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Synopsis
The steamy conclusion to the Risande Family trilogy chronicles the intertwined fates of Lady Tanon Risande of England and Prince Gareth ap Owain of Wales, who first met in childhood. As one of the king's favorites, Lady Tanon Risande never imagined she'd be traded to a savage Welsh prince as a gesture of Norman goodwill. Gareth ap Owain may call himself a prince, but his untamed sensuality confirms he is no gentleman. As her wedding night approaches, Tanon is torn between fear and her budding desire. Readers will enjoy having a front-row seat as Tanon and Gareth's passion translates to love.
Release date: November 11, 2009
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 337
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Lord of Seduction
Paula Quinn
Lord of Temptation
“Will enchant and entertain… Passion, danger, treachery, and heartbreak fill the pages of this splendid novel… don’t miss
Lord of Temptation.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Quinn’s lively romance… offers two spirited protagonists as well as engaging minor characters… The sharp repartee and dramatic
finale make this a pleasant read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Quinn wins readers’ hearts with a light touch, even as she invokes strong themes of slavery, freedom, and the need for independence.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine
“A truly magnificent tale… Dante is a perfect hero and lover and Gianelle is special—perfect for each other. The passion is
fantastic—unbeatable!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
Lord of Desire
“Four stars!… Fast-paced and brimming with biting, sexy repartee, and a sensual cat-and-mouse game.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine
“Gloriously passionate… boldly sensual… Quinn deftly enhances her debut with just enough historical details to give a vivid
sense of time and place.”
—Booklist
“Fans of medieval romances will enjoy spending a few warm summer evenings with this one.”
—RomanceReadersConnection.com
“A page-turning experience from beginning to end… Highly recommended… Lord of Desire’s strength resides in Ms. Quinn’s talent for characterization and story-telling… [She] does a fabulous job of creating characters
to care about, laugh with, and shed a tear or two for.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A fine historical romance.”
—Midwest Book Review
“An emotional and compelling story that brings together a strong but wounded hero and spirited and determined heroine. The
characters quickly immerse the reader into their lives.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
“A novel worthy of movie rights… If you love a good romance, with a nod toward Ivanhoe, then Lord of Desire will be a fine addition to your collection. If you have never tried a medieval romance, it would be a good choice, because
it is one of the best in recent years.”
—A RomanceReview.com
LADY TANON RISANDE gathered all her breath for a scream she hoped would alert her father to her peril. But a rock struck her in the shoulder,
and she yelped instead. For a moment, she teetered on the thick branch in the tree she was sitting in, her huge green eyes
opened wide with terror. She flailed her arms to grab hold of something and plummeted to the ground.
If it weren’t for the lights swimming around her head, Tanon would have thrown up. Oh, and wouldn’t it have been wonderful
to do the like all over Roger deCourtenay. She thought about it while she spat a few blades of summer grass and a small pebble
from her mouth.
Tanon heard Roger laughing before she lifted her face to glare at him. That is, she wanted to glare at him. Oui, just the way her father glowered down at Cook when he almost broke his tooth on a stone in the bread. She tried to flare
her nostrils and squint her eyes all mean and dark as William had taught her, but her bottom lip began to
tremble against her chin. Her eyes filled with huge tears instead.
Roger laughed harder. In fact, he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Bending at the middle, he held his belly with one hand
and covered his mouth with the other. He must have feared some passerby wouldn’t know what he was laughing at, so he released
his gaping mouth to point at her and squeal afresh. It would have been mortifying enough if he didn’t have an audience, but
to his good fortune, he did. Most of the children living at Winchester Castle were there. Tanon could forgive Hilary and Janie
Pendleton for laughing at her, as they were a bit younger than she was and didn’t realize how rude they were. Henry and Thomas
Drake had made nervous faces while Roger hurled his rocks at her. But like all the other children, they said nothing. Better
Tanon than them. They were all afraid of Roger. Tanon was afraid of him, too. But that wasn’t why she didn’t pick up a rock
and hurl it right back at him. She didn’t want him to tell his father, the Earl of Blackburn, because his father would tell
the king. And Tanon didn’t ever want to make William angry with her. She wasn’t afraid of William. Oh, non, she loved the king almost as much as she loved her own papa. He made the best faces of all. Even better than the mean scowls
her mama’s lady maid, Elsbeth, made.
Tanon knew Roger didn’t like her. She not only refused to go along with his cruel pranks, like putting ants in the goat’s
milk and rubbing tree sap on Chloe the cat’s paws, but she had the audacity to admonish him for being such a bully. It didn’t
stop him from being mean, though. When she cried at seeing poor Chloe’s failed attempts to walk, Roger and the others teased
her for a full se’nnight.
Right now, though, Tanon didn’t care why he disliked her. Fueled by his coaxing, the other children laughed at her, called
her Twiggy Tanon, and snorted like pigs when she crossed their paths, because her best friend was Petunia the pig. There was
one small consolation; none of the children had ever struck her, until today. Tanon was Lord Brand the Passionate’s daughter,
after all. And when it came to Tanon, her papa could be even meaner than Roger.
“Twiggy Tanon dropped outta that tree like a scrawny chicken!” Roger howled with glee. When he saw Tanon ball her hands into
little fists, he sobered quickly and stomped toward her. When he was satisfied that his looming presence over her was frightening
enough to make her wet her skirts, he clenched his teeth and shook his fist in her face. His blond hair fell into his eyes
and over the spray of freckles across his nose. “If you tell your father, I’ll skin your pig and then eat her for supper.”
Tanon gasped; two tears spilled over the rims of her long black lashes. Roger took one look at her and doubled over again,
pointing to her mouth.
“Toothless Tanon!” he shouted and did a little dance in the grass, still holding his belly.
Tanon snapped her mouth shut, but inside she flicked her tongue across her teeth. She looked around the tall summer-green
blades, spotted her tooth, and then took off running before Roger could see her sobbing.
She ran straight into the arms of her beloved William.
“Here, now, where are you running off to, little one?” William put his enormous hands on her shoulders and stopped her in
her tracks. When Tanon wiped her eyes, keeping her head bent, he squatted in front of her to get a
look at her face. He was scowling when Tanon peeked up at him. She wished she could look that mean. “Would you like to tell
me who made you cry?” he asked.
Tanon shook her head no but caught his suspicious frown aimed at Roger and the others down the hill. An instant later, William
plucked her gently from the ground. Tanon was sure her William was taller than the tree she just fell out of, but he would
never drop her, and she settled into his brawny chest, safe at last. He was, after all, the king.
“Ma précieuse,” he cooed after she offered him her most grateful dimple-inducing smile. “Did you know you’re missing a tooth?” he asked,
and then he stroked her long raven curls when she buried her face in his neck and cried for all she was worth.
Her papa was even less pleased by her appearance than she was after she peered in her mother’s tiny looking glass. Tanon didn’t
like it, but she had to lie to her papa. She had no choice. She was sure God would forgive her. Petunia’s life was at stake,
after all.
“I tell you I fell out of a tree, Papa,” she insisted after a long time of being questioned in William’s private solar.
“And no one caused you to fall from this tree, Tanon?” Lord Brand Risande paced before his daughter with his hands folded
behind his back.
Though his gaze was wonderfully warm when he looked at her, Tanon swallowed, praying he couldn’t tell she was lying. She shook
her head, afraid to speak lest he had some secret fatherly way of knowing her deceit by the quavering pitch of her voice.
“William told me he saw Roger deCourtenay and the
Drake boys. They had naught to do with your lost tooth or falling from the tree?”
Tanon kept a clear vision of Petunia’s big brown eyes and her chubby little body in her mind to strengthen her. She would
never put someone she loved, even if that someone was a something, in jeopardy. Still, she couldn’t look her papa in the eyes when she spoke. She fingered the colorful stitching in her gown
instead. “Non, Papa. They had naught to do with it.”
Brand glanced at William, who sat casually in a huge chair beside the hearth. Brand knew his daughter often tripped over her
own feet and could have easily fallen out of the tree without any help, but the way she was fidgeting in her chair told him
she was lying. Whom was she trying to protect? William shrugged his massive shoulders, offering no answers to the unspoken
question.
“Tanon.” Her papa’s voice was so soft and soothing it somehow, magically, made her look at him, and he smiled. “You’re the
oldest, daughter. You must remember to always set a good example for your brothers and tell the truth. I should like to know
if anyone is making you unhappy. King William invited us to his home for the summer in the hopes that you would enjoy yourself
and mayhap make some friends.”
“Oh, but I have made a friend, Papa.” Tanon grinned at him, exposing the little gaping hole where her front tooth used to
be. “Petunia is my friend.”
“Petunia is a pig,” her father gently reminded her. William couldn’t help but smile at her.
Tanon chose to ignore her father’s low opinion of her closest friend. She loved Petunia, and she was certain Petunia loved
her in return.
“Your mother is quite upset that you fell out of a tree,” her papa told her, making her feel terrible all over again. “You
could have broken your neck instead of just your tooth. Now tell me what happened.” He folded his arms across his chest and
stared at her, waiting.
Tanon fidgeted in her seat. She looked at William, and he winked at her. “Papa?”
“Oui?”
“Have you ever had a best friend?”
“William is my best friend.”
Tanon gave William her widest smile, pleased that her papa loved him almost as much as she did. “Wouldn’t you do anything
to make certain no mean boys ever hurt him?”
Her papa nodded his head and then went to her chair and knelt in front of her. “Did mean boys tell you they were going to
hurt Petunia?”
Tanon gasped. “Non!” She simply could not believe how clever her papa was! How did he know she was talking about Petunia? Oh, she lamented, now
her dear sweet Petunia would surely end up on Roger deCourtenay’s supper table. Huge tears welled up in her eyes, and her
lower lip began to tremble. She looked at William because he had such a nice face, and she needed to stop herself from crying
so that her papa wouldn’t get angry and beat Roger deCourtenay’s hide.
“Your papa would do anything to keep me safe, my little love,” William told her, rising to his feet. That was all he did,
but it brought an end to her papa’s questions. “Why, I would even call it a noble thing to tell a few untruths to protect
someone, or something, you love.” He
leaned over and kissed the top of Tanon’s head. “Oui, noble indeed. Don’t you agree, Brand?”
“I do.” Her papa smiled at her, and Tanon blew out an explosive breath. “Go find your mother and let her tidy your hair. And
Tanon,” he called when she bolted out of her chair and skipped toward the door. “No more climbing trees.”
She nodded, clearly disappointed, but didn’t argue as she left.
“She lied to me to protect a pig.” Brand poured two cups of ale and handed one to William before he sat down.
“Oui.” William grinned. He couldn’t have been more pleased if Hereward the Wake were found hanged in the courtyard outside. “’Tis
rare to find such bravery and devotion in one so young, Brand. Brynna has done well raising her.”
Brand laughed softly, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a married man, William. When will you cease pining for my wife?”
“Never,” the king replied. He downed his drink and let out a long sigh.
“Wales?” Brand asked, knowing what prompted his longtime friend to begin pacing.
“Oui, Wales. They’re resilient bastards, the Welsh. Merde, Brand, they’re savage.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I understand why the Mercian king, Offa, sought so forcefully to keep them out of England centuries ago. Their princes fight
among themselves as fervently as they fight us. Fortunately for us, all their internal wars have left them weak. My marcher
lords have been able to hold them off along the borders. Still, there is resistance to our
occupancy. Herefordshire has sustained particularly high losses.”
“I know,” Brand said. “Hugh La Morte lost his entire garrison there last spring.”
“Oui.” William nodded and turned to stare into the flames of the crackling hearth. “Brand, I’ve recently met with a Welsh prince,
a descendent of King Rhodri and the son of Tewdwr Mawr, who many years ago was king of Deheubarth in the south. Rival princes
have challenged his inherited territorial rights, but I’ve no doubt he will someday rule all of southern Wales. I’ve yet to
see any man fight as he does. He moves at the touch of a breeze.”
“Do you plan on helping him accomplish becoming king of the south, William?”
The king shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps. He’s an intelligent man. I believe that if he is able to take the throne in Deheubarth,
we may be able to secure peace between our people. The marches along central Wales are almost secured. The fighting there
against us has all but ceased. I wish the same for the south.”
Brand nodded, listening. He knew there was something more pressing on William’s mind.
“I’ve invited him to Winchester to meet you. He arrives in two days with his nephews.”
“To meet me?” Brand laughed softly. “Why?”
William’s charcoal eyes met Brand’s, and the regret in them caused Brand’s smile to fade. “Why, William?” he asked again,
more serious this time.
“Because, mon ami, I’ve promised Tanon to Rhys’s nephew Cedric.”
Brand bolted to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief,
then anger. “You would sacrifice my daughter to buy allegiance from savages?”
William looked away. Now was not the time to think about how much he loved Tanon and her parents. Now was time to be a king
and make decisions for the good of England. “Non, I would secure the loyalty of a family with the power to end a resistance that could last another hundred years and cost
more lives than you or I can comprehend. The marcher lords rule the land they inhabit by my own decree. What goes on there
is almost completely out of my hands. But I must show my support for peace.”
“By pledging my daughter?”
“My goddaughter,” William reminded him in a somber tone. “Forgive me.” He placed his hand on Brand’s shoulder as he moved
to pass him. “I am surrounded by enemies.”
Tanon was curious about the news when she overheard her nurse, Rebecca, discussing the arrival of “the savage Welsh” at Winchester.
Tanon had no idea who the savage Welsh was, but she decided that he must be someone of great importance when she heard her
papa telling her mama that William had promised him something very precious. It must have been something precious indeed,
because Mama wept for hours after that.
Tanon wanted to look pretty on the day of the savage Welsh’s arrival, as she was William’s friend. She even let Rebecca and
Alysia tug on her curls without so much as a peep of complaint. What kind of example would she set if their guest thought
William’s friends were as dirty as the pigpen? Of course, Tanon didn’t mind playing in the
pigpen, even though it meant having to take a bath; it was fun to play in the mud with Petunia.
She wished she was allowed to play with the horses, especially Uncle Dante’s white one. Ayla was so pretty with her snowy
white mane and wild eyes. Everyone else was afraid of her, but not Tanon. She even hoped to ride her one day.
“Don’t you look lovely this morn,” William said after she entered the throne room with her parents and stopped before the
king’s special chair.
“Thank you, William.” She flashed him a toothless grin and then moved closer to him and whispered, “You might think of telling
the same to Mama. She has been crying all morn. I think it’s because she is getting fatter than Clara the cow. I do hope this
time she has a girl, because I am sick of brothers.”
It was only after a man chuckled softly beside the king that Tanon noticed him and the group of boys staring at her. These
must be William’s guests, though she hadn’t thought there would be so many of them. She hoped her mama never had that many
boys.
They looked strange. Who ever heard of boys wearing braids? Their breeches were fashioned from hide, their patterned tunics
belted with rope. And even the smallest boy carried a dagger tucked at his waist. His wildness appealed to her. She smiled
at him, remembering her lessons in good manners, and because he was smiling at her. One of the taller boys behind him scowled
at her. Tanon decided she didn’t like that one. He had mean eyes like Roger’s. The younger one had eyes of pretty blue.
Tanon curtsied to the youngest guest. “Well met.”
“Cyfarchion,” the boy replied.
She crinkled her nose and giggled. “What does that mean?”
“’Tis Cymraeg. Welsh,” the oldest man corrected himself with a low chuckle. He had a nice smile, like the boy. “It means ‘greetings.’ My
nephews haven’t learned all of your words yet.”
Tanon hoped that when they did their voices would sound as musical as his.
“Lady Risande,” William said. Tanon straightened her shoulders, knowing by his use of her title that she needed to be especially
polite now. “This is Prince Rhys ap Tewdwr, and these are his nephews.” He called out eight names in all, but Tanon took notice
of only two. Cedric, the mean-looking one, whom William gestured to first, and Gareth, the younger boy.
“Are you all princes?” Tanon asked, spreading her wide gaze over the brothers.
“I haven’t any children of my own. When I become king of Deheubarth”—Prince Rhys bent to her and winked, and she giggled at
the way the last word rolled off his lips—”I will make my nephews princes.”
While Tanon laughed, Gareth lifted his finger to her dimple and poked it gently. Cedric murmured something. Tanon couldn’t
understand it, but she knew it was rude by the way he clenched his jaw and by the way Gareth glared at him over his shoulder.
Tanon decided not to smile at Cedric anymore, since he was being so ill-mannered, but on Gareth she bestowed her friendliest
grin. She hoped he would speak to her more, because the guests’ peculiar words made her belly tickle.
Tanon couldn’t really say whether Gareth was someone she might want to make friends with. He was proving to be as ill-mannered
as his brother. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her since their introduction two days ago. He ignored her when she tried
to speak to him. William kept asking her to be more polite to Cedric. But he refused to use his Anglo words with her, so she
didn’t understand him. Also, William had told her that Cedric was ten and seven. Tanon was certain that he wouldn’t want to
play with her, so she gave up trying to be nice to him.
“You’re very quiet, aren’t you?” she asked Gareth one day, appearing beside him while he made his way toward the stables.
He didn’t speak or even look at her but picked up his pace to walk ahead. Tanon clenched her hands at her sides. “I think
you’re a very rude mute.”
That was when she noticed how soft his hair looked. His loose braid draped down his back. Two stray locks of gold dangled
at his shoulders. He pivoted to look at her. He didn’t say anything. He simply stood there looking too old for a boy of only
ten summers. His face was pensive, his blue eyes narrowed on hers.
“My brothers speak…” he began and then shook his head. “My brothers said you are gelyn—my enemy.”
The hard expression Tanon tried to maintain faded into a look of heartrending disbelief. “Your enemy? But why? What have I
done?”
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something else. A breeze drifted across his face, and without another word he turned
and strode away.
The next few days passed in much the same manner, but Tanon had stopped trying to talk to Gareth. Instead, she followed him.
She watched him ride his horse around William’s land with his uncle and his brothers. His brothers seemed to enjoy thrashing
him, or at least trying to thrash him. Most of the time they failed. Even on a steed as large as her papa’s, Gareth avoided
being struck, either by ducking low over his saddle or arching his back.
In the great hall, Tanon covertly watched him eat his food. She even giggled when he stuck his finger in Cook Charlie’s tarts
to check what was inside before shoving them into his mouth.
Gareth finally did speak to Tanon at the end of his first week at Winchester. It was a lovely summer afternoon, and she was
thoroughly enjoying it with Petunia. She skipped in a field of yellow daisies behind the barn, singing a song she’d heard
some of the men singing in the great hall after they’d drunk all of William’s wine. It wasn’t a ditty fit for a young girl,
but Tanon didn’t know that, and she was barely mindful of her voice anyway, what with picking daisies and all.
She didn’t hear Roger and the Drake brothers sneaking up on her until their scratchy voices shattered her reverie.
“Twiggy Tanon goes snort, snort, snort!” A round of laughter followed that insult before another voice rang out.
“Mayhap she sleeps with the swine, too. She certainly sings like one.”
The three boys circled her and her pig. And then Roger began to chase Petunia. Tanon shouted at him to stop, but he snorted
at her and laughed again. Luckily, Petunia was too quick for Roger, but he almost struck her with his foot
when he tried to kick her. Tanon screamed and shook her fist at him.
“You leave her alone this instant, Roger deCourtenay, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he challenged, his eyes gleaming with anger as he stopped chasing Petunia and took a step closer to Tanon.
“What will you do?”
He lifted his hand to strike her, and Tanon squeezed her eyes shut. The Drake boys looked around to make certain no one was
watching.
But someone was.
Tanon opened her eyes just in time to see Gareth reach Roger, yank him around so that they faced each other, and then shove
him backward with such force Roger landed hard on his rump.
“Gwna mo chyffwrdd ’i!” Gareth shouted at him. And oh, did he look mean!
“What?” Roger deCourtenay’s lip actually trembled. He wasn’t laughing now.
“Bod cerddedig,” her new champion growled, motioning with his hand for Roger to run away.
Tanon wanted to clap her hands before Roger and the others even had time to flee. She sprang forward, tripped over her skirts,
and then righted herself again. “You did it! You frightened Roger deCourtenay!” Tanon had never been so happy in her life.
She would have leaped right into Gareth’s arms if he weren’t already turning away.
“Please, wait,” she pleaded, barely able to stop herself. She touched his hand before he moved to leave her. “You saved Petunia.”
She didn’t know if he understood her or not, so she smiled at him.
He just stood there staring at her for a moment. Then
he did what . . .
“Will enchant and entertain… Passion, danger, treachery, and heartbreak fill the pages of this splendid novel… don’t miss
Lord of Temptation.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Quinn’s lively romance… offers two spirited protagonists as well as engaging minor characters… The sharp repartee and dramatic
finale make this a pleasant read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Quinn wins readers’ hearts with a light touch, even as she invokes strong themes of slavery, freedom, and the need for independence.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine
“A truly magnificent tale… Dante is a perfect hero and lover and Gianelle is special—perfect for each other. The passion is
fantastic—unbeatable!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
Lord of Desire
“Four stars!… Fast-paced and brimming with biting, sexy repartee, and a sensual cat-and-mouse game.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine
“Gloriously passionate… boldly sensual… Quinn deftly enhances her debut with just enough historical details to give a vivid
sense of time and place.”
—Booklist
“Fans of medieval romances will enjoy spending a few warm summer evenings with this one.”
—RomanceReadersConnection.com
“A page-turning experience from beginning to end… Highly recommended… Lord of Desire’s strength resides in Ms. Quinn’s talent for characterization and story-telling… [She] does a fabulous job of creating characters
to care about, laugh with, and shed a tear or two for.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A fine historical romance.”
—Midwest Book Review
“An emotional and compelling story that brings together a strong but wounded hero and spirited and determined heroine. The
characters quickly immerse the reader into their lives.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
“A novel worthy of movie rights… If you love a good romance, with a nod toward Ivanhoe, then Lord of Desire will be a fine addition to your collection. If you have never tried a medieval romance, it would be a good choice, because
it is one of the best in recent years.”
—A RomanceReview.com
LADY TANON RISANDE gathered all her breath for a scream she hoped would alert her father to her peril. But a rock struck her in the shoulder,
and she yelped instead. For a moment, she teetered on the thick branch in the tree she was sitting in, her huge green eyes
opened wide with terror. She flailed her arms to grab hold of something and plummeted to the ground.
If it weren’t for the lights swimming around her head, Tanon would have thrown up. Oh, and wouldn’t it have been wonderful
to do the like all over Roger deCourtenay. She thought about it while she spat a few blades of summer grass and a small pebble
from her mouth.
Tanon heard Roger laughing before she lifted her face to glare at him. That is, she wanted to glare at him. Oui, just the way her father glowered down at Cook when he almost broke his tooth on a stone in the bread. She tried to flare
her nostrils and squint her eyes all mean and dark as William had taught her, but her bottom lip began to
tremble against her chin. Her eyes filled with huge tears instead.
Roger laughed harder. In fact, he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Bending at the middle, he held his belly with one hand
and covered his mouth with the other. He must have feared some passerby wouldn’t know what he was laughing at, so he released
his gaping mouth to point at her and squeal afresh. It would have been mortifying enough if he didn’t have an audience, but
to his good fortune, he did. Most of the children living at Winchester Castle were there. Tanon could forgive Hilary and Janie
Pendleton for laughing at her, as they were a bit younger than she was and didn’t realize how rude they were. Henry and Thomas
Drake had made nervous faces while Roger hurled his rocks at her. But like all the other children, they said nothing. Better
Tanon than them. They were all afraid of Roger. Tanon was afraid of him, too. But that wasn’t why she didn’t pick up a rock
and hurl it right back at him. She didn’t want him to tell his father, the Earl of Blackburn, because his father would tell
the king. And Tanon didn’t ever want to make William angry with her. She wasn’t afraid of William. Oh, non, she loved the king almost as much as she loved her own papa. He made the best faces of all. Even better than the mean scowls
her mama’s lady maid, Elsbeth, made.
Tanon knew Roger didn’t like her. She not only refused to go along with his cruel pranks, like putting ants in the goat’s
milk and rubbing tree sap on Chloe the cat’s paws, but she had the audacity to admonish him for being such a bully. It didn’t
stop him from being mean, though. When she cried at seeing poor Chloe’s failed attempts to walk, Roger and the others teased
her for a full se’nnight.
Right now, though, Tanon didn’t care why he disliked her. Fueled by his coaxing, the other children laughed at her, called
her Twiggy Tanon, and snorted like pigs when she crossed their paths, because her best friend was Petunia the pig. There was
one small consolation; none of the children had ever struck her, until today. Tanon was Lord Brand the Passionate’s daughter,
after all. And when it came to Tanon, her papa could be even meaner than Roger.
“Twiggy Tanon dropped outta that tree like a scrawny chicken!” Roger howled with glee. When he saw Tanon ball her hands into
little fists, he sobered quickly and stomped toward her. When he was satisfied that his looming presence over her was frightening
enough to make her wet her skirts, he clenched his teeth and shook his fist in her face. His blond hair fell into his eyes
and over the spray of freckles across his nose. “If you tell your father, I’ll skin your pig and then eat her for supper.”
Tanon gasped; two tears spilled over the rims of her long black lashes. Roger took one look at her and doubled over again,
pointing to her mouth.
“Toothless Tanon!” he shouted and did a little dance in the grass, still holding his belly.
Tanon snapped her mouth shut, but inside she flicked her tongue across her teeth. She looked around the tall summer-green
blades, spotted her tooth, and then took off running before Roger could see her sobbing.
She ran straight into the arms of her beloved William.
“Here, now, where are you running off to, little one?” William put his enormous hands on her shoulders and stopped her in
her tracks. When Tanon wiped her eyes, keeping her head bent, he squatted in front of her to get a
look at her face. He was scowling when Tanon peeked up at him. She wished she could look that mean. “Would you like to tell
me who made you cry?” he asked.
Tanon shook her head no but caught his suspicious frown aimed at Roger and the others down the hill. An instant later, William
plucked her gently from the ground. Tanon was sure her William was taller than the tree she just fell out of, but he would
never drop her, and she settled into his brawny chest, safe at last. He was, after all, the king.
“Ma précieuse,” he cooed after she offered him her most grateful dimple-inducing smile. “Did you know you’re missing a tooth?” he asked,
and then he stroked her long raven curls when she buried her face in his neck and cried for all she was worth.
Her papa was even less pleased by her appearance than she was after she peered in her mother’s tiny looking glass. Tanon didn’t
like it, but she had to lie to her papa. She had no choice. She was sure God would forgive her. Petunia’s life was at stake,
after all.
“I tell you I fell out of a tree, Papa,” she insisted after a long time of being questioned in William’s private solar.
“And no one caused you to fall from this tree, Tanon?” Lord Brand Risande paced before his daughter with his hands folded
behind his back.
Though his gaze was wonderfully warm when he looked at her, Tanon swallowed, praying he couldn’t tell she was lying. She shook
her head, afraid to speak lest he had some secret fatherly way of knowing her deceit by the quavering pitch of her voice.
“William told me he saw Roger deCourtenay and the
Drake boys. They had naught to do with your lost tooth or falling from the tree?”
Tanon kept a clear vision of Petunia’s big brown eyes and her chubby little body in her mind to strengthen her. She would
never put someone she loved, even if that someone was a something, in jeopardy. Still, she couldn’t look her papa in the eyes when she spoke. She fingered the colorful stitching in her gown
instead. “Non, Papa. They had naught to do with it.”
Brand glanced at William, who sat casually in a huge chair beside the hearth. Brand knew his daughter often tripped over her
own feet and could have easily fallen out of the tree without any help, but the way she was fidgeting in her chair told him
she was lying. Whom was she trying to protect? William shrugged his massive shoulders, offering no answers to the unspoken
question.
“Tanon.” Her papa’s voice was so soft and soothing it somehow, magically, made her look at him, and he smiled. “You’re the
oldest, daughter. You must remember to always set a good example for your brothers and tell the truth. I should like to know
if anyone is making you unhappy. King William invited us to his home for the summer in the hopes that you would enjoy yourself
and mayhap make some friends.”
“Oh, but I have made a friend, Papa.” Tanon grinned at him, exposing the little gaping hole where her front tooth used to
be. “Petunia is my friend.”
“Petunia is a pig,” her father gently reminded her. William couldn’t help but smile at her.
Tanon chose to ignore her father’s low opinion of her closest friend. She loved Petunia, and she was certain Petunia loved
her in return.
“Your mother is quite upset that you fell out of a tree,” her papa told her, making her feel terrible all over again. “You
could have broken your neck instead of just your tooth. Now tell me what happened.” He folded his arms across his chest and
stared at her, waiting.
Tanon fidgeted in her seat. She looked at William, and he winked at her. “Papa?”
“Oui?”
“Have you ever had a best friend?”
“William is my best friend.”
Tanon gave William her widest smile, pleased that her papa loved him almost as much as she did. “Wouldn’t you do anything
to make certain no mean boys ever hurt him?”
Her papa nodded his head and then went to her chair and knelt in front of her. “Did mean boys tell you they were going to
hurt Petunia?”
Tanon gasped. “Non!” She simply could not believe how clever her papa was! How did he know she was talking about Petunia? Oh, she lamented, now
her dear sweet Petunia would surely end up on Roger deCourtenay’s supper table. Huge tears welled up in her eyes, and her
lower lip began to tremble. She looked at William because he had such a nice face, and she needed to stop herself from crying
so that her papa wouldn’t get angry and beat Roger deCourtenay’s hide.
“Your papa would do anything to keep me safe, my little love,” William told her, rising to his feet. That was all he did,
but it brought an end to her papa’s questions. “Why, I would even call it a noble thing to tell a few untruths to protect
someone, or something, you love.” He
leaned over and kissed the top of Tanon’s head. “Oui, noble indeed. Don’t you agree, Brand?”
“I do.” Her papa smiled at her, and Tanon blew out an explosive breath. “Go find your mother and let her tidy your hair. And
Tanon,” he called when she bolted out of her chair and skipped toward the door. “No more climbing trees.”
She nodded, clearly disappointed, but didn’t argue as she left.
“She lied to me to protect a pig.” Brand poured two cups of ale and handed one to William before he sat down.
“Oui.” William grinned. He couldn’t have been more pleased if Hereward the Wake were found hanged in the courtyard outside. “’Tis
rare to find such bravery and devotion in one so young, Brand. Brynna has done well raising her.”
Brand laughed softly, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a married man, William. When will you cease pining for my wife?”
“Never,” the king replied. He downed his drink and let out a long sigh.
“Wales?” Brand asked, knowing what prompted his longtime friend to begin pacing.
“Oui, Wales. They’re resilient bastards, the Welsh. Merde, Brand, they’re savage.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I understand why the Mercian king, Offa, sought so forcefully to keep them out of England centuries ago. Their princes fight
among themselves as fervently as they fight us. Fortunately for us, all their internal wars have left them weak. My marcher
lords have been able to hold them off along the borders. Still, there is resistance to our
occupancy. Herefordshire has sustained particularly high losses.”
“I know,” Brand said. “Hugh La Morte lost his entire garrison there last spring.”
“Oui.” William nodded and turned to stare into the flames of the crackling hearth. “Brand, I’ve recently met with a Welsh prince,
a descendent of King Rhodri and the son of Tewdwr Mawr, who many years ago was king of Deheubarth in the south. Rival princes
have challenged his inherited territorial rights, but I’ve no doubt he will someday rule all of southern Wales. I’ve yet to
see any man fight as he does. He moves at the touch of a breeze.”
“Do you plan on helping him accomplish becoming king of the south, William?”
The king shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps. He’s an intelligent man. I believe that if he is able to take the throne in Deheubarth,
we may be able to secure peace between our people. The marches along central Wales are almost secured. The fighting there
against us has all but ceased. I wish the same for the south.”
Brand nodded, listening. He knew there was something more pressing on William’s mind.
“I’ve invited him to Winchester to meet you. He arrives in two days with his nephews.”
“To meet me?” Brand laughed softly. “Why?”
William’s charcoal eyes met Brand’s, and the regret in them caused Brand’s smile to fade. “Why, William?” he asked again,
more serious this time.
“Because, mon ami, I’ve promised Tanon to Rhys’s nephew Cedric.”
Brand bolted to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief,
then anger. “You would sacrifice my daughter to buy allegiance from savages?”
William looked away. Now was not the time to think about how much he loved Tanon and her parents. Now was time to be a king
and make decisions for the good of England. “Non, I would secure the loyalty of a family with the power to end a resistance that could last another hundred years and cost
more lives than you or I can comprehend. The marcher lords rule the land they inhabit by my own decree. What goes on there
is almost completely out of my hands. But I must show my support for peace.”
“By pledging my daughter?”
“My goddaughter,” William reminded him in a somber tone. “Forgive me.” He placed his hand on Brand’s shoulder as he moved
to pass him. “I am surrounded by enemies.”
Tanon was curious about the news when she overheard her nurse, Rebecca, discussing the arrival of “the savage Welsh” at Winchester.
Tanon had no idea who the savage Welsh was, but she decided that he must be someone of great importance when she heard her
papa telling her mama that William had promised him something very precious. It must have been something precious indeed,
because Mama wept for hours after that.
Tanon wanted to look pretty on the day of the savage Welsh’s arrival, as she was William’s friend. She even let Rebecca and
Alysia tug on her curls without so much as a peep of complaint. What kind of example would she set if their guest thought
William’s friends were as dirty as the pigpen? Of course, Tanon didn’t mind playing in the
pigpen, even though it meant having to take a bath; it was fun to play in the mud with Petunia.
She wished she was allowed to play with the horses, especially Uncle Dante’s white one. Ayla was so pretty with her snowy
white mane and wild eyes. Everyone else was afraid of her, but not Tanon. She even hoped to ride her one day.
“Don’t you look lovely this morn,” William said after she entered the throne room with her parents and stopped before the
king’s special chair.
“Thank you, William.” She flashed him a toothless grin and then moved closer to him and whispered, “You might think of telling
the same to Mama. She has been crying all morn. I think it’s because she is getting fatter than Clara the cow. I do hope this
time she has a girl, because I am sick of brothers.”
It was only after a man chuckled softly beside the king that Tanon noticed him and the group of boys staring at her. These
must be William’s guests, though she hadn’t thought there would be so many of them. She hoped her mama never had that many
boys.
They looked strange. Who ever heard of boys wearing braids? Their breeches were fashioned from hide, their patterned tunics
belted with rope. And even the smallest boy carried a dagger tucked at his waist. His wildness appealed to her. She smiled
at him, remembering her lessons in good manners, and because he was smiling at her. One of the taller boys behind him scowled
at her. Tanon decided she didn’t like that one. He had mean eyes like Roger’s. The younger one had eyes of pretty blue.
Tanon curtsied to the youngest guest. “Well met.”
“Cyfarchion,” the boy replied.
She crinkled her nose and giggled. “What does that mean?”
“’Tis Cymraeg. Welsh,” the oldest man corrected himself with a low chuckle. He had a nice smile, like the boy. “It means ‘greetings.’ My
nephews haven’t learned all of your words yet.”
Tanon hoped that when they did their voices would sound as musical as his.
“Lady Risande,” William said. Tanon straightened her shoulders, knowing by his use of her title that she needed to be especially
polite now. “This is Prince Rhys ap Tewdwr, and these are his nephews.” He called out eight names in all, but Tanon took notice
of only two. Cedric, the mean-looking one, whom William gestured to first, and Gareth, the younger boy.
“Are you all princes?” Tanon asked, spreading her wide gaze over the brothers.
“I haven’t any children of my own. When I become king of Deheubarth”—Prince Rhys bent to her and winked, and she giggled at
the way the last word rolled off his lips—”I will make my nephews princes.”
While Tanon laughed, Gareth lifted his finger to her dimple and poked it gently. Cedric murmured something. Tanon couldn’t
understand it, but she knew it was rude by the way he clenched his jaw and by the way Gareth glared at him over his shoulder.
Tanon decided not to smile at Cedric anymore, since he was being so ill-mannered, but on Gareth she bestowed her friendliest
grin. She hoped he would speak to her more, because the guests’ peculiar words made her belly tickle.
Tanon couldn’t really say whether Gareth was someone she might want to make friends with. He was proving to be as ill-mannered
as his brother. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her since their introduction two days ago. He ignored her when she tried
to speak to him. William kept asking her to be more polite to Cedric. But he refused to use his Anglo words with her, so she
didn’t understand him. Also, William had told her that Cedric was ten and seven. Tanon was certain that he wouldn’t want to
play with her, so she gave up trying to be nice to him.
“You’re very quiet, aren’t you?” she asked Gareth one day, appearing beside him while he made his way toward the stables.
He didn’t speak or even look at her but picked up his pace to walk ahead. Tanon clenched her hands at her sides. “I think
you’re a very rude mute.”
That was when she noticed how soft his hair looked. His loose braid draped down his back. Two stray locks of gold dangled
at his shoulders. He pivoted to look at her. He didn’t say anything. He simply stood there looking too old for a boy of only
ten summers. His face was pensive, his blue eyes narrowed on hers.
“My brothers speak…” he began and then shook his head. “My brothers said you are gelyn—my enemy.”
The hard expression Tanon tried to maintain faded into a look of heartrending disbelief. “Your enemy? But why? What have I
done?”
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something else. A breeze drifted across his face, and without another word he turned
and strode away.
The next few days passed in much the same manner, but Tanon had stopped trying to talk to Gareth. Instead, she followed him.
She watched him ride his horse around William’s land with his uncle and his brothers. His brothers seemed to enjoy thrashing
him, or at least trying to thrash him. Most of the time they failed. Even on a steed as large as her papa’s, Gareth avoided
being struck, either by ducking low over his saddle or arching his back.
In the great hall, Tanon covertly watched him eat his food. She even giggled when he stuck his finger in Cook Charlie’s tarts
to check what was inside before shoving them into his mouth.
Gareth finally did speak to Tanon at the end of his first week at Winchester. It was a lovely summer afternoon, and she was
thoroughly enjoying it with Petunia. She skipped in a field of yellow daisies behind the barn, singing a song she’d heard
some of the men singing in the great hall after they’d drunk all of William’s wine. It wasn’t a ditty fit for a young girl,
but Tanon didn’t know that, and she was barely mindful of her voice anyway, what with picking daisies and all.
She didn’t hear Roger and the Drake brothers sneaking up on her until their scratchy voices shattered her reverie.
“Twiggy Tanon goes snort, snort, snort!” A round of laughter followed that insult before another voice rang out.
“Mayhap she sleeps with the swine, too. She certainly sings like one.”
The three boys circled her and her pig. And then Roger began to chase Petunia. Tanon shouted at him to stop, but he snorted
at her and laughed again. Luckily, Petunia was too quick for Roger, but he almost struck her with his foot
when he tried to kick her. Tanon screamed and shook her fist at him.
“You leave her alone this instant, Roger deCourtenay, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he challenged, his eyes gleaming with anger as he stopped chasing Petunia and took a step closer to Tanon.
“What will you do?”
He lifted his hand to strike her, and Tanon squeezed her eyes shut. The Drake boys looked around to make certain no one was
watching.
But someone was.
Tanon opened her eyes just in time to see Gareth reach Roger, yank him around so that they faced each other, and then shove
him backward with such force Roger landed hard on his rump.
“Gwna mo chyffwrdd ’i!” Gareth shouted at him. And oh, did he look mean!
“What?” Roger deCourtenay’s lip actually trembled. He wasn’t laughing now.
“Bod cerddedig,” her new champion growled, motioning with his hand for Roger to run away.
Tanon wanted to clap her hands before Roger and the others even had time to flee. She sprang forward, tripped over her skirts,
and then righted herself again. “You did it! You frightened Roger deCourtenay!” Tanon had never been so happy in her life.
She would have leaped right into Gareth’s arms if he weren’t already turning away.
“Please, wait,” she pleaded, barely able to stop herself. She touched his hand before he moved to leave her. “You saved Petunia.”
She didn’t know if he understood her or not, so she smiled at him.
He just stood there staring at her for a moment. Then
he did what . . .
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