”

Edward shrugged, though the name did not seem new to him. Benedict was beginning to realize that the king was not quite as oblivious concerning this subject as he had first appeared. He probably did indeed know a great deal of the facts. Yet when he spoke it was still in that same unconcerned vein. “Harcourt’s letters have contained some mention of this woman and that she was his brother’s intended bride. He seems to be of the opinion that your brother Tristan spirited her away, thus bringing about the conflict in which his brother died.”

Benedict was very glad that he was not attempting to get anything past this young king. Young he might be, but dim he was not. “That is, in part, true. Yet there are mitigating circumstances that, as I said, exonerate Tristan of any real wrongdoing in this.”

Edward sat back with raised brows. “Again I say, why do you or your brother not simply make his reasons known?”

Benedict frowned. “That would mean telling Alister Harcourt a very involved and extremely private tale. He could then relay the story to any who would heed him. Knowing nothing of his character, I hesitate to give him the power over my brother and his wife that knowing their secrets might afford. You see, sire, Lily and Tristan had been lovers three years before her engagement to Maxim, and there is a product of that union. My niece, Sabina.”

Edward leaned forward. “I begin to see. You would not have this bandied about by those he might tell.”

“Aye, sire. Lily and Tristan have been through enough. They had never intended for the child to be born out of wedlock. Due to an accident, Lily and Tristan were separated. When she awoke, she recalled nothing of Tristan or the babe. Her family felt it best to keep her past from her. It was not until Lily was on her way to marry Maxim Harcourt that Tristan saw her and kidnapped her, completely unaware that she recalled nothing of her past with him. Although I would not follow my brother’s method, I do understand his actions. He and Lily did have the prior commitment. Maxim Harcourt was killed in fair combat against Tristan.”

Again Edward nodded. “So what is it you ask of me, Benedict? Do you wish for me to make an explanation to Alister Harcourt that would disabuse him of his perceived grievance with you and your family?”

Benedict shook his head. “As I have told you, knowing nothing of the man’s character, I have no wish to tell him anything of my family’s misfortunes. Neither would I ask the crown to place itself in the position of contriving some excuse for me. What I would propose is that I pay a penalty to him by way of lands and monies. In that way he would feel that his perceived wrong had been avenged in some small way.”

Light dawned in Edward’s eyes. “And you wish for me, as the king, to oversee this transaction?”

“If you will be so kind as to do so. It might then seem as though you had set the penalty yourself. I would also have your approval of the transfer of the land and keep. You would not appear to be showing me any undo favor, as your father’s friend, and I would have no need to explain to Tristan what I am about. He is a proud man and would certainly rather take care of this matter himself, if he knew of it. And would do so quite well, I am certain. I simply wish to see that he and his new bride have some peace in their lives now. As I said, they have faced much to find a new life with one another.” Benedict was not unaware of the slightly wistful quality in his own voice when speaking of their love, and was surprised at it. Though he was very happy for the couple, he had no real desire to experience such an all-consuming love.

Brackenmoore and his family were his passions. And that was the way he wanted it. Perhaps it was the recent wedding and all the joyous emotions around it that had left him with an uncharacteristically romantic bent.

He focused his attention on Edward, who looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. The king smiled. “Have you considered coming to live at court, Benedict? We can make use of such a diplomatic mind as yours.”

Benedict shook his head. “I am much too occupied with running my estates, your majesty. I will leave the life of diplomacy to those who seek it.”

Edward smiled again, this time ruefully, and pulled on the tasseled cord beside the dais. Immediately the steward entered, through a door partially hidden behind the throne. “Your majesty?”

Edward addressed him. “Fetch me a clerk.”

The man bowed and left as Edward rose and moved toward the table near the window. He poured wine from a gold pitcher into two ruby-colored glasses, then turned to hand one to Benedict. “Just out of curiosity, am I prepared to be generous toward Alister Harcourt?”

Benedict smiled for the first time. “Oh, reasonably so, my lord, reasonably so.” He raised his glass to drink.

Raine had heard every word as the clerk came and then went again, though she could see nothing from behind the heavy drapery. The more she heard, the more she wished to learn about Benedict Ainsworth, wished to see him. Yet she dared not risk looking out from her hiding place, for as the men talked she had begun to realize that she had indeed risked much in secluding herself in order to overhear the private conversation of a king.

Few would believe that she had done this in order to discover all she could about a man she did not even know, even if she could explain her reasons to them. Yet Raine did not wish to worry about the possibility of being found out. All she had heard of Benedict Ainsworth had made her even more intrigued by him. He seemed a good, decent man, willing to give up his own property and money to protect the reputation of his brother’s wife and her child.

As Raine listened to Benedict give the specifics of what he was willing to offer, she was again moved by his care for his family. If only she had a man to look after her in that way, someone like Ainsworth! Things might have been different for her if only there had been someone who felt a family affiliation to herself and William.

But there was only Denley, and he cared nothing for them. Of that she was sure. He pretended a great interest in herself, but Raine knew of his longtime mistress, of their children.

He kept them openly at his own home. Raine was somewhat surprised that he would not expect her to have had word of them. Perhaps he simply gave it no thought whatsoever. Many men kept both a mistress and a wife, though not nearly so openly.

If Raine were ever to marry a man with the intention of actually living with him, she would never allow herself to be so blatantly dishonored. If she were not required to wed for the sake of protecting William and his lands she would…Her thoughts trailed down a list of qualities she would desire in a man.

He would favor her with a modicum of respect.

He would be kind.

He would have his own wealth and thus would not wish to take what was William’s.

He would behave with honor.

He would understand the meaning of family.

Again she found herself becoming aware of the two men’s voices. She could not help noting that Benedict Ainsworth’s seemed somehow deeper and richer than the king’s. At the same moment she realized that they sounded closer than before.

Obviously the men were coming toward her. She strained to see through the dense velvet. If only she could give face to the voice she heard! Surely they were too intent on their conversation to pay her any heed. Moving ever so carefully, she peeked out from behind the curtain.

And realized that the two men had moved even nearer than she had imagined and were standing mere feet from her. The heaviness of the drape had muffled the sound of their voices and made them seem farther away. She quickly drew back, but not before she had glimpsed the face of Benedict Ainsworth. It was an arresting face, with kindness, warmth and firmness of character displayed in the smooth wide brow and the slight lines around his eyes. It was also a handsome face, with its pleasantly modeled and strong features, including a regal, straight nose and a pair of intense eyes of a startlingly deep cobalt-blue. Those direct and compelling eyes were surrounded by thick black lashes the same color as his raven hair.

Raine’s heart felt like a throbbing drum in her chest, even though she was sure they had not seen her, for neither had been looking in her direction.

Under no circumstances did she wish to be caught. Again she asked herself who would believe that she had hidden herself here for the reasons she had. Even if they would, she would not wish to admit her motives to either Edward or Ainsworth himself.

At the thought of Benedict Ainsworth, another image of that pleasing face flashed though her mind. In spite of the risk, she felt a compelling desire to look at him again, to see if she had only imagined such an attractive visage.

Benedict and Edward looked up at the same moment as the steward appeared in the door once more. “Your grace, an envoy has arrived with a reply to your message to France. I have taken him to a private chamber as you requested me to do upon his arrival.”

Edward was very suddenly a king again as he replied, “I come.”

He nodded to Benedict, who bowed deeply even as Edward left the chamber. The steward, taking care to pretend that he was not watching Benedict, moved to tidy the glasses they had used.

Benedict turned to go. He was finished here, for the moment at any rate. Edward had voiced surprise at Benedict’s generosity in the keep and monies he would provide to Harcourt’s brother, but he had given his approval to the transfer of goods.

It was as Benedict swung around to go out the far door that he noted the presence of two small, dark green slippers just visible beneath the edge of the scarlet drapery. The fact that the intruder was female seemed apparent and kept him from being overconcerned. Yet he grew very still, and a pensive frown creased his brow even as he saw a pale face surrounded by a cloud of auburn hair appear at the edge of the drape. A pair of golden eyes widened in horror as they met his own.

The face was definitely that of a woman. And an extremely pretty one. Surprised, Benedict started toward her without thinking.

The steward chose that moment to turn back to Benedict. He spoke with just the proper degree of deference, though it seemed obvious that he would prefer for Benedict to be on his way. “Is there something wrong, my lord?”

Benedict halted, his gaze searching the female’s eyes, now filled with panic.

“My lord?” The steward spoke again, more insistently.

Her gaze darkened with pleading even as her hands came up to cover her pink lips. For a moment as he looked into those eyes Benedict felt as if he had fallen into a vat of liquid gold that swirled around him as he floated effortlessly in its warmth.

Something, an urge he could not name, made him close his lips on the words that would expose her position. Instead he cast the mysterious female a warning glance. Her face disappeared behind the curtain again as he turned to the steward. “Nay, I was just leaving. I was wondering if you might tell me where my horse will have been stabled?” Benedict knew it was a poor excuse. Never would he allow the stallion to be stabled without knowing the exact conditions, but the steward was not aware of this.

Benedict waited as the servant moved to join him at the door. He knew the woman could not escape from her hiding place until the steward left the chamber. Still, Benedict did not know why he would aid the unknown woman; he simply could not seem to do otherwise.

The man nodded, saying, “As you will, my lord,” and led him from the room. Although he had a nearly overwhelming urge to do so, Benedict did not look back over his shoulder for fear of giving her away.

Her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, Raine escaped from behind the curtain as soon as the men were gone. Why had she given in to the urge to look at Benedict Ainsworth one more time? She had convinced herself that he would be too occupied with King Edward’s leaving to heed her. She was shocked at her own lunacy. Even more confusing, why had the baron, a stranger, helped her? She could think of no ready answer and could only feel grateful that he had done so.

Now more than ever she felt intrigued by the man named Benedict Ainsworth. Recalling the fathomless depths of his dark-lashed eyes, which seemed far too blue to be real, she felt just the slightest bit attracted to him, as well.

Instantly Raine halted herself, feeling nothing but misgivings over such a thought. She was not interested in him or any other man in that way. She knew what she was looking for and why. Nothing else, no other consideration, must be allowed to interfere in her plans. To allow any other thought was to open herself to possible disaster. William’s welfare must come first and last with her. If there was a possibility that Benedict Ainsworth was the right man to protect William, then she must meet with him, speak with him.

As she considered how best to try to come into contact with the man again, she felt a strange thrill ripple down her spine. There was no denying that he was the most fascinating man she had ever seen, not just because of his handsomely chiseled face or his obvious physical presence and vigor. The man exuded an air of quiet strength that drew her as a cricket is drawn to the scent of rain.

Again she told herself she could not allow such a thing to sway her. That having been decided, Raine felt much easier in her interest in the man. She was doing this for William. With a sigh of resolution, she went directly to her assigned chamber. The very tiny room had no window and one large bed with threadbare velvet hangings that might once have been gold but had yellowed to an uninviting shade. It was not an attractive or even a comfortable room, with its well-worn stone floor and roughly made furnishings—a table and two hard benches pulled close to the narrow hearth, which smoked profusely each time it was lit.

Raine could have been housed with some of the other ladies of the court, but she had not wished to be separated from her brother or Aida.

They looked up the moment she opened the door. Taking a deep breath, Raine informed them, “Well, my loves, I have just seen our most promising prospect yet.”

Predictably, Aida got to her feet and began to pace, wringing her hands. “Dear heavens, Lady Raine, are you sure that this is what you should do? ’Haps we should forget all of this talk of finding a husband and go home to Abbernathy Park, leave things as they are.”

Raine felt herself stiffen. She above all people would like to go home and pretend that everything was well, that they would be fine. That option was not available to her, for Denley would certainly be there the moment she arrived.

Someone had to see to the future, and she was the only one who could do so, no matter how difficult it might be. But they had been over all of this before. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aida, please, let us not discuss it all again. I need you to help me now.”

William, who had been reading a book, laid it gently on the table and fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. “Who is he, Raine? What is he like?”

Being a newborn babe at the time, he had no memory of the terrible months after their mother’s death. Their father had been so deeply lost in his grief that Raine had been forced to act far beyond her eight years. But William did have some understanding of why she was so determined in this now. He had been at their father’s bedside the night he’d died, knew how serious he had been in his request for Raine to look after everything. None of them had ever expected the elder William to go when his son was so very young. Their father had been in the prime of his life, strong and seemingly invincible in Raine’s eyes. The illness that had taken his life had come on so rapidly that none of them could ever have been prepared for his death.

And since that time Raine had not allowed herself to feel her own pain, had taken all her anguish and turned it into an unshakable determination to take care of William as her father wished. Her brother was not a robust boy, though he had a soundness of character and intellect that more than made up for it in her eyes. His physical vulnerability only made her all the more resolved to do what she must.

Quickly Raine told them what had happened in the audience chamber.

Now William seemed as concerned as Aida. “You hid behind a curtain and eavesdropped upon the king of England and this man? Raine, have you gone completely mad? What would have happened had you been caught? You could have been accused of spying or treason, or…”

She went to him and laid a comforting hand upon his arm, her tone contrite. “I was not caught.” She suddenly realized how terrible it would have been for him if she had been arrested and accused of some wrongdoing. Who would have seen to William’s interests then?

“But you could have been. And you say this man saw you? He might still decide to tell someone you had been there.” William’s green eyes revealed concern and a clear sense of his protectiveness toward her, giving her a hint of the fine man he would grow to be.

Raine spoke with a conviction that came from some inner knowing she could not explain. “Ainsworth will tell no one.”

Aida’s rejoinder was filled with fear. “How do you know this, Lady Raine? You just laid eyes upon the man.”

Raine was unable to meet the maid’s searching gaze as she said, “He will say nothing.” That inner knowing seemed only to grow each time she considered the matter. Benedict Ainsworth would not betray her.




Chapter Two


Raine readied herself for the meal with even more care than she had shown on previous occasions since coming to court. She was determined to make herself known to Benedict Ainsworth, and prayed he would appear in the hall.

That she must explain her presence behind the curtain in the audience chamber, she knew. Somehow she would think of something. Her real purpose, that of discovering whether or not Lord Ainsworth would be a suitable guardian for William, was foremost in her mind.

Raine entered the splendor of the great hall with mixed feelings of dread and anticipation. She paid scant attention to the lush tapestries that lined the walls, the dark beamed ceiling overhead or the elegantly garbed courtiers, who crowded about the tables consuming roast meats, stews, fowl of various varieties, fine bread and copious amounts of wine and ale. She did note, though, that Edward was not in attendance at the high table, for his heavy, carved chair stood empty. Raine felt unaccountably relieved at this, though she was quite sure that Ainsworth had not told him of her presence in his chamber.

Her mind was firmly fixed on the matter at hand. The thought that she might actually be nearer to accomplishing her goal of finding someone to give William the protection of his name—a husband—was both terrifying and strangely exciting. It was especially so when she recalled how tall and handsome the man under consideration was.

Raine pushed this last thought away. She could not think about such things. To do so would be to risk allowing them to cloud her judgment about Benedict Ainsworth being the right man to protect William and his lands. And that was all he need do. She had no desire for a true marriage. She had Abbernathy and her brother to look to.

She squared her shoulders beneath the heavy sapphire velvet of her gown and let her gaze sweep the room. When she did not immediately locate the baron among the throng, she took a deep breath and searched again, more slowly. There was no sign of those unmistakable broad shoulders, nor his raven hair.

Disappointment made her own shoulders slump. Even though she had known there was no guarantee of his attendance, she had not actually believed Lord Ainsworth would be absent.

Benedict had considered the notion of joining his men at the inn in which they were staying. There he could dine and drink in relaxed company. He disliked court life at the best of times.

Yet something made him remain at Westminster. He could not stop thinking of the young woman whose presence in the king’s chamber he had concealed. The more he thought about her, the more he knew that he must discover what she had been doing there. Surely he had been quite mad to shield her as he had.

His doing so made him responsible for finding out what she had been about. He wanted no crime against the crown upon his conscience. For that was the only purpose he could imagine for her being there, though for some reason he was fairly certain that was not why she had been.

A sudden notion struck him as he paused in the doorway of the great hall. Perhaps she was infatuated with Edward.

Benedict was surprised at how much this thought displeased him. He told himself it was because she had seemed, even in the moment that he had looked into her eyes, to have an air of innocence about her. She would not retain it long were she to become involved with the king of England. Edward was already known for his way with women.

Benedict shrugged, albeit stiffly, as he entered the crowded chamber. If that was where the woman’s interest lay, the outcome was her own quandary. He meant only to learn if she had been up to some other devilment.

He had no trouble finding her among the throng. Though her back was to him, and he had seen her only once, he would recognize that red hair anywhere. Tonight it was escaping her blue pearled headdress. She was seated some distance from the head table, which implied modest status. Again curiosity gripped him.

A strange anticipation filled him as he made his way among the tables to her side. Benedict stopped beside her and she looked up at him, those golden eyes of hers widening in surprise and, dared he believe it, pleasure. He found himself thinking of his first impression—that she was quite pretty. He realized that he had been in error there. She was far more than pretty with those surprisingly dark lashed, golden eyes. Her nose was straight and aristocratic, her chin firm but not stubborn. Her mouth was pleasingly curved and lovely, and as she began to smile, it turned up slightly more on one side than the other in a way that he thought amazingly endearing.

An odd warmth suffused him and he found himself simply standing there, staring down at her like a besotted calf. His confusion over his unprecedented reaction made him speak with more gruffness than he intended. “May I sit here with you?”

Her smile faded somewhat and a pensive frown marred her brow. “You are welcome to do so, my lord.”

He realized that he had been less than civil, but concentrated on his desire to learn why she had been in the king’s chamber. Once he had taken the place on the bench next to her, Benedict found the proximity to her slightly unnerving. For he could not move without his own shoulder brushing against hers. And each time it did so he knew a far too heady sense of his own masculinity in comparison to her delicate womanliness.

Because of his own disturbance he lost no time in getting to the point. “My lady?”

She looked up from contemplation of her glass. “My lord?”

Again he was struck by the color of those amazing eyes of hers. He looked away, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. He kept his voice low. “I have come here this evening in hope of finding you so that you might have opportunity to explain why you were in the king’s chamber this morn, when he had expressly sent everyone away.”

Her voice was eager as she said, “Oh, of course, my lord. I have no wish to hide anything from you, and I do hope you realize how very grateful I am for your discretion this morn.” Her lids fluttered down over those incredibly beautiful and ingenuous gold eyes.

“Well?” he prodded, not pleased with his thoughts.

She spoke softly. “Firstly, please allow me to introduce myself, my lord. My name is Raine Blanchett.”

He made no reply to this, though he could not help thinking that the name Raine somehow suited her perfectly. He was immediately and unaccountably reminded of the last time he had seen his father. The six Ainsworths had been standing on the docks beside the ship that would take his parents to visit his mother’s sister in Scotland. It had been raining, and his father had reached into his pouch and removed a gold coin. That coin had glistened in the rain as his father said, “Take your brothers about the town before you go home.”

His mother had showed concern. “Should he do so, Benedict? The younger boys can be quite unruly.”

His father had smiled and put an affectionate hand on her shoulder as he’d met his namesake’s gaze. “Aye, Leticia, I trust him to look after them in my stead.”

Benedict had never forgotten that moment, nor his father’s faith in him. He was not sure why the color of Raine’s eyes reminded him of it, or why that was so unsettling.

Raine had gone on at his silence. “Allow me to admit I should not have been where I was. It was completely foolhardy of me. I had hidden behind the curtain because I was attempting to avoid someone who would not cease in his efforts to speak to me and then…” She stared down at her hands. “I could not very well come out while you and King Edward were…What would he have thought?”

Benedict felt slightly uneasy with this almost too earnest explanation. He scowled. “Your words seem somewhat strained to me. I begin to think I may have good cause to go to King Edward on this matter.”

She looked at him then, her eyes wide with horror. “No, please, my lord. I beg you not to do that. I swear on my own father’s grave that I meant no harm to king or crown by my actions. I have no interest whatsoever in any of the king’s business.”

Now Benedict believed. There could be no doubting her sincerity this time. Whatever had brought her to commit such a rash act, it had not been treason.

For some reason he breathed an inner sigh of relief. He told himself it was because he was glad to have had no part in any plot against the king. But he found himself paying undue attention to the way a stray curl brushed the side of Raine Blanchett’s cheek as she looked down.

His gaze moved over her pearl-dotted headdress, then down the sleeve of her matching gown of blue velvet. Obviously the woman was not suffering financial lack. He recalled the fine green slippers she had worn earlier in the day. He would likely never forget the surprise of seeing those unmistakably female feet peeking out from beneath that curtain. He suddenly realized he was smiling.

Instantly he schooled his expression to a more grave one. There was certainly no reason to smile over what she had done. He felt he must warn her to try to think about the consequences of such acts. “I will take your word, Lady Raine. But I suggest you mind your ways in the future. Should I learn you have ever again done such a thing, I will go to King Edward. And make no mistake, my departure from court two days hence will not prevent me from hearing.”

An unfathomable expression of disappointment seemed to pass over her features as he finished. She said only, “Oh, thank you, my lord, you are the most kind and chivalrous of men. I will do nothing to betray your faith in me.”

Her vow, though spoken in a low voice, was so heartfelt he found himself touched by it. He was also slightly overwhelmed by her seemingly genuine flattery of himself. Why, she did not even know him. What an enigma she was, this Raine Blanchett. Benedict realized that his brief acquaintance with her had certainly been interesting—more interesting than any such acquaintance in his memory.

He caught himself immediately. He had no need of interesting things to occur in his life. He was quite busy enough running his estates and caring for his family. It was all he had done in the ten years since his parents had died, and all he wanted to do.

Raine was more impressed with this man by the moment, though his revelation that he was leaving in two days was not encouraging. He had certainly seen through the lie she had told him about hiding from the unwanted attentions of a would-be suitor. Yet he had believed her when she’d spoken of not wanting to bring any harm to the crown. How very astute he seemed.

She could not help smiling with secret approval as she looked up…and saw Denley Trent standing at the end of the room. Her pleasure turned to a groan of despondency. Denley was the last man she expected or wished to see.

Her pained gaze trailed over him. He was dressed in what was obviously a new scarlet velvet houppelande of the type preferred by the more daring of the courtiers. ’Twas short to the point of indecency, and the long dagged sleeves seemed too feminine against his large hands. The lumbering Denley was not made for such fashion.

His very presence was like a weight upon her shoulders. What manner of man was he to follow her here to court? Indeed, where would he stop in his persistence to see both herself and William beneath his thumb?

Raine glanced up at Benedict Ainsworth. How different he was from Denley. Having a man such as him at her side would surely make her cousin reconsider his dogged determination to have her.

But Ainsworth was now talking with the nobleman to his right. Though she had gone to great trouble to make herself appealing, he seemed interested in nothing save her intentions toward King Edward. Now that she had made herself clearer to him on that score he appeared to have lost interest in her completely. And with Cousin Denley having arrived, what was she to do?

Her desperate glance raked the crowded chamber as if seeking some answer to the problem of Denley Trent. In all the weeks she had been at court, Raine had not found one man, other than Benedict Ainsworth, who even appeared to come close to what she was hoping for.

Her gaze went back to Denley. He was looking about as if searching for someone, and even as a frown marred her brow, his gaze came to rest upon her with obvious relief.

Raine sighed with frustration and despair as he then stalked toward her like a bull in a cow pen, resolution written upon his heavy features. She bit down on her lip as she moved to rise. She did not wish to face Denley here, in the midst of this company. There was no telling what he might say about her having left Abbernathy without informing him. He had taken to visiting her almost daily after her father’s death and had surely been shocked to arrive there and find her gone. Especially as she had instructed that no one was to tell him whence she had gone.

Her efforts to leave the hall before he could reach her were thwarted. The benches were pressed too closely about the tables, and with her heavy skirts slowing her efforts, she could not get to her feet quickly enough. Denley reached her side before she was able to extract one leg.

He spoke in a voice loud enough to draw the attention of those sitting near her, including, she noted out of the corner of her eye, Benedict Ainsworth. “Raine, I have been looking for you.”

She glared up at him. “Denley, what a surprise.”

The man scowled. “It should not be so great a surprise. Any man would be concerned about his future bride. You disappeared from Abbernathy without warning.”

Utter and complete frustration colored her tone as she leaned back, putting her hands to her hips. “I am not going to marry you. That is my final word on the subject.”

He reached down to grasp her arm in a tight grip. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course you will marry me. Has some court dandy been filling your head with nonsense? I will persuade him of his error soon enough.”

Raine leaned farther away from him, but there was only so far she could move in the circumstances. She was infinitely aware of the rock solid breadth of Benedict Ainsworth’s shoulder beside her. Denley pulled her toward him.

She knew they were creating quite a display, and kept her gaze trained on that of her nemesis to keep from having to look at anyone else. She must extricate herself from this situation as quickly as possible. This would in no way help her in her efforts to attract the baron.

It was with utter mortification, and surprisingly, an undeniable trace of happiness, that she heard the deep and unmistakable voice of the man she so wished to make a favorable impression upon. “Your pardon, sirrah, this lady does not appear to welcome your attentions.”

Her gaze fixed on his darkly handsome face. He was watching her cousin with disdain.

Denley frowned at Benedict as he said, “I do not see that this is any business of yours, my lord, and would warn you to mind your own affairs.”

Benedict turned to Raine. “Are you bound to this man?”

It was a long moment before she could reply, for the gentle regard in those dark blue eyes seemed to make her heart beat just a bit faster than was usual. At last she replied, “Nay, he is but my cousin. The notion that we are to be wed is purely his own.”

Benedict reached out and put his own hand over Denley’s on her arm. Even as embarrassed and exasperated as she felt, Raine could not help noting that as large as Denley’s hand was, Benedict’s was larger, and more sun bronzed. His fingers were longer and more supple and obviously stronger as they gripped her cousin’s.

Benedict spoke with quiet but unmistakable command. “You will unhand this lady, now. This is not the time nor the place to discuss such matters and you should certainly take them up with her guardian rather than humiliating her in company as you have.”

Denley seemed, for the first time, to realize that they were being closely observed by those around them. He had the grace to flush and let go of Raine’s arm, though the fact that he did so under duress was clear in his angry expression as he stepped back. He sputtered, “As her only living relation, I am her guardian.”

Raine shook her head. “He is not. My father died some months gone by, but did not name Denley as guardian. As I said, he is my cousin, nothing more.”

Denley grimaced at this but seemed to have nothing more to say, since Benedict obviously would not heed him in the face of Raine’s objection. Yet Raine cared nothing for what Denley thought. She had no more interest in him for the moment.

She looked at Benedict, who was watching her closely. His concerned expression brought about a strange fluttering in her chest. It had been many years since anyone had shown such an interest in looking after her. Raine was accustomed to being protector and caretaker to Will, Aida and all the others who resided on the estate.

The sense of being cared for, if only on the most superficial level, was unexpectedly enervating. She felt sharp tears sting her eyes, but she refused to shed them.

She did not need anyone to care for her, but for Will and his inheritance. She dragged her gaze from Benedict, taking in those around them with a wave of mortification as she noted their interest and speculation.

She told herself it must surely be her shame that Denley had brought this public display upon her that made her react with such weakness. Raine knew she could face no more in this moment without crumbling. Again she moved to extricate herself from the table. When Denley stepped forward to help her, Benedict Ainsworth forestalled him by standing.

Raine could do no more than cast Benedict a brief and grateful glance as she at long last freed herself and rose. She was aware of the eyes upon her back, knew that people would be thinking all manner of things. She had heard them speak of the goings-on of others often enough. But she did not run as she so desperately desired to do. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to walk away with her head high.

After a long and sleepless night, Raine knew that she had to act without delay. Denley had traced her all the way to court, had made a terrible scene before everyone within earshot, with no thought to her own feelings or those of others.

Benedict Ainsworth had certainly come to her aid without hesitation, but he had clearly failed to note her feeble efforts to attract him.

Perhaps, she realized with a heavy sigh, he simply did not find her appealing. The thought was not an encouraging one, for how else was she to get him to wed her? She did not require him to care deeply for her. Love was something she had determined to live without when she’d decided to marry solely for the purpose of protecting William.

It was, in fact, best for all concerned if the man she married was not in love with her. Especially as she had no intention of living with him, but meant to go home to Abbernathy as soon as the marriage was settled. There had been a member of her family living at Abbernathy since before the time of William I. She would not be the first to abandon her birthright, but would hold it in trust until her brother was able to take up his own duties. If her husband wished to come to Abbernathy, then he was welcome to do so.

Again she reminded herself that going home could come only after a marriage had taken place, and no husband had yet been found.

For a moment despair made a lump rise in her throat. She was glad that she was for once alone in the tiny room that had been allotted them, Aida and William having gone for a walk about the castle grounds. Raine had no heart for such distractions, and she would not wish for either of them to know how worried she was.

At that moment a knock sounded on the door, causing Raine to give a start. She told herself she was getting far too anxious. Nothing would be gained by becoming so overset that she could not reason clearly. Quickly she rose from the bench beneath the window, taking a deep, calming breath before going to answer it. She had no idea who it might be, as William and Aida would simply enter.

Seeing Denley Trent on the threshold when she opened the door did nothing to soothe her already tattered emotions. Immediately she moved to close it.

Denley stopped her by stepping into the opening, effectively forcing Raine backward. She faced him with bravado, though the way he smiled at her as he came farther into the chamber and shut the door behind him gave her a definite sense of unease.

She pointed toward the closed portal. “I want you to remove yourself immediately.”

He grinned. “Oh Raine, is this the way you hope to win me? By ever playing hard to get?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I am not trying to win you. I wish that you would go and never again darken my stoop. Can you not understand that?”

For a moment Denley seemed uncertain, and she felt a budding hope that she had finally made him see. But his uncertainty was soon replaced by a lecherous smile that she realized he must think charming. He came toward her with outstretched arms. “There is no need to be frightened, Raine. I will not hurt you. I know well how to please a woman.”

Raine found this difficult to believe. Surely in order for that to be true, he would need have more sensitivity than he had ever displayed in her presence. Not that she had any experience with such things, but she preferred to live by her own misjudgment than for Denley to prove otherwise.

But she had no time to discuss her preference now, for he was still moving toward her. The intent in his brown eyes was more than evident.

Trying hard to hide the anxiety that rushed through her in a sickening tide, Raine took a step backward. She shook her head. “Nay, Denley, do not touch me. You cannot.”

He shrugged. “I simply mean to show you that there is no need for so much maidenly fear on your part. Once the deed is done you will see that there is nothing to be afraid of and we can be wed without delay.”

Anger flared in her like a burning torch. “I will not allow you to pretend that you are attempting to do me some courtesy by forcing yourself upon me. If you touch me it will be rape and nothing less.”

He faltered only briefly. “We both know that our being together—our marrying—would be for the best.”

“For you, perhaps.”

Denley did not hesitate again, but continued toward her with obvious purpose. Raine was brave, but she was not a fool. She realized that retreat would be better than valor at the moment. She dodged around him and ran toward the door.

Denley Trent was a big man and by no means light on his feet. He reached out to grab her, getting hold of the sleeve of her amber gown, as he cried, “I have you now.”

But the stitching on her shoulder gave way and she pulled free, losing only a small amount of momentum, as she replied with relief, “Nay, sir, you have not.” She managed to get the door open and race out into the hallway before her cousin could prevent her from doing so.

He followed close behind, though he cast a glance about the hall. She wondered if last eve’s debacle had made him slightly more reticent about creating a spectacle. She could only pray that was so.

“Come now, Raine, need we continue with these childish games?” he whined. “You only put off the inevitable.”

She did not dally about to discuss it, but hurried toward the more public rooms of the castle, holding her torn gown in place. To her relief, Denley made no move to follow her.

Yet as she reached what she considered a safer location, blending in with the milling courtiers in the hall, she knew that she had only effected a temporary solution. Denley had not finished with her. Nothing she could do or say made the least impact on him. He was so set on meeting his own ends that he would not heed her, nor anyone else, and had clearly convinced himself that she was only resisting him out of some maidenly fear of marriage. Clearly he would stop at nothing to see them married, even if that meant he must resort to rape, a scenario she had only suspected before.

Raine knew that she had to do something. The time for indecisiveness was past. Last night Benedict Ainsworth had revealed his plan to leave the court within the next two days, and he was her only hope.

Under no circumstances could she allow William to fall into her cousin’s hands while there was a possibility of doing something to prevent it. The question remained, just how far was she willing to go to meet her ends?

Aida, who had slumped down on the end of the bed as Raine began to tell her of her plan, shook her head in disbelief. “My lady, we cannot do this. What if you are found out?”

Raine stood her ground. “We will not be found out, at least not until it is all over and I am safely married. If we follow the plan I have devised, no one will have time even to question what is occurring.”

The terror in the maid’s green eyes would have been enough to give a less determined woman pause. Raine was not such a woman. “I told you what Denley attempted to do in this very chamber today. You saw what he did to my gown when I broke free of him. I can delay no longer. I must protect Will from Cousin Denley. Father would never forgive me for allowing that madman to gain control of his lands.”

“But, Lady Raine, I do not think…I do not understand how you could ever have the courage to…do what you mean to do. Nor how I can have a hand in this scheme. He is a nobleman.”

Raine rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You really have no need to do aught but get what we need from the castle kitchens, keep William from our chamber for the night and then to shriek as if you’d been cast into the fires of hell when you come into the room in the morning. It is really very simple on your part, Aida. I am the one who must get him here and manage all the rest of it.”

Aida continued to look anything but certain of what her mistress was proposing.

Raine felt her own certainty lag for a brief moment, but she braced herself firmly. The dread of what might happen if she fell into fear and indecision was too great. She knew all she could do was keep moving forward. From the moment this notion had popped into her head she had done just that.

She turned to the maid. “Aida, you will help me to dress and arrange my hair for this evening. I must look the very best that I possibly can, though judging from what has gone forth so far I do not know how much that might aid me with Benedict Ainsworth.” She tried not to hear the regret in her own voice. “Still, I must consider every possibility. Our success hinges on my getting the man to this chamber.”

She moved to the chest containing the new gowns she had made up in the hope that looking well would help her find a husband. Unfortunately, as she had already told Aida, after Benedict’s reactions to her last eve she was not sure that her appearance would make any difference whatsoever. What would be accomplished in fussing over such things would be in keeping the frightened maid occupied until she must go down to dine.

And herself as well. Raine did not want to think about what might happen if Benedict was not there. Nor did she want to think about what would happen if he was not willing to come to her chamber. She simply could not allow herself to dwell upon the impossible.

Several hours later, Raine paused at the chamber door and looked back at William, who sat upon the bed watching her. He had come in from the stables some time past, his gaze assessing as he saw that preparations were already underway for her to go down to dine. Yet he said nothing, though she was sure he could not have failed to note Aida’s anxiety. Raine realized that the maid was ofttimes agitated of late, and was grateful that he did not seem to put any particular meaning upon it now.

Raine did not want William to know what she was about. She wished to save him the burden of worrying about her, for she knew he would certainly do so if he knew. His guilt at her having shouldered the responsibility of caring for him had been apparent to her on more than one occasion.

In spite of his desire to spare her, there was nothing he could do. He was only a boy, albeit a good and loving one.

Her informing him that he and Aida would sleep in the hall with the servants this night had understandably brought comment. But Raine had told him only that she was required to share the room with another lady who had just arrived at court.

She hated to lie to her brother, but could not tell him the real reason she needed to be alone. Aside from wishing to protect him from any unpleasantness in this Raine also knew she could not summon the fortitude to convince one more soul of the soundness of her logic.

Or perhaps she was afraid that if she discussed the matter more, she would not have the courage to follow through with it. Perhaps she was afraid that her own fears would make her think of justification to stop now before it was too late. Hurriedly she left the room.

The hall was crowded, as it was every night. For a brief moment, as she stood in the entrance, Raine was again beset by fear that Benedict Ainsworth might not be there, that he might have gone home already. She well recalled his remarks to King Edward about his dislike of court life.

His sentiment, in that area, matched her own very well. She greatly missed the hills and dales of home, her duties about the keep, her own folk.

With a sensation of both dread and relief, she saw him, seated not far from where he had taken his meal the previous night. Drawing a deep breath, Raine moved among the crowded tables, not hesitating until she reached his side. There, not knowing what else to do, she simply waited for his attention.

She stood for only a brief moment before he looked up with an expression of surprise. “Good evening, Lady Raine.”

She nodded. “My lord.” Raine gestured about the room. “I would beg your indulgence. I see that the tables are quite full. Is there any possibility that room might be made for me here?”

Raine did not allow herself to even stop to consider her own audacity. For in truth there was no more room at this table than any other. She was quite aware that he, too, must know this. She simply had no time for subtlety and would not be sure how to go about displaying it if she did.

If Benedict Ainsworth was aware of her forwardness he gave no indication of it. He spoke to the man next to him. “I am certain that we can find room for one small woman, can we not, Lord Longly?”

The elderly nobleman bowed his white head politely. “Of course.” He waved a frail hand toward the space they had made on the bench.

Raine seated herself quickly as the men went back to their conversation. Neither appeared to take any further interest in her—a fact that did not bode well for her plans.

She had no real heart for the food that was piled on the platters, but she knew she must go through the motions of appearing to eat, at the very least. She was not happy to see how badly her hands were trembling as she took a small portion of the savory roast fowl and bread.

Far from being appealing, as it was meant to, the rich scent of the meat nearly made her choke as she took a bite. Raine was far too conscious of what she was attempting to do, too conscious of the sheer temerity of her actions.

She could feel the heat of Benedict Ainsworth’s body, hear the deep sound of his voice as he spoke to the man on his other side. Ainsworth had been kind to her, had defended her against Denley last eve when no other man present had so much as spoken a word. There was something very comforting about having him near her. All she had learned of him showed him to be a strong and honorable man.

Raine suddenly wondered if, in the event that she succeeded here, she would be doing this decent man a grave wrong.

Immediately she told herself that she had no choice. The qualities that caused her to hesitate over going forward were the very reasons she had chosen him. She had run out of time, and Benedict Ainsworth seemed to be exactly what she had been looking for—was in fact the only possibility.

It was Denley Trent who was to blame in this. He had forced her hand. For her brother’s sake, she could not falter now.

With that thought uppermost in her mind, Raine waited for a lull in the men’s conversation, then turned toward Benedict as he tore a section from his bread. “My lord?”

He stopped and looked at her, his expression expectant, and she thought perhaps somewhat leery. “Aye.”

Although she told herself that she must surely be mistaken, Raine had a sudden urge to run screaming from the hall, but knew she could not. In spite of the reticence she perceived in him, she smiled with what she hoped was appealing flirtation. “My lord, I wish to thank you again for your aid last eve.”

His face was unreadable as he lifted a dismissive hand. “There is no need to thank me. I would not have such a lout accost any woman.”

Raine smiled again, dropping her gaze and looking up at him from beneath her lashes as she had seen other ladies about the court do. “Yet I do wish for you to understand how grateful I am, Lord Ainsworth, for your chivalrous behavior. You have done me no small service. My cousin has plagued me greatly for some time and refuses to heed my rebuffs even yet.”

She was not displeased with the look of concern that passed over Ainsworth’s face at her words. He spoke somewhat roughly. “You mean he has accosted you again?”

Raine raised her wide gaze to his. “Oh yes, my lord. Why, this very day he came to my chamber when I was alone. If I had not barely managed to escape him I fear he might have…” The truth of what she said lent an air of fear and desperation to her voice, even though she was telling him all of this with deliberate intent.




Chapter Three


In spite of the fact that Benedict had spent the whole of this day attempting to put Raine Blanchett from his thoughts, he had not been as successful as he wished. His reluctance to dwell on her was brought on by the great certainty that to allow himself to be entangled with her, no matter how lovely she might be, would open himself to all manner of unpleasantness. Though it might indeed be through no fault of her own, chaos appeared to follow Raine about, beginning with his first glimpse of her in the audience chamber. She had claimed she was hiding there from an unwanted suitor, and now she was beset by another.

As he listened to her, he felt a great swell of sympathy for this delicate young woman. It was not her fault that he had been thinking of her, of the way he had felt when he looked into her eyes.

Even now he found himself looking into those unforgettable golden eyes and replying gently, “If there is aught I can do to aid you I will gladly do so. Though I am at court for only another day, perhaps I could bring your situation to the ear of the king?”

She shook her head quickly, appearing distraught for a moment, before giving him a reassuring smile. “Nay, my lord. There is no need. I would not wish for King Edward to appoint Denley as guardian over us. And being our only living relation, Denley might convince him to do so. He has a quick tongue when need be.”

Benedict could only look at her in surprise. He would not have described the lout as quick-tongued. He had, in fact, seemed something of a dullard, yet she did know him best. And had not the very man that Tristan had been forced to kill, whose brother now sought revenge, managed to retain favor at court in spite of his multitude of shortcomings? Benedict shrugged. “As you wish.”

Her expression was tinged with uncertainty. “There is one small thing you might do to aid me. If it would not trouble you overmuch I would be grateful for your accompanying me to my chamber. I am certain my cousin would not dare to press himself upon me in your presence.”

Benedict found himself noting that those golden eyes were flecked with even deeper bits of gold. Huskily he said, “I will be happy to perform such a small service for such a beautiful lady.” He realized even as he spoke how unlike him it was to make such a romantic declaration. Yet how beautiful she was! Perhaps being around the deeply in love Lily and Tristan was making him fanciful.

Not for the first time he found himself glad that the unpleasant business with Alister Harcourt would soon be resolved. This very morning he and King Edward had drawn up a final draft of the offer to Harcourt. The king had spoken of his own certainty that it would be eagerly accepted, appearing as it did to come from the crown itself.

Perhaps Benedict’s oddly fanciful feelings had to do with relief at having it all settled. He would soon be on his way home to Brackenmoore.

Yet looking at Raine, he could not deny that for once home was not uppermost in his mind. Again he found himself noting how very lovely she was, with her rich auburn hair framing the fine-featured face beneath her intricate head covering of gold wire over ivory velvet. The heavy gold and ruby necklace she wore could not hope to rival the creamy skin of her throat for luster. The rich gold on her cap and the fur trimmed gold gown only made her eyes all the more startling and compelling. As on the previous day, Benedict suddenly felt as if he were falling into those eyes, and a strange dizziness seemed to take him.

He dragged his gaze away, raking the room, searching for something, anything, that might capture and tame his wayward attention. What the devil was he thinking? He was staying for one more day and had no time for thoughts of a distressed young damsel, no matter how comely.

At the moment, what with Tristan and Lily’s difficulties and his brother Marcel’s troubling and unexpected departure on one of Benedict’s own ships, he simply could not see his way to even considering his own future.

He would certainly not contemplate one with a woman he knew nothing about. His unwillingly appreciative gaze swept Raine again. Again he reminded himself of how she seemed to be fraught by ill fortune.

Never would he focus his regard on a woman such as Raine Blanchett, no matter how bemused looking into her eyes made him feel. He would have a more tranquil maid.

He made an effort to attend the meal, which had now cooled before him. He could not help noting that Raine’s own food had apparently received even less attention.

Glancing about them, Benedict realized that most of the other diners had finished eating. The room had not yet cleared, though, as many lingered for the dancing and socializing that went on each night. He hoped, now that he had agreed to take her to her chamber, that Raine Blanchett would not care to stay on in the hall. He wished to get her safely to her room as quickly as possible.

Benedict spoke more abruptly than he intended. “Whenever you are ready, I will accompany you.”

She looked up at him with what he interpreted as an anxious but relieved expression. He could only think that she must fear her cousin’s putting in an appearance in the hall this night as she asked, “You are not going to remain in the hall for a time?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I am not one for dancing, nor making small talk.”

She shrugged. “Aye, I understand.”

Benedict could not help being surprised. He would have expected her to revel in being in company, and said as much. “I would have thought you would enjoy having the attention of all the young men.”

Quickly she shook her head. “I can assure you, I do not. I much prefer being home at Abbernathy. The men at court, they want what is not mine to give.” Flushing, she looked away.

For a brief moment, Benedict wondered why she was at court. He wanted to ask, but did not wish to get more embroiled in her life. Her remarks about the courtiers must mean that, like her cousin, they pressed her for intimacy. Benedict stood, holding out his hand to her. “In light of your own feelings, then, shall we go?”

Raine seemed to hesitate, her gaze uncertain as it met his. Then she put out her hand. Those long slender fingers felt delicate in his, and he wondered at their coldness even as their touch brought a compelling warmth to his own body, brought thoughts of how they would feel against his heated flesh. He found it hard to concentrate on her words as she said, “Thank you, my lord.” Benedict realized that, in spite of telling himself that an attraction to Raine was completely unsuitable, he seemed unable to control his reaction to her as he wished to.

Once she was standing he released her.

Benedict was relieved that Raine did not seem to note his reluctance to touch her. Appearing quite preoccupied, she fell into step with him as they left the hall.

Benedict felt slightly and unexplainably perturbed by her lack of attention. He told himself that it was very likely brought on by her concern over a possible confrontation with her cousin. That eventuality was, he reminded himself, why he was accompanying her.

He had already established the fact that he was not interested in this far too chaotic young woman. There were no more words exchanged between them until they actually arrived outside a door in a narrow hallway quite some distance from the main part of the castle.

Raine hesitated as she reached for the latch, then peered up at him, biting her lower lip. “I thank you so very much for your kindness. I would ask just one more moment of your time, if I may, to ascertain that my cousin is not within.”

Benedict could not mistake her anxiety and was moved by it. Devil take any man who thought to force himself upon a woman. His own ward, Genevieve, had barely escaped such a situation at the hands of her own cousin, who happened to be Maxim Harcourt. Benedict could not mourn the man’s death even though it had brought more troubles.

He had no sympathy for those who preyed upon others, and this Denley Trent was no exception. Deliberately Benedict shrugged, attempting to keep both his manner and tone unconcerned in aid of soothing Raine’s fear. “I do not mind. One more moment will make no great difference to me.”

She nodded with relief, but he saw that her hand was trembling as she reached for the latch.

Raine took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The sight that met her gaze could not have been better geared to the satisfaction of her plans.

For there in a chair pulled close to the fire was none other than her cousin Denley. He could not have been more obliging had he tried, though she had made no effort to get him here. Surely she was doing the right thing. It was all falling into place. She nearly sighed aloud in relief as she turned to Benedict Ainsworth. “You see, my lord. He will not leave me be.”

Benedict frowned with unmistakable anger as he addressed the other man. “Have you gone mad that you cannot heed this lady’s request to cease in your pursuit?”

Denley lumbered to his feet with a gasp of outrage. “How dare you, sir? You know nothing of this situation.”

“I know that she has made her wishes quite clear, and that is all I need to know.”

Driven beyond caution, Denley moved to stand before Benedict with balled fists. “Is it possible that you wish to have her for yourself? I must tell you that I will not sit idly by and allow you to dishonor my cousin.”

Benedict Ainsworth’s black brows arched in amazement. “You will not sit idly by and allow me to dishonor her, sirrah! Have you no sense whatsoever?”

Denley faced him without flinching. “You heard me.”

Suddenly Benedict’s expression took on a new and deadly seriousness that caused Raine to shiver in spite of the fact that it was not directed toward her. “I have afforded you all the patience I possess. I now suggest that you leave this chamber and do not, unless she give permission, ever speak to this woman again.”

Raine watched with horror as Denley swung one large fist. A heartbeat later she realized that she need not have worried. Though he was nearly of a size with Benedict Ainsworth, he was not nearly as agile nor as strong.

The black-haired man caught her cousin’s hand in his own. Denley’s gaze widened in shock for a brief moment before he jerked away. He lifted his fist again.

Benedict did not raise his voice, but there was cold hard steel in it. “Do not.”

Denley hesitated and in that instant lost any hope of following through. He turned and stumbled from the room, obviously not having the courage to face the other man. Raine’s lips thinned. Her cousin was the kind who only had the nerve to browbeat women and children. Or perhaps he would have withstood a lesser man than Benedict Ainsworth.

Her gaze swung to Benedict who stood staring at the open portal with a frown. Indeed, she had chosen well in him. Never had she imagined that there would be an actual confrontation with Denley this night, but it had proved to her that Ainsworth did have both the mental and the physical strength to protect William.

Quickly Raine went and closed the door. She could not allow him to leave.

Her gaze flew to the pitcher on the table, the two glasses, which, thankfully, had remained untouched by her cousin. Aida had known when she set them out that only one of the glasses would ever be used.

Did Raine have the courage to follow through? She did, because she must. Denley’s presence in her chamber this night had convinced her of that.

Raine went forward and poured some of the wine into one of the cups, then moved to Benedict’s side. He looked down at her, his gaze taking in the offered wine. “Nay, I should be on my way now.”

Raine spoke too hurriedly. “Please, do not go yet, my lord.” She glanced toward the closed door. “I…my cousin might return and I would not be here alone.”

Her fear seemed to affect him, for he said, “I will remain for a moment longer, just until you feel safer. But I do not think he will return this night, and you must remember to bolt the door when I am gone.”

She nodded vigorously, anything to get him to drink the wine before she lost her nerve. “I will do so.”

Raine watched with horrified fascination as he took the cup from her hand, raised it to his mouth and drank. A silent but heavy sigh escaped her heart.

It was done.

She was set on this course now, could do nothing to stop it. Once Benedict had fallen under the influence of the sleeping potion she would have no way of getting him from her chamber without bringing attention to them and thus the consequences of their being alone and unattended.

She felt both relief and regret when he said, “The wine is very sweet. Are you not having any?”

Raine shook her head. “Nay, not this night.”

He seemed little interested in her reply as he looked toward the door, clearly eager to be away. But Raine was no longer anxious on that score. She need delay him for only a few more moments now. He would soon be unconscious. Aida knew how much to give, being quite skilled in the art of herbal medicine. “Would you care to sit for a moment?”

He shook his head as if it were feeling very heavy. “Nay, I must…” His gaze seemed to focus on her briefly and he whispered, “You are so very…lovely….”

The words sent a strange tingling through her. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she must keep her mind centered on the work at hand. The drug had made him fanciful. She could not allow herself to think of this man as anything but a means to an end.

She took a deep, calming breath and with it a sort of fog seemed to descend upon her, a fog of unreality and numbness. It was through this fog that she saw Benedict’s gaze widen in confusion, saw him put his hand to his head, saw him stumble and drop the cup to the floor.

He tried to focus on her again. “What…?”

She moved toward him and took his arm. “Let me help you.” In spite of her resolve she could hear the regret in her voice as she led him to the bed. Raine knew that she must put aside her own feelings, keep her mind centered on what she must do. She needed him on the bed and would not be able to move him once he was asleep.

Benedict was so far beneath the influence of the potion that he made no effort to resist her. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before he groaned and fell backward upon the coverlet, unconscious.

Raine breathed deeply as she looked down at the man, who seemed more large and imposing than ever. His shoulders alone would surely take two strong men to lift. Or one very determined woman, she told herself firmly.

Yet as she bent over him, Raine recalled that she must disrobe him first before getting him beneath the cover. And she was not at all sure about how she was going to accomplish such a feat.

Yet this, as the other difficulties, must be overcome.

Raine climbed up onto the bed. She would begin with his houppelande and tunic.

’Twas not nearly so bad as she had imagined. Until she actually got his golden chest bare, that was.

Though she told herself she would not touch him more than she absolutely must, she soon found her palms flat against the molded wall of his chest. Her busy fingers slowed as if of their own accord and she realized how very smooth that golden skin was, how very male and different from her own in the most…

A soft groan escaped him and she started, a deep flush heating her neck and cheeks. Whatever was the matter with her? She had no interest in this man. He was nothing more than a means to an end.

She closed her eyes firmly before finishing disrobing him. Even when she moved to tug off his hose, she first draped the sheet across his body. Raine told herself that she did so out of sympathy for his vulnerable state, not because she had any interest in looking at that, and certainly not because she was afraid to do so.

Then she was able to put all her concentration into rolling and tugging until she got him into the bed. The last thing she did was empty the small vial that Aida had hidden beneath the top corner of the bed.

The maid had said there must be blood in order to make the scene complete, yet Raine again felt the heat rise to her face as she sprinkled the chicken blood over the sheet.

“It is all for William. It is all for William,” she chanted silently as she did the deed, then threw the empty vial into the fire.

She turned and looked at Benedict then, his handsome face seeming troubled as he lay against the pillow. Quickly she told herself that she was simply being foolish. He knew nothing of what was going on. She must not allow guilt to make her fanciful.

She had only done what she had to do.

With grim resolve she began to remove her gown.

Raine was still lying there awake, her burning eyes staring up at the ceiling, when she heard the chamber door open the next morning. She did not move.

Just as they had planned, Aida approached the bed and pulled open the heavy draperies. First she glanced at the sleeping man next to her, then met Raine’s gaze with silent entreaty.

Raine shook her head. There was no going back now.

Aida nodded and opened her mouth wide, emitting a screech that would have wakened the very dead. The sound was so loud that it startled Raine, who had fully expected to hear it.

The unfortunate Benedict Ainsworth had not expected it. Even with traces of the sleeping potion still befuddling his mind, he reared straight up in the bed. It was a moment before his startled gaze could focus on Raine’s face. Shock became confusion as he frowned, looking down at himself, then took in their positions in the bed.

“What…” he sputtered.

And all the while Aida continued to scream, intermittently adding statements such as, “My lady, my lady, my poor despoiled lady.”

Even though Raine knew that this noise was indeed a very important aspect of her plan, that someone must come and see her here with Benedict, she wished above all things to tell Aida to cease in that caterwauling. She was so very tired from lying awake the whole long night, from being ever so careful not to actually brush up against the strange and oddly fascinating form of the man next to her.

More than once she had been forced to stop herself from reaching out to touch his smooth golden skin as she had while undressing him. Yet she had done so. How she felt about Benedict Ainsworth had no place in this.

For her to have perpetrated this hoax against him for any reason other than to protect William would be completely despicable.

Even as these thoughts were passing through her mind, Benedict moved to the edge of the bed. He was watching Aida with that scowl still firmly in place, and it became more intense with each shrill syllable she uttered. He stood, dragging the linen sheet with him as he shouted, “Why do you not cea—”

He was interrupted by the appearance of an obviously hastily clad older gentleman, whom Raine had seen going into the chamber next to hers on more than one occasion. “What is going on here?” the newcomer bellowed.

Only then did Aida stop screeching. The sudden silence was somehow almost shocking in its intensity. Benedict and the man exchanged bewildered and slightly relieved glances before the man looked to where Raine still sat in the bed. The gentleman’s gaze then went to the sheet Benedict clutched about his lean hips as he obviously searched for his garments, which Raine had put in the chest at the end of the bed.

Her attention followed the older man’s, and she saw the scarlet stain that had spread over it. Her gaze widened with horror. She had had no notion that the small vial of blood would look like so much upon the sheet.

She blushed, but forced herself not to cower. She had done this to herself.

Several more folk appeared in the open doorway as Aida spoke in what Raine considered a far too dramatic tone. “He has deflowered my mistress.”

All eyes then seemed to focus on the bloodied sheet, before turning to Raine. She felt herself blush even more deeply, from the roots of her hair to her feet, though she knew that no one else would know this as she had the coverlet pulled all the way to her chin.

Sweet Saint George protect her. She had indeed done this to herself, yet she had not expected the sight of that blood to be so very humiliating.

Aida had insisted upon it, though, if she were to have any part of it. She had asked Raine how, without any evidence, anyone was to be convinced that she was no longer a virgin and that Benedict was responsible. Raine had had no rebuttal.

As if reading her thoughts, Benedict looked down at the bloodstained sheet at that very moment, seeing what they were looking at with a gasp of amazement. He swung around to face Raine. When she saw the expression of suspicion that was beginning to replace his confusion she returned it with defiance.

An elderly woman stepped into the open doorway, where a crowd was rapidly becoming larger. She spoke to the older gentleman. “Ulric, this man is obviously a brute as well as a knave. I have never seen so much blood. You must do something.”

Raine had not known that it was possible for her cheeks to heat any more than they already were. Yet they did so.

The man, whom Raine believed to be the lady’s husband, answered, “I will, my dear, as soon as I am able to ascertain exactly what has gone on.”

Benedict gave Raine one last long measuring look, then swung around to face the others. His voice emerged as a command. “I will see to this now. You may all go.”

The elderly lady sputtered. “I think you have a—”

Benedict interrupted, albeit politely. “Your pardon, my lady, I wish to cause you no insult, but this is between the lady and myself.”

She turned up her rather long narrow nose and reached for her husband’s arm, dragging him with her as she flounced out. “Come, Ulric. We shall see about this.”

Benedict moved toward the door, looking far more imposing than Raine would ever have imagined a man clad in nothing but a sheet could. All the others who had gathered there backed away as he moved to close the door.

That was, all but Aida. She stood nearby, wringing her hands. Now that she had accomplished what Raine had asked of her she had reverted back to the anxious demeanor she had adopted when Raine’s father died.

Benedict paused in the act of closing the portal, looking at the maid with impatiently arched brows. She stared back at him. He indicated the narrowed opening. “Would you excuse us, please?”

She started, her gaze going to Raine. “My lady—”

“Will be fine.” His tone, though still low and calm, brooked no argument.

Aida scuttled toward the door. As she passed within inches of him on her way out, he leaned over and spoke in a confiding tone. “That was a very fine performance you gave, if I do say so myself.”

She raised horrified eyes to his now grim face. “My lord, I—”

“Out!”

Benedict slammed the portal behind her and took a deep breath, hoping to ease the pounding blood in his head before turning to face Raine.

She tilted her chin. “You will please refrain from harassing my maid. She has been with us since my mother died. She is certainly flighty at times, especially so since father’s death, but loves us as if we were her own.”

He looked at the woman in the bed for a very long time. He was somewhat moved by her concern for the maid when she would be wiser to concern herself with the trouble that might come to her own pretty head, but had no intention of letting her know that.

He could actually see very little of the wench with the coverlet pulled up the way it was, but he was able to read the determination and defiance in her eyes. Benedict was quite aware of the fact that he had been duped by this woman and her servant. Why, he did not know, but he had every intention of getting to the bottom of it, no matter how reluctant this red-haired she-devil might be to share her motives with him.

Though he had never been with a virgin, Benedict was quite aware that there was far too much blood here. And that screeching the maid had done had certainly been in aid of bringing as many witnesses as possible. He could still feel his ears ringing now that she was gone.

And Raine Blanchett was the one who could answer why. He approached the bed with deliberation.

Raine drew back as far from him as she could. “Do not touch me.”

He could hardly believe the audacity of her to tell him not to touch her after what she had done. Benedict was not a violent man where women and children were concerned. But this damsel had driven him beyond all reason and restraint.

Without pausing to think, he reached out and grabbed her arm, half dragging her across the bed. “You are not in a position to give any orders here, madam. I will do so, and the first order of the day is for you to tell me right now and in full detail why you have concocted this elaborate scheme to make it appear as if I have bedded you!”

Only the delicate flaring of her nostrils as she met his eyes, her own wide with feigned innocence, gave away her agitation. “But you did bed me, my lord. You have the proof of it there.”

He was only slightly mollified that she had the grace to blush as she indicated the bloody sheet. He shook his head. “There is enough blood here to have butchered an ox in this bed.” It was an exaggeration, he knew, but as likely as the explanation she suggested.

He could see the wheels turning in the wench’s mind. Benedict stopped her before she could even try to prevaricate. “And make no mistake, you will not convince me that I have caused you to bleed so profusely. I have never in my life bedded any woman and hurt her thus, nor have I ever been completely oblivious of such an event afterward. The last thing I recall was becoming dizzy after taking the wine you insisted I drink. I am not so great a lover that I am able to perform while unconscious.”

A scarlet-faced Raine looked down at her tightly folded arms. Benedict waited.

At last she raised her head and met his gaze. He was not pleased at the way his chest tightened at the tears glittering in her golden eyes. “You are right, my lord. I did trick you. I did drug you and you did not touch me.”

The utter defeat in her tone only served to move him further as she went on. “I will tell the truth to all who saw us here this morn.”

Not only was he moved by her despair, Benedict was also shocked at her complete capitulation in telling him the truth. In spite of his warning for her not to prevaricate further, he had fully expected her to try to defend her actions, at the very least.

He ran a hand over his face and up through his hair. His jaw was covered with rough stubble and he was sure he must have looked like a madman to the folk who had gathered in the door of the chamber, standing there in a blood-covered sheet, his hair, unruly at the best of times, standing on end.

Yet that was the least of his worries now. He sank down on the end of the bed. “Tell me why you did this.”

Raine raised her chin. “I felt I had no choice. I tried to gain your attention in the usual way but you seemed to have no interest in me.”

Benedict gave a rueful laugh. He had been attracted to her, but he had no wish to admit as much. “Why me? I am not the sort of man who would draw the interest of a beautiful young girl.”

She looked at him with obvious surprise and finally said, “Why do you think that I would not be interested in you? You were everything that I was looking for—strong, honorable, kind. I needed someone who would see to my brother and his interests without fear of supplanting him, or worse, which was exactly what Cousin Denley would have done. William’s holdings are the reason for his diligent pursuit of me. And what I told you of his attempting to force himself upon me yesterday—” her contrite and open gaze met his “—that was truth. It made me realize I could not continue to hope I would find a man who would afford me the protection of his name, and thus William, before it was too late.”

At her open admission of wanting him for what she considered his more noble qualities alone, Benedict felt an unexpected regret. He gave a mental shrug. He had not expected a young and lovely woman like her to have become infatuated with him for any personal reason.

He brushed such thoughts aside. “Again I ask, why me? What made you think I would look after you and your brother without taking something for myself?”

“I lied, you know, when I told you that I had been closed inside the king’s chamber inadvertently.” In her agitation she rose up on her knees, her fiery auburn hair tumbling about her slender white shoulders in wild disarray, and Benedict was hard-pressed to recall the fact that she did not want him in any personal way.

He was not surprised to learn that she had lied to him, but continued to be somewhat shocked that now she had been found out, Raine was eager to admit it all, and so openly. It was almost as if she could not stop herself.

What a strange, impulsive creature she seemed. Exactly the opposite of the woman he had imagined for himself—for Brackenmoore.

He forced himself to attend what she was saying. “You were so worried about the honor of your brother’s wife that day, protective of her and her child. I wanted someone who would look after William that way. You see, he is gentle and small for his age. Besides needing someone to look to his lands until he is old enough to do so, he also requires gentle guidance. I felt you might be the one to give it. But I am no fool to believe the words a man speaks to a king. I talked with others, asked questions of all who knew of you, and none had a thing to say about you that contradicted my initial impression. Some said you were overstaid and responsible, but that did not trouble me.”

Benedict’s brows rose at what he felt was a less than flattering description of himself, but he made no comment. “I still do not see why you did not simply ask for my help. Why go to all of this effort at deception and cause us both such great embarrassment?”

She shrugged, with a frown of chagrin. “I did not think of it, never considered that you would help a strange woman with no familial ties to you. I knew only that I could not allow Denley to rape me and thus force a marriage. I could not allow him to gain control of all that my father had entrusted to me when he died. And truth to tell, I do not believe I would have asked that of you if I had considered it. Denley would have felt free to press his suit as long as I was unwed.” She shrugged again. “I do not know how you can doubt me on that score after having met him, seen his determination.”

Benedict grimaced. He could not argue the point. “The man does seem completely blind to all but the way he wishes to view things.”

Raine nodded. “Precisely.”

Though he did agree with her on that one matter, Benedict could not allow her to think he was dismissing the sheer madness of her actions. “Even saying that, I cannot forget your own disregard for the feelings of others, namely myself.”

She had the grace to flush scarlet, though he could tell by the way she tilted that finely shaped nose of hers that she resented his words. “Disregarding your feelings is not what I was trying to do.”

“Yet you did do it and we now find ourselves in this predicament.” His gaze went to the closed doorway. In spite of his sending all of them away, Benedict knew that there were questions that would need be answered in order to have any hope of salvaging Raine’s honor. No matter what he or she said now, things would never be as they had been. Too many people had seen them here together, witnessed the blood on the sheet.

Most of them would not stop to think about the ludicrous amount of blood, nor any other facts, even if the truth were told to them. But that was not his fault. It was not he who had brought this upon Raine’s head. She had.

Hadn’t she?

He stood and looked about the chamber. “Where are my clothes?”

She frowned and pointed toward the chest at the end of the bed.

He was somewhat surprised to see how neatly she had folded them atop her own equally neatly kept garments. He would not have thought her so tidy.

Immediately Benedict began to dress. He paid no attention to Raine other than turning his back. Any further show of modesty would be pointless. He was certain that she was the one who had undressed him, so there was really no point in attempting to hide himself from her.

He heard the rustle of her movements as she rose from the bed behind him. She did not speak until he had finished putting on his houppelande, which told him that she had made note of his progress in dressing.

When she addressed him, the regret in her voice made him turn and look at her bent head closely. “I am very sorry, my lord, for the trouble I have brought you.”

She then raised her gaze to his, even as she wrapped her arms all the more tightly around the waist of the green velvet robe she had donned. “Yet I must admit that I would do it all again. I love my brother and promised my father that I would look after him no matter what. Given my thought process, I could not have done other than what I did.”

Benedict sighed, sympathy for her again rising inside him in spite of the fact that she was at fault here. He was distracted from having to answer by a soft scratching at the door.

His gaze met Raine’s as she called out with forced composure. “Who is there?”

A hesitant voice replied, “William.”

The regret that stabbed him as chagrin and sadness filled her golden eyes surprised and worried Benedict. Wanting to give himself anything to think about other than his disturbing reaction, he strode forward to open the door.




Chapter Four


The first thing Benedict noted about the young boy standing there was his heavy thatch of dark brown hair, which bore definite auburn undertones. It made his pale face, dominated by a pair of green eyes, seem somewhat small. Those eyes, though not nearly so translucent as Raine’s, made Benedict realize this could be none other than her brother. The lad’s hesitant but clearly concerned gaze first raked Benedict with uncertainty, then searched out his sister. When he saw her there in her robe, he pushed past Benedict to her side.

Benedict closed the door, then turned to watch the two. Raine avoided looking at him as she put her arms around her brother. Quickly the boy pushed back, his eyes searching hers as he murmured, “Oh Raine, is it true what people are saying? That you…”

She met his gaze unflinchingly, clearly putting aside her own concerns in an effort to soothe her brother. As she spoke, Benedict felt an unexpected stirring of respect. “Do not worry about what others say, but always first ask me for the truth. Besides, the opinions of these folk matter not in the least to us. We will soon be gone from here.”

The boy peered up at her, and Benedict could hear the relief that he tried to hide beneath a manly pose as he said, “I do not care what they might think. I was worried for you.” Then he added, his relieved tone giving away his youth and anxiety, “We are going home to Abbernathy?”

She ran a hand over his hair. “Aye.”

Benedict could not but be moved by this exchange. The love and care between them was more than obvious. He went toward them, speaking evenly. “You must be young William.”

The boy squared his slight shoulders, his gaze assessing. “And you are the man everyone is saying—”

Benedict interrupted wryly. “Yes, I suspect I am.”

William frowned, glancing at Raine. “Is it true what they are saying? That you and…this man—”

Again Benedict interrupted him. “Benedict Ainsworth.”

The boy nodded stiffly. “My lord Ainsworth.” His gaze met and held Benedict’s directly. “I hope you have not…the stories they are telling…Raine is my sister.”

Benedict could not fault him for his protectiveness toward Raine, but he had no wish to become involved in a conflict with the lad when he had committed no fault in this. He spoke evenly. “You must address me as Benedict.”

The young man frowned in frustration. His troubled gaze went back to Raine’s face. “Well, is it true what they are saying about you and Lord—you and Benedict?”

Meeting his gaze directly, she shook her head. “Nay, it is not, William. He did not touch me. Though I—”

For reasons that he could not explain, Benedict forestalled her. “Raine and I have done nothing untoward here. I simply had too much wine and fell asleep.” He was not certain why he felt the need to say that, to protect her. He’d simply had the feeling that she was about to reveal the whole of her crimes to her younger brother, and unaccountably, Benedict felt the need to spare her that. He told himself that there was no reason for the boy to know all. It could gain him nothing.

Glancing at Raine, he saw that she was watching him with surprise and, he thought, gratitude. When she noted his interest in herself she quickly turned to her brother. “You see, William, there is nothing to be concerned about. It has all been a misunderstanding.”

The relief on his young face could not have been more obvious. And Benedict was gladdened that he had acted upon the impulse to spare the boy. When Benedict’s parents had died on the return journey from visiting his aunt in Scotland, the raising of his own brothers had fallen to him. He had been eighteen, and the youngest of the three of them had been around the same age as the lad before him.

Benedict looked at Raine, who seemed determined to change the subject now as she asked, “Have you eaten, William?”

William flushed, glancing at Benedict and away. “Please do not fuss over me, Raine.” He shrugged, his gaze meeting the man’s then as if their maleness forged a bond between them. “She’s always wanting to know if I’ve eaten, thinks I’m too small.” He finished with a trace of defiance.

Benedict could see what this admission had cost him. He murmured, “One of my own brothers was quite small when he was your age. He’s nearly of a height with me now.”

William looked up at him in amazement. “Truly?”

Benedict nodded. “But it is also true that he has ever shown a hearty appetite. He would no more miss breaking his fast than a day of hunting, which I may tell you is no small matter in his mind.”

He could see that this information was being taken into account most seriously. William looked down at his own spare frame. “As you see, my lord, I am somewhat lacking in size, but you give me hope that it will not always be so.”

Benedict asked, “Was your father a small man?”

A shadow passed over the lad’s face at this mention of his father, but he answered evenly. “Nay, my lord, he was a tall man, though not so large in form as you.”




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