“I would not take it amiss if you were to court the friendship of my marcher barons and report their activities to me. I have reason to believe they are plotting against me.”
“I am grateful for your trust, sire, but why must I wed?”
John frowned. “Lord Fairchild left a widow and daughter, and I do not wish to appear cruel and unfeeling toward them. Twould speak well for me if I were to find a husband and protector for Ayrdale instead of giving the barony to a man with a wife. I do not want it said that I turned a grieving widow and daughter out of their home.”
Dominic nearly laughed in John’s face. Everyone knew the king was bloodthirsty, greedy and treacherous, so why the pretense of kindness? The barony tempts me,” Dominic admitted, “but wedding a woman I have never seen does not.”
” Tis done all the time,” John said dismissively. “And you may choose which you prefer, mother or daughter. I have been told that Lady Nelda, Fairchild’s widow, bore her daughter at age thirteen and is still of an age to bear more children. I know naught about the daughter except she is of marriageable age. If Lady Nelda strikes your fancy, she is yours, but I would take the daughter, were I you.”
“I want neither mother nor daughter,” Dominic proclaimed.
“There is no room for argument, Dragon. You will do as I order. Keep Lady Veronica as your leman if you wish, but you
will
wed one of Ayrdale’s ladies. Your marriage is necessary to gain the loyalty of Ayrdale’s vassals.”
“As you wish, sire,” Dominic replied, fuming inwardly. Gaining a barony was a boon he hadn’t expected, but marrying a woman other than Veronica, who suited him so well, did not appeal to him. Nor did choosing between a mother and daughter who would certainty be grieving the loss of husband or father.
“How many knights serve under Ayrdale’s banner?” Dominic asked.
“A score or more,” John said, shrugging.“Eric of Carlyle is captain of the guard. He is a good man, and faithful, if you can win him over after he hears of his lord’s execution.”
Dominic stared at John in horror. “Have Fairchild’s family not been informed of his death?”
John looked momentarily disconcerted but quickly regained his composure. “You are to carry word to Ayrdale of their lord’s demise. When you leave London, you will have in your possession my royal seal on a document authorizing your marriage to one of the ladies of Ayrdale. I understand the keep has a resident priest who will perform the ceremony. Can you be ready to leave two days hence?”
Two days, Dominic thought dismally. Hardly enough time to prepare for a journey of a sennight or more, but what choice did he have? “Aye, I will be ready.”
“Oh, one more thing, Dragon,” John said,Lady Nelda is Scottish. Her brother is Murdoc MacTavish, a powerful border laird who has had his eye on Ayrdale for many years. Tis one of the reasons for haste. Wed and bed your bride the day you arrive. Should MacTavish learn of Fairchild’s death before you reach Ayrdale, he will surely try to claim the land for himself.”
“If the Ayrdale guardsmen are faithful to their former lord, they may try to prevent me from entering the fortress,“Dominic said. “Should I prepare for a siege?”
“I doubt a siege will be necessary. Once you state that you carry word of their former lord, the gates will open to you. Furthermore, your name and reputation should command the trust and respect of those inside. Tis why I chose you for this honor, Lord Dragon. Enjoy Ayrdale and your new bride.”
“I intend to rename my barony Dragonwyck,” Dominic said with sudden decision. “Lord Dragon of Dragonwyck.” He smiled. “Aye, I like the sound of it.”
A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
—Gertrude Stein
Dominic’s destrier danced impatiently beneath him as he drew rein at the moat’s edge and stared at the magnificent fortress with its four square crenellated towers honed smooth by decades of wind, rain, snow and sun. Set in a narrow glen between two craggy hills, the stone fortress was surrounded by high walls. Dominic was not pleased to note that the drawbridge securing the keep against invaders was raised, preventing him from entering.
Glancing upward, Dominic saw that the guards on the parapet were looking down at him and his party, but they appeared in no hurry to alert the fortress to his presence or to lower the bridge so he could enter.
A sudden flurry on the battlements alerted Dominic to the fact that his distinctive banner, a rampant black dragon on a red field, had been seen and recognized.
“Think you they will lower the bridge, master?” Raj asked.
Dominic sent Raj a smug smile when he heard the sound of gears and saw that the drawbridge was slowly being lowered.
“You have your answer, Raj.”
Once the bridge was in place, Dominic clattered across, followed closely by Raj and the two score knights attached to his service. Dominic’s smile turned sour, however, when the grilled portcullis remained firmly in place. He reined in sharply and waited, his famous temper growing shorter by the minute.
“A warrior rides out to meet us, master,” Raj said with a hint of amusement.
Dominic saw no reason for levity until his mind registered the fact that the warrior approaching the portcullis was a woman. Tall and shapely, she wielded a sword as if she knew how to use it and wasn’t afraid to do so.
Dominic’s first thought was that this woman was no vassal. A headdress of semitransparent linen covered her head, held in place by a gold circlet. Her golden hair hung free beneath the headdress, proclaiming her an unmarried woman, and a fringe of bangs across her forehead curled seductively beneath the circlet of gold.
Her deep red under-gown had long, fitted sleeves and appeared to be made of the finest wool. Her over-gown of dark blue was belted at the hips with a gold chain and embroidered at the hem in a green, blue and black motif. She reined in at the closed portcullis and aimed a fierce glare at Dominic.If she hadn’t looked so bloodthirsty, Dominic would have laughed at her. She appeared too young to be Fairchild’s widow, so he assumed she was his daughter.
If this was the woman he was to wed, Lord help him!
Rose of Ayrdale stared through the iron grillwork at the knight demanding entrance and knew not what to make of his unexpected appearance. No good would come of his visit, she was sure. Clad from head to toe in chain mail shirt, hood and leggings, he sat his destrier as if he were a part of the magnificent animal. His white linen, knee-length surcoat was belted at the waist with leather, and a broadsword hung in its scabbard from a baldric slung over his right shoulder.
Rose studied the dragon emblem emblazoned on the triangular shield he carried, and frowned. Some thing jogged her memory but was quickly lost when she noted the look of irritation on the knight’s ruggedly handsome face and the spark of anger in his dark eyes. He looked so ferocious, so dangerous, that she brought her heavy sword up defensively.
“Who are you? State your business with Ayrdale and be gone.”
“Who are you?” Dominic challenged.
“A daughter of Ayrdale. What do you want?”
Suddenly a guardsman came riding up to Rose. He brought his horse close to hers, leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She blanched, took an other look at the fierce knight demanding entrance and immediately backed away.
“Why has the Dragon Lord come to Ayrdale?“she asked Dominic.
“Raise the portcullis and I will explain.”
“Nay. I am in charge during my father’s absence and I deny you entrance.”
Sensing his master’s waning patience, Dominic’s destrier reared but was quickly brought under control with a firm hand. “Open in the name of the king.”
Rose glanced past Dragon at the party of armed guardsmen riding with him. She was not at all convinced that letting them inside the keep was a good idea.
“King John is a tyrant,” Rose charged. “He has imprisoned my father in the Tower on flimsy charges.”
“I bring news of your father,” Dominic countered, then added in an aside to Raj. The woman must be lacking in wits to defy me.”
Rose lowered the sword. It had become too heavy a weight for her slender wrists, but she would have wielded it and gladly in defense of Ayrdale. She had trained with her father’s knights because she was his firstborn and the closest thing to a son he had. She wasn’t as strong as a man, but she could defend herself should the need arise.
“How do I know you speak the truth?”
“Summon someone who can read, and I will show him the king’s seal on the official document I carry.”
Rose sent him a contemptuous look. “I can read, Lord Dragon.”
Dominic stared at her, obviously skeptical, then shrugged and removed a scroll from a pouch he carried at his waist. He guided his destrier close to the portcullis, unrolled the scroll partway and held it up for Rose’s inspection. Rose frowned when she noticed that Dragon had exposed the king’s royal seal but left the body of the document concealed. An unsettling sensation twisted her gut. Was he trying to trick her?
“As you can see,” Dominic said, “the document bears the royal seal.”
“Lord Dragon speaks the truth, my lady,” the guardsman said. “He is the king’s champion. I have heard tales of his bravery in the Crusade and his skill in the lists. If he says he has news of your father, I am inclined to believe him.”
“I trust your judgment, Sir Eric,” Rose said. “Order the portcullis raised and inform the guardsmen to keep their wits about them while Lord Dragon and his guardsmen are within the keep.”
“Immediately, my lady,” Sir Eric said as he wheeled his horse about.
Rose’s palfrey inched backward as the portcullis was raised by slow degrees; then she turned and motioned for Dragon to follow as she rode past the barbican and through a passageway leading into the outer bailey. The murder holes in the stone ceiling must have made Lord Dragon nervous, Rose reflected when she looked back and saw him flinch and raise his shield.
“Fear not, my lord,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You are not about to be slain.”
The architect was a genius,” he replied.
Rose rode through the outer bailey and paused be fore another portcullis that opened into the inner bailey, waiting for Dragon and his guardsmen to catch up. The portcullis was raised and she rode through.
Dominic followed, admiring the shapely curve of her bottom outlined beneath her clothing. If she wasn’t such a sharp-tongued witch he might enjoy being wed to her, but taming the woman was bound to be more chore than pleasure.
Silently he contemplated the young beauty’s peaches-and-cream complexion and golden hair, unfavorably comparing her with his mistress’s striking dark comeliness and ebony tresses. God’s nightgown, why couldn’t John have allowed him to wed Veronica, the lady of his choice? He probably loved Veronica as much as he could love any woman. Marriage to either of the Fairchild women would be a disaster.
Dominic passed through the gate into the inner bailey and took stock of his new holding with a critical eye, noting with approval the rectangular towers that topped the curtain wall at regular intervals. Nestled against the wall were various buildings and outbuildings. He identified a brewery, a storage shed, a thatched barn and stables, a smithy, a mews and, next to the keep, a chapel. Stretching his neck, Dominic caught a glimpse of a fenced-in garden, and beyond that an orchard and beehives. Ayrdale appeared to be thriving despite its absent lord.
Fairchild’s fair daughter dismounted before the keep’s stone stairs and tossed the reins of her palfrey to a squire. Dominic barked out orders to his guardsmen and followed close on her heels as she mounted the long staircase. Another squire sprinted ahead and opened the immense oak doors for them. Trusting no one when it came to his master’s life, Raj brought up the rear, his huge hand resting on his sword.
Dominic’s appreciative glance swept over the great hall. Trestle tables had already been set up for the evening meal, and villeins hurried about performing their duties. The head table, resting upon a raised dais, was set with fine cloth and plates and cups of wrought silver for the lord, his family and their guests. A huge hearth warmed the large chamber, and the rushes smelled sweet and clean. Comfortable chairs and benches were positioned around the hearth for the lord and his lady to take their ease.
Dominic’s sharp gaze focused upon the two women who rose from their chairs and waited for him to approach. He had nearly reached them when he came to an abrupt halt, his gaze riveted on the younger of the two women. She was the exact image of the young woman who had met him at the portcullis. He blinked and looked again. The same hair, the same eyes, the same nose.Identical twins! Had the king known that Lord Fairchild had not one but two daughters?
Smiling, the older woman stepped forward and curtsied. “My lord, welcome to Ayrdale. I am sorry my husband cannot greet you himself but he would want me to bid you welcome. I am Lady Nelda of Ayrdale, and these—”
“Mama,” the warrior maiden cautioned. “Lord Dragon brings news of Papa. Perhaps we should hear him out before we offer hospitality.”
Lady Nelda’s eyes sparkled with excitement and she clasped her hands over her heart. Though she was older than her daughters, Dominic thought her every bit as lovely.
“You have news of my husband, my lord? Oh, my, ‘tis so long since we have heard anything. Please tell me what you know.”
Dominic pulled off his hood and bowed over the lady’s hand. Telling this kind lady that her husband had been put to death wasn’t going to be easy, but being a straightforward man, he got right to the point. No sense in prolonging it.
“Unwelcome news, I fear. I regret to inform you that Edwyn of Ayrdale is dead.”
Lady Nelda turned deathly pale, and Dominic feared she would faint. He stood ready to catch her but Sir Eric of Carlyle rushed forward to steady her. The lady did not faint, however, but one of the twins swayed and would have fallen had her sister not placed a bracing arm around her.
The twin who had met him at the portcullis with the bared sword glared at him, her fury palpable. “Did you have a hand in my father’s death? I want the truth, Lord Dragon, if you are capable of telling it. The last we heard, my father was residing in the Tower.”