Seated in a chair facing the fire in the great hall, Ash turned the thin gold coin in his fingers. The artifact had been discovered at dawn that morning. When the missive with word of the find had reached Ash, he’d immediately understood the significance—and had vowed ’twas yet another good reason for him to stop Rosetta’s wedding.
The gold gleamed in the fire glow. The image of a man’s head, surrounded by ancient lettering, marked one side of the coin; a central flower shape and more lettering was on the other.
“I am glad you were able to get hold of it, Niles.” Ash kept his voice hushed so the servants setting tables at the far end of the hall for the midday meal wouldn’t hear.
The red-haired man sitting opposite him—a trusted local informant Ash had met through the King’s men in London—grinned and sipped his mug of ale. “The bag of silver you gave me helped.”
Ash nodded. He loathed bribes, but in this instance, he’d spared no expense to get hold of the coin and ensure that news of the find didn’t spread throughout Warwickshire. Far too much was at risk, mayhap even the throne of England. “If I remember correctly, you said a peasant dug it up in his back garden, along with his carrots?”
“Aye. Once he realized what he’d found, he tore up the rest of his vegetable plot, but did not find any more gold.”
That makes at least two artifacts discovered in the local area over the years. Ash had never forgotten the ring Rosetta had found when he, she, and Edric had slipped away from Millenstowe Keep one scorching summer afternoon. He and Edric had both moved to Millenstowe within weeks of one another, and had served Rosetta’s father first as pages, and then squires. When they’d been given the opportunity to move to a larger fortress closer to London, to train to become knights, he and Edric had decided to stay and receive their training at Millenstowe, because of their close friendship with Rosetta. She had been caring for her ill mother while being tutored in the ways of a lady of a castle—essential preparation for when she married.
That hot day, though, they’d all been eager to run away from their duties to enjoy a swim in the creek.
Breathing hard, Ash, Rosetta, and Edric paused in the field crowned by a circle of huge standing stones; according to old stories, the monument—like many others throughout England—had been built and left behind by ancient peoples. Farther across the field, water glimmered, part of the creek that ran through the windswept wheat that would soon be harvested.
“Come on,” Ash said, eager to plunge into the cool, clear water. He wiped sweat from his brow and slid his other hand through Rosetta’s. Her silk gown would slow her down in the wheat, but if they stayed on the footpath through the field, she’d still be able to run fast.
Edric launched into a sprint, clearly eager to be the first into the water. Impatience tugged at Ash, and he pulled Rosetta’s arm, urging her to hurry.
She ran behind him, laughing, her gown rustling and her loose, golden hair floating behind her on the breeze.
Suddenly, she halted. “Wait!” Her hand slid free from his.
“Briar Rose!”Ash skidded to a halt and turned to face her.
“I saw something…” She peered down at the ground. By the hem of her gown, broken rocks pushed up through the dirt.
Ash set his hands on his hips. “Edric is going to get to the creek before us.”
“Mmm.” She crouched, her gown sweeping the dirt. Then, her face brightening, she pushed aside the leaves of a dandelion blooming beside a rock. “Got it!”
As she stood, gold glinted in her fingers.
“What is it?” He closed the distance between them and leaned in to press his forehead against hers. The wind blew strands of her hair across his face, and he swept them away as he gazed down at the treasure she’d found. “A ring,” he murmured.
“While I was running, I saw a glint of light.”
He gently cupped her hand in his. The gold band, slightly dented, had strange etchings on it, and was set with a dull red stone. A ruby? “That ring could have lain in the dirt for years before you found it.”
“It does look like an old ring,” she said, smiling.
“One that could have belonged to an ancient king or queen,” Ash agreed.
“I must show Father when we get back to the keep.”
Misgiving sifted through Ash. “Are you certain ’tis wise?”
“What do you mean? These are Father’s lands—”
“I know, but if word gets out that there is treasure to be found, this whole field will be dug up within the week, as well as the surrounding lands. Folk will come from many leagues away to try to find a piece of gold.”
“But—”
“And our creek, our special place, will be churned up into a pile of mud.” He squeezed her hand. “None of us wants that, do we?” Selfish though it might be, he certainly didn’t want to lose his favorite swimming spot for the rest of the summer.
Her worried blue eyes met his. “I do not want to lie to my father.”
“You do not have to lie. You simply do not tell him.”
“’Twill be our secret, you mean?”
“Aye.”
Concern still lingered in her gaze. With his free hand, Ash tipped up her chin, bringing her lush pink mouth closer to his. He kissed her, their breaths mingling while their lips moved together in the perfect rhythm of give and take. With his mouth, he enticed and tempted. He relentlessly seduced, and with luck, he’d also convinced.
Finally, a satisfied groan rumbling in his throat, he released her. Eyelids closed, she stayed very still, as if caught up in the thrill of his kiss. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes. “Very well. Our secret.”
“Oy!” Edric called from a distance. “What is keeping you two?”
Rosetta looked down at her gown, as if needing a place to stow the ring.
“I can keep it for you,” Ash said, doing his best to hide his eagerness. “Until we get back to the keep.”
She dropped the ring into his palm. He tucked it into the leather bag at his hip, caught her hand, and they raced together to join Edric…
“Milord.”
Ash blinked and found himself still by the fire with Niles. “Does Lord Montgomery know of this find?”
“I cannot say, milord. What I do know is that the peasant tried to leave town to sell the gold—”
“Which is how you came to have it?”
Niles smiled, an unsettling twist of his mouth. “I never met the peasant. I came by the gold after negotiating with those who had acquired it through a particular…exchange.”
A chill trailed through Ash, for he suspected the peasant had been murdered. A sad end for a poor man who had no doubt believed after finding the gold that his life had changed.
“Will those men with whom you negotiated keep silent about the coin?”
“I vow they will. They are businessmen, after all. Moreover, they have agreed to inform me straight away if they hear of any more gold being found.” Niles wiped ale from his bottom lip. “I would not worry, milord. Even if the men do talk, the peasant was known to be a little addled in the head, thanks to his love of drink. Few people around here will believe that he really did find ancient gold amongst his vegetables. His story will become just another one of those tales that folk like to tell now and again.”
“Good.” Ash curled his hand around the coin. “You have done well to get this gold to me.”
“’Tis why you—well, more accurately, the crown—pay me so well.” Niles tipped his head back, finishing the last of his ale. Setting the empty mug down, he said, “Besides, you are the one man I trust to do what is right.”
Ash frowned. “Right?”
“My gut instinct is never wrong. I know, with certainty, ’tis not the last we will hear of treasure to be found in these lands.”
Caution hummed at the back of Ash’s mind. He’d always believed there were more riches to be found on Lord Montgomery’s lands than just the ring. Still, he mustn’t agree too readily; ’twas clear he still had much to learn from Niles. “Why do you say that?”
“I have lived in Warwickshire for many years. I have heard the old stories of a vast hoard, lost riches of the Kingdom of Mercia, hidden somewhere close by. Some say ’tis enough Anglo-Saxon gold to fund a large army.” Niles leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with purpose. “I believe, milord, that ’tis enough gold to enable supporters of John Lackland to overthrow our King. For that reason, I will gladly do all I can to keep the riches a secret.”
Propped up in bed in the solar, the blankets tucked under her armpits, Rosetta fumed. How dare Ash treat her in such a manner? He had no right to be so bloody arrogant and unyielding. She wasn’t a child, nor was she dim-witted. Edric would never have shown her such disrespect.
Her headache had become almost unbearable, and Rosetta struggled to ward off the unwelcome threat of tears. Herta had been summoned by the healer, so Rosetta was alone in the chamber.
’Twas the perfect moment to indulge in a good cry, but she would not be found weeping. The women in her family always endured, regardless of the ordeals they had to overcome. Rosetta’s mother, after a difficult and heartbreaking stillbirth, had battled years of poor health, but through sheer strength of will, and her husband’s unwavering love, she had fully recovered. Rosetta, too, would fight—and do her utmost to outwit Ash in any way possible.
Dear Edric. How was he faring? He and her parents must have been frantic with worry when they found her mare but not her. No doubt he’d sent his men-at-arms to question townsfolk and search every alley, shop, and home in Clipston, but of course, Rosetta wouldn’t be found.
Her thoughts drifted to the last time she’d seen Edric—three days ago, when they’d walked down by the lake near Wallensford Keep.
Long grasses and wildflowers whispered against their garments as they wandered down to the still, glassy water. Edric had taken her hand from the moment they’d handed the reins of their horses to the men-at-arms who would stand guard nearby. He always held her hand whenever they were together now, as if he wanted to reinforce that she belonged to him—even though with the large pearl and emerald ring he’d given her on her left hand, there could be no mistaking that she was betrothed.
“You are quiet, my love,” Edric murmured, brushing his thumb against hers. The callus on his thumb was rough against her skin.
“I am enjoying our lovely surroundings.” She smiled at him. “When we are married, I hope we can bring picnics and spend quiet afternoons here.”
“We can, my love. Whenever you like.” His gaze smoldered and skimmed over her pale pink gown. “We can send the guards away and do far more than picnic, if we wish.”
“Edric!”
He grinned, his expression reminding her of the lad he’d been when they had first met many years ago. “I cannot help being excited for our wedding. We will have a grand day, Rosetta, with the most talked-about festivities ever held in Warwickshire.” His tone turned husky. “And that night in my bed, when I make you my wife in all ways—”
“I am sure ’twill all be wonderful,” she said with a nervous giggle, not wanting to think about her wedding night. She’d always imagined that she would marry Ash and that he would be the man she lay with, but that obviously had been a fanciful dream.
Ash had returned to England a while ago and hadn’t made any attempt to contact her. He also hadn’t responded to any of her letters, which seemed strange. Ash also hadn’t been invited to the wedding; Edric had said Ash would be away on estate business on the day of their nuptials and therefore an invitation hadn’t been sent. The nagging disquiet inside her became a need to find out if her betrothed had any insights to share.
“Edric,” she said as casually as possible. “Have you heard from Ash?”
“Ash?” He looked startled. “Nay. Why?”
“Did you not say that Ash would be away on the day we are to wed? How did you know that without speaking to him or receiving a missive from him?”
“I learned that bit of news while talking with a fellow lord.”
“I see.” Frowning, she said, “Do you not find it odd that Ash has not contacted us in any way?”
Edric shielded his eyes and watched the ducks gliding on the lake. “I am sure Ash is a very busy man now that he is lord of Damsley Keep.”
“True, but surely he would want to—?”
“Have you heard from him?”
There was a curious edge to Edric’s voice that somehow heightened her unease. “Regrettably, I have not,” she said.
A smile touched Edric’s lips.
“It just seems strange that Ash has chosen to—”
Sighing, Edric freed his hand from hers and then slid his arm around her waist while they walked. “Why are we talking about Ash? We are marrying in a few days. I want to talk about us, the places we want to visit, how many children we hope to have—”
A knock sounded on the solar door, bringing Rosetta back to the present. Herta peered in, and her face brightened with a smile. “Oh, good, you are still awake. I have a drink for you, specially made by the healer to ease your headache.”
The young woman crossed to the bed, and Rosetta reluctantly accepted the earthenware mug. She’d learned a fair bit about healing infusions during her mother’s illness. The local healer had created concoctions of various blends of herbs, including powerful ones made from Poppy and Valerian for when her mother was suffering pain. Would Ash have asked his healer to use such sleep-inducing herbs? ’Twould be an easy way to keep Rosetta from trying to escape.
Her hand tightened around the warm mug. She was going to get away.
“Drink, milady,” Herta urged in that sweet way of hers.
“What is in this infusion?”
“Herbs. Honey. Sometimes the healer also adds spices.”
Rosetta breathed in the sweetish, earthy scent of the drink.
Herta sat in the chair beside the bed, her hands clasped on her lap. “’Tis not going to harm you.”
Rosetta laughed, the sound brittle. “Are you certain?”
“Of course! Milord is a kind, gallant man who would never harm a woman. Not deliberately.”
“Not deliberately? Do you mean he has hurt women before?”
“Oh, nay, not at all.” A blush stained Herta’s cheeks. “Lord Blakeley made sure that after one of the maidservants burned her hands in the kitchens—she accidentally knocked over a pan of hot chicken fat—she did not return to her duties for a week. A whole week! I know of no other lord who has shown such compassion toward a commoner. He has also ordered that everyone within this castle has a full meal every day. No one is to go hungry.”
Ash had certainly won Herta’s adoration, and likely that of every other servant at Damsley Keep. With effort, Rosetta swallowed her indignant reply that he had hurt her by kidnapping her.
“The drink will help you feel better,” Herta continued, her gaze earnest. “Surely you do not intend to spend all of your stay here abed?”
Most certainly not—especially when, through no choice of her own, she was occupying Ash’s bed. Yet, as much as she wanted to flee, Rosetta had to admit she wasn’t up to the challenge right now. After a rest, when her headache was gone, though…
She brought the mug to her lips and sipped. The drink tasted of honey and mint, but had a slightly bitter aftertaste. She drank it all down.
“Well done, milady.” Herta took back the mug. “Now, is there aught else you would like? Shall I order you some fare?”
“Not just now,” Rosetta said. “Are my garments and shoes clean yet? I would like them back.”
“I will ask,” Herta said, rising. She hurried to the door and spoke with someone outside: A guard? Knowing Ash, he would have posted more than one in the corridor.
Rosetta leaned back against her pillows. Already she was feeling drowsy. Mayhap she shouldn’t have downed the drink so quickly. She trapped a yawn with her hand and fought to stay awake, but her heavy eyelids slipped closed.
“Is she all right?” Ash asked from the doorway, his gaze on Rosetta.
“Aye, milord,” Herta whispered from the chair by the bed. “Just asleep.”
He walked to the bed, as quietly as possible. Twilight had fallen, and after confirming that extra guards were patrolling the battlements and on duty at the gatehouse, he’d no longer been able to resist seeing Rosetta again.
Standing at the bedside, he studied her sleeping face. How lovely she was, lying on her back with her shimmering golden hair flowing over the pillow. Her skin was smooth and dewy, and her thick lashes brushed her cheeks. She looked peaceful and exquisitely beautiful, but once she woke, he would face her flashing eyes and biting words once more.
His gloved hand lifted, gently smoothed back a stray wisp of hair so that it blended into the rest of her tresses by her right temple. How he wanted to trail his bare fingers down the slope of her cheek and wake her, as he once had in the meadow near Millenstowe Keep, with a tender kiss. Years ago, she’d sighed blissfully, her eyelids had fluttered open, and he’d felt the loving warmth of her gaze the instant their eyes had met; he’d cherished her and the wonder of belonging to her.
She wouldn’t look at him that way now. In time, mayhap, but not now.
His hand curled, the black leather of his glove tightening across his knuckles. He eased away from the bed, the familiar rage and bitterness filling his soul. Truth be told, she might never love him again, for he was damaged, even repugnant.
“Milord?” Herta asked softly, sounding concerned.
“When she wakes, summon me.”
Ash quit the solar, nodding to the two guards outside as he left, and headed down the passageway to the arched door that opened onto the narrow stone steps up to the battlements. As he shut the iron-banded door at the top of the stairs, the wind tugged at his garments and brought the scent of old, sun-warmed stone.
He strode to the edge of the battlement to look down into the bailey, where servants were lighting the torches that would burn through the night. All that he could see around him was his; all that he could not see within the fortress was his too, including Rosetta. He’d made her a promise years ago, that she would always be his. She might not care to remember, but he did. Ash never broke a promise.
The battlement door banged open behind him. He reached on instinct for the knife at his belt, but his hand fell away when he saw who approached.
“Good evening, Uncle.”
“Good evening, Justin.” As the six-year-old boy reached his side, Ash ruffled his shaggy mop of dark blond hair. “How are the pups tonight?”
Justin’s brown eyes shone. Judging by the straw clinging to his tunic, the lad had just come from the stable, where the wolfhound had birthed her litter a few weeks ago in an empty stall. “They all have fat little bellies and seem to be well.”
“’Tis good news.”
“Can I have one of the puppies? Please?”
Ash chuckled.
“Please?”
“Well…” Ash scratched his chin. While he had already decided to let Justin have his pick of the litter—the healer had suggested the pet might help to comfort the boy and ease his nightmares—Ash would prefer that Justin earn the reward. Working toward a goal would be good for the lad. ’Twould help him gain fighting skills that he would need to become a knight one day, and would also help him focus on matters other than his father’s recent death. Ash was now the boy’s guardian, since Justin’s mother had died eighteen months ago in childbirth.
“I will practice with my bow,” the lad said.
Ash’s brows rose. His late brother had been a highly skilled archer. While Ash had had a bow specially made for Justin, the boy had yet to use it very often. “Will you now?”
Justin nodded in earnest.
“Very well. If you can hit the largest archery target by the time the pups are weaned, you may keep one.”
Jumping up and down, Justin grinned. “I cannot decide whether I want the smallest one or the one with the shaggiest tail.”
“You have plenty of time to decide. The pups are not old enough to leave their mother yet.”
“True.” Justin’s smile wobbled, and then he threw himself at Ash and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cheek against Ash’s stomach. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Ash closed his arms around the boy’s thin shoulders. He stood quietly, silently sharing the lad’s happiness and also grief. Losing a brother to a corrupted wound was difficult; losing a beloved father was even more so.
After long moments, Justin drew away. He quickly wiped his eyes on his grubby sleeve, no doubt hoping Ash wouldn’t notice. With a pang of remorse, Ash made a mental note to buy the lad some new clothes when he had the chance. Justin’s tunic was stained, too short in the sleeves, and ripped at the hem, and the rest of his garments were in equally bad condition, despite the servants’ best efforts to care for them.
“I am going to go inside now,” the boy said. “The wind is growing cold.”
“All right.” Night was settling in, falling like darkening ink across the castle and surrounding lands.
“Uncle…”
“Aye?” Ash murmured.
“Will you have time for a game of chess tonight?”
Ash smiled, for the boy was just like his father in his love of such games. “Regrettably, we must postpone our game for tonight.” As the lad’s face crumpled with disappointment, Ash added, “There is a lady—a special guest—staying in my chamber. I do not wish to disturb her by fetching the chess set.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Aye. Tomorrow.”
“Some wine, milady?”
“Thank you.” Pushing herself up to sitting, Rosetta accepted the goblet from Herta. The woman had told her ’twas dark outside now, which meant Rosetta had slept most of the afternoon, no doubt due to the herbal drink.
Truth be told, though, she did feel much better, although her brow still ached a bit, and her mind was fuzzy, as though she were trying to think with a head full of newly-shorn wool.
“Did you ask about my garments and shoes?” Rosetta asked.
“I am sorry, milady, but they are still being cleaned, along with your veil. The maidservants are having trouble getting out the mud stains. One of the women gave me this, though.” She collected a folded item from the trestle table and brought it to the bed.
The garment was a forest green gown made of coarse linen. Not at all what a lady would wear, but at least Rosetta would have more to wear than a chemise. Shoes, though, were essential if she was going to flee the keep. She’d have to find a pair as soon as possible.
“Shall we see how the gown fits, milady?” Herta asked, shaking out the garment.
Rosetta placed the goblet on the bedside table. “All right.”
She managed to pull aside the bedding and step down onto the floorboards, although her head swam. She quickly sat on the side of the bed and drew in deep breaths. Once her head had stopped reeling, she stood and pulled on the gown.
Herta fastened the ties down the sides. “Once you are dressed, you can see his lordship.”
See Ash again? She’d rather eat a bucketful of pickled frogs. “Nay, Herta—”
“He has invited you to join him in the great hall. He said you would likely be hungry after your rest.”
A shudder trailed through Rosetta, but she swiftly rallied her anger. Smoothing her long hair with her fingers, she said, “I have no wish to see him again. Ever.”
Herta made a small sound of distress and then went to the doorway, as if to relay Rosetta’s words.
Turning her back to the door, Rosetta hugged herself and walked to the fire, its flames casting an inviting warmth across the patterned rug. She’d already determined there was little she could use as a weapon in the chamber. Ash had obviously figured out her first thoughts would be to escape.
Mayhap she’d find something of use in Ash’s linen chests? Without a weapon, she couldn’t get past the guards outside. She glanced at the wooden chests, but they both bore iron locks. Unless she found the keys, she’d have to find a way to smash the chests open.
Hushed voices carried in the corridor, and then the door clicked shut.
“Thank you for telling his lordship that I—”
“—never wished to see him again?” Rough laughter reached her, and the fine hairs on her nape prickled. She looked back to find Ash leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Bold words, Briar Rose, but they will not keep me from seeing you whenever I wish.”