Her life is in the hands of a man she dares not love...
Lady Isabel Louvet is a woman of noble birth, wit, courage, and beauty. But though these qualities make her an excellent bride, they cannot save her when, on the night she was meant to choose a groom, wild Scottish brigands storm the walls of her father's castle. As what should be a celebration turns to terror and bloodshed, Isabel is carried away from her family to be offered to a Scottish chieftain as a slave...or worse.
But unbeknownst to Isabel, she has a champion, a feared warrior and knight of legend named Anvrai d'Arques. His visage bears the scars of battle, but his heart remains pure in its devotion to country and king -- that is, until he sets out to rescue Isabel. Her fierce spirit of survival stirs his passion more than combat ever could, and with her touch his world forever shifts. Now, with the Scottish on their heels and a country on the brink of war, they must go forth in battle together -- to save themselves, to protect their countrymen, and to find a love that can set them both forever free.
Anvrai d'Arques felt uneasy in spite of all the music and merriment around him. The castle wall was yet unfinished, and Lord Kettwyck's knights had recently done more to aid construction than train for defense. 'Twould be so easy for Scottish raiders to wreak havoc there, during the welcoming festivities for the lord's two daughters, Isabel and Kathryn.
He turned from the balustrade overlooking the courtyard where Lady Isabel danced with her prospective suitors.
"Anvrai d'Arques!" called Sir Hugh Bourdet, Lord Kettwyck's most trusted retainer. The knight clasped Anvrai's hand in greeting. "I'd heard you had come in Baron Osbern's stead. 'Tis good to see you. Has it really been two years?"
"Aye, at least," Anvrai replied tersely. He respected the older knight, but Anvrai was not one for idle conversation.
"To this day, you remain steadfast." Hugh laughed. "You still do not command the king's garrison at Winchester."
Anvrai gritted his teeth. 'Twas a sore spot between him and King William. Of all the knights who might stay at court and enjoy the notoriety of being commander of all King William's armies, Anvrai was least interested. He would have appreciated a small estate -- a home -- as his reward for his years of service, before and after Hastings.
Yet William would not reward the man who had defied him. And so Anvrai lived in Belmere's barracks, in service to Baron Osbern d'Ivry, Lord of Belmere. 'Twas a source of ire, but there was naught to be done. Anvrai had proved to be as strong-willed as the king.
Anvrai gestured toward Kettwyck's castle walls and spoke of his concern. "The fortifications are not yet complete, Sir Hugh. Does Lord Henri have no fear of raiding Scots?"
"None of the raids have come this far west," Hugh replied, "though we've taken precautions. We have knights patrolling the perimeter of the walls . . ."
"You think they will deter a band of murderous Scots?" Anvrai had heard tales of vicious attacks on Norman knights. Of barbaric Scotsmen carrying away women and children to be sold and used as slaves. Better to have high walls and armed knights on patrol.
"Soon we will see an end to such raids. As we speak, King William's herald makes his way across Northumberland, rallying the king's vassals to battle." Hugh glanced toward the celebrations below. "The king himself rides north to Scotland, gathering legions of knights as he goes."
" 'Twill be a dangerous venture, meeting King Malcolm on his own turf."
"Perhaps, but there is no doubt William has the superior army. His herald arrived an hour ago and delivered the command for all his vassals to meet him at the mouth of the River Tees, where a host of Norman ships await him. He intends to have a formidable force at his bidding."
"When?"
"By month's end."
Anvrai stepped back, his mind racing. As commander of Belmere's knights, he would need to return there immediately and marshal Belmere's men.
Hugh placed a hand upon Anvrai's arm. "Naught to be done until the morrow," the elder knight remarked. "For now, there is dancing in the hall."
Anvrai gave a slight shake of his head. " 'Tis not for me."
"I doubt Lord Osbern sent you here to pace the battlements, even if you must leave precipitously," Hugh said with a rueful laugh. "You are a young man . . . a powerful knight . . . many a likely maid awaits your attentions."
Anvrai ignored the barb, certain 'twas unintended. There wasn't a knight in England or Normandy who had not seen, or at least heard of, Anvrai's ugly visage, of his many scars and the empty socket where his eye once dwelled. Nary a young maid, neither comely nor plain, was wont to favor him; at least, not without generous remuneration.
Home
