Taming The Lion

TAMING THE LION Marilyn Grall

ISBN 1-891020-14-5 Copyright 1997, Marilyn Grall Cover Art by Eliza Black New Concepts Publishing 4729 Humphreys Rd. Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

OTHER NCP TITLES BY MARILYN GRALL: In Search of Amanda Conquest of the Heart

Chapter One

England, 1109

He was called The Lion. Sir Lionel of Freemont stood nearly six and a half feet tall, with incredibly broad shoulders, a trim waist and lean, powerful hips. He could move with the disciplined grace of a feline, and could kill his prey with savage ruthlessness. His hair was an unruly, tawny mane, his eyes golden-brown, fringed by darker lashes and eyebrows. The Lion rarely--if ever--smiled, and yet he was relatively satisfied with his life...until the summons came. Lionel was a formidable warhorse, a well-trained killing machine. Unfortunately, he was also four and thirty and had recently been injured, resulting in a right knee which was no longer reliable; it would simply give out at the most inopportune moments. When the summons arrived, Lionel was waging war, fighting a band of vicious renegade knights, enemies of his overlord. The smell of blood was thick in his nostrils as he swung his heavy broadsword, cleanly killing his opponent, then turned his huge stallion to meet the next enemy. To his left, Lionel saw one of his men falter as he tried to fend off four renegades at once. "To me!" Lionel shouted, and five of his knights galloped toward the faltering man, Lionel leading the way. Sensing imminent defeat, the four renegades tried to escape, but two of their sweating, frenzied horses reared, toppling their riders. One of those horses stumbled and fell in the blood-slicked grass, hideously crushing his own master; the other galloped to relative safety, leaving his rider to the massive hooves of Thunder, Lionel's warhorse. Breathing heavily, covered with sweat and gore, Lionel and his men defeated the remaining two renegades who had attempted escape, then turned to seek more foes, bloodlust singing through their veins. The men under Lionel's command fought in perfect synchronization. He had trained most of them personally, and he was proud of their unwavering strength. The renegades would be defeated; of that he had no doubt. It was simply a matter of time. Battlefields had been The Lion's home--his life--for nearly twenty years. He knew no other profession than soldiering; he wanted nothing else in his life save defending the earldom in war. The sun reached its zenith as the battle raged on, the sounds of creaking leather, steel against steel and horrid screams of agony filling the air. Lionel and his men hacked and severed their way to victory, christening their mighty swords with fresh blood again and again. A hush fell over the battlefield as Lionel sent a final man to the devil, and only then did he realize that the fighting was done. Breathing deeply now, purposely calming himself, Lionel of Freemont surveyed the grisly field. No renegades were standing, but only a few of his own men had suffered more than minor wounds. Two or three of his felled enemies were clinging to life, but Lionel knew from the nature of their wounds that they would be mercifully dead before long. The drama of life and death had been played out to the full. The winners had won, the losers had lost. There was naught left to do now but return to camp and wash off the heavy stench of death. Grimly satisfied that once again, his lord's enemies had been vanquished, Lionel supervised the litters carrying his wounded men from the field, then turned his horse in the direction of his campaign tent. Upon

reaching his temporary lodgings, Lionel reined in and dismounted with an easy grace that belied the weight of his chain mail, broadsword and shield. And then his right knee gave out, and he found himself sprawled in the dirt. "God's blood!" Lionel cursed, disdaining the help of his young squire, Oliver, and quickly rising to his feet. Only Oliver had witnessed that particular humiliation, but Lionel felt the shame of it all the way to his soul. Of course, once the knee had reminded him of its weakened condition, it returned to its normal function, as if nothing had happened at all. But The Lion knew what had happened. The knee had proven once again that it was more powerful than the rest of the beast. If he had been fighting on foot when the damnable thing gave out, Lionel knew without a doubt that he would have been the one slain instead of the one doing the slaying. It was an ignoble, humiliating weakness, and Lionel of Freemont knew all too well that it would soon cause the end of his soldiering career. But he was not retiring from soldiering today, he reminded himself determinedly. Today he had been victorious, and the aftermath of battle was hot and heavy in his blood. What he needed now was to be relieved of his armor, to have a tankard of stout ale, and to find release from the stress of battle through the many talents of his favorite camp whore. Waging war was his profession--and The Lion was exceedingly good at what he did--but he would be more a beast than a man if he didn't feel the weight of death that surrounded every battlefield. He had been fortunate today...none of his men had died. And having his battle-worn soul put back together was just what Lionel was doing when the Earl of Marlborough's message was delivered. "God's breath, but you have talented hands, Liza," he rumbled contentedly. "My only aim is to please, milord," Liza replied with a smile. "Oh, you're doing that all right, wench," Lionel assured her. "With talent like yours, I'll soon forget this damnable soreness in my back. Victorious battle does have its price." Less than an hour earlier, Lionel's squire had stripped him of his chain mail, and the sweet little whore had stripped him of the rest of his clothing, soon washing away the evidence of battle with the nimble hands he'd just complimented. Now Lionel was lying on his stomach, having muscles stiffened from wielding a broadsword for hours on end massaged with an exotic oil. His thoughts had turned from battle to far more pleasurable ones concerning the sweet whore's other talents, when Oliver returned. The young man's eyes widened in appreciation as he lifted the flap and walked into Sir Lionel's tent. His master was naked, but that, of course, was not what had caught the youth's interest. It was the fact that the woman massaging Sir Lionel's broad, muscled back was also nude that had Oliver licking his lips and feasting his eyes on the delectable sight. "What is it, Oliver?" Lionel grunted without ever lifting his head. Startled that Sir Lionel knew he was there even before he opened his mouth, Oliver nearly dropped the parchment held in his sweaty hands. " 'Tis a message from the earl," he said hoarsely. Lionel sighed heavily and rolled onto his side. "Give it to me, Oliver."

The squire swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he approached Sir Lionel, then handed him the rolled parchment. "That will be all," Lionel said firmly, and Oliver stumbled backwards out of the tent. Liza watched Sir Lionel's starkly handsome, though perpetually serious features darken even more as he read the short missive. "Is it bad news, Sir Lionel?" she asked in her sultry, deep voice. "Mayhap," Lionel answered, then amended that statement with, "Probably." He tossed the parchment to the ground, then lay down on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "I've been called home." "Is that all?" Liza asked, reaching for one muscled thigh and massaging it with strong, deep motions. " 'Tis enough," Lionel replied. "There's only one reason for the earl to call me back ahead of my men." And Lionel knew that reason only too well. He'd been expecting it ever since the knee injury. The earl was going to force him into retirement from the field. He saw Liza move to his other leg, her well-rouged lips smiling as she noticed his reaction to her thigh massage. "Will you be leaving tonight?" she asked in a husky purr, moving her hands closer still to his burgeoning need. "Not tonight, sweet wench," Lionel said, suddenly grasping her hands and putting them exactly where he wanted them. "I'll leave at first light. But this may be the last night we ever have together." "Well then," Liza said, as he watched her lean down to kiss his arousal and felt her long raven tresses caressing his thighs, "let's make it a night to remember, Sir Lionel." Lionel growled with pleasure as Liza serviced him with practiced eagerness, but he eventually pulled her over his body and then rolled on the cot until she was beneath him. "I promise you, Liza," he murmured thickly as he thrust sure and deep, "I will make this a night you will never forget." Tomorrow, he would ride to Marlborough Castle and undoubtedly be put out to pasture. But tonight, The Lion was in his element, having been victorious in battle and having a willing wench to slake his sexual needs. At this moment, the beast and the man were in perfect harmony. The beast could cool the hot bloodlust of battle by dominating a female, and the man could thoroughly enjoy the sexual release Liza was so very capable of giving him. Liza moaned with wanton delight as The Lion lived up to his name, becoming supremely aggressive and domineering, whispering erotic demands that she quickly obeyed. Liza was in her element, too, as the magnificent male animal took her to the heights of ecstasy more times than she could count, demanding every lusty response her body could possibly give. It was indeed a night that she would never forget, for well before dawn, Liza had determined that she simply could not let The Lion ride out of her life forever.

Early the next morning, leaving the knights under his command to break camp and follow as soon as the wounded could travel, Lionel set out for Marlborough Castle, accompanied by his squire. The pace Lionel set would be impossible for the full contingency of soldiers to maintain, even without wounded men, so he probably would be at the castle three or four days before the rest of his men arrived.

Thoughts of his men, however, were not uppermost in Lionel's mind as he topped the rise overlooking Marlborough Castle. The formidable fortress lay in a valley, the keep a huge, square building of gray stone. The curtain wall surrounding the bailey was twenty feet thick, as immovable and unchanging as any decision the earl might make. And that's what Lionel's troubled thoughts were about--the decision the earl had undoubtedly made concerning his future. Lionel had dressed appropriately for the meeting with his overlord, donning a deep-brown velvet tunic, heavily embroidered with golden thread at neckline and hem. Beneath the tunic, his muscular legs were encased in starkly black hose, and his gartered boots had been cleaned with spittle and vigorous rubbing by Oliver. His shoulder-length tawny mane was held back by a leather thong, and his stern, angular face was clean-shaven. The heavy sword at his side, and the pendant around his neck bearing the crest of Marlborough, completed the attire. After sitting on the rise long enough to tamp down his desire to be anywhere else but here right now, Lionel set his horse to a gallop, riding toward the castle with firm determination. If his future was about to change, by the rood, he would meet that future with courage.

The Earl of Marlborough, a man of considerable bulk and greying hair, greeted Sir Lionel of Freemont congenially, almost paternally--as well he should since Lionel was his son...his bastard son, to be more exact. Lionel was the product of a tryst with a fetching kitchen maid when the now-portly earl had been a strapping lad of sixteen. And though Lionel had been raised at Freemont Castle, one of the earldom's vast holdings and the home of Lionel's mother, Lionel had always known of his paternity. Lionel was the earl's oldest son, but he would never inherit the title. The earl's only other child, Lionel's younger half-brother, an exceedingly disappointing man named Randolph, would inherit everything since he was legitimately born. The earl had never tried to keep Lionel's parentage a secret, and, being fully aware of his bastardy for all of his life, Lionel had vowed at a very young age to be the best of the best at everything he did. Earl James, having succeeded the old Earl of Marlborough barely two years after Lionel's birth, had provided a comfortable lifestyle for Lionel's mother and ample training--even tutors--for his illegitimate son. By Earl James' estimation, the money had been well spent, as Lionel had achieved knighthood at the nearly unheard of age of fifteen and had also excelled in his studies, becoming proficient in several languages and gaining a scholar's understanding of ancient Greek and Roman writings. More important to the protection of the earldom, he had also become The Lion--a formidable beast of an opponent on the battlefield. "Have a seat, Lionel," the earl said, gesturing to a chair large enough to hold the huge man he truly wished was his legitimate heir. "I have come as you requested, Earl James," Lionel replied with formality. His tone of voice clearly told the earl that Lionel suspected he would not like the outcome of this meeting. "Aye, so you have," Earl James replied, taking the seat across from his son. He had always wanted Lionel to address him as father, but the younger man insisted on keeping his emotional distance, adhering to the formal title.

Not that Earl James could blame his son for that. The stigma of being raised the bastard son of a powerful earl had hardened Lionel's heart against familial alliances, even though Mary of Freemont, Lionel's mother, had been well treated. Though it was impossible for Earl James to marry the pretty wench who had given him her innocence--and her love--just as soon as she admitted she was carrying his child, Mary had been given comfortable rooms at Freemont Castle. All her needs--as well as those of her son--had always been met. Even so, Earl James realized that Lionel was sorely aware of the differences between his mother's life and that of the woman the earl had eventually married. Mary had been caught in the gray area of society, having been seduced by a nobleman but having no hope of elevating her own status beyond that of a freed serf. Those very differences had led to Lionel's own distaste of marriage--any marriage, either arranged or freely sought. Earl James sighed deeply, watching his son settle his massive frame into the carved wooden chair. What he was about to order Lionel to do would not please him, but that could not be helped. Lionel was the best man for this particular job, and Earl James must think of the safety of his people first; the love he felt for his oldest--albeit illegitimate--son, second. "Your missive ordered me to return here immediately, my lord," Lionel said. "May I inquire why?" "I have need of your services," Earl James replied. "In fact, I have immediate need of you." "And what is this need?" "I have made a decision concerning your future, son. A very important decision." Lionel rose from his chair. "You are relieving me of my command because of the knee injury, aren't you, my lord?" Any other knight would have been chastised for such an insolent manner, but Earl James understood his son's anger--and frustration--only too well. "Not exactly, Lionel," he answered quietly. "Your knights will be going with you...to Larkspur Castle." "Larkspur Castle?" asked Lionel, sitting down again abruptly and meeting his father's gaze. "What has Larkspur Castle to do with my future?" "It has everything to do with it, Lionel." He paused for a moment. "Because you are to be the new lord of Larkspur." "But Larkspur Castle is Sir John's holding--" "Sir John died a fortnight ago, while you were busy hunting those renegades you so soundly defeated, Lionel." Under other circumstances, Lionel would have appreciated the compliment from his father. But at the moment, all he could think about was the fact that he was indeed being forced to retire from battlefield service. Added to that, to become the lord of Larkspur Castle, he would have to marry Sir John's daughter, the heiress to that holding. And marriage was the last thing Lionel ever wanted to do with his life.

"Exactly what are you saying, Earl James?" he finally asked. "I suspect you already know what I'm saying, Lionel," the earl replied. "You will be wed to Lady Alexandra of Larkspur...thereby becoming the lord and protector of a strategic property in this earldom." "I understand how important it is to defend Larkspur Castle, my lord, since its oceanside proximity could give access to England's shores by our enemies. But why must I be the one to take on this duty?" "Because of your unsurpassed reputation, son," Earl James said with unqualified pride. "No one would dare attack a castle protected by The Lion." "Earl James, you know I would much prefer defending the earldom on the battlefield." "Aye, Lionel, I know that very well. When was the last time your knee gave out?" The sudden question threw Lionel off his guard. "Yesterday," he answered tersely. Even if he had been prepared for the question, he could not have lied to his overlord--his own father. "My point exactly, Lionel," said Earl James. "But there is also a secondary reason why I want you to become the new lord of Larkspur." "And what is that?" Earl James heaved his stout frame out of the chair and crossed to a window, its shutters open to admit the cool breeze. From this vantage point, Lionel knew his father could see a good deal of his farmland. Lionel could easily envision the verdant fields bursting with ripening crops, and the industrious labors of his father's serfs. The sight undoubtedly brought the man a measure of comfort, and his continued attention to the scene told Lionel quite clearly that the earl was reluctant to go on. Lionel finally repeated his question, and the earl turned back to him. "I know you've never met Lady Alexandra, Lionel, but she is a lovely young woman--really not much more than a child. However, she needs...shall we say...a firm hand to guide her?" Lionel bristled. "What's wrong with the chit, my lord?" he asked bluntly. "Nothing that a strong husband won't cure," Earl James replied evasively. Lionel said nothing to that, but he had a strong suspicion of what his father would say next. Earl James continued, proving Lionel's suspicions were right on the mark. "She's a...well, she's rather willful...a tomboy, to be exact," he said. "Just how old is this willful little tomboy?" Lionel asked. "Seventeen." "Seventeen?" Lionel roared, springing from his chair. "I realize that is a marriageable age, Earl James, but the child is only half my age!" "I do not believe she is a child any longer," Earl James said quietly, not meeting his son's eyes. Lionel's face darkened with anger. "Are you telling me, my lord," he began through clenched teeth, "that not only will I be forced to wed a child who behaves like a boy, but also that she will not even be virginal on the wedding night?"

That thought was totally repugnant to Lionel. He didn't blame his mother for what she had done. She had been very young--and very much in love--after all. But she nevertheless regretted her sin of passion and had taught Lionel in no uncertain terms that a young woman's chastity was not to be violated. Consequently, Lionel had made an iron-clad rule in his own life to use only professional harlots for his sexual needs. A whore was supposed to be experienced. A bride was supposed to be virginal. Earl James replied, "I am not certain of that, Lionel. 'Tis just that her father raised her without a mother's love and guidance, as his wife died giving birth to the girl and he never remarried. Alexandra has been taught all the ways of young men, but very little of the ways of a gently-bred lady." Lionel raised a tawny brow, clearly showing his disdain. "So, the girl knows more about weapons and horses than she does about child rearing and cooking. Is that about it, Earl James?" "Aye," the earl replied. "But she's a highly intelligent girl, Lionel, and it's actually quite natural that she'd know something about horses, since that's what Larkspur produces--fine horse flesh. I'm quite sure the girl will be pliable, able to change her willful ways...with the proper guidance, of course. And besides that, son, you will at least have a comfortable home. While Alexandra's main achievements are, unfortunately, in manly pursuits, I understand she is also a worthy chatelaine of her father's castle. She may not know how to sew a straight seam, but she certainly knows how to order it done." Lionel sank down in his chair again as full realization dawned. "My lord, I think you are telling me that, in addition to being put out to pasture at Larkspur Castle, you have chosen me to tame this...this tomboy." "Yes," his father replied honestly, "though I wouldn't call defending Larkspur Castle being 'put out to pasture.'" Lionel grunted at that and shook his head in defeat. "I will, of course, do your bidding, my lord," he said with as much grace as possible. "How long do I have before this wedding takes place?" "About one hour." "What?" "You see, Lionel," Earl James explained, "just as soon as her father was buried, I secured Alexandra's signature on a marriage contract. As her guardian and overlord, it is my right to marry her to whomever I choose...by proxy." "She signed a marriage contract without knowing who her husband would be?" "Of course. Alexandra sees the necessity of defending her castle. As I said before, she's a highly intelligent girl. By wedding you to her by proxy today, the word will go out that Larkspur Castle is now under the formidable protection of The Lion. That is the main reason for the hasty wedding." Lionel heaved a sigh of resignation. "Very well, my lord," he said. "Let's get the thing done, then...as quickly and painlessly as possible." Earl James smiled for the first time during the entire conversation. "I'm really quite fond of Alexandra, you know, despite her willful ways." He clapped a hand to his son's massive shoulder. "Now, not only will Larkspur Castle be protected from potential enemies, but Alexandra will learn how to be a proper lady, a dutiful and obedient wife. I have no doubt at all that you will see to that, Lionel." Lionel said nothing. Obviously, his fate was sealed.

Within an hour he found himself exchanging vows with a woman he had never met, who had been chosen to represent Lady Alexandra. Of course, he would have been exchanging vows with a stranger, anyway, so that part of the marriage ceremony did not bother him in the least. What did bother him was that within a week, he would be taking over a castle he didn't really want--and taming a little tomboy who very likely was not even a chaste maiden. In Lionel of Freemont's opinion, he had his work cut out for him.

Chapter Two

Larkspur Castle was resplendent with springtime. Soft ocean breezes cooled the high cliff upon which it stood, with gentle seaside grasses swaying in the wind. Sea gulls could be seen swooping and gliding over the sun-kissed blue ocean, and peace seemed to reign supreme. The peaceful quietude was abruptly broken by the sound of galloping horses and a triumphant cry of victory, as Lady Alexandra of Larkspur reined in her snorting, blowing stallion just inches short of the cliff's edge. "I won again!" she declared with another cry of triumph. "Just as I told you I would, Sir Thomas." "Aye, Lady Alex," the knight replied, trying to catch his breath. "But did you have to nearly ride over the edge of the cliff, my lady? You've scared me out of at least a year of my life!" Alex--as Alexandra preferred to be called--only laughed at that, fully enjoying challenging death at every opportunity. Sir Thomas shook his dark mop of hair, realizing Lady Alex would always get her way--no matter what anyone told her about the dangers of her many exploits. She was a tantalizingly beautiful girl, with long auburn hair and lively green eyes that clearly bespoke her Irish heritage. Her father, Sir John--God rest his soul--had married the daughter of an Irish nobleman, and Alexandra had inherited her mother's striking beauty.

Sir Thomas also realized that Lady Alex had been pushing her daringness to the limit these past two weeks since signing a marriage contract, knowing her wings would soon be clipped by a husband. Sir Thomas felt mixed emotions about the husband the Earl of Marlborough would choose for Lady Alex. On the one hand, the man would be blessed with a spirited, lively young wife. On the other, he would soon find that Lady Alex could be the most stubborn, willful, exasperating young girl the Good Lord ever placed on this earth. Sir Thomas shook his head again, in truth more pitying the future husband than envying him. All women, in his opinion, should be like his own dear wife--understanding, obedient and blessedly quiet. He heard an approaching rider and immediately drew his sword, fully prepared to defend his lady from any and all possible enemies. Since Lady Alex's father died, Larkspur Castle had been the site of a few skirmishes with outlaws--men who instinctively realized that without a lord of the manor, Larkspur Castle was ripe for the picking. Sir John had had a strong enough reputation to keep them at bay, but, as anyone knew, leaderless household knights were not nearly as effective as those under a lord's command. Sir Thomas dearly hoped the man Earl James chose for Lady Alex would be a formidable knight of great strength, a man with a reputation as good as--or even better than--Sir John's had been. The rider approached them cautiously, seeing Sir Thomas's drawn weapon. "I have a missive for Lady Alexandra," he shouted from a safe distance. "From the Earl of Marlborough." "Come ahead," Sir Thomas said, sheathing his sword, then calming his prancing gelding. The big bay didn't particularly like strangers. As soon as the young messenger drew rein beside Lady Alex, she took the rolled parchment from his hand and quickly scanned its contents, Sir Thomas waiting patiently at her side. He was fully aware that, unlike most women, Lady Alex was quite adept at reading and writing, as well as being proficient in several foreign languages, thanks to her father's encouragement and patient instruction. He had a strong suspicion what this letter would contain--and he was happy about it--but as Lady Alex read the missive, the color of her face changed from its normal, healthy glow to a sickly pallor. "What is it, my lady?" Sir Thomas asked. "Bad news?" "Aye," Alex replied in barely a whisper. "The worst possible news. Earl James has chosen my husband. In fact, I have already been married for several days...by proxy." "But, my lady, you knew the earl would be wedding you to his choice very soon," Sir Thomas said, still alarmed by the lack of color in Lady Alex's face. "Of course I knew that, Sir Thomas," Alex replied, crushing the missive in her hand. "I even agreed with his wisdom to marry me to a strong knight as soon as possible for the sake of Larkspur Castle." "Then what ails you, my lady?" Sir Thomas persisted. "I need to be alone for a while," Alex said instead of answering his question. "I will ride back to the castle by myself." "But, my lady--" "That will be all, Sir Thomas," Alex ordered tersely. "You may leave me now."

"Aye, my lady," Sir Thomas acquiesced, turning his horse around and leaving the cliff's edge. The messenger quietly followed him.

Alex watched Sir Thomas leave, then dismounted and walked to the very edge of the cliff. She sat down despondently. Shock would describe what she felt better than anything else. The Lion. Earl James had married her to The Lion, of all men. Although she had never seen him, Alex knew that Sir Lionel of Freemont was reputed to be a cold-hearted killing machine. Supposedly, no one had ever even seen him smile. He would certainly be a formidable protector for Larkspur Castle, Alex realized, but the other half of his reputation was far worse to Alex than his ruthlessness. He was rumored to have an insatiable sexual appetite. Alex was not opposed to the sex act per se, but the thought of being married to an insatiable beast was, frankly, alarming. How had Alex learned of Sir Lionel's bed habits? Very simple. For the last two years, Alex had been fighting the boredom of castle life in a very unorthodox way. She had been dressing herself as a boy, going to the nearby town, a bustling fishing port called Cliffside, since it was nestled between two towering seaside cliffs, and thoroughly enjoying herself pretending to be an adolescent lad. The sheer freedom a boy, but never a girl, could experience was absolutely exhilarating to Alex. Her rather tall height and long, slender legs made the disguise easy to believe. She did, however, have to bind her breasts to hide her obviously feminine shape. And her long, auburn hair had to be stuffed under a knit cap; no small feat since the tresses cascaded all the way to her waist when left unbound. Alex had openly visited taverns, drank stout ale next to brawny men, had even peeked into a brothel once. What she saw there made her blush so hotly, her disguise was nearly discovered. It was in the taverns of Cliffside that Alex had learned of Sir Lionel's sexual prowess. By reputation, The Lion had been known to take three whores at a time to his room. Then he would send them back down to the tavern, flushed and tousled from a tumble in his bed--and demand three more. Of course, those were only rumors, Alex rationalized, gazing out at the calm, blue ocean so far below her dangling feet. Surely the man who was now her husband was not really an insatiable beast. Husband. Aye, now she had a husband. And if his reputation for sternness held true, Sir Lionel would rule the castle--and her--with an iron hand. Alex shuddered at the very thought of bowing to a man's authority. He dear father--whom she missed terribly--had been a very unusual man. He had always respected her mind and opinions, treating her far more like a son than a daughter. The thought of being utterly obedient to her new lord and master was revolting, to say the least. And this particular knight was also the bastard son of Earl James. That fact would surely give him even greater power over her life. How long do I have before Sir Lionel arrives to take over my life and my castle? Alex mused almost desperately. Reading the missive again, she surmised that the knight would be arriving in another two days.

Only two days of freedom left! Impulsively, Alex mounted her horse again and rode hell bent for the castle. Ignoring the questions of servants and household knights alike, she scurried up the winding stone stairs to her bedchamber. Upon reaching the room, she quickly unfastened the thin golden links of her girdle, tossed it onto the bed, then pulled off her overdress, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Her snug knit underdress soon followed the outer gown, and then her sheer linen shift, stockings and garters were added to the pile. Naked, she padded across the smooth stone floor to the trunk where her disguise was kept. Once the disguise had sufficiently altered her appearance, she turned to leave the chamber, only then realizing that the jumbled pile of clothes she'd left could cause undue suspicion. Quickly retracing her steps, she picked up her garments, stuffed them into the trunk where her disguise had been, then closed the lid with a determined thud. Now she was ready. Within minutes, Alex had snuck down the servant's staircase, emerging on the lower level of the castle. No one had noticed her yet, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Convincing her own servants that she was actually a lad might be a little difficult. More determined than ever to succeed, she peeked out the door leading to the kitchen garden, then scurried toward the back wall of the castle, with no one the wiser. She was soon shoving aside the loose bolder in that back wall, a place conveniently hidden by a bush, and moments later she was making her way down the steep hillside leading to Cliffside. If her freedom was soon to be sharply curtailed, then, by the saints, she was going to enjoy these last two days of uninhibited freedom to the fullest! Alex had a delightful time in Cliffside. She bought a fresh meat pastie from a street vendor, thoroughly enjoying the flaky crust and succulent filling, licking away the greasy juices that had coated her lips. Still hungry, she then purchased a spicy sausage smothered in onions so aromatic they made tears spring to her eyes--and she laughed, marveling at the unusual sensation. She boldly swaggered into a tavern, using the gait she had perfected over the years of her adventures, wrinkling her nose at the rank smell of too many unwashed bodies--but ignoring it successfully--then downed two tankards of bitter, dark ale, finally wiping her mouth with the back of her hand--an action sure to convince anyone that she was truly a lad. She watched two cock fights (which nearly made her retch, but that could have been from the onions) and three bare-fisted brawls (which bothered her not in the least as she cheered on the winners), then very nearly got propositioned as a young man in a brothel. She had decided that, since she was now a married woman, she really should have another peek at the place and learn all that she could. Unfortunately that wasn't very much since a "man" must buy one of those women to learn much of anything, and doing that definitely would have caused discovery of her true gender. The most fun she had, however, was sneaking aboard a luxuriously outfitted barge moored at the Cliffside pier. How was she to know that it was the royal barge of King Henry's defense minister, and that she could have been hung as a spy for merely sneaking aboard to take a quick look? Luckily--and Alex had always been lucky--the grim-faced guard who had threatened to turn her over to the authorities had taken a few coins in return for his silence. All in all, it had been a rewarding, adventurous, exciting day. And, of course, near the end of the day, she had gotten thirsty again. So, she had simply stepped into the nearest tavern she could find and downed a few more mugs of ale. Contented and a little drunk, Alex left the tavern near dusk.

Chapter Three Lionel of Freemont rode into Cliffside hot, dusty and more than a little out of sorts. He had decided to leave Marlborough Castle before the bulk of his men returned in order to reach Larkspur Castle as quickly as possible, since his father was so concerned about the castle's safety. The trip had been far less than enjoyable, though he had made good time. In fact, he would reach his destination two days earlier than expected. He had been able to gather a dozen knights who had not been involved in the recent battle, and these men accompanied him. The trip, however, had been beset with pitfalls, with one horse going lame and his squire, Oliver, becoming so ill he had to be placed in a supply cart for the duration of the trip. And, of course, the thought of where he was going--and why--still bothered Lionel enough that his mood was surly, at best. He understood why his father had forced him into this marriage, and he would carry out his duty faithfully, but he was not looking forward to spending the rest of his days tied to one place, and to one woman--or willful child, to be more exact. He was well familiar with Cliffside itself, at least by reputation. It depended upon fishing for its main support, but also had a colorful assortment of alehouses and brothels, catering to the fishermen and sailors who made port there. He suspected that the menfolk of Larkspur Castle also found their entertainment in the bawdy village. It was near dusk, and the torch lighters were already going about their business. His attention was drawn to one particularly bedraggled child standing on tiptoe to light a torch, when a startled cry abruptly drew his attention back to the cobbled street before him. Lionel reined in his horse just in time to avoid hitting a young lad who was swaying slightly as he tried to cross the street, evidently having just left one of Cliffside's seedy taverns. Lionel swore under his breath, realizing the youth could have been killed by flailing hooves if the horse had reared, and if he had been riding his massive, highly spirited warhorse, Thunder, instead of this more docile animal, the lad would surely be dead by now. He signaled his men to rein in and stop, curtly ordering that the drunkard be brought to him. Intending to give the lad a good dressing down and then take him to his parents for appropriate punishment, Lionel surveyed the boy now being held in the meaty fist of one of his men. Something was wrong with the picture.

Even in the relatively dim light, Lionel could see that the boy was beautiful, ravishing even, with generous, soft pink lips, eyes the color of new spring grass and a tendril of auburn hair escaping his cap that was simply too long to belong to a boy. Being suspicious by nature, Lionel easily lifted the "boy" up to his horse, seating the urchin sideways across his thighs. Before the youth could utter a protest, Lionel ripped the knit cap from his head. Luxuriant auburn waves tumbled to the "boy's" waist. Needing only one more thing to confirm his suspicions, Lionel held the struggling captive with one arm, reached into "his" coarse linen tunic...and felt the unmistakable evidence of flattened, definitely female breasts. After uttering a curse that would singe the ears of a sailor, Lionel demanded, "What is your name, wench, and where do you live?" God's truth, Lionel vowed, he would see that the chit's father punished her soundly for such a deception! Alexandra of Larkspur was too incensed at that particular moment to be fearful of the blond giant who had nearly run her down and then picked her up like a rag doll...and who was now holding her so easily in his well-muscled arms. She could feel the brick wall of his chest beneath her shoulder, but her thoughts were more on saving her disguise than on the manly attributes of the fierce knight. Alex was only grateful that it was so nearly dark. No one on the street was taking much notice of what was happening. If she could just free herself from this angry knight's lap, her disguise might not be discovered by anyone but him--and mayhap a few of his men. With that thought in mind, Alex raised her chin defiantly and glared at the knight. Instead of answering his question, she made a demand of her own. "Release me immediately, you brute!" He merely cocked one brow and shook his tawny mane. "Your name, wench," he demanded again. Alex's Irish temper came to the fore. She cursed the knight as foully as he had cursed her, then said hotly, "I am Lady Alexandra of Larkspur, and if you know what is good for you, arrogant swine, you will release me now!" She saw a look of shock spread across his face for a moment, then the knight growled low in his throat and gave the order for his men to move out. He tightened his hold around her waist instead of releasing her, and Alex's temper flared more hotly than ever. "Now I demand to know your name!" she ground out between clenched teeth, struggling to free herself from the knight's iron-hard embrace. "You will pay for this, Sir Swine," she continued. "My husband is Sir Lionel of Freemont, also known as The Lion--I'm sure even someone of your obviously low intelligence has heard of him--and I'm quite sure he will see you drawn and quartered for kidnapping his lady wife!" The stranger made a sound that would have been a laugh if he had not been so grim-faced, and Alex's brows drew together in confusion. Why would the bloody brute laugh at that threat? To her horror, his next words answered that question quite well. "I am Sir Lionel of Freemont," he said, then added in a clipped, angry voice, "Your new lord and husband." Alex blanched visibly. And then, purely on impulse...as a move of self-defense...something she didn't

really think through very well before doing it...Alex bit her new husband on the hand. Hard enough to draw blood. She quickly slid off his lap when he raised the injured hand to shake it in the air and bellow in pain. Her only thoughts were of escaping, then quickly returning home. Surely, when he arrived at Larkspur, she could convince him that he had been sorely mistaken in believing that she--a well-bred young lady--had been found in the streets of Cliffside, slightly drunk. She got about twenty feet before being caught and hauled over her husband's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then unceremoniously carried back to his horse. "Men have died for less than that, little hellion," he warned in a menacing growl as he mounted and positioned Alex across his lap again. "Then mayhap I should be glad that I'm not a man, after all," Alex ground out, then gasped as his arm tightened around her. "Must you be so brutish, you great oaf?" "When the situation calls for it, aye, I must." Alex then noticed that he had donned leather riding gloves...and she laughed in his face. "Do you really need protection from your own wife, Sir Lionel?" she taunted. "Mayhap you think I can fell The Lion with my sharp little teeth?" "I suggest, Lady Alexandra," the brute drawled--and Alex knew he'd purposely made her title sound like a slur-- "that you become very quiet and very obedient for the remainder of the ride to Larkspur Castle." "Or else, my lord?" she asked sarcastically, slurring his title with equal finesse. "Is the mighty knight threatening me?" "Or else I will bite you back," he answered in such a calm tone that Alex believed him. And, indeed, for the duration of the trip up the winding cliff path to Larkspur Castle, Alex said not another word, not because she was afraid of Sir Lionel, she told herself, but simply because she needed time to think. This is my new husband? she asked first. This giant...this beast of a man? Surely, he's not truly a beast, though, is he? she asked secondly. Of course he is! was the unequivocal and frightening answer to both questions. Why else would they call him The Lion if he were not truly a beast? Alex's thoughts went round and round until she made herself dizzy from the jumbled thoughts. Or mayhap that was simply because she couldn't breathe very well with this damn band of steel just under her breasts! Lionel's thoughts were churning, too, as he held his own wife captive against his chest. This little hellion who knows the curses of a sailor and bites like a bloody fiend is my delicate lady wife? This is the girl Earl James referred to as being highly intelligent, as being merely a tomboy in need of a firm hand to guide her? Aye, he answered himself regretfully. Alexandra of Larkspur was indeed his wife...his deceitful, belligerent--bordering on violent--hellion of a wife. And in that moment Lionel decided that a firm hand was exactly what Alexandra would get...to her backside! He had been instructed to tame the chit, and tame her he would. By Christ's blood, the hellcat had actually bitten him! Just before reaching the castle, Lionel drew rein and stopped his horse.

"Why are we stopping here?" Alex asked, finally breaking her silence. Before responding, Lionel enveloped her in the folds of his huge cloak. "Your disguise is shameful, woman. I have no desire to let the castlefolk see their lady attired as a boy." Lionel noticed her half smile as she gladly accepted the concealing garment, and he abruptly realized that she was pleased--undoubtedly because wearing his cloak would protect her disguise. That smug little smile quickly faded, however, when he announced who he was at Larkspur's gate, then dismounted at the stable, lifted her down and curtly demanded, "Show me to the master bedchamber, woman." "I will not," she replied defiantly. Lionel bent down to whisper in her ear. "For what I intend to do to you, Alexandra, you might prefer privacy." When she still said nothing, he added, "However, I could do it right here in the stable if you continue this childish belligerence." She paled, and then two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. It was obvious to Lionel that she feared being thrown to the ground and taken right here in the stable, in front of the grooms. That was not his intention at all, of course, but her embarrassment served his purpose. Evidently unwilling to risk such humiliation, she muttered a colorful obscenity, then led the way to the chamber without further complaint. Upon reaching the spacious, well-furbished master bedchamber boasting a massive oak bedstead, a writing desk, a large wardrobe and two carved armchairs in front of the hearth, Lionel gestured for Alexandra to precede him into the room. She reluctantly obeyed, and Lionel closed the door and threw the bolt. She was agitated. Lionel could see that, and he frowned. She was badly in need of punishment, but it was best to see the thing done before her agitation increased. He had no desire to cause her any more distress than what she had earned through her own foolishness. Sitting down on the bed, he said, "Come here, wife," in a quietly commanding voice. She obeyed--again reluctantly. Lionel was satisfied. At least she hadn't argued with him, or cursed. But she gasped with shock, then shrieked with anger, when he pulled her face-down across his muscled thighs, raised her boy's tunic and lowered her hose. "You wouldn't dare!" she shouted, desperately trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He answered her with a stinging spank to her backside. "How dare you do this!" she yelped, and Lionel's heavy hand descended again. "I demand that you stop this at once!" she screamed. Lionel ignored her protests. After warming her bottom with three more firm smacks, he finally rested his palm against her bright pink flesh. Quite calmly, he said, "Will you give me your word that you'll never again go to Cliffside dressed as a boy?" "Never!" was her immediate reply. The spanking resumed. "Your word, woman," Lionel demanded. She said nothing this time. The only sounds in the room were

those of flesh meeting flesh in a firm, uncompromising rhythm. Then she finally gasped out, "Please...stop." "Promise, Alexandra," he insisted, staying his hand. "I want to hear your vow." She waited so long to answer, he gave her another reminder of her precarious position. "Aye," she whispered. "Aye what?" he demanded. "Aye, my lord," she muttered. "I will not go to Cliffside again dressed as a boy." Even after gaining her promise, Lionel gave her bottom one more stinging slap. "That, my lady," he said before she could ask, "was for biting me." And then, unable to resist, Lionel did something that caused her to gasp and squirm in his lap. Very gently--and provocatively--he caressed the cleft between her pinked bottom cheeks, tracing her sweetness with a single finger. The caress lasted only a moment before he finally lifted her and placed her on the bed, but he noticed her hot blush as she turned onto her side. He strode to the door and unbolted it, then turned back to his well-chastised wife. Her boy's hose were still bunched around her thighs, the tunic was up around her waist, and the sight of her bared feminine charms sent molten blood rushing through his veins. Then, as he remembered that the willful chit was most likely not even a virgin, his anger returned. "You will attire yourself properly, wife, and come down to the hall immediately," he commanded. "My men are road weary and hungry, and you will tend to their needs. Is that clear, Alexandra?" Alex bristled. "And if I say no, Sir Lionel?" Legs spread, arms crossed over his chest, he regarded her calmly. Even without words, the threat was implicit. He would spank her again. "I will see to your men," she capitulated, and Lionel turned to the door.

Alex wasn't thinking about her state of undress as her husband left the chamber--she was thinking about revenge. "I will find some way to repay you, Sir Lionel, she vowed as she carefully rose from the bed. "I will most definitely find some way to repay you." She had never been so humiliated in all her life. Her father had spanked her on occasion when he'd felt it was absolutely necessary, but even he had not tanned her bottom for several years. She was a grown woman, for God's sake, not a mewling child in need of a parent's firm discipline! Muttering colorful curses, she stripped off her disguise, then carefully hid it in the bottom of her father's sea chest. She couldn't bear to part with the disguise, even though she'd given the damnable beast her word that she wouldn't use it again. Now completely unclothed, she rubbed her sore bottom as she crossed to the wash basin. Applying a cool, damp rag to the heated flesh lessened the sting a little, but not very much, and she cursed again.

How dare he! Alex could have called a maidservant to help her dress, of course, but she didn't want anyone to see the evidence of her humiliation. How would a servant ever understand that a girl who was adept at handling many weapons had been totally unable to wriggle out of a man's lap? She blushed crimson as she remembered the look in the beast's eyes just before he'd left the chamber. She hadn't cared a whit at the time that she'd been bared to his gaze, but in memory, the searing look in those golden eyes was unnerving. Would he insist upon his marital rights tonight? That's what she'd thought he was planning when she'd brought him to this chamber. But instead, he'd spanked her! Remembering his command to come down to the hall immediately, Alex decided she had spent all the time she dared before obeying him. Draping a large linen drying cloth around her nude body, she scurried to her former chamber--and that thought brought a catch to her throat--then dug in the chest where she used to keep her disguise and retrieved her clothes. They were a little worse for wear, but Alex merely shrugged at that. If The Lion wanted a perfect lady, he shouldn't have married her. She realized wryly as she donned her stockings, garters and soft linen shift that even if she had been able to squirm out of his lap, the attempted escape would have gained her nothing at all. Undoubtedly, he would have chased her, held her down and spanked her anyway. A woman had absolutely no right to evade her husband's discipline, and she shuddered at the thought. He would indeed rule her with an iron hand. "There must be some way I can repay this insult," she muttered, pulling on her finely-woven beige undergown. "Surely even a callous beast can be hurt in some way." After donning her sleeveless overgown--its color so close to pinkened flesh that she shuddered again, thinking of her poor, punished bottom--Alex slipped her feet into soft leather shoes, then combed the tangles out of her hair. She was as ready as she was ever going to be. It was time to face The Lion.

Chapter Four

As Alexandra entered the great hall, Lionel's gaze was immediately drawn to her. This was his first opportunity to see her dressed as a lady, and the sight was nearly as alluring as her bared feminine charms. Now that they were no longer flattened against her chest, Alexandra's breasts were round and full, impudently straining against the material of her overdress, the gown sewn from a shimmering peach-colored material. The color of the garment complimented her incredibly thick, lustrous auburn tresses, and Lionel wanted nothing more than to bury his hands in that glorious hair...and to kiss those proud young breasts. He realized ruefully that Alexandra probably would not be the most receptive bed partner after he had paddled her backside, but if the punishment achieved the goal of keeping her out of boy's clothing--and out of the dangerous taverns in Cliffside--it was well worth the effort. He had her best interests at heart, after all. No matter how worldly Alexandra thought she was, she couldn't possibly know what could happen to a young girl in those seedy alehouses. He suspected she had had many "adventures" beyond the safety of the castle walls. God only knew what other kinds of mischief she had been getting into in that rowdy, anything but genteel, town. Her chastisement had been given with the full intention of ending that unseemly, dangerous behavior. And besides all that, she'd bitten him! Alexandra took a few more steps into the hall, and Lionel's gaze became even more appreciative. She was wearing a snug knit underdress fashioned from a creamy beige material, with form-fitting long sleeves caressing her slender arms. With each step she took, the slit sides in the overdress gave tantalizing glimpses of her voluptuous figure, so snugly encased in the undergown. She was attired properly, and yet she was devastatingly beautiful at the same time. 'Tis no wonder my father believes she is no longer innocent, he seethed silently. Though little more than a child in age, she has the body of a fully-grown woman--a woman who quite probably has already taken a lover to her bed. Lionel forcefully tamped down his burgeoning anger at that thought, reminding himself that first and foremost, his duty to Alexandra--and to his father--was to teach her how to be a proper lady. And, in Lionel's opinion, the most important thing a proper lady should be was obedient. That he could teach the little hellion, he had no doubt. Once the hurdle of obedience was overcome, Alexandra could be gently but firmly guided into pursuing womanly pastimes--such as embroidery and gardening--and away from what Earl James had called her "manly pursuits." Intent on that course, Lionel arrogantly crooked a finger at Alexandra, silently demanding that she come to his side. She purposely avoided his summons--which didn't surprise him in the least--raising her chin and ignoring him, then busying herself by directing the servants. He had to give her credit for quick wit and intelligence. She was certainly disobeying him, but she was doing so in a way that left him little room for objection. She was seeing to the needs of his men, as he himself had instructed, and yet he could tell she was carrying out the task as slowly and meticulously as possible. Defiance, indeed. Knowing exactly what she was doing, he merely waited until his men were served, then crooked his finger at her again, proving that her childish defiance had achieved nothing save delaying the inevitable. The roasted venison, freshly-baked bread and crisp spring vegetables had all been served. Mugs had been filled to the brim with rich brown ale, and each knight was happily devouring his meal, their raucous

laughter and conversation echoing to the roof of the vast hall. The kitchen wenches were removing the serving trays, futilely trying to avoid the wandering hands of the men, and Lionel knew that even Alexandra realized there was naught she could do now but obey. With a look of resigned defiance, she finally approached him. Giving him the slightest curtsy possible, she curled her pretty lips into a patently false smile, then said, "Do you have need of something, Sir Brute?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, despite the direct insult. Lionel of Freemont had not cracked a smile in as long as he could remember, but he very nearly did grin upon hearing Alexandra's tone of voice. He merely ignored what she had called him, determined not to rise to her bait. "I can see that I'm going to have quite a time taming you, little hellion," he said, gratified with her small gasp of displeasure at his words. "For now, I would like you to sit beside me and share this meal." Alex knew full well that if she sat on her derriere, she would wince with pain. And that was definitely not something she wanted The Lion to see. "Alas, my lord," she said sweetly, "duty calls, and I fear I shall be too busy arranging tonight's entertainment to take time for eating. I must decline your kind offer." "Sit, woman," Lionel commanded in a voice that would brook no protest, and the look in his golden eyes literally dared her to defy him again. Remembering his iron hand, Alex did indeed sit, but try as she might, she could not hide the wince of pain as her stinging bottom came in contact with the hard wooden bench. She glowered at her husband as he very gallantly served her the most succulent pieces of meat on his trencher, then filled her goblet with water. "I think you've had more than enough ale for one day," he commented dryly when she began to protest, and his condescending tone set her to seething once more. There must be some way she could repay this brute! She shifted on the bench, wincing again, but she flushed hotly when she realized the arrogant beast was watching her intently. He's amused by my suffering! she thought with a wild surge of anger, then doubled her efforts to think of some way to hurt him in return. Fiercely determined now, Alex left the lord's table the very moment the meal was finished. She did not ask for her lord and master's permission. In fact, if he had tried to stop her, Alex most likely would have dumped a pitcher of ale over his arrogant head! She summoned the minstrels to begin the night's entertainment for Sir Brute and his men. As the trestle tables were dismantled and moved to the sides of the great hall, making room for dancing, a delicious thought occurred to her--the perfect way to repay her domineering, probably very possessive husband. He had ordered that she tend to his men's needs, and indeed, she would. Larkspur had relatively few knight's ladies to partner the men, and a conscientious chatelaine would join in the dancing. Even the lord of the manor couldn't object to that, and Alex smiled, enjoying her plan more and more with easing passing moment. As the evening progressed, Alex danced with each and every one of Lionel's men. She also flirted outrageously with them, thoroughly enjoying Lionel's dark glower. Her plan was working beautifully. She had no idea that he had chosen not to dance because of the possibility of his knee giving way, merely believing that he was trying to punish her in return by not dancing with her, an action which would gain him naught. She had absolutely no desire to be anywhere near the arrogant beast, and she laughed, accepting yet another new partner for the vivacious, whirling dance.

Near the end of the evening, when Lionel seemed to be keeping his emotions under tight control, Alex decided an extra barb might be called for to truly show him he could not completely control her. Her current dance partner was a devilishly handsome household knight--one of Larkspur's own--and Alex, after making sure Lionel was watching, very deliberately whispered into her partner's ear. The words were innocuous, of course, but Alex realized by Lionel's expression that he was truly angry now. Her heart skipped a beat, for she feared she might have gone too far in her little game of revenge. Will I never learn when to quit? she asked herself, biting her lower lip to keep from crying her fear aloud. Anger was a mild word for what Lionel was feeling at that moment. His emotions were closer to rage or blind fury than mere anger. That anger had been growing throughout the evening, as he'd watched Alexandra's unseemly behavior, cleverly disguised, of course, behind the duties of a chatelaine. In good conscience, he'd been unable to do anything more than bristle and seethe, as she'd kept within the bounds of decency--barely--giving him no true reason to stop the festivities, or to send her from the hall like a naughty little girl. Now, upon seeing his bride whispering words into the young knight's ear, Lionel thought that surely she had broken the bounds of decency at last. The hoyden was quite apparently proving her wantonness by making an assignation with the handsome youth. He was probably the one who had found his way into her bed--and taken her innocence. Simmering with barely-controlled rage, Lionel descended upon his wife like a darkly avenging angel. He grasped her arm and dragged her from the hall and out into the courtyard, not stopping until he'd reached a secluded alcove. He let go of her arm then, not daring to touch her any longer. He was far too tempted to give her a great deal more than a mere spanking. Pulling his hands into tight fists to keep from striking her, he growled, "Must you flaunt you whorish ways in front of your new husband, woman?" Alex was truly shocked at first...and then her Irish temper flared, and her anger matched Lionel's own. He thought her a whore because of her revenge game! How utterly unfair! It was only a light flirtation, after all; no real harm had been done. But Sir Lionel's fierce expression and the tension in every muscle of his gigantic body told Alex very clearly that while she had only intended to irritate him, he had misunderstood entirely. "What did you expect, my lord?" she said, suddenly losing all control of her anger, meaning for her words to sound purely sarcastic. He thought her a whore, did he? Well, perhaps he should reap what his own vile mind had sown. "Did you expect a virginal bride, Sir Brute?" she taunted. "Ha! I did not expect you so soon. I will need a day or two to have a final tumble with all my lovers before settling down to domestic bliss!" With that said, Alex stomped away from her husband and headed straight for the chamber she was supposed to be sharing with him. The morrow would be early enough to tell him the truth, just in case he had missed her sarcasm. She firmly bolted the door behind her, determined to deny him entrance to the bedchamber--and to her body. "Let The Lion sleep with the other beasts--in the stable!" she muttered, pulling off her garments and sliding into bed wearing nothing more than her thin linen shift. For tonight, she would let him stew in his own thoughts. He deserved to be treated this way. He'd actually called her a whore!

Lionel had stayed where he was, in the courtyard, frozen with shock by his wife's utterly scandalous words. She had admitted having lovers--not just a single lover, which would have been bad enough, but more than one! How many? he wondered, his anger growing. Mayhap all the household knights? He had accepted his father's belief about her probable lack of innocence, but it truly had never occurred to him that she might have played the whore to many men. "Well, no more, my little hellcat," he vowed as he stalked toward the castle. "I never wanted this marriage, but you are mine now...and I do not share my possessions." Determined to brand Alexandra as his own, to show her from the very first that he was her lord and master, Lionel ascended the winding stone stairs in the great hall two at a time. When he found the door to his own chamber locked against him, he gave it a mighty kick, tearing the bolt from the wall. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He glared at Alexandra, who was, for once, shocked into silence, then very deliberately began removing his belt. He heard her sharp gasp and instantly realized what she was thinking. "I'm not going to beat you, Alexandra, though God knows you surely deserve it after that admission of wantonness," he said, calmly laying down the belt and then proceeding to remove the rest of his clothes. "What I am going to do is show you once and for all that you belong to me and no other man. No other man. Do you understand me, Alexandra?" She failed to answer him, merely nodded mutely from the bed, then pulled the covers up to her chin--an obvious ploy to gain his sympathy. Lionel was well beyond falling for her childish tactics. He truly believed Alexandra was toying with him now, playing the fearful virgin merely to increase his anger. Having had many lovers, she was undoubtedly already moist with need beneath that fearful facade. He would not be dissuaded by her little game! With a low growl, he pulled back the covers, threw them aside, then ripped her sheer linen shift down the front with one powerful hand, baring her entire body. Her nipples were erect, proving to him once again that she was merely playing a game. It never even occurred to him that the reaction had been caused by true fear. But Alex's body truly was responding to fear. She had been startled into silence by the way he had kicked in the door, never suspecting that he would do such a thing. And then, seeing the raw masculinity of his muscular body as he removed his clothes, she couldn't get any words past the lump in her throat. He had several scars, which only added to his dangerous, predatory look, further reinforcing the fact that he was, indeed, The Lion. But most frightening of all was his manhood. It was thick and long and fiercely aroused. Alex had never seen a totally naked man before. And she certainly had never seen a tumescent manroot. It was so impossibly big, she shuddered at the mere thought of what he could do to her with such an enormous male weapon. Defensively, she tried to cover her nakedness with both hands. She wished with all her heart that she could find her voice--to tell him that her words had been meant sarcastically--but her throat was constricted with fearful emotions. She could not utter a single word. This cannot be happening! she thought desperately as Lionel forced her thighs apart and lowered his weight over her body. She struck out at him, flailing her small fists against his shoulders and chest--the only defense she was capable of at the moment.

"You are a little hellcat, aren't you, Alexandra?" Lionel growled, easily subduing her struggles by pinning her wrists above her head with one brawny fist. "But even a beast can be tamed," he taunted, pushing her thighs farther apart. " 'Tis my duty to tame you, my vicious pet...and I'm going to do just that, starting right now!" "Wait!" Alex gasped hoarsely, finally finding a small thread of her voice, desperate to tell Lionel that she truly was a virgin, that she had only said those damning words out of childish anger and a need for revenge. "Please...not like this," she gasped again. "I'm a virgin, Lionel. Truly, I am!" "Deceitful little chit," Lionel growled. He looked directly into her jade green eyes, then impaled her with one powerful thrust. Alex screamed once with the unbearable, tearing pain...and then mercifully fainted. It all happened so fast. By the time Lionel realized Alexandra's beautiful eyes were dilated with true fear, he had already brutalized her, cruelly tearing through her maidenhead. She had not been ready to receive him at all. "My God, Alexandra!" he cried out to the unconscious girl beneath him. "You were a virgin...and I didn't believe you! I didn't even prepare you for my entrance!" Waves of guilt flowed freely over Lionel as he immediately withdrew from Alexandra's limp body and saw the evidence of her virginity on his still-aroused manhood. He cursed softly and left the bed, quickly donning his clothes. He had no idea what to do now, how to make up for his beastly behavior. The only thing Lionel knew with a certainty was that he never would have intentionally hurt a woman that way, virgin or not. He would have been gentle and careful--never forceful--if he had realized Alexandra had been lying about her many lovers. All the harlots he had used had become aroused at the mere thought of mating. But virginal ladies were far different than whores, and despite her sharp tongue and tomboy behavior, Alexandra was truly a lady. She had been utterly chaste until his unthinking assault. Desperate to do something to help her, Lionel summoned a servant and ordered that a bath be brought to the chamber. He gently drew the covers over Alexandra's nakedness, then sat beside her on the bed. Stroking her hair, he wondered why she had found it so necessary to lie to him in the first place. Then, quite suddenly, he knew the answer to his own question. Alexandra's flirtatious behavior tonight--even her whispered words to the young knight--had been an act. She had been taunting him, purposely trying to stir his anger in an attempt to avenge her hurt pride. She had gone too far with that false admission of wantonness, but he'd been too blind with his anger by then to realize the truth. "It worked, little hellion," he murmured, gently caressing her pale cheek. "You wanted to anger me, and your plan worked...It worked too well." A rap on the door drew his attention, and Lionel rose from the bed to open the door for the servants. While the tub was brought in and filled with steaming, herb-scented water, he sat in a chair, silently wondering how he could make up for his loathsome attack. Once the tub was filled and the servants had left, Lionel lowered his bride into the water as carefully as possible. His calloused hands were rather clumsy at the task, but he nevertheless proceeded to wash Alexandra very gently, hoping the warm bath would ease her pain and help her regain her senses. He watched as Alexandra slowly came out of her faint, groaning and wincing with understandable

discomfort, until she realized where she was...and who was bathing her. "Don't touch me, you beast!" she hissed. Lionel backed off immediately and rested his muscular forearms against the wooden tub. "Alexandra..." "Don't say anything, either, Sir Lionel!" Alex continued, unbidden tears suddenly filling her eyes. "Just leave me alone!" "Alexandra, I never would have hurt you that way if I had known--" "It doesn't matter what you wouldn't have done," Alex gritted out, angry that those unwanted tears were now streaming down her cheeks. "What you did do was brutal, Sir Lionel...beastly!" "I know," Lionel admitted quietly, reaching to wipe away her tears, but she shoved his hand away. Accepting this, he merely said, "What can I do to make up for what I've done?" Alex snorted in a very unladylike way. "First you take your hand to my backside to humiliate me, and then you take my virginity like a rutting beast." Her words had been ground out, but her voice became surprisingly calm as she added, "What do you think could make up for that, Sir Lionel?" For the first time in his thirty-four years, Lionel of Freemont did not have a ready answer to a question. In that moment, the master tactician of more battles than he could count could not even make a decision. "I don't know," he said haltingly. Alexandra merely studied him quietly for a time after that admission, and he hoped she was coming to realize he'd had no true intention of harming her. Finally, she said, "Just leave me alone, Sir Lionel. I cannot forgive you--mayhap I never will be able to forgive your vile act." Then she sighed heavily, drying the final evidence of her tears with the back of her hand. "Please..." she continued, her voice subdued, "no matter your rights as my husband, at least for tonight, just leave me alone." Then she turned her back in obvious dismissal, and Lionel simply rose to his feet and quietly left the room. He spent the remainder of that night with his men in the crowded knights' quarters. Not one of the knights under The Lion's command had the courage to ask him why he was not sleeping with his bride.

Chapter Five

By the next morning, Alex felt considerably better--at least physically. She had finally admitted to herself that the assault was for the most part accidental--she had, after all, told Lionel that she had had many lovers--but the experience had nonetheless affected her emotions, leaving her with an unreasoning fear of lovemaking. She knew that was ridiculous, that it should not hurt after the first time, but the mere thought of being touched again intimately caused her to tremble, and a cold sweat broke out on her palms and forehead. She knew her reaction could cause considerable problems, since she was married to a man who supposedly had an unquenchable thirst for sex, but Alex was determined to keep Lionel out of her bed until she conquered this fear. She descended to the great hall just before dawn, hoping against hope that Lionel was still asleep wherever he had gone last night. She was wearing her favorite pale green gown, a garment that was laced tightly to her bodice, with a very full skirt. The sleeves of the gown were cut to normal wrist length in front, but behind her hands they fell to graceful points which nearly reached the ground. She loved this dress and hoped wearing it would bolster her courage. She would need courage if she should encounter her husband before devising a way to keep him out of his own room. Of course, she could retreat back to her old chamber, but a little spark of defiance that Alex simply could not quell told her that last night's fiasco was more Lionel's fault than her own. He should be the one to find other accommodations. Alex broke her fast completely alone, save for the kitchen wench who served her. She enjoyed watered wine, boiled eggs, oat porridge and a fresh honey comb, then quietly made her way to her father's library. She had always found solace in that bright, airy chamber through his impressive collection of rare and costly books. Upon entering the library, Alex stopped dead in her tracks, and she felt blood rushing to her face. Lionel was there. And rolled out before him on the huge oak reading table was one of her father's most precious collector's items...a very fragile, very old translation of a Greek manuscript printed on thin parchment. "What are you doing with that, Sir Lionel?" she asked before thinking. Lionel twisted around on the bench where he was sitting, his expression first one of surprise at her outburst, then one of slowly smoldering anger as he rose to his formidable height. His apologetic demeanor from the night before was completely gone, and Alex gulped, finally realizing that her terse question had sounded quite insulting. "What's the matter, Alexandra?" he said coldly. "Do you find it hard to believe that a hardened warmonger like me could be educated enough to read this precious manuscript?" Before Alex could even reply, he continued. "Or do you think it's my bastardy that makes my intelligence so low? After all, you called me 'Sir Swine', among other colorful epithets, when we were grappling yesterday in Cliffside. I'm truly amazed you forgot to call me 'bastard' once you knew who I was!"

Alex winced. The things she had called him rattled through her brain. Sir Swine, aye...and arrogant swine, brute, great oaf...and worst of all, apparently, someone of low intelligence. But Alex would never taunt someone about how they were born. It was not a babe's choice to be born of parents who were wed or not. And suddenly, Alex had a glimpse into Lionel's soul. She wasn't sure she liked getting that close to this arrogant, domineering man, but there it was, anyhow. Lionel of Freemont, the most feared--and revered--knight in the entire earldom, was afraid of rejection. And he'd apparently been rejected in some very cruel ways--probably by fellow children while growing up because he was a bastard--and just as likely by adults who constantly doubted that this huge, hulking man could have brain as well as brawn. And Alex could now add herself to that list of taunting, doubtful adults. "Sir Lionel," she began quietly, sincerely, "I'm sorry for what I said. And no, I do not doubt your intelligence, and no again, I do not think intelligence has one whit to do with a person's legitimacy." Lionel sighed deeply and sank down on the bench again. "I'm sorry, too, Alexandra," he said in an equally quiet tone. "I'm afraid I'm rather...sensitive...about certain aspects of my life." Alex found herself on the verge of making a catty retort about The Lion being sensitive, but she caught herself just in time. Mayhap they could make a new beginning today. They were, after all, tied to each other for life...and that would be a very long time to remain enemies. "I accept your apology, Sir Lionel," she said instead. "May I join you?" "Please do."

The rest of that morning was unbelievably pleasant. Lionel once again apologized for last night's events, and Alex quietly admitted that her words had been rash, and thus the fault was partly hers. She wanted to leave that subject behind as quickly as possible, still having no idea how to keep him out of her bed. Alex soon discovered that she and Lionel shared a love of foreign languages. Lionel was proficient in Greek, Latin and French, while Alex was proficient in those three...plus Gaelic, Arabic and a smattering of Danish. Lionel, however, was by far the expert at interpreting ancient writings. Within mere hours, Alex had a whole new understanding of the manuscripts she had been studying all her life. When a servant announced the noontime meal, they were both a little surprised that they had passed the entire morning without one hateful word. However, that situation could not last very long. It was mid-afternoon when their unspoken truce fell apart. And when it fell, it did so with a resounding thud that surely could be heard a hundred miles away. Alex had been showing Lionel the interior of Larkspur Castle. They toured the main floor, with its great hall boasting vaulted ceilings, colorful tapestries--each with its own history--and sweetly-scented rushes, then the warm and cozy solar, the library, of course, and finally the noisy, always-busy kitchen. He already knew what was on the second floor--the bedchambers--so Alex decided to stay away from

there, and the third floor housed the servants' and knights' quarters--where she had learned her husband had spent the night--so there was no need to go there, either. That left the outside of the castle to explore. Larkspur was built of huge slabs of beige stone, and Alex proudly pointed out that it was one of the few stone castles in England predating the Normans. While emulating the Norman style in many of its features, Larkspur differed from their typical architecture in that it was protected by a fortified gate instead of moat and drawbridge. Four round turrets crowned the structure, with battlements between them. Those battlements were even now being protected by Lionel's men, Alex noticed, as well as Larkspur's own archers. He certainly hadn't wasted any time taking over the defense of his new home. Lionel seemed to appreciate all that Alex was saying, paying particular attention to the strength of the castle's gate. She noted with a little dismay that he had already replaced her men with two of his own at the gatehouse, but pointing out that her knights were highly trained would have been useless. Unbidden anger rose at the thought, but Alex strove valiantly to push it back down, trying to remember that it was Lionel's right to protect the castle however he wished. The land surrounding Larkspur was a bit too rocky for successful farming, but the southern English climate was perfect for raising horses. Larkspur had been known for generations as a source of fine brood mares, sturdy workhorses and a few fine stallions, though none of these were of the size and strength to become warhorses. Alex showed Lionel the pasture on the farthest inland section of Larkspur, happily pointing out the many gamboling colts. She left the tour of the stable for last. Her anger about the gatehouse had diminished considerably by this time, and upon entering the low wooden structure which housed the stable, Alex caught sight of a truly magnificent stallion in the first stall. She had never seen this raven-black horse before, but that was not surprising, since Lionel had brought twelve men with him, and each of them had two separate mounts. She started toward the horse, eager to make the acquaintance of such a fine beast, but she was stopped by Lionel's iron-hard grip on her arm. "Do not go near Thunder, Alexandra," he commanded. "He's far too spirited a horse for a woman to handle. I don't even want you near his stall. Is that clear?" His tone of voice and the terseness of his command instantly renewed Alex's anger. She gave him an icy green stare, intent on showing him in no uncertain terms that the truce was over. "Unhand me, sir," she said as she struggled to free herself. "This is my stable, and I will go near--and ride--whatever horse I please." "Correction, woman," Lionel answered, tightening his grip instead of loosening it. "This is my stable, not yours. Or did you fail to read the marriage contracts you signed? I am the lord of Larkspur Castle now, and you, my sweet little hellion, are merely my wife--naught more than the horses really, just another possession." "Why you bas--" Alex bit her lower lip. She had very nearly called him "bastard" and after her fine speech in the library, that would have sounded truly foolish. Instead of saying anything more, Alex pulled so hard to free herself that her loveliest gown was ruined. The shoulder seem gave out at the same time she finally managed to free her arm. Then she fled from the stable, intent on two things. First, changing her gown. Second, riding the horse named Thunder...and Lionel be damned!

For the second time since arriving at Larkspur, Lionel found himself standing stock still, utterly shocked by what his wife had just done. The little hellcat was stronger than she looked. She had managed to free her arm from his grip, though the left sleeve of her pretty gown was still balled in his fist. He probably should have explained himself more clearly about Thunder, he realized, but anger had taken hold and he'd blustered instead. Unlike Lightning, his secondary and more manageable warhorse, Thunder was a beast who could only be ridden safely by one person--Lionel himself. Thunder had formidable strength, and in battle, his performance could not be faulted, but when presented with an unfamiliar rider, he often became agitated and frenzied. More than once, he had taken off in a mad gallop, throwing the unwary rider. Nay, he was definitely not a horse a woman could handle. Lionel had had precious little experience dealing with women other than harlots--which made his father's decree that he should tame Alexandra a little ridiculous--and he sighed, looking down at the sleeve still held in his hand. How in the world was he supposed to teach Alexandra about ladylike things when he knew so little about them himself? Then the sleeve itself gave him the perfect solution. Earl James wanted Alexandra to become a proper lady. Well, all proper ladies sewed... and mended...frequently, didn't they? Aye, they did, he answered himself. His spirited little hellcat was going to have some sewing lessons this very day, he vowed. All he need do was find a woman capable of giving them. Intent on his own purpose, Lionel kept a tight hold on the shorn sleeve as he crossed the courtyard with determined strides. By the saints, Alexandra would be tamed!

Alex couldn't believe her luck. No one was about--not even a groom--when she returned to the stable. She had changed her gown, pulled on riding boots and gloves, picked up her riding crop and headed back to the stable, hoping Lionel would be gone. He was. Now all she had to do was bridle and saddle that magnificent beast, and she would soon be galloping with the breeze on the seaside cliff. It never even occurred to Alex that Thunder might be truly dangerous to ride. She had to admit that the animal seemed inordinately large, huge as a matter of fact. That daunted her a bit, but she had always enjoyed a challenge. She had made up her mind to ride Thunder, and ride him she would. It would be a wonderful adventure. She had the horse bridled and saddled in less time than she thought it would take, using the help of a mounting block she had dragged close to his side. And then she was mounted on the stallion, truly amazed at how far she was from the ground. She had a

little trouble handling the horse as she guided him from the stall. He was agitated and snorting, probably because of her unfamiliar weight. No doubt he was used to a man's far heavier presence. Determined to succeed, she nevertheless guided him from the stable, talking sweetly to him all the while and patting his broad, sweaty neck, trying to reassure him that she was friend, not foe. He didn't seem very receptive to her attempts at friendship, and, in fact, by the time they had cleared the stable, he was picking up speed at a rather alarming rate. Alex passed through Larkspur's open gate at nearly a full gallop, momentarily noticing the astonished faces of Lionel's men. She wouldn't for all the world have admitted that she was becoming frightened and called for their aid. But she had to admit that impulsively deciding to ride Thunder-despite her husband's wishes--might have been just a bit unwise. Lionel was getting angrier by the moment. He had located Larkspur's head seamstress, but had yet to find his willful little wife. As he continued the fruitless search, his suspicions mounted, and he went back to the stable. The string of expletives he uttered on finding Thunder gone brought a young groom running. The lad looked shocked by Lionel's words, but he couldn't possibly know that half those curses were meant as prayers. Alexandra's very life could be in danger, a fact she might not even realize because of her damnable pride. "Give me your fastest horse," Lionel commanded, and the groom immediately obeyed, quickly saddling Alex's own prize stallion, Apollo. "Round up twelve men," Lionel continued, this time to one of Larkspur's own knights as he passed the stable, "and send them out after me." "Aye, milord," the knight replied, then added, "Where will they be going?" "They'll be going hunting...for Lady Alexandra!" Looking puzzled, the knight merely nodded, then left immediately to carry out his lord's command. As Lionel mounted Apollo, the two men he had assigned to the gatehouse ran into the stable. "Lady Alexandra just passed the gate at a full gallop, Sir Lionel," the first man gasped out, trying to catch his breath. "She was on Thunder, milord. I'm not really sure, but I think she was headed for the cliff's edge!" Lionel cursed softly, then guided Apollo to the courtyard. Within moments, he was heading out the gate in fast pursuit of his wayward wife.

Alex knew she was in dire trouble the moment she tried to slow the massive beast. He might be a well-disciplined mount under his owner's control, but he was anything but in Alex's delicate hands. She had tried brute force, cajoling, begging--anything that might make the horse slow down. But it was all to no avail.

Now she was praying. Thunder was sweat-soaked and frenzied. She wouldn't be surprised if he was foaming at the mouth. The reins seemed almost useless. If not for her riding gloves, her hands would be cut to ribbons by now. And, incredibly, Thunder's speed was still increasing. Alex couldn't count how many times she had challenged death by riding Apollo very close to the cliff's edge. But Apollo was completely receptive to her commands--this horse was not. He didn't even seem to realize that he was approaching doom, as the cliff's edge was less than a quarter mile ahead of them now. Alex thought her heart might stop, and she pulled the reins to the right as hard as she possibly could, desperate to change Thunder's direction. She thought about jumping, but her legs felt frozen. With Thunder's incredible speed and his equally incredible height, a fall from the horse might well kill her just as easily as a fall over the cliff. Truly frightened now, she began bargaining with God. "Dear Lord," she prayed fervently, "if you'll just stop this horse, I promise to never do anything foolish again!" More than one person had admonished her for her death-defying acts. Even her own dear father had had trouble controlling her willfulness. But she was a highly skilled rider. She should be able to control this horse! In mounting desperation, she again pulled on the reins. Then suddenly none of that mattered--not the prayers, the bargains, the desperation. The edge of the cliff had just come into view, and Alex knew without a doubt that she was going to die.

Chapter Six

When Lionel saw Thunder--with Alexandra astride him--galloping toward the cliff's edge, his heart stuck

in his throat. Without a moment's thought, Lionel urged Apollo into the fastest gallop the stallion had probably ever achieved. If Apollo couldn't match Thunder's speed, all would be lost. Amazingly, Apollo gave all his heart to the effort, and in mere moments, they were closing in on Thunder. Lionel had no illusions about his warhorse. Even from this distance, he could tell the animal was mad with his frenzy. That had never happened before, but surely Alexandra wasn't purposely driving him toward the cliff. Even if she was, the only thing that could possibly save her life was for Lionel to grab her off the horse before Thunder reached the edge of the cliff. If he was able to grab her and then failed to turn Apollo in time, they could all die. Even a superbly trained horse could fail to heed commands while in a head-long rush. Grimly, he calculated his chances of success, then decided he really had no other choice. He would grab Alexandra and save her life, or die himself in the effort. Then again, if his little spitfire actually lived through this stunt, he just might kill her himself. He was gaining on her, but she was evidently too lost in fear--or excitement--to notice his approach. He could shout a command, ordering her to throw herself off the horse, but she probably wouldn't obey it. Thunder was a full seventeen hands tall, and he was moving with incredible speed. The fall might well break her neck. Finally, miraculously, Lionel was even with Alexandra. And they were both about twenty yards from certain death. He leaned over and grabbed her about her slender waist, extremely grateful for his long, long reach. With no more than a moment to spare, Lionel jerked Alexandra onto his own horse, then turned Apollo sharply, just in a hairbreadth of time. Would Apollo have turned on his own? That was something Lionel would never know, but with Alexandra now safely on his lap, they both watched Thunder's fatal plunge over the cliff. "Dear God," Alex heard Lionel say. She turned to face him, and suddenly realized just who had been the owner of that magnificent animal. Thunder had belonged to The Lion. Alex gulped. "Alexandra..." The sound was such a low growl, Alex was not quite sure it had really been her name. Was he horribly angry this time? "Was he terribly expensive, Sir Lionel?" she asked rather inanely. She was desperately sorry for what she had done, but her heart was still pounding. She couldn't find the right words to apologize. "More than all your pretty gowns put together," he answered in an ominously quiet tone. "And you could throw in a farm or two for good measure." "Oh dear," Alex said in a very small voice. She knew the value of Larkspur's horses, of course, but evidently a warhorse was in a different category altogether. Lionel tightened his grip around her waist. "Alexandra," he said again. "I am very glad you're still alive, but what you just did is unforgivable. Do you have any idea how close you actually came to dying by pulling that stunt?" Alex couldn't help stiffening just a little. It hadn't been completely her fault, after all. All thoughts of

apologizing fled with her newly-injured pride. Stunt, indeed! She removed her leather gloves one at a time and carefully tucked them into her belt, then hung her riding crop from a hook on the saddle. "I'm a competent horsewoman, my lord," she finally said. "Surely the fault was Thunder's. He was completely uncontrollable. How could I have known that beforehand?" "Possibly because I told you he was too spirited for a woman to handle, Alexandra," Lionel replied, then frowned. "Perhaps I should have added that no one but I could safely ride Thunder, but if you had simply obeyed your husband and stayed away from the beast, none of this would have happened at all." Alex made no reply to that--since it was undeniably true. Then Sir Thomas arrived on the scene, followed by several other men, and Alex gulped again. Would Sir Thomas tell Lionel that she had done this sort of thing before? It really wasn't the same, but he might not see it that way... "By God's grace, you saved her, Sir Lionel," Sir Thomas exclaimed fervently. "The last time, it was Apollo she nearly drove off the cliff." "The last time?" Lionel repeated, incredulity plainly written on his face. "Sir Thomas, are you telling me Lady Alexandra makes a habit of trying to kill horses this way? She succeeded today. Thunder is dead." Sir Thomas--and all the other men--gave a collective gasp. Horses were more valuable than wives to most knights, Alex realized ruefully. "Aye, milord," Sir Thomas said with a solemn shake of his head. "Lady Alex takes great pleasure in challenging death at every opportunity. It can drive a man to drink, milord, it surely can." The expression on Lionel's face told Alex everything she needed to know about her immediate future. "I didn't do it on purpose, Sir Lionel," she said as meekly as possible. "Thunder got away from me. God's truth, I didn't run him to the cliff's edge on purpose, like I do Apollo." That last little statement about Apollo would have been better left unsaid, Alex belatedly realized. After she said those four simple words, Lionel's golden eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing, too, but Alex soon realized that he was actually holding his breath and counting to, what? One thousand perhaps? After an interminable length of time, Lionel released his breath in a huge gush of air. Alex felt certain that if he hadn't used that old childhood remedy for controlling one's temper, he very well might have thrown her over the cliff after Thunder. Alex also exhaled--with relief--until he pulled something that looked like the torn sleeve of her gown out of his tunic. Confused, she asked, "What are you doing with my sleeve, Sir Lionel?" "I'm going to make sure you cause no more trouble on the way back to the castle, Alexandra," he answered quite calmly. But what he did next made Alex anything but calm. Very simply, he pulled her wrists behind her back and bound them together with the sleeve of her own dress! Then he lifted her up and placed her back down on the saddle, bottom side up, like a sack of grain. "How dare you do this to me?" Alex cried out as Lionel very calmly turned Apollo and headed toward Larkspur at an easy trot. "Are you listening to me, Sir Lionel?" she screeched. "Untie me this instant!" "Alexandra," Lionel said very quietly. "If you don't stop wriggling, you're going to fall off this horse. And

then I will leave you there, bound and helpless, and give strict orders for no one--absolutely no one--to come to your aid. Am I making myself perfectly clear?" "You are a beast," she said, truly embarrassed now. She could hear the men murmuring their agreement of the way she was being treated--including Sir Thomas, blast his soul! "Indeed," Lionel replied. "Indeed I am, Alexandra." Then he placed a large hand on her bottom to steady her, and Alex flushed hotly. Too humiliated for further words, she remained quiet for the rest of the ride. And while she lay ignominiously across Apollo's strong back, Alex came to realize just how foolish she had been. She didn't know Lionel all that well yet, but all knights knew more about their horses than anything else. He had warned her not to ride Thunder--had commanded her not to even go near him, in fact--and that was the crux of the matter. She had ignored his superior knowledge about horses--that horse in particular--because she'd wanted to prove him wrong when he'd said a woman couldn't handle Thunder. And yet he had been perfectly, absolutely correct. She had followed her normal headstrong, willful path, and she had nearly gotten killed in the bargain. She could have killed Lionel too, and Apollo...and Thunder was dead. Alex shuddered as full realization dawned of how stupid and foolhardy her actions had been. She felt overwhelmed by emotions of fear and regret--feelings she was not used to at all--and she shuddered again, uncontrollably now, blinking back fervent tears of contrition. She knew in that moment that she would never, ever race a horse to the cliff edge again. Then strong hands were lifting her down from Apollo's back, and amazingly gentle fingers were untying her wrists. They had reached the stable, she realized, and it was Lionel ministering to her needs. "I guess making you ride back like that was a bit too harsh, Alexandra," Lionel said very quietly, gathering her shuddering body against his broad chest. "I'm sorry, little hellion. I just wanted you to learn something about danger and...well, about the value of your own life." "My father often said things like that to me," Alex replied. She felt her body calming in his strong embrace. "You mean the man who taught you about weapons and horses also tried to tame your willfulness, Alexandra?" "Constantly," she admitted, then added with a small laugh, "You have nothing on him when it comes to spanking, Sir Lionel--he used a switch." "Alexandra..." "Yes?" "I didn't mean to hurt you with that humiliating ride. When I felt you shuddering, I--" Alex reached up and touched her husband's firm, chiseled lips for the very first time, wanting to stop him from berating himself. "I wasn't shuddering because of the ride, Sir Lionel," she said softly. "I was shuddering because I did learn something during your rather unique lesson. I learned that you were right.

Riding Thunder was a foolish, childish stunt, and I'm sorry, Sir Lionel, truly, truly sorry." She lowered her head. "I wish I could bring Thunder back, but that I cannot do. Please, tell me what I can do to make up for what I have done." Lionel raised her chin. "I asked you the same thing last night, remember?" Alex did remember. "Yes," she affirmed. "I also remember your answer. You said 'I don't know', but you've got to know now, Sir Lionel. I want to make this up to you very, very much." He looked thoughtful, then finally said, "There are one or two things I truly would appreciate, Alexandra." "Name them, and they're yours," Alex promised. "First, I would like very much for you to stop calling me 'Sir Lionel'. I may be your lord, but I am also your husband. Don't you think we could be a little less formal?" "Will you call me Alex?" He stiffened, and Alex smiled. She'd thought that might be too much to ask. "Nay, Alexandra," he replied. "Alex is a man's name, and you, my little hellion, are anything but a man--no matter how many 'manly' things you were taught by your father." "I'll concede that point--for the moment," Alex said, inclining her head. "And what about my name?" "I will call you Lionel from now on...except when I'm angry," she said with a rather mischievous grin. "And then I may very well call you Sir Brute again--or perhaps simply Sir Beast." Alex could have sworn she'd seen just a hint of a smile on her husband's face, but she could have been imagining things. After all, no one, supposedly, had ever see him smile. "About those other things, Alexandra," Lionel said. "Yes?" His gaze dropped to her lips, and she trembled. "One other thing I want is to kiss you, Alexandra," he said quietly. "Right here and right now." Alex gasped softly. She was already trembling. Would a simple kiss be enough to set off her fear? Would she be shuddering again and sweating as soon as his lips touched hers? "Don't deny me, wife," Lionel murmured huskily. He ran his thumb across her lower lip. "I'm not asking to bed you, just kiss you." Alex realized in that moment another unique thing about this very unusual marriage. Lionel had spanked her, and he had ravished her...but he had not yet kissed her. Her husband had yet to kiss the bride! "Very well, my lord," she agreed. Her voice quivered a little. "You may...kiss me." Lionel touched his lips to hers so softly and gently, she was truly amazed. How could someone who had behaved so brutishly last night be so utterly gentle today? And she felt absolutely no fear; nothing but a

delicious tingling down her spine. He deepened the kiss then, gradually, slowly, twining his hands through her hair and tilting her head to the side. Alex felt the full impact of his sensual mouth, and she groaned helplessly. His tongue slid along her lips, parting them gently, seeking entrance, and Alex obliged. Opening her mouth, she felt delicious new sensations as his tongue explored her soft recess, claiming her completely. The feeling stealing over Alex was like a hot blush--warmth spreading from her lips downward. It warmed her throat, and then her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Her nipples hardened into aching little peaks, and she moaned softly with newly-awakened desire. Lionel felt Alexandra's nipples ripen even through the fabric of her gown. He tried to resist the urge to touch them--surely she would be frightened by intimacy after what he had inadvertently done--but he simply could not resist the temptation of those young, ripe breasts. He gently cupped one breast, then very lightly caught the nipple between finger and thumb. She moaned softly again, arching against his hand, and Lionel had a very physical reaction to her obvious pleasure. Mayhap I should make love to her, here and now, he thought. Perhaps I can make up for last night by gently but thoroughly introducing her to the joys of lovemaking while she is still in a receptive mood. With that thought in mind, Lionel gradually moved forward, easing Alexandra backward while still kissing her. He led her into an unused, clean stall, grateful that they were completely alone in this part of the stable, then very slowly began unlacing her gown. Alexandra didn't seem to notice--since he was intentionally distracting her by deepening the kiss--and before very long, the front lacing on her gown was open, and he was untying the delicate bow on her linen shift. Slowly, slowly he parted the edges of the shift, until he could finally touch her soft, sweet flesh. He caressed her bare breasts, kneading them gently, then bent to take a taut pink nipple into his mouth. Alex clamped on to Lionel's shoulders for dear life when she felt the sudden burst of erotic sensations that his warm, wet mouth was bringing to the aching tip of her breast. He moved to the other side and circled his tongue around that nipple, and Alex nearly melted into the floor. She felt herself being lowered down to soft hay, felt her skirts being raised, but she wasn't thinking now, not about fear or anything else; she was simply feeling. The feelings were wonderful, deliriously wonderful--until he touched her in her most intimate place. Then memories suddenly flooded her mind, destroying the lovely feelings, and Alex felt crushed below a tidal wave of abject, mortal fear. "No, Lionel...stop...please," she gasped. Sweat broke out on her forehead, then on her palms, and she shuddered violently, uncontrollably--far worse than when she'd realized that she and Lionel could have died today. Lionel stopped immediately, pulled her skirts back down and enfolded her in his powerful arms. Alex knew he was trying to quiet the tremors of fear running through her whole body, and his effort was a great comfort to her. She clutched him tightly, needing the anchor of his strength. "God, what a fool I was last night," he said, and that started Alex crying, sobbing against his chest. She realized then that she had forgiven him, that she didn't want him to feel responsible. It had been her fault, too.

"Hush, Alexandra," he said then, gently stroking her hair. "Hush, sweetheart, there's nothing to be afraid of. I won't touch you again until you're ready." "I'm...not...your...sweetheart," Alex gasped out, knowing it was true and feeling inexplicably saddened by the thought. "A sweetheart...is someone you...choose for yourself...not someone Earl James chooses...for you." Lionel pulled her so close, she could feel the strong beat of his heart. "If you want to be my sweetheart, Alexandra, you are," he said, kissing the top of her head. "We'll probably be...fighting again...by tomorrow," Alex sobbed, trying so hard to stop trembling. "Aye, we probably will," Lionel agreed. "But for now, just let me comfort you. Is that a deal, Alexandra?" "What happened...to...sweetheart?" "Is that a deal, sweetheart?" "Aye, Lionel. That's a...deal."

Chapter Seven Oliver, Lionel's squire, was the first to notice the double row of mounted knights descending upon Larkspur Castle. He was still a little weak-kneed from his illness on the way to Larkspur, but he was carrying out most of his duties again. One of those duties was to watch for the arrival of Sir Lionel's men. "Sir Lionel!" he croaked in a slightly raspy voice. "The rest of your men are coming." Lionel was in the practice field, working up a good sweat in the warm seaside air. He had been sparring with Sir Thomas, who, even at well past forty years in age, was a more than adequate opponent. Lionel had just removed his protective vest, as well as his soft linen shirt because it was soaked through with the evidence of his efforts. Wearing only dark hose, which covered his muscular frame from waist to boot tops, he appreciated the salty sea breeze as it began cooling his skin. Oliver croaked out his message again, a little closer to the practice field this time, and Lionel looked toward the boy, then waved acknowledgement of his news.

"Now you might get some real competition, Sir Thomas," Lionel said, gladly accepting a cloth from a young page to wipe the sweat from his face and upper body. "The rest of my men have arrived." Sir Thomas merely shook his dark head. "Nay, Sir Lionel," he said, "none could be better than you. I'm honored to be your sparring partner." Lionel clapped Sir Thomas on the back in an age-old gesture of thanks between men-at-arms. Then his attention was drawn to Alexandra, who was approaching the field, carrying a clean shirt for him. Sir Thomas noticed this, too. His voice sounding amazed, he said, "She never brought a clean shirt to her father." Lionel nodded, but his mind was fully occupied with his unwittingly sensual, lovely little bride. For the past three days, he and Alexandra had been enjoying another truce, with no hateful words between them. It was almost as if Thunder's death, and what happened in the stable afterward, had given them a new beginning. Well, almost a new beginning. Alexandra was still terrified of intimacy, and Lionel was still sleeping with his men. At the moment, as Alexandra walked toward him, with her hips softly swaying and her wonderful breasts moving ever so gently with each step she took, Lionel felt his body respond to her loveliness in a very definite way. He had resolved to give Alexandra all the time she needed to overcome her fear, but that resolve was getting harder and harder to keep with each passing day, figuratively as well as literally. Alexandra reached him and handed him the shirt. Lionel murmured his thanks and quickly slipped it over his head, leaving the laces untied, grateful the thigh-length garment would at least conceal his arousal. That was the best he could hope for at the moment, but his sweet little hellion was so damned innocent, she hadn't even noticed the telling bulge in his hose. The evidence might now be concealed, but Lionel was still fully aroused, which was a condition he was almost, but not quite, getting used to. What he needed was a healthy dose of sexual release, but he would not force himself on Alexandra again. Mayhap this nearly constant state of unrequited lust was a just penance for his brutish attack, he mused ruefully. Most men would find a willing wench to ease their needs. He himself wouldn't think twice about doing just that--if he weren't married, that is. He scowled darkly. Marriage was a two-edged blade for Lionel, cutting him from both sides. He could not make love to his wife--which was his own damn fault, and he knew it--and he could not slake his lust on a common tart--which was also his own fault, because he had this inane belief that marriage vows should be kept, no matter that he hadn't wanted the marriage in the first place. "What's happening over there?" Alex asked, gesturing toward the activity near the castle gate. "My men are coming," he answered, but he wasn't looking at the gate--he was looking at Alexandra. The sight of her freshly scrubbed face, the modest cut of her gown, and the clean scent of her shiny auburn hair went a long way toward helping him forget thoughts of using a common tart. "Shall we greet my men together, sweetheart?" he finally asked, taking a deep breath in an effort to subdue his unbidden desire. "Of course, Lionel," Alex replied with a sunny smile. "I'd love to be introduced to your men."

Lionel offered his arm, and any remaining thoughts about harlots dwindled to nothingness. What did he need with a whore when he had a lovely young bride walking beside him? Of course, he realized wryly, as they crossed the courtyard together, he only thought of Alexandra as being sweet, young and lovely when they weren't at each other's throats. If their delicately balanced truce fell apart--when it did--he amended rather regretfully, he was quite sure that Alexandra would turn back into a little hellion in need of taming...and he would turn back into the beast charged with carrying out that duty by his own father. He sighed deeply. Perhaps the truce would last. Aye. And perhaps pigs would fly by sundown.

Pandemonium reigned at Larkspur Castle for the next two days, as fifty-some knights, and all their equipment, found places to live--or at least sleep--while additional quarters were being built. Larkspur had never had such a large contingent of soldiers before, and Lionel soon realized that at least half of the men would probably be reassigned somewhere else, once Earl James was completely satisfied with the castle's protection. One thing became perfectly clear. Every square foot of the castle would be needed to provide sleeping quarters for all these men for the next week or two. And there was one young lady sleeping all by herself in a huge master bedchamber, while her husband might well be sleeping on the floor--again--if he didn't change that situation very, very soon. Lionel had considered moving into Alex's old room until she welcomed him back to his own bed, but he had stubbornly decided against it. He was the lord of Larkspur, by God. He would sleep in the master bedchamber--or none at all. Consequently, he had been sleeping with his men for the entirety of his marriage, all six days of it, if you started counting when he'd actually arrived at Larkspur Castle. But tonight, he decided quite firmly, things were going to change.

Alex felt Lionel's presence even before he touched her, which surprised her a little, since they really didn't know each other all that well yet. She was in the library, pouring over the latest manuscripts that she and Lionel had been discussing, which were spread out on the reading table. He kissed the top of her head, then took a seat beside her on the bench. "We need to talk, Alexandra," he said. "Let's see," Alex replied musingly, secretly enjoying the faint scent of leather and clean, minty soap that always surrounded him. She placed a finger on the side of her face, as if in deep thought. "What language shall we speak while we talk, Lionel? Latin? Greek? Or would you like to practice your French today?" "I'm serious, Alexandra. 'Tis about our...sleeping arrangements."

Alex stiffened. She thought she knew what he was going to say, and she just wasn't ready to hear it. "I'm not talking about anything but sleeping, Alexandra," Lionel continued with the slightest hint of impatience in his voice. "The castle is simply too full right now, and unless you enjoy knowing that I'm sleeping on the floor, you're going to have to let me sleep in my own bed." "I'll move to my old room," Alex murmured, dropping her gaze to her lap. "No, you won't," Lionel replied firmly, and Alex had a distinct feeling that their latest truce had just come to an end. Her head snapped back up, and she looked at her husband with narrowed eyes. "Is that an order, my lord?" "Yes." "Very well, Sir Lionel," she retorted hotly, "I can damn well sleep on the floor if I must, and you can have the bloody bed all to yourself!" "Watch your tongue, woman!" Lionel ground out, standing up to tower over her--an obvious attempt at intimidation. Alex bristled with anger. How dare he use that tactic on her! The truce was indeed over--and good riddance! "This coming from the king of cursing?" she shot back, standing up as well to give herself more leverage. Lionel grasped her slender waist, picked her up, and stood her on the bench. "There," he said. "Now you can look me straight in the eye while using that foul mouth of yours, little hellcat." "My foul mouth! You're a damned hypocrite, Lionel. All men are damned hypocrites! You can swear until you're blue in the face, and naught will ever be said, but let a mere woman say something--anything--even the tiniest bit off color, and the menfolk want to ship her off to a nunnery or wash out her mouth with soap!" "Do it just once more, Alexandra. Say 'damn' one more time, and just see what happens." "Damn, damn, damn, d-a-m-n, damn!" Whatever Alex was expecting Lionel to do, it certainly wasn't what he did. He kissed her. Hard, long and deep. Harder than he'd ever done before, deeper than he'd ever gone before, and oh so much longer than anything they had ever shared before, even that day in the stable. He had kissed her since that day many times, but always softly, gently--almost chastely. This kiss was total domination, pure male animal, almost punishing in its intensity. Alex supposed it was meant to be some sort of punishment--or one of his damn lessons--but she didn't care at the moment. She was back to just feeling again. And the feeling was glorious. She slipped her arms around his neck and made a low sound in her throat that sounded suspiciously like a purr. "You truly are a little hellcat," Lionel murmured eons later, when he finally released her lips. "You were actually purring, Alexandra." "I was not," she retorted, but the words came out slow and sensual. She was too dazed from the erotic

power of that wonderful kiss to put any real heat into her retort. "Your lips are swollen, Alexandra," Lionel said softly, tracing his fingers over her mouth. "You look like you've just been very thoroughly kissed." "I have." "Was it better than having your mouth washed out with soap?" "Oh!" Alex screeched and instantly tried to slap his arrogant face. Lionel easily deflected the blow and twisted her arm behind her back--albeit gently. "You, sir, are a despicable low life, a damned--" "Watch it, Alexandra." "The Lion has spoken, and the little hellcat must obey," Alex said with heavy sarcasm. "Is that it, Sir Beast?" "Alexandra..." "What?" "Your Irish is showing." Alex uttered a curse foul enough to shock even Lionel. And that was probably why she was able to catch him completely off guard. She put all the power her little body could muster behind her right fist--he was still holding her left one--and punched him in the gut. Hard. Lionel grunted with pain, bent over in reaction to the blow, and Alex felt him loosen his grip on her arm. She shook herself free, then ran from the room as fast as her small, slippered feet would allow. She had no intention of being in the same room with The Lion when he straightened up, caught his breath--and began to roar.

Lionel leaned one hand on the reading table, the other held over his stomach, as his breathing returned to normal. Damn little hellcat. He supposed her father had taught her how to punch like that. He hadn't even had time to tighten his muscles against the sudden attack. He was sorely tempted to go after his vicious little bride, but there were simply too many details to take care of concerning his men. He would have to deal with the willful chit later--mayhap to the detriment of her bottom. And he was going to sleep in his own bed tonight--with Alexandra--even if he had to tie her to the bed to keep her there. His destination was the stable. They were putting two horses in every stall and still, more needed to be built. Larkspur raised horses, but they were bred for quality more than quantity--not to mention the fact that several mares were in season. Chaos would rein if he allowed nearly one hundred war-trained stallions into the pasture, and the grass couldn't support that many horses, anyway. Luckily, Larkspur had a very good supply of oats, and there was room enough for temporary stalls at the far end of the stable. The immediate problem could be solved--just barely. He would see what the future held before deciding on more permanent solutions. Lionel reached the stable, intending to go straight to the work area and confer with the chief

carpenter--at least that was his plan. Until Liza stepped out of the head groom's office. "Liza?" Lionel said, truly astounded that the wench was here at Larkspur Castle. And, much to his dismay, he was happy to see her. Liza, the sweet little camp whore. He cursed softly as waves of hot blood pulsed through his groin. "Aye, Sir Lionel, 'tis me--in the flesh," Liza replied in her sultry, deeply provocative voice. Lionel didn't want the passionate memories of many nights...and mornings and afternoons...spent with this temptress to come flooding back, but he was only human, and every inch was male. Worst of all, she was not simply a memory. She was here--in the flesh--as she had just said. He was already responding to her nearness...and she was coming closer with every wiggle of her full hips. "How did you get here, Liza?" His words were rather terse--or strained. He wasn't sure which, but he certainly knew why. "I came with your men, Sir Lionel. I'm still...seeing to their needs, shall we say?" "Aye, I'm sure you are, Liza, but there's no room here right now for extra people--" "I've already got a place to stay, Sir Lionel. The head groom is a...special friend." "Since when?" Liza laughed throatily. "Since the day I first saw to his needs, of course." "Liza..." "Yes, Sir Lionel?" Lionel's throat felt dry. "I-I don't think you should stay at Larkspur." God's teeth, he was stammering now. Liza wouldn't look so good to you if your own wife would "see to your needs" a nagging little voice said in the back of his mind. Somehow, Liza had grasped his hand and led him into the head groom's office...which also served as his living quarters. And somehow the door closed behind her. And somehow her peasant blouse just happened to fall down around her waist, revealing her delicious breasts, with their customary rouged nipples. "Touch me, Sir Lionel," Liza purred. "Please...touch me." He almost did. He was so close, within inches. His fingers were splayed. He could almost feel the warmth of those heavy mounds in his hands. He could almost taste the rouge on her nipples. But he stopped. Just in time. "Damnation, woman, don't you know I'm married now?" he ground out. "Aye, I know," Liza said softly, seductively. "But I also know you've been sleeping with your men, not your wife." "Cover yourself, Liza. I won't be part of your life anymore. I won't break my vows."

"She's breaking her vows, isn't she? Isn't one of them something about doing whatever your husband wants?" "It's called obeying, Liza. Just simply obeying." Liza had been moving one little step closer with each word, and now her bare breasts were touching Lionel's chest. He kept his arms at his sides and took a deep breath. "Your wife must not obey you very well, Sir Lionel, if you're sleeping alone." "I don't want to discuss my marriage with you, Liza," Lionel said with mounting anger--and frustration. "In fact, I don't want to talk to you at all. If you really want to stay here, I suppose my men can keep you well paid. But I don't want to see you. Is that clear, Liza?" "I love it when you're angry, Sir Lionel," Liza murmured, sliding her arms around his neck. "You're so forceful...so dominating when you're angry. Dominate me, Sir Lionel. Make me do things I don't want to do." Lionel suddenly felt nothing but disgust with those words. He had nearly forgotten how much Liza enjoyed the more perverse side of lovemaking. He'd never catered to her strange whims, of course, but even the reminder was enough to strengthen his resolve. He reached up and grasped both her arms, fully intending to remove them from around his neck. And that's just what Alex saw when she opened the door a moment later. She saw her husband. And she saw a bare-breasted woman. There arms were touching. And their chests. The rest was all a blur, because Alex left the head groom's office on a gasp and a sob, running blindly toward the castle. Somehow, Alex wasn't quite sure how, she found herself in her old bedchamber--the room she'd grown up in. She closed the door, bolted it, sank down against it and cried. Liza had watched the chit who was obviously Sir Lionel's wife as she fled the groom's office. And Sir Lionel himself was nearly melting the walls with the heat of his curses. "I'll deal with you later, Liza," he finally said, and his anger was so palpable, Liza literally backed up a few steps. "Right now I have to try to repair the damage you've just done to my lady wife." "Do you love her, Sir Lionel?" she asked with a sudden surge of jealousy. That stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to her. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, Liza, but I will anyway. It was an arranged marriage. Neither of us wanted it very much, in truth, not at all. But we are married now, and nothing can change that fact." "I've been told there's an annul...annul..." "Annulment, Liza. The word's annulment." "Yes, that's it. I've been told a man can get one of those if he hasn't slept with his wife." "Damnation, Liza, I have slept with her. Now stay out of it, or I'll force you to leave Larkspur. Do you understand me, wench?" "You didn't answer my question, Sir Lionel," Liza persisted. "Do you love her?" "No."

The next thing Liza heard was a resounding crash as Lionel left the office and slammed the door shut behind him. "That's an awful lot of anger to waste over a silly little chit you don't even love, Sir Lionel," Liza muttered to the closed door, her jealousy growing by leaps and bounds. She didn't believe for a moment that he didn't love his new little bride. Why shouldn't he? All that sweet innocence...and Larkspur Castle, too. "If I want to get back in The Lion's bed," she mused aloud, "I just might have to do something about that wife of his." Liza sat down on the head groom's bed, running her hand over the coarse woolen blanket. The groom was a big man, too--a veritable stallion in bed--but no man she had ever known could even come close to Sir Lionel's sexual prowess. The Lion refused to treat her cruelly, and yet he was a magnificently dominant male animal. She felt herself growing moist from mere memories of that last night spent together in his tent. At that very opportune moment, the head groom walked into his quarters. She saw the interested look on his rugged face as he noticed her bared breasts, and she lay down on the bed in seductive invitation. She raised her skirt, spread her legs wide, then stroked her own need, and his face darkened with lust. "I know what you want, slut," he said in a raspy voice, "and I know exactly how you want it, too." Liza smiled, then turned over on the bed, offering her bare bottom for his pleasure--and hers. She liked her sex rough, the rougher the better, and the burly groom had no qualms about giving it to her that way. In fact, that was the reason he had invited her to share his room--free use of a whore who enjoyed being whipped was a bargain he simply couldn't resist. She tossed her raven locks over one shoulder and watched him as he picked up a riding crop, unfastened his breeches, then came toward the bed. "I suppose you've been a very naughty little girl again, wench," he growled. "I think you deserve a taste of this crop, don't you?" "Oh, yes," Liza murmured, squirming with wanton delight. "I've been very, very naughty, sir. I deserve to be punished severely." Liza thoroughly enjoyed the next hour, but her thoughts were more on Sir Lionel than on the groom...and what he was doing to her. Sir Lionel had said he didn't want the marriage, and the innocent little chit had obviously turned out to be frigid. Mayhap he didn't love her, after all. Mayhap he would even appreciate it if the girl "accidentally" died. The groom was demanding one of Liza's specialties now, so she dropped to her knees in front of him. And while she pleasured the groom, Liza wondered just what kind of "accident" would be the easiest to believe. Liza was a very resourceful woman. She had no doubt that she could find some way to get rid of the wife, and get back into The Lion's bed.

Chapter Eight

"Open the door, Alexandra," Lionel said. He had finally found her in her old bedchamber, but not before searching several other places. He had checked to see if her boy's disguise was still in its hiding place at the bottom of her father's sea chest. He felt absolutely no guilt for having searched the master bedchamber several days earlier for those clothes, having suspected that Alexandra would keep them, even after giving him her word not to wear them again--or to go to Cliffside. He probably should have burned them as soon as he'd discovered their hiding place, but he'd wanted to give Alexandra the benefit of the doubt. She was, after all, a lady, and a lady's word should be good. Then she ran out of the groom's quarters, and when he couldn't find her in the library, the kitchen or anywhere else, Lionel bit back a curse at his own stupidity while lifting the lid of the sea chest. But his suspicions were groundless. The clothes were still there; she hadn't broken her promise. Alexandra was crying, and it was the soft, muffled sobs that had finally led him to her old room. The thought that she was suffering emotional pain was disconcerting. Damn Liza for causing all this. "Go away, Sir Lionel," Alex finally replied, "Go back to that...that...woman." Her pain had become anger, Lionel realized with some measure of relief. That fact was easy enough to discern because she was calling him "Sir Lionel" again. He could very easily understand why she would be angry...or hurt. She was still an innocent, for the most part still unaware of the temptations of the flesh. And seeing her new husband in another woman's arms had most likely hurt her feminine pride. The other alternative was that Alexandra truly cared for him, and Lionel seriously doubted that; not after she had landed that punch to his gut. "Alexandra, I'm going to come into that room...one way or another." "If you kick down this door, Sir Lionel, you'll crush me. I'm leaning against it." "Then I suggest you move--immediately." "No." Lionel sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. This situation was going from bad to worse. An honest confrontation was what they needed, but not through a closed--and bolted--door. Alexandra, however,

was just stubborn enough to stay right where she was, undoubtedly reasoning that he would not kick in the door and risk hurting her. But there was more than one way to overcome her stubbornness, and Lionel had never lacked determination--not in any aspect of his life. "All right, Alexandra," he said quite calmly. "Have it your own way. I'll be back...later." He was back within a quarter hour...with the chief carpenter--and his tools--in tow. Shortly thereafter, the door was simply removed from the frame. "Come here, Alexandra," Lionel said quietly, holding out his hand to his slightly amazed wife. "We need to talk." Very slowly, she placed her delicate hand in his much larger one, and he led her down the hallway, straight to the bedchamber they were supposed to be sharing. She stiffened and tried to pull away when she realized where he was taking her, so he simply lifted her up and carried her into the room. He set her down on the bed, returned to the door and threw the bolt. "You're an adulterer," Alex said softly when he turned back to her. "No, I am not," he calmly replied. "Then what do you call what you were doing with that woman?" "Trying to remove her hands from around my neck." Alex snorted. "Do you really expect me to believe that, Sir Lionel?" "You'll have to, Alexandra, because it's the truth." Alex got up from the bed and started pacing the floor. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling suddenly cold, bereft somehow. Why should I care? she wondered. If he can slake his lust with a harlot, wouldn't that be better for me? I can barely stand the man, after all. It should make me perfectly happy to know that his sexual needs can be satisfied by someone else. So why doesn't it? "Alexandra, what are you thinking about?" Lionel asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Nothing...and everything," Alex admitted on a heavy sigh, finally sitting beside him. " 'Tis just my pride, I suppose. After all, we don't exactly share a great burning love or anything even close to it. We're not even friends, really, if you think about it." "I thought we might have become friends over the past few days," Lionel said, lifting her hand off her lap and enclosing it in his own. "Mayhap...at least there was some hope for a while that we might learn to tolerate each other, perhaps have a more peaceful relationship. But now, I just don't know." "Because of Liza?" Because you hurt me with your infidelity, though I still cannot fathom why I should care. "Is that the woman's name?" "Yes." "What is she to you, Lionel?" Alex asked, swallowing hard against a sudden well of emotions, almost as if she really did have some sort of tender feelings for her new husband. That, of course, was impossible.

This was a forced marriage. Love--or even like--had naught to do with it when it started, and it certainly didn't have anything to do with it now. "I won't lie to you, Alexandra. Liza and I have been...intimate...many times in the past." "But what is she to you now, Lionel?" Alex persisted. "Do you want me to be quite frank about this?" he asked. "Aye...honest and frank." "Liza is what soldiers call a camp whore, Alexandra. She goes from one campaign--or battle--to another, taking care of the men's...ah...needs. She was never anything more than that to me, nor to any other man, as far as I know. And she is nothing at all to me now." "Then why is she here?" "She followed my men...and apparently, they would like her to stay." "Is it really so hard for men to do without sex, Lionel?" Alex asked boldly. "So hard that they have to take harlots with them whenever they leave home, even to do battle?" She was fairly satisfied with Lionel's explanation about Liza--she wasn't quite as innocent as a newly hatched chick, after all--but she felt a sudden need to learn more about men...one man in particular...and now was as good a time as any to gain that knowledge. "I suppose I shouldn't be shocked that you would ask such a bold question, Alexandra, not knowing you as I think I do, but 'tis still a little hard to explain such things to a lady...at least for me." "Please try." "Very well," Lionel said after a lengthy pause. He took a deep breath, obviously uncomfortable about discussing such things. "A man's...sexual needs," he began rather haltingly, "are generally more pronounced than a woman's. A man has a need to be...satisfied...that can become quite uncomfortable if left unattended. And after a battle, Alexandra, making love to a woman can help purge the bloodlust from a man's heart, even from his soul." Alex nodded. That much she could understand easily enough. How many times had she heard knights recounting their battle experiences, only to see their eyes blaze with an animalistic kind of passion? Knights were extremely physical creatures, after all. It was not surprising that in the aftermath of war, the passion for battle became a need for physical release. She had once seen two stallions battling over a mare. The winner had reacted in much the same way. He had not become calm until after the mating. Apparently, men were a lot like horses, she thought wryly. "But each man is different, Alexandra," Lionel continued. "Some can do without sex altogether--even after a battle--while others need it quite often, and a good part of that level of need is dependent on a man's age." "What about a man your age, Lionel?" Alex asked, holding her breath, suddenly hoping those rumors about his multiple bed mates--at the same time, for God's sake!--were not really true. "A man my age is about in the middle, I guess," Lionel answered with a shrug. "Not new to it, but not at death's door yet, either." Alex felt a blush color her cheeks, knowing she was going to become quite blunt now, but she needed an

answer she just wasn't getting. "What about you, Lionel. What about your needs?" Lionel studied her quietly for a moment, then finally seemed to understand what she was trying to ask. "Would you answer a question of mine before I answer yours, Alexandra?" he said. "Certainly." "What have you heard about me? About my...ah...bedchamber activities?" Alex's face grew even warmer. This was harder than she'd thought it would be, but she was determined to go on, now that they were truly getting to the heart of the matter. " 'Twas in Cliffside's taverns that I learned of your reputation, Lionel," she admitted rather reluctantly, remembering all too well how much he hated her adventures. "They said you were...extremely active." Lionel sighed, then nodded. "Alexandra," he said, "those places...taverns, brothels and such...make their living by promoting that kind of story. Don't you see?" Alex shook her head. "I don't understand." "I'll wager I can tell you the typical story. 'Tis about several woman and one man, correct?" "Aye," Alex answered, truly embarrassed now. "And who do you think they were advertising...the knight or the women?" "The women, I suppose," Alex admitted, more than a little relieved at the turn this conversation was taking. Perhaps the rumors were not true. Maybe Lionel truly was not the insatiable beast she had heard about. But, being who she was, Alex just had to make sure. "Does that mean that you've never..." Her words faltered. This was simply too embarrassing to ask, no matter how much she wanted to know the truth. "Have I ever been with more than one woman at a time?" asked Lionel, completing her question. "Never, Alexandra. What you heard are just stories promoted by prostitutes, whose very livelihood depends on their bawdy reputations. They're just lies, sweetheart." He looked directly into her eyes before adding, "Nothing worth worrying about, and certainly nothing worth believing." Alex felt a mighty surge of relief with Lionel's apparently honest explanation. His words made perfect sense to her, so she believed him completely. He might be called The Lion, but evidently Lionel was not such a beast, after all--at least not in that way. He certainly could be a beast in other ways, though, she amended ruefully. "Alexandra..." "Yes?" "You're never, ever going to Cliffside again, unless you're with me, of course." "I gave you my word, Lionel," Alex said, blushing anew, remembering how he had extracted that promise from her. "Yes, but a promise made under duress is not always kept." "Then I guess only time will tell, won't it?" Alex taunted mischievously.

Lionel sat up very straight. "Just what do you mean by that, woman?" " 'Twas just a comment," Alex replied absently, but her mind had already gone beyond the impish taunt. She had just realized the importance of Lionel's words. A promise made under duress is not always kept... Aye, Alex mused, her promise most assuredly had been made under duress. He'd been spanking her, of all things. Would it be dishonorable to break such a promise, then? A devilishly wicked smile suddenly lit up her entire face. Nay, she answered herself with alacrity, 'twould not be dishonorable, not in the least. This is why I kept the disguise, she realized. Even that first day, I knew I would eventually want to go to Cliffside again. Thank God Lionel doesn't know I kept it. He would probably burn those clothes if he knew I still had them! "I can see right into that pretty little head of yours, Alexandra," Lionel warned, "and right now I think you are concocting some outrageous new scheme." He crossed his arms over his massive chest and raised one tawny brow. "Tell me what you are planning, woman," he demanded. "I want to hear just exactly what you've been thinking about." "That's the second time you've asked for my thoughts," Alex said, bristling. How dare he demand such a thing? "Is nothing sacred to you, Sir Beast, not even a woman's most private possessions...her own thoughts?" "Not when those thoughts might lead to...let's see...perhaps killing another horse?" he said with rising anger. "Or mayhap seeing a certain young lady sent to the gallows for the treasonous crime of spying?" Alex blanched. "How did you find out about--" She stopped in mid-sentence, knowing she was condemning herself even further with every word. "Very simple, little hellion," Lionel said, suddenly rising to his full, formidable height. Seeing this, Alex wisely scooted back on the bed, putting a relatively safe distance between herself and The Lion...whom she suspected was just about ready to roar. "You see, Alexandra," Lionel continued in a low, ominous voice, "I went to Cliffside myself a couple of days ago. After a few discreet questions and a few coins to loosen tongues, one very appreciative drunkard was only too glad to talk. It seems that man witnessed a bribe for silence being passed between a 'very comely young lad' and a royal guard on a bloody royal barge!" Alex could feel Lionel's anger mounting, and in that moment she decided she had best deflect that fierce emotion before it got out of control. The less Lionel thought about Cliffside, the better for her health, she reasoned. She didn't know very much about feminine wiles, but she knew enough to make a valiant effort. Moving closer to her husband, she fluttered her eyelashes, purposely licked her parted lips, then said in a breathy tone, "Do you know why I came to the stable this afternoon, my lord?" Her husband, however, wasn't so easily distracted. Scowling darkly, he said, "You're trying to change the subject, Alexandra, and it won't work. Tell me what plot was hatching in that incredibly fertile mind of yours." Unwilling to accept defeat, Alex ignored his command and rose gracefully from the bed, then placed one slender hand on each side of his impossibly wide chest. "When I went to the stable, my lord," she said, her voice now meek and compliant, "I was looking for you." She lowered her lashes demurely, playing the obedient little wife for all she was worth. "I wanted to apologize for punching you, my lord husband."

She bit her lower lip, trying to look truly contrite. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord?" She raised her lashes again and looked up at him, with just the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes. Then she raised up on tiptoe and kissed him, purposely letting her tongue slip out to accidentally touch his lips. "If you will forgive me, my dear lord," she finished, "I will try very hard to obey your every wish from now on." Alex suddenly wondered if her seductive feminine game had gone a little too far. His eyes had narrowed as she played her meek role, and now they were widening again, lit with fire from the inside. She swallowed hard, realizing he knew exactly what she was doing--and then her own eyes widened as an unmistakable look of passion animated his handsome face. Would she now have to pay the price of using such an obvious feminine ploy? She had won, in a way. He was no longer angry...but what would he do to her now? He answered her question by pulling her into a crushing embrace, grasping her chin and tilting her head, forcing her to look directly into his blazing golden eyes. His voice was husky and rough when he said, "I don't know whether I should kiss you or spank you again, little hellion, for playing this game...Mayhap I'll do both." Then he buried his fists in her hair, holding her captive to his ravishment, as his mouth covered her own. Within a heartbeat, Alex became lost in a whirlpool of glorious sensations. As Lionel's lips met hers--so warm and firm, so demanding, so utterly sensual--she gave in to his seduction, parting her own lips and moaning into his mouth. She knew without a doubt that he was going to lower her to the bed and make love to her...but she couldn't find the will to protest. The fear wasn't there yet, just those wonderful, dizzying feelings. If she could only feel, and not think at all, Alex realized, her unreasoning fear of the marriage bed would end. His kiss was deeper now, hungry, arrogantly demanding, and Alex indeed found herself lying upon the massive bed. He was unlacing her soft silk gown, untying her delicate shift, bunching her upper garments around her waist--which quite effectively captured her arms at her sides--all the while kissing her until she was nearly mindless with a need she did not fully understand. Alex knew that being confined by her own clothing should have frightened her, but somehow it didn't...not when Lionel had finally raised his head and she could see the blatant appreciation in his eyes for what he had bared. He was devouring the sight of her naked breasts, and her nipples instinctively hardened under his heated, sensual gaze. Was it possible for a man to make love to a woman with just his eyes? she wondered breathlessly. His breathing was just as erratic as her own as he reached for her breasts, cupping one in each hand and running his calloused thumbs over her taut nipples. Alex felt so intoxicated she could hardly draw a breath, but she arched her back in primal, instinctive feminine reaction to being caressed, her breathing reduced to soft pants. "So beautiful," he finally said. "Your breasts are so very beautiful, Alexandra." He bent to kiss her nipples then...tiny, feathery kisses...and Alex moaned, closing her eyes in rapturous delight. "Your nipples are so sensitive, so easily aroused," he added thickly, flicking his tongue over each ripened peak. "They respond to the slightest touch of my tongue." Very gently, he closed his teeth around one tight pink crown, and Alex cried out her pleasure. No longer able to deny her own mounting passion, she said, "Yes...please, Lionel...yes...oh yes!" That single affirmative word spurred him into action. In no time at all, Alex felt her skirts being pushed up, until they joined the rest of her garments, bunched around her waist. Her arms were still pinned to her

sides by the bodice of the gown, but she didn't care. He was removing her slippers, garters and stockings now, and once she was free of them, he sat back on his haunches and simply looked at her, his eyes blazing like golden fire. "Your legs are wonderful, Alexandra," he murmured, finally reaching out to touch her thigh. "Long and slender, yet firm and muscular at the same time--a true horsewoman's legs." The last was admitted a little ruefully. "Your belly's so flat, 'tis nearly concave," he continued, and Alex drew in a panting breath as he caressed her belly with just the tips of his long fingers. For only an instant, she wanted to cover the triangle of dark auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs, but her arms were still bound, and she couldn't find the breath to ask him to release her. She was under a rapturous spell, and she sensed that he knew it as he caressed her bare legs from hip to ankle, kissing her knees, her insteps, even kissing each toe. He moved back up her legs, finally making gentle circles on the insides of her thighs, his fingers coming closer, ever closer to the center of her desire. His reputation in the alehouses might have been overrated, but Alex thought surely he must be a master of seduction. He was using every expert skill he possessed, slowly igniting her passion until she was so hot with desire, she would not--could not--deny him entrance to her body. Even realizing his plan, Alex still couldn't protest. This is it, she thought with wonder. He's going to make love to me now, and I'm not going to be afraid. Slowly, very slowly, he spread her thighs wide and knelt between them. He was still fully clothed, but Alex though she understood his motive for that. He didn't want to startle her in any way, but her mind remembered his naked, muscular body from that first night, and she trembled--but still, she did not protest. With her legs widely parted, his gaze dropped to her fully-exposed femininity...and she heard a low, deep, animalistic sound erupt from his throat in appreciation of the sight. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs. "Don't, sweetheart," Lionel murmured, his voice husky with passion, as he pushed her knees apart again. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Alexandra. I won't even touch you again until you request it." Alex nodded, accepting his promise. Let me feel, feel...not think! she pleaded with herself, wanting so very much to get over her fear. She could feel the heat of his gaze, knew he was watching her, waiting for the words that would allow him to touch her again. And then she heard herself saying those words, asking him to touch her, to caress her...to kiss her. He answered her plea with the lightest possible caress, gently kissing her lips, then her throat, her shoulders and finally each quivering breast. Then his long fingers teased the silky flesh of her belly and thighs, and Alex felt her spirits soar. She was no longer thinking--just feeling--and the feeling was wonderful. She would succeed this time. She would overcome her fear! He placed one hand, very lightly, against her dark triangle of curls, and Alex stiffened just the tiniest bit. No, no! she cried silently. I don't want to be afraid! But when he moved down until just the tip of one finger came in contact with her soft, moist femininity, that single touch shattered the rapturous spell. Completely. Alex's eyes flew open as soon as she felt that intimate touch. She began fighting the clothing binding her

arms wildly, desperately, crying out in fear and trembling uncontrollably from head to foot. Perspiration dotted her brow, she begged to be released, and Lionel simply ripped the clothes from her body, thus freeing her limbs as quickly as possible. Then she felt herself being drawn into his arms. He murmured soft words of comfort, holding her close. "Oh God, Lionel," Alex cried against his chest. "I'll never be able to do it. And I want to so much. I want to get over this fear, more than you can possibly know. I don't like fear. I'm not used to it, and I don't like it at all." He made no reply to that, simply held her and stroked her back, gently kissing her hair. Alex appreciated his soothing embrace more than she could say. At least she wasn't sobbing this time, and her trembling had already lessened to soft little tremors, thanks to the comforting strength of his arms. As her mind calmed, she became angry with herself. How could she have succumbed to such an illogical fear? Lionel had been wonderfully gentle and tender, and yet she'd reacted to his touch like a frightened virgin--again. As if reading her mind, Lionel finally said, "You're doing just fine, Alexandra. You'll get over the fear. It just might take a little longer, that's all." "If only I could simply feel, Lionel," Alex replied. She raised her head to look into his eyes. "When I'm just feeling--instead of thinking--I'm not afraid at all. How can I do that, Lionel? How can I stop myself from thinking?" "I don't know, sweetheart," he answered, caressing her cheek. "The only time you're not consciously thinking is when you're asleep, and you can't very well make love while you're sleeping." "No, I suppose not," Alex admitted, lowering her head to his shoulder. She shivered a little, suddenly remembered she was quite naked, and blushed so hotly that her cheeks felt sunburned. Somehow this was far more embarrassing than being bared to his gaze while under that rapturous spell. Still holding her close, Lionel realized what was happening, and he quickly pulled the bed covers over her nakedness. "Thank you," Alex murmured. "I'm not used to being...unclothed...with a man." Lionel pulled the covers a little higher. "I know that, Alexandra," he said quietly. "I know that very well." How had he ever thought this young, innocent girl could be an experienced woman, a harlot? he wondered. Her curves were voluptuous, and her tongue could be as sharp as a sailor's at times, but her soul was still as pure as newly fallen snow. He cursed himself silently, and he cursed his father as well. If Earl James had not strongly suggested that she was no longer a virgin--ultimately resulting in his believing her lie--this whole fiasco could have been avoided. Painfully aware of his own culpability, however, more than anything else, Lionel wanted to help Alexandra overcome the fear caused by his callous actions. A thought occurred to him them--a possible solution. Earl James had said Alexandra needed a firm hand to guide her. That, at least, was definitely true. Alexandra could get into more mischief than anyone Lionel had ever known. And since firm guidance

was what she needed most, perhaps taking a firm stand about their sleeping arrangements--as he'd planned to do earlier--would achieve the ultimate goal of getting Alexandra over her fear. Once she got used to having him sleeping beside her every night, surely the familiarity of close contact would wear down her perfectly reasonable but obviously unwanted fear. "Alexandra..." "Yes, Lionel?" "We're going to be sleeping together from now on. Right here in this bed." She sat up abruptly, holding the covers around her bare shoulders. Her eyes widened with fear for a moment, but then she thrust out her chin defiantly and simply said, "No." "Yes, Alexandra," Lionel replied. His voice was calm, but firm. He saw her shoulders slump, and then she said, "Please...no...not yet." Lionel opened his arms, and she reluctantly lay down beside him again. Stroking her back, he said, "Just hear me out, Alexandra." She nodded. "We will be sleeping together, but I will not touch you intimately until you are ready. Do you understand me, sweetheart?" Alex nodded again, and then she sighed. "That's the trouble, Lionel," she finally said, "part of me is ready to be touched...and loved. The feeling part. 'Tis the thinking part that always gets in the way. I know you didn't mean to hurt me that night, and I know I was partly to blame, but the remembrances, the thoughts of that night are what always bring on that horrible, overwhelming fear." "We'll be lying side by side every night, Alexandra. You'll get used to having me here, and your fear will simply fade away. It won't take very long, sweetheart. I promise you that." Alex snuggled further into his embrace. "I hope you're right, Lionel," she said fervently, "I truly hope you're right."

Chapter Nine

Two weeks later the situation had not changed very much. Larkspur Castle had changed for the better. The new knights' quarters had been completed, so the great hall was no longer a giant bedchamber at night, and Lionel had spent a good deal of time devising and implementing improved methods of defending his domain. Perimeter guards had been chosen and dispatched; Larkspur's archers, who were really quite good, were training some of his own men, and a second pasture had been cleared for the warhorses. Lionel was quite pleased with the progress he'd made at Larkspur, but the master bedchamber was the same as it had been two weeks earlier, the single exception being that he was at least sleeping in his own bed now. Each time he had kissed and caressed Alexandra--at her request--the same thing had happened time and time again. She simply was not making any further progress with her fear, and that fact was bothering her as much as it was bothering him. By the end of those two weeks, the tension between them had become nearly palpable, and Lionel wasn't sure if it was sexual tension or just smoldering anger at being forced into a marriage that, so far at least, had been more battle than bliss. Something had to give, and of course, it did. They had shared as much time as possible in the library--the one place where their minds could blend in harmony, and where they very seldom fought, though they seemed to fight everywhere else. But Lionel had also discovered during those weeks just what kind of "manly pursuits" Alexandra had learned under her father's tutelage, and he didn't like them one little bit. Especially when Alexandra challenged one of his men to a sword fight. It was mid-morning when that fateful event occurred. Lionel was on his way to the stable, intending to exercise Lightning, the lesser of the two trained warhorses he had brought to Larkspur. Lightning was the only one remaining of the duo, of course, since Alexandra had managed to kill Thunder, and remembering that proud steed's death had already set his anger on edge. He was passing the practice field when a truly unbelievable sight rooted his feet to the ground. Alexandra was in the practice field, brandishing a broadsword that should have toppled her over by its sheer weight. She had pushed up the sleeves of her gown to give her arms good mobility, and she was wearing a protective leather vest, which actually looked rather comical on her slender frame. But the most damning part of her "battle attire" was her skirt, which she had hiked up to knee level and bound around her waist with a length of rope. Her small, slippered feet and shapely calves encased in cream-colored stockings were enticingly displayed, and more than one man had stopped his work to watch the delectable sight. Before he could find the words to stop Alexandra from carrying out what surely must be an attempt at suicide, her opponent--one of his own men!--was responding to her first thrust. Perhaps the worst part of all was that his little hellion of a wife made a good showing during the fight. Despite her slender proportions, she held the shield at just the right height and wielded that impossibly

heavy sword with greater skill than he ever would have imagined a woman could possess. Of course, her muscles were well toned from her physical lifestyle, but Lionel was still totally awed when his own man--a knight of considerable strength and experience--fell before Alexandra after making one small mistake. Lionel had watched the event, unable to move, either from abject fear for her life or from so much anger that he was too rigid to move. He didn't know which, and it mattered little anyhow, since the fight was over nearly before it began. She defeated her opponent with no more than three perfectly executed maneuvers. Then she brandished her sword and shield like war trophies and cried out her victory, loud enough that even the townsfolk of Cliffside must have heard her. The man she had defeated was nonplussed at first, truly chagrined by his ignoble loss, but he recovered quickly. Rising to his feet, he congratulated Alexandra and slapped her on the back, just as if she were a man! That's when Lionel saw red. He reached Alexandra in four powerful strides, divesting her of the shield, broadsword and vest in about two heartbeats, despite her protests. Then he threw her over his shoulder--not yet having said one word--and carried her mightily struggling little body into the castle, through the great hall and up the stairs to their bedchamber. He didn't set her down until he had closed and bolted the door, and then he tossed her on the bed, completely ignoring her squeal of outrage. Lionel was still too angry to speak, but Alex wasn't. Oh no, Alex's Irish temper was not only showing, it was clamoring for release, and she was going to be heard...probably by everyone in the castle. "How dare you?" she shouted, pushing herself to her knees, then placing one small fist on each hip. "How dare you embarrass me like that in front of everyone?" Lionel found his voice. "After shamefully displaying your legs for anyone to see, woman, I'm amazed you can still feel a genteel emotion like embarrassment." "Shameful display? Why you pompous, arrogant beast. You don't know anything about anything, Sir Lionel! I was properly attired for a fight. Would you have me falling over my own skirts? I suppose you would, since it would be more proper. I knew exactly what I was doing out there--and how to dress appropriately for the session. My father started teaching me about weapons when I was about four years old--" "Aye, and he should have been horsewhipped for it, too." That did it. Insulting her sainted father pushed Alex over the edge of reason. She left the bed in a cat-like spring and had a vase in her hands before Lionel could take two breaths. Her aim was true, and the vase shattered against the side of his head. He staggered with the impact of the blow, and Alex sprinted for the door. She was shocked at her own impulsive, reckless behavior, but she didn't want to be anywhere near her husband when he fully regained his senses. Unfortunately, she had to pass Lionel to leave the chamber, and when she tried doing just that, a massive hand shot out and caught the rope still tied around her waist. Instead of keeping her safe from falling during a sword fight, this time the rope itself was her downfall, and she lost her footing, falling face-first to the floor. Lionel went down with her, cushioning her fall, but then he rolled over, taking her with him. He straddled her hips with his strong thighs and pinned her wrists on either side of her head. Shards of glazed pottery were still clinging to his hair. "That act of violence will cost you, Alexandra," he warned ominously, " 'Twill cost you dearly."

Alex had regretted her flare of anger just as soon as the vase left her hands, and now that she was--quite literally--at Lionel's mercy, she shuddered to think what he might do to her next. Her breath came in on a sharp gasp of fear as she realized just how he might exact payment for her tantrum. Dear God, will he rape me now? Is that what he meant when he said my violence would cost me dearly? She started fighting him wildly then, kicking her legs and pushing with all her strength against the iron-hard grip he had on her wrists, desperate to be free before he forced her submission. Lionel simply lay down over her full length, easily subduing her struggles by covering her flailing legs with his own, and she gasped. She was no match at all for his strength. Feeling utterly helpless now, pinned beneath his full weight, Alex closed her eyes and waited for the rape she was sure would happen. She didn't want to show any fear, but the now-familiar sensations soon overtook her body. She trembled uncontrollably, her palms became sweaty and her forehead grew damp. She gritted her teeth and desperately tried to control her reaction. Being raped would be bad enough--showing this fear was intolerable. Lionel suddenly realized what direction Alexandra's thoughts had taken, and he cursed softly. Either she had no idea of the monetary value of that particular vase, or she was too lost in fear to think about such mundane things as money right now. That was what he'd meant by telling her the violent act would cost her dearly. He'd meant it would literally cost her dearly, but she, evidently, had misinterpreted his words. He cursed softly again and loosened his hold, turning captivity into an embrace. His might be The Lion, but he was not truly a beast...at least not most of the time. He was still angry, but he reined in his temper in deference to Alexandra's fearful reaction. There was more that needed to be said--he'd decided this was an excellent time for her to begin pursuing safer, more womanly pastimes--but naught could be accomplished until she was over her fear of being raped. "Alexandra," he finally said when her trembling had stopped. "Do you have any idea how valuable that vase is, or was, since you just destroyed it?" She shook her head, but he could see that realization was sinking in fast. "Was that what you meant when you said my violence would cost me dearly?" she asked. Lionel nodded. "That vase was just about as valuable as Thunder," he said, then cocked a tawny brow. "All valuable items in this castle are cataloged in a ledger kept in the library, Alexandra. Mayhap you should memorize the list before you decide to throw something else at me." Alex glared at him. "What possible difference could that make to me, Sir Lionel?" she hissed, surprising him with her vehemence. She obviously no longer feared retaliation of any kind. "As you once reminded me," she continued, "these valuable items are no longer mine. They belong to you now, just like I do--body and soul." "No one can own your soul, Alexandra," Lionel replied. "But you're certainly right about the rest of it, which means you now owe me for a valuable vase as well as a horse." "May I get up now, master?" Alex said with bitter irony. "Since you own my body, that must make me your slave, so I may as well begin addressing you properly." Lionel helped her to her feet, frowning at her sarcasm, but she wasn't quite finished yet.

"Since a mere slave is allowed no possessions or money, master," Alex pressed on, her voice still sarcastic, "I cannot possibly repay you for your bloody horse or your damned vase. I guess you'll just have to accept my very sincere apology." She gave him a false smile. "Or I suppose, if you're a particularly cruel master, you could always tie me to a post and exact payment from this body you own with a whip." She turned her back, then looked at him over her shoulder. "Would that make you happy, master? To flay the skin on my poor little back--or should I say your back, since you own it--in payment for your damned horse and vase?" "Don't tempt me, Alexandra," Lionel said softly, running a finger down her spine. "A good flaying might be just what you need." "You wouldn't dare!" Alex hissed, whirling to face him. "You know damn well I was only jesting, and even your own father would never approve of that kind of punishment! Oh yes, Lionel," she continued when his eyes widened, "I have long since surmised that Earl James wants you to turn me into a proper lady. He never has approved of the things my father taught me." "Aye," Lionel agreed. "As a matter of fact, that was half the reason my father sent me to Larkspur in the first place. He wanted my reputation to protect the castle, but he directed me to tame a little hellion...namely, you, Alexandra." "Tame me?" Alex retorted. "Not bloody likely, my damnable lord! I'd rather kiss a pig's arse than become anything you want me to be!" Despite her shrieked protest, Lionel pulled her to him, bent her over his left arm, and smacked her bottom, good and hard. "I've warned you more than once about your foul mouth, Alexandra," he said, setting her upright again. "Proper ladies do not swear, and you will become a proper lady, little hellcat...starting today." Alex was incensed now, bristling with anger. Her backside felt hot where his big hand had landed--even through her clothes--and she was more determined than ever to get away from him. She turned to the door, but Lionel quickly blocked her path. "You're not leaving this bedchamber, Alexandra," he said quite calmly, which only incensed Alex further. "Mayhap not for some time, in fact." "Is that your plan, Sir Beast?" Alex gritted out. "Is that how The Lion is going to tame the little hellcat? By locking her in a bedchamber until she becomes a proper lady?" "In a way, yes, Alexandra, that is exactly my plan." He turned toward the wardrobe, apparently intending to get something, and Alex inched toward the door. "Don't even try it," Lionel said quietly, still walking toward the wardrobe, his back to her. "If you leave this room, I will chase you down, bring you back here and tie you in a chair for the duration of your...lessons." He continued toward the wardrobe, and Alex stopped where she was. She didn't really think he would tie her to a chair, but she didn't want to push her luck, either. What did he mean by lessons? That question was replaced by another as Lionel retrieved her green gown from the wardrobe--the one with the missing sleeve--which he was holding in his other hand. "What are you doing with my ruined gown?" Alex asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I thought

that had been thrown away." "Why should a perfectly good gown be discarded when all it needs is mending, Alexandra?" Lionel asked innocently. His intention suddenly hit Alex like a thunderbolt. "You're not going to make me...mend...that gown are you, Lionel?" He nodded. "But that's completely ridiculous, husband. I don't know one end of a needle from the other." "You are trainable, Alexandra. Anyone who speaks several languages can certainly learn how to wield a needle...instead of a sword." That barb struck home. "You aren't serious, are you, Lionel?" she asked as sweetly as possible. "I know you're angry with me about the vase...and the horse...and the sword fight...but..." Her words trailed off into nothingness. The look on his face told her just exactly how serious he was. "Do you know who Mistress Blount is, Alexandra?" "Of course I do, Lionel. She's the head seamstress...for...Larkspur." Another realization set in with a jolt. Lessons? "Oh, no, Lionel, you're not going to make me taking sewing lessons, are you?" Her voice was barely a squeak by the end of the question. "Yes, I am." Alexandra made her way to the bed and sat down, utterly defeated...or at least pretending to be. Then she looked up and said, "Very well, my lord husband. I will learn how to mend the gown. I suppose I deserve this kind of punishment for ripping the blasted--I mean the blessed--thing, but after that we shall put this whole silliness behind us, won't we, my lord?" "Nay, Alexandra, we won't be putting this silliness behind us," Lionel answered, ignoring her cajolery. "You see, I am going to put a guard on this door. Your meals will be brought here, and I will be here each night, but you will not be leaving this chamber until you learn how to sew...just like a proper lady. And you won't only be learning how to mend, Alexandra, you will be learning how to actually sew." Alex stiffened. "You mean as in creating new garments?" Her voice raised an octave. "As in taking a bolt of cloth and making it into something a person could actually wear?" "Not just any person, Alexandra...me." "What?" she screeched. Her pretense of meekness was totally gone. She was truly incredulous now. "Your lessons with Mistress Blount will be over when you have sewn a shirt...for me." Alex gulped, then stammered, "B-But I could spend the rest of my life in here before learning how to do that, Lionel! You cannot be serious!" "I am extremely serious, my lady...and lady you shall be. No longer wielding a sword and riding hell-bent toward cliff edges, but doing demure things like sewing, mayhap even embroidering." "If you really do this to me, Lionel," Alex said quietly, seriously, "I shall never forgive you. I will hate you for the rest of my life."

"Very well, Alexandra," Lionel replied just as quietly. "You have given me fair warning. The warning does not change anything, however. I shall fetch Mistress Blount now so that your lessons--and your hatred--might begin." With that said, Lionel left the chamber, leaving Alex alone with her thoughts, although she heard a guard taking up his post beyond the door...making her a prisoner in her own castle. Correction! she amended hotly. Lionel's castle, blast his dark soul! But it was my castle long before it became his, Alex mused with a sudden surge of triumph. And though The Lion may think he knows everything there is to know about this place, he's wrong on at least two counts. For one thing, he doesn't now how exceedingly easy it is to escape from this particular bedchamber. All one need do is shimmy down the vine beside the window. For a second thing, my boy's disguise is hidden in this very room. If this confinement--or the damned sewing lessons--become too unbearable, I can always slip into my disguise, escape out the window--then make a delightful visit to Cliffside. And mayhap I will. I'll have to plan it carefully, of course. The less Lionel suspects, the better. Perhaps if I play the obedient little wife and learn to sew that shirt... Alex smiled. Men could be so easily fooled.

"Sir Lionel?" Lionel turned away from the yearling colt he'd been examining and faced Mistress Blount. She was driving a pony cart, and she looked rather upset. He was in the pasture, but his thoughts before Mistress Blount's arrival had not been on the healthy young horse--they'd been on Alexandra. For two days now, she had been locked in their bedchamber, learning how to sew...and yet that was the problem. Instead of acting as if she hated him, as she'd vowed to do, she'd been amazingly meek whenever he came into the room. She'd smiled sweetly and even curtseyed--which was a show of respect she hadn't given him since his first night at Larkspur. Even more amazing, she hadn't fought his gentle caresses in the night. And she'd continually called him "my lord." Something was definitely wrong. She just wasn't acting like herself. She was acting like a lady. He had the distinct feeling Alexandra was playing a game--or planning something, but she was being quite clever about it this time. Absolutely nothing about her behavior could be faulted. "What is it, Mistress Blount?" he asked. "Well, sir," she began rather hesitantly. " 'Tis Lady Alex. She's gone, Sir Lionel. But she left this for you."

Lionel took the garment from Mistress Blount's gnarled hands. It was a perfectly tailored linen shirt, with extremely small, neat stitches that would withstand the strain of daily wear very well, and even a small "B" embroidered near the neck lacings. He was not only astounded by the workmanship, he was confused by the embroidery. Had Alexandra really sewn--and embroidered--this garment...all by herself? In just two days? "Did Lady Alexandra do this without your help, Mistress Blount?" he questioned, his voice so stern the woman wouldn't dare lie in response. "Y-yes, milord," she stammered, nodding her gray head vigorously. "I only instructed her. She practiced on some scraps of material for a few hours, and then set straight to work on that shirt. She's amazingly talented, and the quickest student I've ever had." "Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Lionel murmured. "She had quite an incentive to master the task. But what about the embroidery, mistress? Why the letter 'B'?" Mistress Blount flushed with embarrassment. "She said...that is, Lady Alex said that stood for...beast...milord." Lionel shook his head, then suddenly realized what else she had said. "Did you say Lady Alexandra is no longer in her chamber, mistress?" "Aye, milord. She said she had done your bidding and now wanted some time alone. I thought she meant she wanted me to leave, not that she was going to leave the room." "But what about the guard on the door?" Lionel pushed a hand through his hair. So the little minx had been planning something! Mistress Blount shrugged her frail shoulders. "I don't know, milord. He was still there when I went back to the room to fetch the shawl I had forgotten--these old bones get cold quite easily, you know--but when he unlocked the door for me, Lady Alex was gone. She'd already given me the shirt, so I brought it straightaway to you." "Where is the guard now?" "He's looking for her, milord, but I don't think he'll find her." Lionel was already striding toward the gelding he had ridden to the pasture, but he turned back to the old woman upon hearing those words. "Why not?" "Because, milord, Lady Alex often goes missing, and no one can ever find her until she chooses to return." "That, mistress, is about to change." "I truly hope so, milord. Lady Alex has tied a lot of us in knots with worry for most of her life. Don't mistake me, milord. We love her dearly, but she's far too adventurous for her own good." Her old face wrinkled with concern. Seeing her expression, Lionel placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll find her, mistress," he promised. "Surely, she hasn't gone very far." "Don't be too angry when you do find her, milord," Mistress Blount hastened to add. "She's so full of

spirit--and so very young. She really cannot help herself, Sir Lionel. Truly she can't." Lionel heard the wisdom in the old woman's words. Reigning in his burgeoning anger and still holding the perfectly crafted shirt, he headed for his horse with determined strides. The first place he needed to search was the stable--to see if Apollo was still there.

Chapter Ten

Alex was a little despondent. It had seemed like such a good idea at first. As soon as Mistress Blount left the bedchamber, Alex had donned her boy's disguise and escaped through the window and down the vine, just as she had planned to do. She'd stayed in the shadows and reached the back wall--and its loose bolder--with no problem at all. But then her nerve failed. For the first time in her life, Alex was afraid to go to Cliffside. Why? Because of Lionel's blunt words about the dangers of the place, that's why. Not only had he warned her that her disguise could be discovered, probably resulting in rape, but he had also reminded her that pirates often kidnapped young women in port towns like Cliffside. He hadn't exactly told her the fate of those women, but Alex could guess. Some sort of enslavement, most likely, and most probably sexual enslavement. Alex shivered when she thought about how close she might have come to being kidnapped the night she'd snuck aboard that royal barge. What if the guard had turned her over to one of those despicable brutes? And so, instead of going to Cliffside, Alex was sitting in her second favorite place for escape. It was a secluded cave near enough to the shore to give a beautiful view of the ocean, but high enough to avoid the tides and remain dry. She'd even brought an old mattress to the cave and some provisions a few months earlier, in case she wanted to stay for a few hours or mayhap even a full day. In an old wooden crate, she kept a supply of dried meat and fruit, some seamen's biscuits and a jar of honey to make those more palatable. And, of course, she had a good supply of fresh water for drinking, stored in a tightly-sealed barrel. She could conceivably stay here for days on end, and probably not be found.

If she really wanted to, that is. That was why she felt despondent. Despite the fact that she really should hate Lionel--although she didn't, which truly amazed her--Alex wished she could have seen his reaction to her sewing endeavors. She might have actually heard a compliment from him--for once--instead of criticism. She wondered if he'd discovered her absence yet. If so, he'd most likely torn the shirt to shreds in his anger. And that thought made Alex bite her lower lip and groan with very nearly physical pain. She could not fathom why, but she really, truly wanted Lionel to love that damn shirt. After spending two days locked in her bedchamber, playing the meek little role that nearly made her vomit, why Lionel's opinion of the shirt should matter was something Alex thought she might never understand. And yet, it did matter. It mattered a great deal. "Damn him, anyhow," she cried aloud. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have this fear of lovemaking. Of course, if it wasn't for him, there wouldn't be any need to know about such things, either." "Watch your tongue, Alexandra." The deep, resonant voice startled Alex so badly, she nearly swallowed her tongue instead of watching it. She sprung up from the mattress as if she'd just been stung by a bee, fully prepared to fight--until she realized Lionel was standing there wearing the shirt she had sewn for him. Sewn at his command, she reminded herself, but there was no heat behind the thought. "How did you find me?" she finally asked. "I discovered this cave myself several days ago, Alexandra." "But how did you know I would be here?" "Because you gave me your word that you wouldn't go to Cliffside, and your horse was still in the stables, so I knew you couldn't have gone very far. Since you told Mistress Blount that you wanted to be alone, this seemed a reasonable place to look. Simple deduction, really. Not bad for a beast, hmm?" he said, touching the embroidered letter. Alex blushed. "I suppose that was a little vengeful, wasn't it? Now you'll have to wear the wrong initial whenever you wear the shirt." "No, I won't." "Why not?" Alex asked carefully, suspecting she would not like the answer. "Because, my little hellion," Lionel said, approaching her slowly, ducking his head to fit under the mouth of the cave, then standing tall again in the domed recess, "you will remove the 'B' and replace it with an 'L', just like the meek little lady you've pretended to be." "And if I say no, my lord?" Alex retorted, blushing even more on realizing he'd figured out her game. Lionel reached her side and pulled her into his arms. "If you say no, little hellion, I will kiss you into submission." "That's not possible," Alex said a little breathlessly. "You can beat someone into submission, but you cannot kiss them into it."

"Say 'no', Alexandra, and let's find out," Lionel murmured huskily, pulling off her knit cap, then spearing his fingers through her unbound hair. He tilted her head back, and Alex knew without a doubt what he would do next. "No," she whispered. The kiss was devastating, dominating, utterly arrogant...and absolutely wonderful. Alex's breath was coming in short little pants, and her lips felt warm and swollen by the time he ended the kiss. Then, through her haze of passion, she heard him say, "Now, Alexandra, about that embroidery..." "I'll change the letter," she answered without hesitation. "Very good, my pet," Lionel murmured, touching his lips to hers again, then gently biting her neck. "But there are, of course, one or two other ways in which you've been defiant." Alex shivered. Would he spank her again? Nay, he was kissing her throat now. Surely his mind was not on punishment. "What other ways?" she managed to say. "You're wearing boy's clothing again, wife. And you obviously escaped down the vine outside our bedchamber window. Those will do for a start." "But I obeyed your command, husband," Alex replied on a soft gasp as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. "I sewed a shirt for you." "Aye, and you did very well, I might add," Lionel whispered, his breath caressing her ear. "Mistress Blount now thinks you're a wizard with a needle and thread." Alex laughed softly. "So what are you going to do about the boy's clothing?" she asked. "I'm going to remove them," he replied--and Alex stiffened. Then she suddenly realized something else. How had he known she was wearing her disguise? Or had he just seen it when he came here? "Did you know how I was dressed before you came after me, Lionel?" He nodded. " 'Twas another simple deduction, Alexandra. You see, I had a suspicion you would keep the disguise, so I simply searched our chamber shortly after that first night. I found the clothes easily enough. And today's little adventure seemed just perfect for wearing them. Escaping down a vine, after all, is rather difficult to do in a gown. The vine, by the way, is being cut down, even as we speak, so that little piece of defiance will never happen again." Alex stiffened a little more. He'd known all along that she still had the disguise! And he'd cut down her escape route--at least one of her escape routes, anyhow. Damned arrogant man! Then she remembered what he'd said about removing the boy's clothes, and her body became completely rigid. She would fight him, she vowed. She would not allow him to strip her! His next question, however, diverted her attention again. "How do you do it, Alexandra?" he asked "How do you leave the castle courtyard without anyone seeing you?" "That, my lord, is something, you'll never know," Alex answered, seething. No matter what he did, she would never tell him about the loose bolder in the castle wall! "We'll see about that, my lady," he replied. Then, despite her struggles, he picked up the hem of her tunic and easily pulled it up and over her head. Alex was soon bare to the waist, as he just as easily

unwrapped her binding, and she quickly covered her breasts with both arms. Lionel didn't seem to notice, however. He was too busy lifting her up, carrying her to the old mattress and then setting her down again--so that he could more easily remove her short boots and boy's hose--which he did. She could no more stop him than she could halt the passage of time. Then he turned away from her--leaving her lying completely nude on the mattress--went to the mouth of the cave and came back...with an armful of her proper clothes. "I truly hope I selected something to your liking, Alexandra, but either way, this is what you will be wearing back to the castle. You can think of how to explain why your husband walked out the gate, then headed toward the seaside path, with his lady's clothing over his arm." Alex gritted her teeth and accepted the gaily embroidered off-white gown, thin undershift, stockings and garters. She donned the clothes as quickly as possible, pulled on her short boots again, then crossed to the mouth of the cave. Lionel was standing there, arms folded over his massive chest, watching her approach just as calmly as he had watched her dress. He blocked her path before she could escape the cave. "There's one more thing, Alexandra," he said, placing his hands on both her shoulders. "And what is that, my damnable lord?" His mouth twitched, and she actually thought for a moment that he was going to smile, but instead he said quietly, "Thank you for the shirt, Alexandra." Alex sighed. "You're welcome, Lionel." They walked back to the castle, hand-in-hand. Alex wasn't sure if he was holding her hand out of affection or if he simply wanted to make sure she couldn't get away from him again, but she did come to one conclusion during that walk up the winding cliff path. Alex was quite sure she would never, ever admit to Lionel that she had fully intended to go to Cliffside today. His anger would be a full-blown gale if he ever realized her word about that particular matter was not really all that trustworthy--not when, as he himself had said, it had been obtained under duress. Her boy's disguise was still in the cave, where she could retrieve it at any time. And, unbeknownst to Lionel, there were many more ways to escape the castle than by climbing down a vine that was--by this time--no longer there.

Late that night Lionel lay in bed, futilely trying to sleep. He turned from one side to the other, trying to find a comfortable position, then finally turned onto his side, facing Alexandra. He immediately realized that was a mistake. In the dim light of the night candle, he could see her sweet, young breasts rising and falling with the even breathing of peaceful slumber. Lionel was anything but peaceful. The sight of Alexandra's totally nude ripe, young body in the cave was still playing havoc with his senses--and his manhood. He had wanted to make love to her in that delightful, breezy cave. Pretending calm disinterest had been the hardest task he'd ever performed, but he had held to his resolve to wait until she was ready to be loved.

He was still paying his penance for that one fateful mistake on their first night together, but Lionel honestly didn't think he was capable of paying much more. He was rock-hard right now, so fiercely aroused that more than once in the last hour he had seriously considered accepting Liza's seductive offer. It would be so easy to mount her, plunge into her hot little sheath and ride her hard and deep, finding the sexual release he had been needing--especially since this afternoon in the cave. But marriage vows were sacred to Lionel--no matter how much he had not wanted the marriage--and he simply could not betray them. Or Alexandra. For some strange reason that he couldn't fathom, the thought of betraying her brought an almost physical pain to his gut. Which left him little choice but to toss and turn on this bed, watching the candle burn lower, and watching Alexandra's slightly parted soft, pink lips, the thick eyelashes caressing her cheeks, and, of course, those delectable objects of his desire...her wondrously full, pink-tipped breasts, so thinly veiled by the gauzy material of her lightweight shift. If only, he thought...if only. How many times had he asked himself all the "if only" questions he could think of in the past weeks? If only he hadn't injured his right knee, which, of course, was doing amazingly well now that he no longer had to count on its strength in life and death situations. If only he hadn't been forced to wed Alexandra, since, if he'd never met her, the next if only would never have happened. And that "if only" was the worst of all. If only he had believed her in that crucial moment when she had finally gasped out that she truly was a virgin. And finally, if only he could help Alexandra overcome her fear of lovemaking. Alexandra had expressed her own "if only" in that regard. Her words played in Lionel's mind now, loud and clear. "If only I could simply feel," she had said, "When I'm just feeling--instead of thinking--I'm not afraid at all. How can I do that? How can I stop myself from thinking?" And his reply was just as clear in his mind. "I don't know, sweetheart. The only time you're not consciously thinking is when you're asleep, and you can't very well make love while you're sleeping." Lionel turned back to his other side, away from the temptation of his wife's sweet young body. And then it struck him, just as hard as that vase Alexandra had thrown at him two days ago, metaphorically speaking. If she were still asleep when she became aroused, Alexandra would not be thinking...she would only be feeling. Was it possible? Was it even right to attempt such a thing? What would happen if she woke up in mortal fear? He would comfort her, of course...and he would feel like the bastard he already was. On the other hand, it could break down her barriers--something she herself wanted to have happen. Lionel turned onto his back and stared up at the beamed ceiling. Could he seduce her while she was still asleep, bring her to such heights of pleasure that the fear would be displaced by the onslaught of passion?

He could certainly try, he decided. For what he resolved would be the last time during this long, lonely night, Lionel turned back onto his side--facing Alexandra again. Slowly, carefully he raised her shift, first to her hips and then to her breasts, and then, moving her as gently as if she were a tiny babe, he eased it off over her head. Alexandra barely stirred, and Lionel breathed a sigh of relief--mixed with more than a little guilt. He wasn't exactly sure that what he was doing was morally right. Then Alexandra took a deeper breath than usual, her bare breasts rose in response, and Lionel knew that--right or wrong--he could not stop now. As quietly as he could, he eased out of the bed and untied the drawstring at his waist. He'd been wearing breeches or full-length hose to bed each night in deference to Alexandra's fears. He hissed almost inaudibly as his fully-aroused sex sprang free, then eased the garment down his muscular legs and off his feet. Hopefully, after tonight he could go back to his preferred way of sleeping, which was to have nothing at all between himself and the cool linen sheets. Stretching out beside Alexandra again, Lionel very tentatively cupped her right breast, watching for any signs of wakefulness. Her breast was warm, delicious, creamy smooth, a veritable feast for the senses, and he bit back a groan of raw pleasure. He flicked the pad of his thumb over her nipple, then nearly groaned again when it instantly hardened into a tight little peak. Emboldened by that definite sign of hidden sensuality, Lionel bent to circle each nipple with the tip of his tongue. Alexandra arched her back, pressed her breasts against his mouth, and moaned softly in her sleep. Still lavishing her breasts with attention, Lionel traced a path along her silky thighs, patiently and gradually moving his hand higher and higher, closer to her dark triangle of curls. Alexandra parted her legs and murmured his name, but she was still sound asleep. Lionel was so fiercely aroused by this time, it took every ounce of his willpower not to thrust into her too soon. But they had come this far together before, only to have Alexandra cry out with fear when he touched her more intimately. No matter how badly he wanted to make love to her, Lionel was determined not to do anything more than simply touch her just yet. He did touch her intimately then, stroking her soft feminine petals, holding his breath as he did so, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wake up in a state of acute fear. Alexandra gave an audible gasp of pleasure, parted her thighs even further, and Lionel's fingers became slick with her wetness. He sighed raggedly, wanting to taste that sweet moisture, but knowing it was too soon for such carnal delights. Gently, slowly, he slid one finger into her moist core, manipulating her tiny, throbbing bud of desire at the same time. Alexandra moved her head back and forth on the pillow and writhed on the bed. He penetrated her in a gentle rhythm with first one finger and then two, and she moaned softly again, her breaths coming in short little pants. Her moans became more intense, her hips squirming deliciously as she neared her peak; then suddenly Alexandra was arching against his hand and crying out with rapturous delight. Lionel felt the convulsions of her climax just as her jade green eyes flew open, and to his intense relief,

her eyes were glazed with passion--without even a hint of fear. "Lionel?" Alex asked, her voice confused but husky with desire. "What have you done? I need to...I need..." "You need to be loved, Alexandra," Lionel murmured. He kissed her gently but very, very thoroughly. "Let me make love to you, Alexandra. Let me show you what it should be like." You need to be loved, he had said, and in that moment Alex knew with a blinding flash of insight that she did indeed need to be loved...not just made love to, but truly and deeply loved. By The Lion. Impossible! her mind cried out. I can't be in love with Lionel. He's the most exasperating, infuriating, domineering and arrogant man I have ever known. His name suits him completely. The Lion can be beastly, truly beastly...in fact, he is most of the time. But he could also be tender and caring, Alex realized. He had just given her an incredibly pleasurable experience--she suspected that this was what the word ecstasy meant--and he had found a way to do it that had caused her absolutely no fear. "Aye, Lionel," she said softly, pushing her jumbled thoughts about loving him--surely not!--to the back of her mind. "Show me how to make love, husband. Teach me how to give you the kind of pleasure you have just given me." Lionel knelt between her thighs, then bent to claim her mouth again. The kiss was slow and thorough, and as he slipped his tongue between her parted lips, Alex felt his manhood at her moist entrance. He entered her gently, very, very slowly, and she knew he was fully prepared to withdraw if she experienced even the slightest quiver of fear. But Alex was no longer fearful. She gasped with pleasure as he possessed her fully, her eyes widening with surprise. She was held in thrall as he began moving within her. He filled her so completely, she felt stretched to the very limit, but, dear Lord, it felt wonderful...almost unbearably pleasurable. She felt the pinnacle of ecstasy that had awakened her approaching again, and as his thrusts became bolder, deeper, Alex knew she would soon be free-falling off a cliff of incredible rapture. And then she felt the full power of her own passion as purely erotic sexual joy surged through every fiber of her being. Her nipples swelled, her womanly muscles quivered, and she heard herself cry out Lionel's name. Arching beneath him, grasping his shoulders tightly, she became engulfed by wave after convulsive wave of intense pleasure. Lionel felt the tremors of Alexandra's climax all the way to his soul. His own pleasure was so intense, he threw back his tawny head and growled low in his throat, spilling his seed in fierce bursts of release. Her sweetly eager response was wonderful...and unexpected. He hadn't thought she'd find culmination a second time, and yet she had. And then, as the rhythmic, joyful contractions of her womanhood drained him of every drop he had to give, he knew this mating was different than anything he'd ever experienced before. He had wanted to give Alexandra pleasure, to help her overcome her fear, but she had just given him a wondrous gift, though she couldn't possibly know it yet. All his life, something had been missing in Lionel's soul. There had been an emptiness there, a void...and somehow Alexandra's sweet innocence, her eager, natural sensuality, had just filled that dark, empty place. She was so fresh and young, so brimming with life, that she was like a breath of clean, cool air to an old warhorse like Lionel.

She might be a willful little hellion at times, but she was also as spirited as a new spring colt. It was that youth and vigor that set her apart from any other woman he had ever known. Something blossomed in his heart, something he had never felt before and couldn't yet name, but the feeling was so strong it would have been painful if it were not so overwhelmingly wonderful at the same time. At just that moment, Alex opened her eyes and looked up at her husband--and she saw something she had thought was impossible. The Lion was smiling. Lionel of Freemont--the man no one could remember ever having seen smile--was doing just that. Alex's breath caught in her throat as she realized that Lionel's smile had transformed his entire countenance. He had lost his predatory, arrogant look and become utterly handsome...and completely irresistible. "Lionel," she said in an awed whisper, "do you realize you're smiling?" "Um hmm," he murmured, kissing each of her eyelids. "It's all your fault, Alexandra," he continued, kissing her cheeks, her forehead. "I think your sweetly responsive little body has just smoothed my sharp edges." He kissed her soft lips then, gently at first and then deeply and thoroughly. "Do you mean I've tamed The Lion?" Alex asked on a soft laugh when Lionel moved down to kiss her neck, then her shoulder. "I wouldn't go that far," Lionel replied, moving lower still until he was suckling a taut pink nipple. "Mayhap you've found a way to manage the beast, though," he said, moving to the other breast. Their bodies were still joined, and Alex felt Lionel swell and lengthen within her. She gasped with wonder. "Do you mean what I think you mean, Lionel?" she asked. "Wrap your legs around my waist, Alexandra," Lionel murmured thickly, "and I'll show you just exactly what I mean." Alex gladly obeyed her husband--for once--and Lionel did indeed show her what he meant. He thrust into her hard and deep, drawing a groan of pleasure from her throat. "I think perhaps you are the insatiable beast they spoke of in the taverns, after all," Alex said on a breathy sigh, grasping his muscled upper arms and instinctively meeting his thrust. "I may well be insatiable now that I've had a taste of you, Alexandra," he answered, lifting her bottom to impale her more fully and smiling at her tiny gasp of surprise, "but I seriously doubt that the beast in me could roar with anything but pleasure while I'm making love to you." Alex whimpered in joyous submission as he drove her to ecstasy yet again, and the roar The Lion gave moments after her completion definitely was one of pleasure...but it was only the first roar of that long, long night.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Liza observed Alexandra from afar through narrowed, knowing eyes. The chit looks well satisfied this morning...too well satisfied, in fact. Like a contented little kitten who has just been thoroughly petted and given a generous amount of warm, rich cream. Then Liza realized just exactly what she was observing, and her face darkened with anger. She felt a surge of jealousy more powerful than anything she'd ever felt before in her life. He did it! she snarled silently. The Lion spent the night--doing far more than simply sleeping--with his pretty little, oh-so-innocent bride. Now she's getting what should be mine. And in that moment, with that realization, something snapped in Liza's mind. She stalked away from the loathsome sight, returned to the head groom's quarters and picked up the riding crop that was his favorite sexual toy. She lashed the groom's bed with the weapon again and again, venting her anger through violence, pretending the bed was Lady Alexandra and that she was completely and totally at Liza's mercy. When she finally sank down on the crumpled woolen blanket, breathing heavily, covered with perspiration from her efforts, Liza felt considerably better. Her temper had cooled somewhat, and she was thinking clearly again...or so she thought. Suddenly, Liza was no longer alone in the room. In her twisted imagination, she saw a lovely, very proper lady sitting in a chair. The lady was an exact replica of Liza herself, except that she was not a whore. And now she was speaking, very quietly reminding Liza that she would indeed need to think clearly, soberly, if she intended to decide just what to do about Sir Lionel's lady wife. "I'm going to kill her, of course," Liza replied as if the image were truly there. "That much has already been determined." The lady said something else, and Liza nodded her head in agreement. "Aye, the girl does have a reputation for taking too many risks, for gladly challenging death at every opportunity." The lady made another comment and Liza nodded again. "Yes, it is very convenient that The Lion's sweet little wife is a reckless adventuress."

Then the lady asked what Liza was planning to do. " 'Tis very simple," Liza answered excitedly. "All I need do is observe the little twit for a while, to determine the best way to kill her." She sat on the very edge of the bed, wholly engrossed in her subject. "Sometime soon, Lady Alexandra of Larkspur will learn that challenging death can have very, very fatal consequences." She paused as the lady made a very astute observation, then nodded vigorously in agreement. "Yes, yes, you're so very right. Poor Sir Lionel surely will need comforting once the chit is dead. He'll probably miss all that youthful innocence. Men can be so silly about fresh young virgins." Liza shook her head then, just as vigorously, denying the lady's next words. "Nay, you're wrong about that, lady. Experience is twice as good as innocence." Liza ran her hands over her own breasts, smiling with assurance. "You'll see, lady. I'll make Sir Lionel forget all about that foolish little girl once I have taken her place in his bed. The innocent chit probably objects to brutality--but I certainly don't." With that thought, Liza lay back on the groom's bed, stretching sinuously, and a hiss of pleasure escaped her rouged lips. The room was empty again; her imaginary companion was gone. But Liza didn't care that she was "alone" again now. She was reveling in the sudden, erotic images that had replaced the lady's presence in her twisted mind--images so perverted they had nothing at all to do with anything she had shared with Sir Lionel--but images that nevertheless brought her to a sudden, violent climax. She could almost feel bloody welts all over her body, and she whimpered as she literally felt her raven-black hair being pulled from the scalp. She was begging her cruel lover for mercy, and she climaxed again as he mastered her fully. Afterward, as the images faded, Liza lay panting on the bed, wholly unaware that she'd been pulling her own hair, truly believing she would soon receive such deliciously erotic punishments from the lord of Larkspur Castle. Then, as her mind eroded even further, Liza began picturing another scene altogether, a totally opposite scene. She began seeing herself as the lady of the manor...as The Lion's lady wife. Her imaginary companion returned abruptly, reminding Liza that only a proper lady could be the mistress of Larkspur Castle...never a common whore. Liza lashed out at the "lady" then, beating her to a pulp with the riding crop. "You'll see," she snarled to what was actually a thoroughly demolished sack of grain. "I will become the lady of the manor." Her eyes became wild, filled with the light of growing insanity. "Everything will be perfect," she hissed, "just perfect once Lady Alexandra is dead."

Lionel made his way to the seaside cliff's edge, needing to be alone, needing time to think. Last night had been a revelation for him...a wonderful, intensely satisfying revelation, but a complete surprise, nonetheless. He had made love to Alexandra throughout the long night, until finally, near dawn, they had fallen asleep, entwined in each other's arms.

And when they awakened a few hours later, he'd made love to her all over again. She had responded to his kisses and caresses, to his utter possession of her sweet young body, with uninhibited, shuddering ecstasy--even though he'd allowed her precious little sleep during the entire night. Alexandra loved making love, and Lionel loved her for it. That was the problem, the reason why he had sought the quiet solace of this seaside cliff. I cannot possibly be in love with Alexandra, he silently declared with absolute determination. If I were to fall in love with her, she would have more power over me than I now have over her because my resolve to guide her with a firm, unyielding hand would surely fall to the wayside. I would become soft putty in her pretty little hands. That was not a comforting thought to The Lion. "Nay, I do not love her," he reaffirmed aloud. "I'm simply enthralled with her youth and vitality...with her unbending spirit and zest for life."

Alex's thoughts were moving along much the same path, as were her feet, since she was searching for her husband. Someone thought they had seen him heading for the cliff. "I do not love him," she muttered, lifting her skirts to enable walking through the tall, seaside grass. "I'm simply in love with making love, now that I understand how wonderful it can be." Her cheeks pinked as she remembered everything that had transpired the night before. The Lion might not need multiple partners to satisfy his needs, she mused, but he certainly had been insatiable--though anything but a beast--last night. And then she saw him, standing on the cliff's edge. His tawny, leonine mane was unruly, tousled by the stiff breeze. His incredibly broad shoulders were outlined against the azure sky, and he was wearing a light brown cloak over fawn-colored, wondrously skin-tight hose and a short, belted tunic of rich gold velvet. His broadsword was sheathed at his side--the perfect completion to his powerful stance. He looked every inch The Lion, and in that moment, Alex stopped deluding herself. She loved Sir Lionel of Freemont. She loved him with all her heart and soul. Alex stopped in her tracks. She had a sudden urge to turn back around and flee from her husband...and from her own traitorous heart. If I love him, he will gain even more power over me than he already has. I'll lose the ability to fight his arrogance, his domination. I'll become nothing more than soft, pliant putty in his calloused hands. That was an extremely uncomfortable thought to Alexandra of Larkspur. Their eyes met briefly, and Alex firmed her resolve to face him. Lionel's expression was so stern, however, she shivered just a little. Had she merely imagined the sensual smiles she had seen throughout their night of lovemaking? But no, she knew that was not true. His smiles had been real...just as real as his fierce frown was now.

Alex couldn't help wondering what had caused Lionel's dark scowl, but then she shrugged her slender shoulders. It was certainly nothing she had done wrong. She'd been the absolute epitome of ladylike decorum today. Except for that one little curse she'd uttered to the chief cook, that is. The woman had wanted to know Sir Lionel's choice for tonight's supper...not Alex's...since he was the lord of the manor! And Alex, quite naturally, had given the cook a piece of her mind. That woman's audacity was what had brought Alex to the seaside cliff. To find out The Lion's preference for supper. Raw meat, perhaps? she quipped sarcastically, unbidden anger flaring--anger directed at Lionel despite their wonderful night together--because he truly was the lord of the manor, and that still irked Alex enough to draw her own feline claws. Not to mention the fact that she actually loved the beast--which she hadn't wanted to do at all. By the time Alex reached Lionel's side, her own dark frown nearly matched his own.

Lionel had watched Alexandra approaching him, with her sweet, fresh innocence so obvious in the mid-day sunlight. She was wearing a demure gown of pale blue, girdled with a golden belt and trimmed with delicate white lace, and tendrils of hair had escaped her thick braid to blow gently in the breeze. She looked so enticing, so incredibly young, the very sight of her loveliness had brought a frown to his face. In that moment of first seeing her, attired as a proper lady and yet so unconsciously sensual, he finally stopped deluding himself. He loved Alexandra of Larkspur, he realized, his frown deepening, he loved her with all his heart and soul. And if I ever tell her that, she will undoubtedly twist me around her little finger for every day of the rest of my life. She stepped up to him, looking directly into his eyes, and he realized then that she was angry. He had no idea what had caused that anger, but sudden sparks of tension flared between them--sparks that were just aching to burst into flame. You have snared my heart, Sir Beast, but I will never, ever let you know how much you mean to me, Alex vowed, though her words were silent. Aloud she said, "Good day, Sir Lionel." Her voice was rather testy and brittle. I will never, not in a hundred years, admit that I love you as much as life itself, little hellion, Lionel vowed, his words equally silent. "Good day, Lady Alexandra," he countered aloud, not to be outdone. Then Alexandra turned away from him. She gazed at the rocky beach so far below the cliff for a time, seemingly mesmerized by the crashing waves, but he thought he heard her sigh. Moving to stand beside her, he saw her features soften, and his own softened, too. She wasn't smiling yet, but her frown had disappeared. Perhaps she wanted to call another truce. He took a deep breath, extinguishing his spark of anger completely. He didn't want to fight with her today--not when their soul-satisfying lovemaking was still so fresh in his mind. He placed an arm around her shoulders, and when she didn't protest, he bent to kiss her sweetly-scented auburn hair. "Good day, Alexandra," he said quietly, hoping she would take the hint that he wanted to

begin anew, to nip a fight in the bud before it could even begin. She sighed again and turned into his embrace, tilting her pretty face up to receive his kiss--which he gave her immediately. Finally, she said, "Good day, Lionel." Her voice was gentle and warm, and he kissed her again. Her anger, like his, was gone. Last night's lovemaking had truly given them a new beginning.

They spent the next half hour in quiet companionship. Alex pointed out the various grasses and wildflowers indigenous to the seaside terrain, and they both admired the graceful flight of several seabirds. Alex wistfully admitted that it had always been a fantasy of hers to soar up to the clouds and then back down to the sea like the gulls, to experience that kind of deliriously wonderful freedom. And Lionel quickly reminded her that that was not an endeavor she was ever going to try. Alex laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and accepting yet another sweet kiss. They had been so peaceful for this short span of time that she'd nearly forgotten why she'd been looking for him in the first place. Her laughter stopped abruptly, and a frown wrinkled her brow as she recalled the damned cook and her audacity, but Lionel smoothed his calloused hand over her forehead, softening her expression again. Alex drew in a calming breath, determined not to break the peaceful spell. She was just about to ask Lionel--very calmly and politely--what he would like for the evening meal, when the sound of a frantic woman caught her attention. Lionel heard the woman, too. He turned and saw her. She was a matronly servant, Mistress Smythe, he believed, and she was frightened. She was wringing her plump hands, running toward them, skirts flapping, stray hairs flying around her face. "Please, milord," Mistress Smythe nearly screamed even before she reached her lord's side. "You've got to help her! She'll surely die if you don't!" Lionel realized the woman was on the verge of hysteria. He had seen such conditions in soldiers and knew that a firm hand and calm attitude was the best treatment for the malady. Firmly grasping her trembling shoulders, he looked directly into her tear-misted eyes and quietly demanded, "What girl needs my help, mistress? And where is she now?" Mistress Smythe responded to Lionel's calmly commanding presence as if it were a soothing balm. Her shoulders relaxed in his grip and she swallowed hard. " 'Tis my granddaughter, milord," she said. "She fell off the edge of the cliff! She's hanging onto a tree, but I'm sorely afraid she won't be able to hold on much longer. She's only seven, milord!" Alex gave an audible gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Lionel looked at her abruptly, knowing just what she was thinking. If a child takes the same fatal plunge as Thunder...The thought sickened him. "Take me to the child," he said, and Mistress Smythe immediately began leading the way. "Wait!" Alex gasped out. "You can't save her all by yourself, Lionel. We should go back to the castle for a horse and rope."

"Alexandra," Lionel said calmly. "There's no time for that. The child may even now be losing her grip. I have no choice but to go directly to her." Alex chewed her lower lip, then nodded. They soon reached the site of the little girl's fall. The child was indeed hanging on for dear life to a small tree growing straight out from the side of the cliff. And she was about twenty-five feet down the horrendously steep incline. How she had managed to grab the tree at all, Lionel would never know, but one thing was certain. He would have to use the same path to reach the child that she had taken in her fall. Which meant he would have to climb down the cliff, using whatever foot and hand holds he could find. He removed his cloak and swordbelt, keeping an eye on the frightened, sobbing child while making his plans. He could descend the cliff, using protruding rocks for support. Hopefully, the rocks would hold his fifteen-stone weight. If not, he would plummet to certain death, perhaps taking the little girl with him. But there wasn't any time to think about what might happen. The child would most assuredly die if he didn't move very quickly and very decisively. Right now. He heard Mistress Smythe praying aloud, and Alexandra seemed to be holding her breath, as he lowered himself over the edge of the cliff, carefully feeling for his first foot hold. He found what seemed like a well-secured rock and put his weight upon it. The rock immediately broke free, and Lionel slid down the nearly perpendicular side of the cliff. His heart was pounding fiercely when his boot suddenly hit a much larger rock, stopping his fall. He grabbed a scrubby bush with his right hand, then took a deep breath and assessed the situation. He had perhaps ten more feet to descend before he would be within reach of the child. He descended slowly, finding foot and hand holds very, very carefully, until finally he was just above the child. There were, however, no more rocks or bushes that would allow him to go any further. The little girl would have to help with her own rescue. Only his right foot and both hands were supported at this point, leaving his left leg hanging free, and as he let go of the rock beneath his left hand, preparing to reach for the child, the strain of putting more weight on his right knee brought drops of perspiration to his brow. The old injury had made its presence felt as soon as he began his climb down the cliff. Now he was putting his full weight on the knee, and the pain was becoming excruciating. He could only pray that it wouldn't give out. By sheer force of will, Lionel blocked the burning pain from his mind and addressed the child. "Give me your hand, sweetheart," he said calmly, reaching down as far as he possibly could. "Give me your hand, and I'll pull you up to me." "I-I c-can't, milord," she stammered in a tiny voice. "I'm too f-frightened to let go of this tree." "Think of my arm as another tree, little one," he continued in a smooth, quiet voice, "a much stronger tree than the one you're now holding." The little girl nodded, accepting the idea, and Lionel heaved a sigh of relief. She reached up with one fragile hand, and Lionel's strong fist closed around her delicate wrist. Alex was lying on the ground now, with her head and arms just over the edge, determined to help with the rescue. She had thought her heart would stop when Lionel started falling, then found his footing again. She simply could not lose him the same day she realized how much she loved him, and a little girl's life

was at stake, too. Nothing he could say would stop her from helping now. She saw Lionel grasp the child's arm in a firm grip, saw him haul her up against his body...and then wondered how he could climb back up the cliff while holding the little girl. He answered her question by shifting the child until she was directly in front of his muscular chest, and the girl twined her slender arms around his neck, circling his waist with her spindly legs. Then, incredibly, Lionel began scaling the cliff, keeping the little girl safe against his strong body, using sturdy foot and hand holds to make his ascent. Alex saw the stark pain on Lionel's face before he reached the cliff's edge. But there was no time to think about that now. Within another foot or two, she would be able to grab the child clinging to his neck and waist and pull her to safety, thus allowing Lionel to climb over the edge without having to worry about crushing the little girl. "I'll take the child when I can reach her," she called down to him, stretching out her arms. He simply nodded his acceptance of her plan, and moments later, Alex did just that, grasping the little girl's arms and pulling her onto the grassy edge of the cliff. The child's grandmother descended upon the girl as soon as Alex set her down. Mistress Smythe carried the child several feet inland, then smothered her with hugs and kisses and checked every inch of her little body for injuries. Alex wasn't watching that touching scene, however. She was watching her husband pull his own massive frame over the edge of the cliff...to safety. She breathed an intense sigh of relief--until she saw his face again. He was in excruciating pain. "Lionel, you've been injured!" she cried out as he winced in agony once he was on good, solid ground again. "Nay, Alexandra," he said, " 'tis not a new injury, merely an old one which doesn't take kindly to climbing." He pulled off his right boot, and Alex gasped at the blatant swelling in his knee. "God's teeth, Lionel," she whispered in utter astonishment a moment later, as she watched all the color drain from his face, "I think you're going to faint." "Watch your tongue, Alexandra," Lionel said automatically, and then he did, indeed, faint dead away.

Chapter Twelve

The first thing Lionel felt upon regaining consciousness was acute embarrassment. He couldn't believe he had actually fainted! In some logical recess of his mind, he knew that no man--no matter how strong--could have absolute control over that natural bodily reaction to acute, unbearable pain. But he nevertheless felt truly chagrined at having shown such weakness...especially in front of Alexandra. He was lying in his own bed now, apparently having been ignobly brought there while still unconscious, and Alexandra was sitting beside him. Was that an expression of concern on her face? he wondered. Or was she enjoying his momentary--and never to be repeated, he vowed!--show of weakness. Alexandra smiled then--rather condescendingly, he thought--and adjusted a cool compress on his swollen knee. It was only then that Lionel realized he had been divested of his clothes. He was as naked as a new born babe, though most of that nakedness was covered by a sheet. Alex realized what Lionel had just discovered, and her smile broadened. She truly wasn't smiling in a condescending fashion, however. She was smiling with relief. Her first thought when Lionel fainted had been total disbelief that this formidable beast of a man could suffer the same weaknesses of other mere mortals. But that first reaction quickly changed to concern. If The Lion had given in to pain, it must have been more agonizing than anything Alex could even imagine. And yet, she could imagine it. Because she had once suffered a knee injury herself, and even now, she could still remember that awful, awful pain. Despite the deep frown furrowing his brow, Alex was only grateful that Lionel had regained his senses. "Oliver removed your clothes, husband," she said. "It was the best way to treat your knee...and he absolutely insisted upon making sure you had no other injuries." Lionel grunted at that, his frown lessening somewhat. "Oliver is loyal to a fault," he said. "It doesn't surprise me in the least that he took that kind of precaution, unnecessary though it was." "You paid quite a price for your chivalry," Alex continued, frowning a little herself. "If you had fetched a horse and rope to help with the child's rescue, your knee would still be perfectly fine." "There was no time for that, Alexandra," Lionel reminded her. "I only did what I had to do." Alex sighed and adjusted his compress again. "You're right, of course, Lionel, but I wish you had told me about your knee beforehand. It wouldn't have changed anything today, but I wish you had told me about it, anyhow." "Damnation, woman!" Lionel hissed. "Do you think it's easy to admit that my right knee has been weakened by an injury?" "I suppose not," Alex allowed. "Not with that damnable pride you value so highly." She held up both

hands before he could even says the words. "I know, I know," she said. "Watch my tongue." Lionel smiled, and Alex was more than a little surprised. So, he can smile when he's not in the throes of passion, she thought wryly, Somehow, I had not expected that. "Come here, little hellion," Lionel said. "I think that sweet mouth of yours needs another lesson in proper behavior." He raised one tawny brow, daring her to disobey him. Alex bristled, remembering what he had done in the library. "Wouldn't you rather I just get some soap?" she said sarcastically. Lionel shrugged. "If that is your preference, Alexandra, I will be glad to oblige you." Would he really do that to her? Alex wondered. Nay, surely not. He was still smiling. Surely, he was not serious...and yet... "Come here, Alexandra," Lionel demanded again. Alex bristled even more, but then she suddenly smiled as a delightful reality occurred to her: Lionel could not stop her if she simply chose to leave the room instead of complying with his demand. Not with a swollen, painful knee. Her smile became decidedly wicked. For once, she had more power than he did...and she decided to use a little of that power right now. "No, Lionel," she said simply. "I shan't come to you and I most definitely won't fetch any soap." She smiled sweetly. "Since you're in such a demanding mood, my lord, I think I'll simply take my leave of you now. There are so many, many things I want to do today, after all..." She paused for a moment to let that idea sink in, "...since you cannot possibly stop me from doing anything I choose to do." Lionel frowned so darkly, Alex nearly lost her nerve...but not quite. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Alexandra?" he ground out. "Knowing I'll be lying here wondering just what kind of mischief you're getting into." Alex grinned from ear to ear. Lionel glowered. "Aye, my lord husband," she cheerfully admitted, "I am enjoying this immensely." Then she went to the door, completely ignoring Lionel's growled command that she remain in the chamber, and quietly left the room.

Hours later, when she brought him a meal, having convinced Oliver--as well as the rest of the servants--that they should not disturb Sir Lionel's rest, Alex couldn't hide her smile of triumph. It was past sundown--nearly bedtime, in fact--and she had left Lionel to his own devices for the entire afternoon and most of the evening, as well. Lionel didn't say one word as she set down the wooden tray holding his food. But if looks could kill, Alex knew she would indeed be dead by now. She handed him a mug of ale, which he accepted and quickly downed in several thirsty gulps, then gave him a large, meaty joint of roast goose and a piece of flavorful, crusty bread. Watching him devour the meal, Alex smiled and said, "Now you know what it's like to be confined to a

bedchamber, husband...with your meals brought to you but no way to escape." Lionel swallowed the last bite of his food before replying. "But you did escape, Alexandra," he said. He paused significantly, cocking one brow. "And, believe me, little hellion," he continued, "I fully intend to find out how you also escaped the courtyard without being seen. In fact, I'm going to find out immediately." He leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms over his massive, naked chest. "Tell me how you did that, Alexandra. Tell me right now." Alex stiffened. He was not going to learn about her secret escape route. She was determined to keep at least one thing from her new lord and master! "No, Lionel," she said simply, just as she had earlier. "I shan't divulge my secret." Her determination was growing. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "There is nothing you can do to make me comply with that demand. Nothing at all." To illustrate that point, Alex gathered the remains of his meal, placed them on the tray and very calmly walked to the door, opened it, and put the tray in the hall. Then she closed the door and went back to his side. "As you can see, Sir Lionel," I can simply leave this chamber if you make unreasonable demands upon me." Lionel merely studied her for a time, as if he were taking her measure, and Alex felt herself squirming a little under his intense scrutiny. Then he smiled, but not pleasantly. Nay, this smile was roguish...and utterly confident. " 'Tis time for bed, Alexandra," he finally said. "Remove your clothes." Alex very nearly did leave the bedchamber again upon hearing that arrogant demand, but then a delicious new idea occurred to her, and she decided that leaving the bedchamber was the last thing she wanted to do...just yet. How did Lionel intend to make love when he couldn't put any weight on his knee? she wondered as she began unlacing her gown. She was sure he'd find some way to compensate, however...if she were going to submit to him, that is, which she most certainly was not! Alex may have had little experience in the marriage bed, but she was a woman. And she instinctively knew how to tease a man. Lionel had ordered her to remove her clothes. Well then, she would...in a slow, sensual strip that would, she hoped, drive him crazy with need--and frustration--since he would not be getting what he obviously wanted. The idea of having The Lion at her feminine mercy appealed to Alex enormously. He could not rush her, could not grab her and pin her to the bed in a fit of passion. Alex fully intended to tease him unmercifully...and then leave the room. But as she began disrobing under Lionel's increasingly hot gaze, Alex came to realize that she wanted his loving just as much as she wanted to take her next breath. Besides that, she was wearing a deliciously decadent undergarment, purchased at a brothel in Cliffside during one of her many adventures--though she would never admit that to Lionel. She had donned the sinful garment this morning with the clear intention of having him see it tonight. First, however, she had to remove her demure, pale blue gown, which she did...one little inch at a time. She was still determined to have the pleasure of teasing him. She removed the gown ever so slowly, finally, at long last, allowing it to fall to her hips. And she heard an audible breath from her husband. Then his breath came in on a hiss as the gown fell to her feet. The silky, lace-trimmed shift was now fully

revealed. It was anything but ladylike, and she saw Lionel shift uncomfortably in the bed. She suspected his discomfort was not from his knee. Even with her limited knowledge, Alex could understand his reaction. That saucy little undergarment was very nearly sheer...and extremely low cut, barely covering her nipples, much less the entirety of her breasts. Alex was feeling the full strength of her feminine power--and loving it. She pulled the shift up to her hips, then propped each foot against a chair, one at a time, and slowly removed her slippers, stockings and garters, giving Lionel an unobstructed view of her long, shapely legs. How delicious it was to be the one in control! Lionel felt his throat go dry. His arousal was hot and throbbing now, and he took a deep, calming breath. For what he was planning to do, he must hold a tight rein on his burgeoning lust. Before very long, Alexandra was going to tell him what he needed to know, whether she wanted to or not. He felt completely justified in carrying out the "battle plan" he'd decided upon. He was, after all, Alexandra's protector...even if the worst danger he had to protect her from was herself. And his sweet little seductress was at this very moment finally removing the last of her underthings, leaving her ripe young body totally nude. He took another deep breath, firming his resolve, then said, "Come here, woman. Come here to me now." Alexandra obeyed him this time--which didn't surprise him in the least. Her nipples were already tightening, betraying her feminine heat. He pushed back the sheet, purposely revealing just what her tauntingly-slow disrobing had caused, and he heard her gasp softly when she saw the evidence of his desire. He couldn't help smiling. He was blatantly aroused, and she was still so innocent, despite her seductive act. "Straddle me, Alexandra," he commanded huskily, and again she obeyed, her eyes widening in surprise. She, of course, had no idea how many ways there were to make love, even with an injured knee. Tonight, she would learn one or two, he vowed. When Alexandra's silky thighs were spread wide over his hips, her femininity open and vulnerable to his touch, Lionel began his "siege" on her senses. He stroked her intimately with one hand and caressed her breasts with the other, soon bringing a moan of raw pleasure from her throat. Her nipples swelled and hardened against his calloused hand, and her soft feminine petals became dewy, slickly wet with her need. Lionel knew he was very close to achieving his goal, but there was one more thing left to do if he wanted to drive his sweet little hellion over the edge of sexual need. "Lean over, Alexandra," he murmured. "Bring your breasts to my mouth." He felt her shudder with ecstasy as she bent to offer her taut pink nipples to his hungry mouth, then felt her shudder again as he suckled and laved those tempting buds, relentlessly building her pleasure. She began writhing against his loins, pleading to be taken, offering him the entrance to her womanhood as gladly as she had given him her breasts. But instead of thrusting into her sweetness, Lionel stopped touching her altogether, placed his hands behind his head, and quietly awaited her reaction. He didn't have to wait for very long.

"Why, Lionel?" Alex gasped out. "Why did you stop, for God's sake?" Very calmly, he said, "Tell me the secret, little hellion. Tell me how you leave the courtyard without being seen." Alex gasped, suddenly realizing why he had stopped. She had intended to tease him unmercifully, and now he was doing it to her! He had brought her to very edge of rapturous delight...and he fully intended to leave her there if she did not comply with his demand. Nay, husband, she declared silently. Not this time. You may have kissed me into submission in the cave, but this time you're not going to have your way. "Never," she said aloud, "I'll never divulge my secret, husband." Then Lionel was touching her again, barely caressing the sensitive flesh of her upper, inner thighs but stopping just short of touching her where she needed it most. Alex bit her lip and groaned with frustration. "Your secret, Alexandra," he murmured, kissing her breasts, but not her nipples. "Tell me your secret." Alex groaned. "You truly are a beast," she managed to whisper. "Naught but a beast would do this to a woman." "We've long since established that fact, Alexandra," Lionel replied. He caressed her bare bottom cheeks, teasing his fingers down the cleft, back up, and then down again, coming so close...so very close...to touching her there, and Alex moaned in anguish. "If you don't tell me how you do it, Alexandra," he continued, "I'll simply leave you like this...in a state of unrequited sexual need." Alex already knew that. She knew he would do just what he'd promised, blast his dark soul! Then he guided the tip of his shaft along her softly quivering feminine folds, and Alex knew she had been utterly, irrevocably defeated. "There's a loose bolder in the back wall," she gasped out on nearly a sob. "About twenty yards from the southwest corner." Lionel sighed his relief, immediately thrusting into Alexandra and hearing her soft moan of satisfaction. Even as he quickly brought her to ecstasy, then released his own need, he knew his actions truly had been beastly. He knew that only too well, had known it from the start of this "battle." But if Alexandra no longer had a way to sneak away from the castle unescorted, no way to unwittingly place herself in danger of being brutally raped...or worse...the ends, he felt in all honesty, justified the means. He had seen through her disguise that first day; other men might, too, if she ever decided to break her word and go to Cliffside again. "I'm sorry, Alexandra," he murmured softly, stroking her slender back as she leaned over his chest, limp and sated. "I know that was a terrible thing to do to you, but I only want to keep you safe. And if that means closing off all your means of putting yourself in danger, well then, that's just exactly what I will do...no matter what it takes." Because I love you, Alexandra, he added silently. And I must, simply must, keep you safe from harm. Alex snuggled further into his embrace, too languorously replete to argue with him, and, in truth--though she'd never admit it to Lionel--more than a little pleased that he wanted so very much to protect her. I'm already losing ground, she silently lamented. Because I love him, I'm actually beginning to

understand his motives...even why he behaved so despicably just now. "You would have found out eventually, anyway, Lionel," she finally admitted, wanting to soften the blow of her own defeat. "You're so damned good at playing bloody lord of the manor, I'll wager your men would have found that loose bolder soon enough--whether I told you about it or not." "Watch your tongue, Alexandra," she heard him say, but he was smiling. Alex gave him a saucy smile of her own, then shifted position until she was lying full length against his side. She lowered her head to his shoulder, playing her fingers through the golden fleece on his chest. "I really should repay you for what you just did, you know," she said. "Mayhap I will. Perhaps I'll not divulge another useful piece of information. One that could be very important to you, Lionel." "What other useful information, Alexandra?" Alex shook her head. Her smile was decidedly impish now. "Nay, Sir Beast," she said. "After your God-awful behavior, I have just decided not to tell you a bloody damned thing." She knew she was purposely goading him, had a good idea what he would do to her because of it, but even so, Alex nearly panicked when Lionel grasped her chin. His gaze was hot with sudden anger, his eyes searing, boring into her own. She gulped. Perhaps she had gone too far... "I seem to recall that I owe you a lesson in proper behavior, woman," he warned in a low growl, but then the dark light in his eyes softened. "And I'm going to give you that lesson right now, little hellcat," he continued huskily, "very, very thoroughly." He began at the corners of her mouth, kissing her so gently, so lightly, that very tenderness was an utterly sensual experience. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and bit down gently, then sucked it into his mouth, and Alex trembled with delight. He moved to her upper lip, biting her gently again, then traced the sensitized flesh with the tip of his tongue. Then suddenly the gentle sensuality was over. He deepened the kiss, dominating her mouth, claiming it fiercely. Alex felt branded, marked as his woman for life, as he--quite literally--kissed her into submission. Lost to his masterful touch, Alex didn't realize his next intentions until she was turned away from him, her bottom pressed intimately against his loins. She gasped softly when he entered her moistened sheath from behind, then whimpered as he penetrated fully. Holding her hips, he took her, thrusting boldly and deeply, using her for his pleasure. He was dominating her completely--Alex couldn't even touch him--and she shuddered. Then she nearly sobbed with sexual joy as his bold strokes drove her to helpless orgasm, forcing her to yield to his dominance in the most primitive feminine way. His ravishment complete, she felt him swell within her and release his seed, and she sighed. Had she ever really thought she'd been the one in control? "That was far less than chivalrous, husband," she murmured quietly a while later, still joined with his body. "Are you truly complaining, Alexandra?" Lionel murmured, gently caressing her breasts, kissing a shoulder, then the nape of her neck. "Are you complaining about my ravishment, even after attaining your own joy?" "Nay," Alex answered, sighing again, knowing it was the truth. Ravishment by The Lion could be a very enjoyable experience. She felt him withdraw from her body, and she turned to face him. Leaning on one elbow, she traced his high cheekbones, brushed a stray lock of tawny hair off his forehead, then bent to kiss him. "In fact," she continued, feeling impish again, "after that glorious proof of what you can do

despite your knee injury, I may never tell you that other little piece of information, Lionel." "What does this new secret of yours have to do with my knee, Alexandra?" Lionel asked. "It has everything to do with it, husband," Alex replied, "but I still may not tell you what it is." "Alexandra..." Alex merely looked at him. She knew that tone of voice. "I suppose you'll find some way to force my confession," she finally said, then raised one auburn brow. "You certainly tortured me a little while ago, Sir Beast. What will you use this time, the rack?" "Nay, little hellion," Lionel replied, smiling. He kissed the tip of her nose. "That's not what I meant. 'Tis only that you have piqued my curiosity now, and I want it to be appeased." "Very well, husband," Alex finally acquiesced, just as she'd intended to do all along. She sat up, then smiled wryly. "But may I humbly beg your permission to don some clothes first, my lord?" He smiled again, this time a devastatingly sensual smile, and Alex's breath caught in her throat. "In all honesty," he drawled, "I truly prefer seeing your sweet young body completely devoid of clothing, Alexandra." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "But I shall make the ultimate sacrifice. I will permit you to wear that delightful little undergarment you had on earlier." Alex blushed. How could she have a serious discussion with him while wearing that sinful creation? Lionel cocked one brow, but his smile was still in place, and Alex knew then that he was teasing--which truly amazed her. The Lion was being playful? "What are you waiting for, Alexandra?" Lionel persisted. "Your lord has given you an order, and you must obey it. Don the garment or suffer his wrath." In answer, Alex climbed off the bed, pulled on the shift...then crossed to the wardrobe. She retrieved possibly the ugliest pea-green velvet bed robe on the face of the earth, pulled in on over the sinful undergarment, then tied the sash around her slender waist. Nodding curtly, she said, "I have obeyed you, my lord, but proper ladies should wear proper bed clothes." She sauntered to him, hips swaying. "And I, my lord, am supposed to be a proper lady, remember?" To her continued vast amazement, Lionel began laughing. It started as a rumble deep in his chest, almost as if it were a sound he'd never made before, then slowly built into full-blown mirth. And once the laughter started, it was unstoppable. It rolled out of his throat like thunder, and he threw back his head, roaring with delight. Alex stopped in her tracks, simply listening to that wonderful, throaty, nearly ear-shattering laugh...and then she smiled in secret pleasure. The Lion could smile, he could jest...and he could laugh. He just might be tamable, after all.

Smiles and laughter soon turned to concentration as Lionel listened to his wife's "information." He was skeptical when Alexandra told him with absolute confidence that she could cure his

knee...completely. "The pain is already improving, Alexandra," he said. "That is not the long-term problem with my knee. There's something far worse than occasional flare-ups of pain, which is--" "--which is that your knee gives out now and then, without warning," Alex said, finishing his thought. Lionel nodded. Clearly, she knew something about such injuries. "Aye," he admitted, looking down at the swollen knee, flexing it just a little to check its condition. "You see, Lionel," Alex continued, "I had a knee injury that was probably quite similar to yours, when I was thirteen." Surprised by that admission, Lionel looked up. Then he said ruefully, "I hesitate to ask how you hurt yourself, little hellion." "Yes, well, that's neither here nor there, so--" "Alexandra..." "You're exasperating, husband!" Alex declared. "Do you want to hear about every little mishap I've ever had...mayhap since the day I was born?" "Only about the one that caused your knee injury, wife," he said gruffly, then softened his tone. "I wanted to see if there was any comparison between your injury and mine." Alex sighed, then bit her lower lip. "I...that is, I was..." she stammered, obviously reluctant. "Continue, Alexandra," Lionel demanded, suddenly suspecting he was not going to like this story. "I jumped from the back of a horse," Alex finally admitted, "because I thought he was going to plunge to his death over the...seaside cliff. But he didn't," she hastened to add. "He was just fine. I was the only one hurt." Lionel muttered and shook his head. Somehow, he was not surprised. "Now, Lionel," Alex appeased, touching his hand, "you said you were only interested in my accident as a comparison to yours. Let's stick to the subject, shall we? Hmm?" Lionel studied her quietly for a time, then finally said, "Very well, Alexandra. We can always discuss just how many horses you've nearly killed at another time." He saw her gulp, but he said nothing more on that particular subject. Surely, she'd learned her lesson with Thunder's death. Determined to learn more about her injury, he said, "Did you land directly on your knee?" "Aye," Alex answered. "By the time I was sitting on the ground, the knee was twisted beneath me at a very odd angle." Lionel nodded again. That was exactly what had happened to him...except that his injury had occurred during battle, not during a youthful misadventure. " 'Tis exactly the same, Alexandra," he affirmed aloud, leaning forward, far less skeptical now. "How did you regain the strength in your...which knee was it?"

"The right one, just like yours," Alex said. She stretched out her shapely limb, raising the bed robe to show him the knee. "As you can see, it recovered completely...and yours can, too." "How?" Such a simple little word, but it meant so much to Alex. At least in this one thing, she was more knowledgeable than her husband. From a purely intellectual standpoint, that was a comforting thought. Besides that, she truly wanted to see Lionel recover his strength in that knee. She loved him, after all. It was only natural that she should want to help him. "My father discovered the treatment," she began, then winced as Lionel frowned. "I know you don't approve of the things my father taught me, Lionel, but he was very learned...and 'twas his knowledge that saved my knee." "Go on," Lionel said simply. "Yes, well, as you know, Lionel, the ancient Greeks knew a great deal about physical fitness. They believed the bodily humors were best served by rigid exercise regimens." "You're digressing, Alexandra," Lionel commented dryly. "No, not really, Lionel," Alex replied, then continued with her explanation. "You see, 'twas one of my father's Greek texts that led to the healing of my injury." "How?" Lionel repeated. "The manuscript described an exercise regimen for strengthening a weakened knee." Lionel leaned forward just a little farther. "Do you still have that text, Alexandra?" The glimmer of hope in his eyes was unmistakable. "Aye, my lord," Alex answered softly. "I have it, and I'll get it for you right now, if you like." "Please do, Alexandra," Lionel said. "I'd very much like to see it."

Nearly an hour later, Lionel was still pouring over the manuscript Alex had retrieved from the library. The scrolled parchments were spread out on the bed, each page held open by smooth stones, and Alex had lit two torches to better illuminate them. She couldn't help smiling as she watched Lionel concentrate. "Amazing," he finally said, looking up at her. "This text describes the entire history of one man's experience with a knee injury. I never would have thought about using devices strapped to my ankle to help strengthen the knee." "Aye," Alex agreed, then cautioned, "But you must rest the knee for an entire week before beginning the exercise regimen, Lionel." She pointed to one part of the text. It clearly stated that naught could be accomplished without the prescribed period of rest. Lionel nodded, then pointed to another section of the manuscript, the part describing various weights. "Did your father use sand bags, Alexandra, as described in this text?" "Aye," Alex answered. "He used gradually heavier bags as my knee became stronger."

"And all you did was sit on a bench, or chair, bending and unbending your knee thirty times, twice a day, with those sand bag weights attached to your ankle?" "I know it sounds simple, Lionel," Alex replied, "but, truly, that's all I did, just as this text describes." "Amazing," Lionel said again. Alex smiled. "I guess you'll have to admit that not everything my father did was wrong." "Perhaps not everything," Lionel allowed, looking closely at his knee and bending it carefully. "Not anything, actually," Alex countered. "My father was a wonderful man, and he taught me many useful things." "Like how to swear and dress as a boy," Lionel muttered, still flexing his knee. "Oh no," Alex said. "He never approved of my swearing, and he certainly never saw me dressed as a boy." Surprised, Lionel looked up. Then he smiled wryly. "At least your father and I would have agreed on something," he said. Deciding that subject was best left alone, Alex gestured toward the parchment pages, then said, "Are we done with these for now?" "Aye, little hellion," Lionel replied. He leaned back against the pillows while Alex carefully rolled the parchments and set them aside. " 'Tis time for bed, Alexandra," he said then, still smiling. "Remove your clothes." This time, Alex obeyed without hesitation.

Chapter Thirteen

Oliver watched as Lady Alex threw back her head, opened her mouth wide and laughed with pure pleasure as rain drops danced on her tongue. More than rain drops, really--more like torrents of

rain--but Lady Alex didn't care. She was quite obviously having a wonderful time, sitting on the very edge of the seaside cliff in the middle of a fierce spring storm. Thunder clapped and lightning rent the air over the wind-tossed ocean far, far below her feet, but she seemed heedless of any danger. Her hair and clothes were totally soaked, her slippers were caked with wet mud, but Lady Alex was happy--almost deliriously so. Sitting beside her, just as soaked as she was, Oliver said, "Milady, don't you think that perhaps we should return to the castle now?" "You may go back if you wish, Oliver," Alex replied, "but I fully intend to watch this storm until its dying breath." Oliver tried to hide his smile, but failed. He was, after all, supposed to be protecting the lady--from herself, his master had said--but she was so vivacious, so filled with life, he could do naught more than admire her spirit. Worse than that, he was having a wonderful time, too. For the past three days, while Sir Lionel was resting his knee, Oliver had been charged with keeping Lady Alex out of mischief. He'd had little luck doing that, but he had been her constant companion. They'd crossed swords in the practice field--Oliver reasoning that Sir Lionel would know that he would never harm Lady Alex--and they'd had archery contests, horse races and joined the other men to drink and gamble in the knights' quarters. He was not, Oliver realized, keeping Lady Alex out of mischief--not in the least. He shivered a little. It was not from the cool rain beating down on his back, but from the bone-deep knowledge that if any harm did come to Lady Alex, his own life might be in jeopardy. "Lady Alex," Oliver said, more firmly this time, "I truly think it is time we returned to the castle. You might become ill, and then I would be held responsible." Those sincere words finally did the trick. Lady Alex looked at him with understanding in her wonderful green eyes, smiled, nodded and accepted his hand as he helped her to her feet. Oliver gave her a foot up on Apollo, mounted his own horse, and they were soon on their way back to the stable. During the ride, he valiantly tried to forget how nice it had felt to hold Lady Alex's hand--and her foot--and to look into eyes so beautiful a man could get lost in them.

Alex was deep in thought, too, as they made their way back to the castle. For three days, she had had relative freedom again, and she had been enjoying every moment of it. Unfortunately, she felt a little guilty for that enjoyment. She was doing the very things that Lionel objected to, but she had, at least, tempered some of those activities. Her only sparring partner had been Oliver--whom she knew Lionel trusted implicitly--and during those sessions she had resisted the temptation to raise her skirts to knee level--since that action had truly angered her husband--instead taking the opportunity to practice agility despite flapping skirts around her feet.

And when she and Oliver raced horses together, they never, ever came anywhere near the edge of the cliff. She still shuddered when she remembered Thunder's demise. She would never again challenge death in that particular way. As far as the gambling and drinking, well, she could enjoy the activity but sip the ale. And the men had kept their bawdy comments to a minimum in deference to her presence. Added to that, she hadn't neglected her chatelaine's duties. There was plenty of soap, lots of candles, the rushes had all been changed, and she had planned the meals with Cook for the next fortnight. The only thing she hadn't done, in fact, was to change the "B" on Lionel's shirt to an "L." There was really nothing he could object to about her activities, after all, was there? Alex sighed. Of course there was, she answered herself. God only knew what he'd do if he learned of all her activities. She knew Oliver was supposed to keep her out of mischief, but he was easy enough to handle--far easier than The Lion--so she'd simply been enjoying her freedom, knowing it would undoubtedly end when Lionel's week of confinement was over. Her most immediate problem, though, was thinking up a plausible excuse for coming into their room soaking wet, so she could change her sodden clothes.

Lionel, however, was watching as Alexandra and Oliver rode into the courtyard. He was standing by the window, using a crutch to keep all weight off his right knee, but standing there nonetheless. And what he saw brought a smile to his face. Alexandra was thoroughly soaked. That should have angered him, but it didn't. She had obviously been expressing her zest for life by experiencing a spring storm in all its glorious fury. He couldn't blame her for that. He'd done the same thing himself more than once. And, unbeknownst to Alexandra, Oliver reported to him several times a day--admitting each and every thing she was doing. He was getting soft, Lionel realized, his smile fading. Alexandra had been sparring in the practice field--albeit with her skirts properly lowered--gambling in the knights' quarters and racing horses, and he knew all about it. Now, he was standing here like a bloody fool, smiling at her disheveled appearance. This had to stop, he vowed, else before very long Alexandra would have the upper hand in the marriage. He returned to the bed, adjusted the pillows behind his back, crossed his arms over his chest...and waited for his wife. Alex took a deep breath for courage--she was not, after all, very good at lying--and slowly opened the door to her bedchamber. "You'll never believe what happened, my lord," she began, purposely using the respectful title, fully intending to fabricate a story about being accidentally caught in the thunderstorm. "I was riding with my fine escort, Oliver, and--" "And you simply could not resist sitting on the edge of the cliff and watching the storm over the ocean," Lionel interrupted, raising one tawny brow.

Alex sank down in a chair. "How did you know that?" she asked. "Do you have the powers of a witch?" "Nay, Alexandra, just the instincts of a husband." He glowered a little. "And I notice you didn't deny it." Alex bit her lip, knowing she had been well and truly caught, but then she shrugged. She might as well tell him all about the adventure, since he already knew what she had done. Rising to her feet, she began unlacing her sodden overgown. "It was magnificent, Lionel," she said, twisting her arms behind her back to reach the laces. "The storm was so powerful, the lightning seemed close enough to touch." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "And the thunder nearly deafened me." She let out a small oath at a knotted lace. "But I enjoyed every moment of that storm--tremendously." "Come here, little hellion," Lionel said. Alex stiffened. "Why?" "So that I might help with those stubborn laces." Alex sat on the edge of the bed, then lifted her hair, and Lionel deftly unlaced the garment. When that task was done, she stood again, shed her wet clothes, including stockings and shoes, then crossed to the wardrobe, naked and barefoot. She was no longer shy in front of her husband. She chose a simple linen shift and soft woolen gown dyed the color of spring lilacs, but before she could don them, she heard Lionel say, "Fetch that shirt you sewed for me, too, Alexandra--along with a needle and some embroidery thread." Alex bristled at his commanding tone. She turned back to him, still holding her clothes. "Why?" she asked again, suspecting she already knew the answer to the question. "Because you're going to fulfill your promise to replace the 'B' with an 'L,' Alexandra. You're going to do it right now." "And if I won't, my lord?" "If you won't, my sweet little hellion, I'll have Sir Thomas accompany you on your adventures for the rest of this week, instead of my all-too-accommodating squire." That threat worked. Sir Thomas would be much harder to manipulate than Oliver, especially if he had his lord's power behind him. Alex donned the undershift, leaving the pretty blue ribbons meant to close it untied, then sank down in a chair again. She had just realized something else, something rather distressing. "You know all about my...activities...of the past three days, don't you, Lionel?" she said. "Every one of them." "Oliver told you everything, I suppose," she said a little dejectedly. "Even about the sword fights." "Yes." The spark of excitement suddenly returned to her eyes. "He beat me once, you know--but only once. The rest of the time, I sent him sprawling to the dirt." "Mayhap he was letting you win, Alexandra," Lionel commented dryly.

Alex snorted at that. "Not bloody likely," she said. Lionel cocked a brow. "Not very likely," she amended. Lionel smiled, nodded, and patted the bed. "Come here, Alexandra. Sit beside me. There's something I want to show you." Alex did as he asked--warily. But when he reached for some drawings, then laid them across his lap, she smiled. He had been making designs for the weights that would strengthen his knee. "As you can see, Alexandra," Lionel began, "I have copied the weights described in the Greek text as closely as possible." He pointed to the drawing. "These straps will slip through loops on the sand bags, thus allowing us to use the same straps for the increasingly heavy bags." Alex left the bed, rummaged through her father's sea chest and returned with scraps of material in her hands, plus a needle and plain black thread. "This was my practice material with Mistress Blount," she explained, scooting up beside Lionel again. " 'Tis strong and closely woven. It should suffice quite well for the sand bags we'll be needing." She rolled a piece of the material between finger and thumb. "I could make the loops out of the same fabric, or perhaps we should use leather?" She nodded, as if in answer to her own question. "Yes, I think leather would be better, but I can start on the sand bags right away." Lionel smiled ruefully. "I suppose that would be a more useful endeavor than replacing the 'B' on my shirt," he said. Alex leaned over and kissed him. "I'll do that, too, husband. 'Twas a promise, after all." "A promise made under duress, if I recall." "Not under duress, Lionel," Alex said, her voice suddenly husky. " 'Twas a promise made under seduction. You kissed me into submission, remember?" "Aye, my sweet hellcat, I remember," Lionel replied. His gaze dropped to her lips. "Perhaps you need another lesson, though." He lifted her chin. "All those adventures, and sitting on the edge of the cliff during a storm. What should I do about all that, Alexandra?" "Punish me with kisses?" Alex suggested, then parted her lips. "At least," Lionel said, and then his mouth descended. He kissed Alex thoroughly, wonderfully, finally lowering her to the bed and parting the edges of her untied shift. She knew what was coming. Her breasts tingled in anticipation and her nipples hardened, craving the attention of his mouth. Then someone knocked on the door. "Damnation," Lionel quietly exclaimed. Alex drew the sheet over her nakedness, laughing softly. "Duty calls, my lord," she said. "I'm afraid your delicious lesson will have to wait." Lionel glowered. "Enter," he commanded. A footman opened the door, then brought a sealed parchment to Lionel. " 'Tis a missive from the earl,

milord," he said. Lionel thanked the man, dismissed him, then broke the earl's seal and read the message. "What is it?" Alex asked, sitting up in the bed. He was frowning. "Is it bad news?" "Not bad, really," Lionel answered. "More like expected. Randolph is causing problems again, King Henry is considering taking action against him, and my father may want me to go to London--to plead for lenience on Randolph's behalf." Now Alex frowned. She knew something of Randolph, Lionel's half brother and heir to the earldom. In her opinion, he was a spineless troublemaker. Lionel would make a far better earl, but that would never happen because of his bastard state. She seethed silently. Many, many things were unfair in this world. "What has he done this time?" she asked. "The usual," Lionel answered. "Getting drunk at jousting tournaments, insulting noblemen--and their ladies. He inadvertently insulted a young relative of King Henry's. Now the king is considering banishing him from tournaments altogether. My father doesn't want to see that happen. It would shame the earldom." Alex understood that well enough. A son's behavior reflected on his parents--and on his home. "Will you be going to London, then?" she asked. Lionel settled back beside her, sighing heavily. "I'm no courtier, Alexandra," he said. "But like most kings, Henry admires strength. My father thinks he will listen to me simply because of my reputation." "What about your knee?" Alex asked quietly. Lionel shrugged again, carefully flexing the joint. "If I have to go, I'll go, but it won't be immediately. King Henry is visiting the northern shires right now. He won't return to London until nearly winter. Earl James just wants me to know that I may have to make the trip sometime in late autumn. King Henry won't make a final decision about Randolph until then. He's willing to give him one more chance, but my father doesn't think Randolph has enough wisdom to change his behavior." "And so Earl James will leave it to you to change the king's mind instead," Alex stated. She wasn't terribly happy about all this, but at least the possible trip was several months away. She had absolute confidence that Lionel's knee would be completely healed by then. "Aye," Lionel agreed, setting the missive aside. "But there's naught to be done about it right now." He drew her into his arms. "Now, my lady, where were we?" he said. Alex laughed softly. "I believe you were just about to teach me another lesson in proper behavior, Sir Beast." Lionel gave a mock growl and pulled the sheet down to her waist. "Aye," he said, fondling her breasts. "A beast's work, it seems, is never done." In a very short time, Alex forgot about Randolph altogether.

Oliver had a problem. For the past three days, while he'd been sharing Lady Alex's company--ostensibly to keep her safe--he had been falling hopelessly in love with her.

She was so wonderful to be near, so fresh and alive, so energetic, so incredibly beautiful. Her laughing green eyes, her silky reddish-brown hair, her soft pink lips and the enticing swell of her breasts--though modestly concealed--had kept Oliver in an uncomfortable condition for more hours than he cared to count. He had never been with a woman, but now the need for one was becoming almost unbearable. He'd only seen one woman naked, in fact, in all his sixteen years. That had been Liza, the day she was massaging Sir Lionel's back. The same day the summons arrived that had ultimately brought Sir Lionel--and Oliver himself--to Larkspur Castle. And to Lady Alex. Oliver had been with Sir Lionel long enough to understand all about honor. He would never, ever, not in a hundred years, even consider making love to Lady Alex--not that she'd have him--but something had to be done about his constant state of arousal. Oliver needed a wench who could introduce him to the mysteries of sex--and one name immediately came to mind. Liza. He'd heard all about her, had seen her voluptuous body totally nude that one time, and he was now on his way to visit the harlot. He would never know the joy of making love to his master's lady wife, but he could at least use the prostitute, as all the other men did. All a man had to do was pay the head groom an extra coin for the use of his room--and his whore. To Oliver, it was the only honorable solution to his problem. He found Liza just where she was supposed to be--in the groom's quarters--but he frowned on realizing that she was talking to nothing but thin air. Then he shrugged. Who could understand the workings of a whore's mind?

Liza had heard the door close, and the bolt being thrown, but she did not appreciate the interruption. She had been having a heated argument with her nemesis, the "lady" who appeared quite frequently now, telling her just how wrong she was in her assumption that Liza could never be the mistress of Larkspur Castle. But as she noticed the sheepish grin on Oliver's youthful face--and the obvious bulge in his hose--her thoughts quickly left the exasperating "lady." This boy was as close to Lady Alexandra and Sir Lionel as anyone at the castle. A plan immediately formed in her mind. She sauntered over to him, lowering her peasant's blouse at the same time and baring her breasts. "Do you have need of my services, Oliver?" She asked, boldly caressing him. The youth sucked in his breath as she unlaced his hose, freed him, and then explored him with very experienced hands. He surged in her grasp, and she knew he'd nearly lost control right then and there, but then he took another breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "Y-yes, Liza," he stammered. "I have need of your skills, but I've never..." "You've never been with a woman before?" Liza finished for him, leading him toward the bed. "Have no fear, Oliver, I can make a man of you quickly enough." As Oliver swiftly stripped off his clothes, Liza removed her own, then lay down on the bed, spreading her thighs. "Come here, young stud," she commanded huskily, "Come here and let me introduce you to

ecstasy." He didn't need to be told twice, she noticed. He fell atop her immediately, entered her quickly, and found his culmination in scant moments. Liza chuckled throatily at his feverish pace, then said, "About my fee, Oliver..." Oliver was trying very hard to control his breathing now that the deed was done. It had been wonderful, of course, but it had been terribly lacking in one important element. Liza was merely a whore, and Oliver knew in that moment that sex for him would only be truly gratifying with a woman he loved. Alas, the woman he loved could never be his, so he would have to be satisfied with the skills of a prostitute. "Yes, of course, Liza," he finally answered, "Your fee. I've already paid the groom for the use of his room and his...friend. How much do you need?" Instead of stating a price, the whore pushed him over onto his back and struck a seductive pose beside him. Her lush breasts were barely touching his chest, and she twined her fingers through his light brown, closely-cropped hair. "All I want is information, Oliver," he heard her murmur huskily. "Just a few little details that might help me learn more about the castle." She rubbed her nipples against his chest. "Since I'm living here now, doesn't it make sense that I learn all I can about the place?" "Aye, I suppose it does," Oliver answered on a hiss of pleasure as she bent to bite his chest. Then she flicked her tongue over his flat male nipples, and he groaned, knowing he was fast becoming aroused again. "What do you want to know, Liza?" "Oh, just simple little things," Liza replied, kissing a path along his lean torso. "Tell me about Lady Alexandra, for instance. What does she enjoy doing?" As he heard that question, Oliver felt Liza moving lower on his body, until her lips were very close to his renewed arousal. Then he felt her warm breath on his manhood, and he had a good idea what she was going to do next. "She likes racing horses," he murmured, then hissed again when Liza did just exactly what he'd thought she would do. "Does Lady Alexandra always ride that big gray stallion?" Liza asked innocently. Oliver felt her warm, soft tongue caressing him expertly, and he shuddered. "Aye," he rasped. "Apollo. Lady Alex always rides Apollo." "Ummm," Liza murmured in reply, rising up and then straddling his thighs. "I've seen her on the horse. She seems to be an excellent horsewoman." "She is," Oliver said, sucking in his breath as Liza lowered herself over his throbbing need. "Lady Alex is the best horsewoman I've ever seen." "Does she enjoy jumping her horse, Oliver?" Liza asked as her hips began moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. "Yes," Oliver whispered, reaching up to grasp her full, round breasts. "Lady Alex loves the challenge of jumping." "That's very interesting, Oliver," Liza said, again innocently. "Thank you for telling me all that. The more I learn about the folks of this castle, the better, don't you think?"

Oliver couldn't respond to that question. Not when Liza had increased the pace of her undulating hips, building his excitement until he couldn't utter a single word, then swiftly throwing him over the edge of sexual release. He didn't see Liza's smile of triumph as he stiffened and shuddered, but Liza knew just exactly what she was doing. She also knew that Oliver had no idea what he had just done. He was merely an innocent youth, enthralled by her very knowing seduction. How could he know that he had just given her the perfect means to kill Lady Alexandra? It was so simple; child's play, really. Liza sent the youth on his way, then lay back on the groom's bed, still totally nude. She would find out which saddle Lady Alexandra used and then cut the cinch strap--just a little. Not enough to be noticed, but certainly enough to be dangerous. And the next time Lady Alexandra took a flying leap over a rock or a fence, that cinch strap would snap under the strain, hopefully sending The Lion's lady wife to an untimely, accidental death!

The rest of that week was very pleasant for Alex. She enjoyed Oliver's company when she was away from the castle, and she enjoyed her husband's company when she was not. Lionel had requested--instead of commanding--that she refrain from wielding a sword, but he had no objection to her archery competitions with Oliver. It was a small victory, in Alex's opinion, so she had acquiesced to her husband's request. She still enjoyed the dicing games, but she noticed with just a hint of annoyance that the men were on their very best behavior now--with not one bawdy remark being said during the games. And somehow the ale had all been watered down. Nevertheless, even with that evidence of her husband's interference, Alex continued to enjoy herself. She had also created several different size pouches for the sand bag weights Lionel would be using, and she had kept her promise to replace the "B" on his shirt with an "L." Between doing all that, and her normal chatelaine's duties, the only thing Alex couldn't find time to do during the rest of that week was ride Apollo. That frustrated her a little, as she thoroughly enjoyed galloping the fine steed across the pasture or along the beach, practicing jumps at her favorite obstacles. But there were so many other things she wanted--and needed--to do that she didn't miss the rides overmuch. And now, finally--a little regretfully--her week of relative freedom was over. Alex was kneeling before her husband as he sat in a chair. She was strapping the first sand bag to his right ankle. "There," she said, standing up when the leather straps were in place. "Try it now, Lionel. See if the weight causes any pain." Lionel extended his knee, gingerly at first, and then with more confidence. He shook his head and lowered his foot to the floor, then repeated the motion. "Nay, Alexandra," he affirmed. "There is no pain, none whatsoever." "Good," she replied with a nod. "Let's see if you can do thirty repetitions without any pain." Lionel nodded, too, then set himself to that task. At the twentieth repetition, he winced slightly, but by the

thirtieth exercise, he seemed to move his knee with more fluidity and less stiffness. Alex had counted the repetitions with him, and when he reached thirty, she smiled. "Very good, Sir Beast," she teased. "I think The Lion is ready to leave his den." "More than ready," Lionel agreed, rising to his feet and testing the knee with his weight. "I have a little hellion to tame, after all," he teased in return, "and I can't very well do that from my bed." "I don't know about that, Lionel," Alex said, her cheeks pinking. "You seem to have tamed me very well while in your bed this past week." Lionel smiled in the way that always made Alex's heart beat faster, then kissed her soundly. "Don't make it too easy, little hellion," he murmured. "I'm beginning to enjoy taming you." "I'm not the only one being tamed, Sir Beast," Alex replied with an impish grin. "You may be as gentle as a sweet little kitten by this time next year." Lionel, just to show her how wrong she was, she supposed, threw back his head and roared mightily, then kissed her again, growling into her mouth. Alex laughed, thoroughly enjoying the moment. They had not had a major fight for so long, she was honestly beginning to believe they had learned how to get along together. In fact, Alex had come to realize that she wanted Lionel to return her love. She knew he never would, but she nonetheless found herself wanting his love a little more each day. It was merely a foolish dream, a silly romantic notion. 'Twas truly foolish to think that Lionel could ever love the woman he had simply been sent to tame. Lionel, in the same moment, was thinking very similar thoughts. As much as he loved Alexandra, his love would never be returned, and he knew it. 'Twould be foolish indeed to believe that Alexandra could ever come to love the man ordered to break her spirit--to mold her into society's idea of a proper lady. For just a moment, Lionel truly regretted that that was exactly what he would do. For a fleeting instant, the thought of seeing Alexandra become a docile, simpering woman--a meekly obedient proper lady wife--truly abhorred him. Then he quickly quelled that thought. His duty was clear, and his loyalty was to his overlord first; his wife, second. If Earl James wanted Alexandra to conform to society's rules, then conform she would.

Chapter Fourteen

Over the next two weeks, Alex's love for her husband was reaffirmed in a thousand different ways. Somehow, he seemed to have softened after leaving his forced confinement in their bedchamber. He was very seldom demanding, hardly ever arrogant, and almost always sweet tempered. She wondered if he was sick, but she was glad for the pleasant, peaceful days they were sharing. He had adhered to the knee-strengthening regimen religiously; never missing a session and never complaining, even though Alex knew from experience that each added weight brought some pain in the beginning. But Lionel was determined to succeed, and Alex admired his strength and tenacity. Alex realized, of course, that a good part of their peaceful existence was due to her own efforts. She had given up sword fighting--at least for now--and she truly was trying to "watch her tongue," as her husband was so fond of saying. They rode together every day now, and when Lionel quietly requested that she not endanger herself by jumping Apollo, Alex quickly agreed--fully intending, of course, to do just that when she was not in The Lion's company. He was worrying needlessly, she told herself. She was an excellent horsewoman. That opportunity might be long in coming, however, since Lionel seemed to thoroughly enjoy their daily rides--never once assigning another knight, or even Oliver, to be Alex's escort anymore. It was such a small thing, though, compared to the happiness she was feeling that Alex decided not to break the longest truce they had ever had. Eventually, she would find an opportunity to jump Apollo again. In the meantime, she would simply wait--and enjoy the peaceful relationship.

Lionel had no idea that Alexandra thought he had "softened," but he was fully aware that he had been less demanding of her in the last two weeks. Probably because she was making an effort to obey him--or at least to compromise with him on certain issues--such as not jumping her horse or partaking in sword fights. Her archery skills were just as amazing as her swordsmanship, and Lionel had found that he actually enjoyed competing with her in that far less dangerous pursuit. And he could count on one hand how many curses she had uttered during the course of the past two weeks. Of course, he mused wryly, Alexandra had set down her needle and thread just as soon as his sand bag pouches were fashioned and the letter on his shirt had been changed. Evidently, she was not going to willingly become a seamstress--no matter how much natural talent she displayed for that feminine skill.

Lionel shrugged his massive shoulders, looking over at Alexandra as she rode beside him. Their nights of lovemaking had been wonderful, their days peaceful and busy. Could he really ask for much more? Yes, he answered himself suddenly. There was something more he wanted from Alexandra--something only she, being a woman, could give him. He wanted a son. For the first time in his life, Lionel wanted to be a father. Not only a father, but the best father the world had ever known. He wanted to sire a son, to watch Alexandra's youthful body blossom with his seed. He wanted to watch her breasts swell with milk, wanted to watch her nourishing his babe. A feeling of fierce possessiveness washed over him. That would make Alexandra his, better than anything else ever could--no matter that she didn't love him. Bearing him a son would bind her to him in the most elemental and completely feminine way. And surely motherhood would help her become a truly proper lady. He smiled at Alexandra then, intentionally using the kind of smile that she responded to so well--the kind that would soon have her trembling softly in his arms, parting her soft, pink lips to receive his kiss. She noticed his smile, and color blossomed in her cheeks. When he suggested they return to the castle, she blushed even more but quickly agreed. She was always eager for his loving, and his anticipation increased. He would start his "project" immediately. There was only one way to give Alexandra his babe, and he was determined to impregnate her as soon as possible. It never even occurred to Lionel that Alexandra might not be as enthused about becoming a mother as he was about becoming a father. Not that it would have mattered. He was the husband, after all; she, the wife. If he wanted to mate with her morning, noon and night until his seed took root in her womb, that was his god-given privilege. A proper lady wife would obediently submit to her husband. Fortunately, with regard to the marriage bed, at least, Alexandra had no objection whatsoever to being a proper lady wife.

Alex stretched on the bed in languorous satiety, slowly opening her eyes. It was early morning, and Lionel had just made love to her--again. He had been so ardent, so insistent with his affections these past few days, ever since they had returned early from their ride. His arrogant dominance had returned in full force that day--at least in bed--but Alex didn't mind. Nay, not at all. Being loved by her husband's body might be as close as she ever came to being loved by his heart. Besides that, no matter how many times a day he demanded her submission, he always, always brought her exquisite, rapturous pleasure. Sighing happily with thoughts of those sensual delights, Alex rolled to her side, planning to leave the warm, comfortable bed and start her day. When she noticed what Lionel was doing, however, she very nearly laughed. He was standing by the hearth--looking somewhat like a giant crane--perched on one leg with his "wings" outstretched to either side. "What are you doing, Lionel?" she finally asked, propping herself on one elbow. "You look ridiculous."

"I'm testing my knee, Alexandra," he replied, slowly moving his arms to keep his balance. Upon hearing his words, Alex hopped out of bed, threw on her robe, then went to his side. "How long have you been testing it?" she asked. "Nearly a quarter hour, I think," he replied. "And you have no pain, no weakness?" "None," Lionel answered, smiling triumphantly. "Absolutely none." He held his position a while longer, just to be sure, Alex supposed. When he finally lowered his left knee to the floor, he was still smiling. Then he turned and scooped her up in his massive arms, twirling her around in a wide circle. "It worked, Alexandra!" he exclaimed over her squeals of delight. "The treatment your father discovered has healed my knee...completely. Just as you said it would." "Put me down, Lionel," Alex said, laughing. "I'm getting dizzy up here." Lionel lowered her to the floor, then steadied her as she swayed to one side. "It worked, Alexandra," he repeated. "Thank you." " 'Tis a shame you can't thank my father," Alex retorted mildly. "If he were here right now, I would thank him sincerely." Alex was just about to question whether he would actually thank her father for anything, but then a new idea popped into her head, and she smiled. "We should celebrate," she said. "Mayhap we could go to Cliffside and--" "No." "But why not, Lionel? We would be together, after all. 'Tis not as if I wanted to go alone." "Alexandra, the more I hear about that town, the less I like it," Lionel answered, suddenly serious. "You know pirates make port there occasionally, and even merchant sailors can be ruthless and dangerous." He placed his hands on both her shoulders. "I would just as soon you never go to Cliffside again, Alexandra, with or without me." "But that's where we've always purchased supplies for Larkspur, and I do so enjoy the shops--" "Your supplies can be delivered, Alexandra. As far as shopping, I'll take you to London sometime. Mayhap you could go with me if I do indeed have to intercede on Randolph's behalf. In the London marketplace, you can shop to your heart's content, little hellion. You can even hire a seamstress to fashion lovely gowns for wearing at King Henry's court." Slightly mollified by that promise, since she had never been to court, and the idea appealed to her, Alex smiled again. "But we could still have an outing, Lionel," she said, warming to the idea even as she said the words. "We could set out before dawn and go down to the cave. We could light a fire on the beach and watch the sun come up." Lionel kissed the tip of her nose, then nodded. She was so adorable, so animated in her youthful

exuberance. How could he refuse her? At least he couldn't refuse her something as innocent and safe as an oceanside outing. What possible danger could she encounter at the beach? "When the sun comes up, we could swim in the ocean," Alex continued, smiling so brightly that Lionel felt a tug on his heart. I love you, Alexandra, he told her silently. I love your vitality, your spirit...even your willfulness--at times--though I hate to admit it. Aloud he said, "Very well, Alexandra, you shall have your outing. If you like, we could even search the rocks for mussels, then cook them over the fire." "Yes, of course," Alex agreed happily. "I have an iron pot in the cave already, and a barrel of fresh water. And I have sea biscuits and honey, dried fruit and--" Her words changed to a gasp of pleasure as Lionel suddenly kissed her, deeply and thoroughly. Her zest for life was like an aphrodisiac. He simply couldn't resist it. Her kissed her again. "We'll celebrate, Alexandra," he murmured, releasing her lips, then gently biting her neck. "We'll celebrate my recovery, and we'll celebrate the fact that we're no longer at each other's throats." Alex laughed softly. "We're still at each other's throats in some ways, Lionel," she teased. "You've just bitten my neck." "Aye," he agreed, chuckling when she raised up on tiptoe and bit him back. "But not with anger, sweet hellion. Never with anger anymore." Then he kissed her deeply again.

The seaside breezes were uniquely warm for a late spring day as Alex and Lionel mounted their horses before dawn the next morning. They had decided to take the longer path to the cave, since it was still dark, and horses were more surefooted than humans in the darkness. As they left the sleepy groom who had just saddled their mounts, the soft clip-clop of hooves was their only companion in the courtyard. Most of Larkspur Castle was still asleep. The guards were awake, of course, and they cheerfully opened the gate and waved them through. The ride down to the cave was uneventful, and Lionel soon had a roaring blaze going on the beach. They settled down beside the fire, cuddling together under a warm woolen blanket, sharing kisses and tender caresses as they waited for the glorious ocean sunrise to begin. And then it came, beginning with soft grays and then lavenders, soon followed by pale pink tinged with gold, and finally the wonderful bright yellow ball of the rising sun over the ocean. Alex sighed happily, lying in her husband's strong arms and watching the morning begin. This is how a marriage should be, she mused. Without fighting, without anything but loving. Or at least affection. I think he feels that much for me, at least. Mayhap I should tell him I love him, she continued silently. But no, I couldn't do that. Not only because it would give him ultimate power over me, but because I would be horribly hurt by his rejection of my love. He's never said one word about loving me. Nay, I'll keep my secret. For all I know, Lionel would resent me for loving him. He was, after all, forced into this marriage--even more than I was. I knew I would be getting a husband. He didn't know he was getting a wife until

Earl James ordered him to wed me. With that thought, Alex's smile faded. Noticing this, Lionel said, "What is it, Alexandra? Why do you suddenly look so sad?" Alex sat up, away from his embrace. " 'Tis nothing," she lied, rising to her feet. "Nothing at all. I was just getting stiff from lying still for so long." Lionel didn't believe her for a minute, but he, too, rose to his feet, determined to divert his wife's attention from whatever was making her sad. He suggested they start searching for mussels, and Alex readily agreed. Before long, their soon-to-be meal was boiling over the fire, and the sun was warming the ocean, inviting them to swim. Impulsively, Alex stripped off her slippers, stockings and gown, leaving only her shift, and ran into the water. By the time Lionel stripped down to his hose and followed her, she was nowhere to be seen. She had obviously dived under the surface, so Lionel took a deep breath and followed her there. The water was lit by sunlight, and he could see her quite clearly a few feet in front of him. Her shift had become diaphanous, revealing her delicious little body as she swam underwater with fluent grace and beauty. Feeling unusually playful, Lionel caught up to her, raised her up to the surface and then kissed her thoroughly, enjoying the salty taste of her lips. Alex circled her arms around Lionel's neck and returned his kiss wholeheartedly. She mated her tongue with his, then hiked up her shift and circled his waist with her legs, undulating her moist center against his arousal. He growled low in his throat and began unlacing his hose, obviously intending to take her right there in the water. Feeling mischievous, Alex decided to make him wait--at least for a little while. She broke free of his embrace, then swam for the shore with sure, long strokes. Lionel followed suit, easily caught her, just as she'd known he would, then lifted her into his arms and headed straight for the cave. "Put me down, Sir Beast," she teased, pummeling his chest with both small fists. "Not until I've ravished you, little mermaid," he returned with a playful leer. "You've tempted me beyond reason with your seductive little body and now you'll have to pay the price." Alex kicked her feet, struggling in his embrace, fully enjoying the game. "Nay," she said imploringly. "Do not ravish me, Sir Neptune. I am but an innocent young maid who knows naught of lovemaking." "Then I'll have to teach you everything I know," Lionel growled in response, setting her down in the cave. "And the first thing you'll need to do is remove that wet shift." "What about your wet hose, Sir Neptune?" In response to that, Lionel simply removed his sodden garment. Alex gasped with pleasure when he stood straight again, then watched as he looked down at himself. "Do you like what you see, my tempting little mermaid?" he drawled. "Very much," Alex murmured, admiring his starkly masculine physique, his sinewy muscles and fully aroused manhood. She untied her shift and let it fall to her feet, showing him that her nipples were already elongated, hardened with her own need.

She heard him suck in his breath, and she shivered at his reaction to her nakedness. She was so very ready to be loved. Then he scooped her up in his arms again and walked to the mattress. Just as he lay her down on the blanket, she saw him notice the clay pot marked "honey" on an old wooden crate, and he smiled in a way she didn't quite understand. He reached for the honey, and Alex's brows drew together in confusion. "I thought you wanted to make love, Lionel...not eat," she said. "Aye, little mermaid," he replied, his voice husky and deep. "I very definitely want to make love to you...and I will. But first," he pulled the lid off the pot, "I'm going to teach you that honey can be used for more than just improving the flavor of food." Alex still didn't understand--not until he dipped two fingers into the honey, then smeared the sweet, sticky substance on her nipples. She shuddered with delight. "Am I to be your meal, then, Sir Neptune?" she whispered breathlessly. "Definitely," he answered. His gaze was searing. "Suck the honey off my fingers, Alexandra," he commanded, presenting his hand to her slightly-parted lips. Alex did so immediately, shuddering again at the wholly sensual experience. "Now watch me, Alexandra," he continued. "I want you to watch while I taste your breasts." Alex whimpered, then did indeed watch as he lowered his mouth to her right breast. He tongued her nipple slowly, laving it, cleaning it completely, then moved to her left breast. This time he nibbled just the tiniest bit, and she could see his strong, white teeth on her nipple. Then he closed his lips and suckled hungrily, and Alex trembled with ecstasy. Her eyes closed and her thighs parted. Squirming and writhing with the intensity of her need, she murmured, "Now, Lionel...please." "Not just yet, sweetness," Lionel said with maddening calmness, dipping his fingers into the honey pot again. Alex was nearly sobbing now. She was fully ready to beg and plead to be taken--but then she felt him spreading the honey on her most intimate place and her eyes flew open again. "Lionel, you're not going to...not there?" "Suck," he said, ignoring her question and pressing his honied fingers to her mouth. Again, Alex obeyed, holding his gaze while she licked and sucked until his fingers were clean. She could taste a salty essence that must be her own, and she blushed hotly, remembering what he was obviously planning to do. "Lionel, surely you're not going to kiss me there," she repeated. "Um hmm," he answered, positioning himself between her thighs, pushing them wider apart despite her resistance. "Relax, Alexandra," he demanded huskily. "Relax and enjoy being loved this way." Alex had no choice. His arms were like steel bands around her thighs, holding them wide apart as his mouth descended. She had no idea if Lionel realized he was forcing her to his will by that strong grip, but with the first touch of his tongue to her soft, moist petals, it didn't matter anymore. "Ohhhh," she gasped out as his tongue explored her thoroughly, deeply. She felt the tremors starting, knew she was going to blossom with ecstasy and then did just that, arching against his mouth, convulsing around his probing tongue with rapturous delight. And then he was kissing her mouth. She could taste her own passion as his tongue ravished her mouth as

deeply as it had ravished her womanhood, and she moaned. She was lost to sensations well beyond her experience, still quivering with delight from what he had done, and as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders and plunged into her ripened sheath to the hilt, Alex cried out his name. "Am I hurting you, Alexandra?" he asked, quickly withdrawing. "Nay, Lionel," she whispered in response. " 'Twas not pain that caused me to cry out...'twas pleasure." Lionel smiled and drove into her again. Their gazes locked as he took her more deeply than ever before, and she whimpered. He was watching her so intently, watching her eyes glaze with passion and her cheeks become flushed as she accepted his soul-deep penetrations. Then her lips formed a perfect "O" as she reached that glorious summit again...just as she felt his potent life force rush into her womb. Afterwards, he gently lowered her legs and surrounded her with his wonderful, strong arms. His lips brushed her own, and then she heard him say, "I hope I gave you my babe just now, wife." For only a moment, Alex didn't understand, didn't want to understand in her state of complete satiety. But then she stiffened, and anger as fierce as a spring storm burst in her mind as full realization set in. She forcefully pushed his arms away and sat up, glaring down at the arrogant beast who was, unfortunately, her husband. "Is that what this is all about, Lionel?" she said tersely, then rose to her feet and began pacing before him, her breasts heaving in agitation. "These past days, all the times you've made love to me--more times than I can count. All that was because you were using me as a brood mare?" "Alexandra..." Lionel began, bewildered. But Alex wasn't listening anymore. She was already reaching for her shift, forcing the wet material over her body. She stomped from the cave, found her gown and donned it while Lionel quickly pulled on his own clothes, shouting for her to wait for him all the while. Barefoot, ignoring her slippers and stockings--ignoring his words--but grabbing her riding crop, Alex mounted Apollo just as Lionel pushed his second foot into a boot and came after her. "Wait, Alexandra!" he demanded again. "Do not ride away without me, woman!" "Is that a command, my lord and master?" Alex gritted out. "Well, this bloody brood mare isn't taking any more commands from you!" She slapped the reins against Apollo's neck and took off down the beach at a full gallop. Lionel mounted his own horse and quickly followed her. He caught up to her with little difficulty, then grabbed her reins, forcing her to stop. "Now you will listen to me, woman," he said, breathing heavily. "Why?" Alex fumed. "So you can tell me to be an obedient little brood mare and accept your seed? Nay, Sir Lionel. I do not want your babe. I do not want you!" With that, Alex struck his hand with her riding crop, causing him to instinctively loosen his grip. She grabbed the reins and took off again, even faster than before. How could he do that to me? she seethed, riding faster and faster down the beach. How could he make glorious, passionate love to me morning, noon and night for days on end when all he wanted was a damn son? Don't my feelings count for anything? Of course not, she answered herself. I am merely his possession, his chattel, just like all the other animals at Larkspur. If he wants to impregnate me, I have no more choice about it than a brood

mare forced to submit to a stallion. He should have tied me in a stall, like we do all the other brood mares when we want them to be mounted. He should have-Alex was so lost to her fury that the huge boulder looming before her was a complete surprise. She should have known it was there. She'd ridden this beach all her life, after all, but she'd been too lost in her thoughts to see it. There was no time for avoidance, no time for anything but jumping that huge rock...and she could hear Lionel gaining on her. The thought ran through Alex's mind that Lionel didn't want her jumping, but there was naught she could do about that now. She felt Apollo's muscles bunching, knew he was going to leap. And then he did it--perfectly, of course. But the landing was anything but perfect for Alex. Her cinch strap broke in two just as Apollo's massive bulk hit the ground with a resounding thud. And Alex flew off the horse, landing head first against another large rock. She felt blinding pain in the front of her skull...and then she felt nothing at all.

Chapter Fifteen

Lionel reached Alexandra scant moments after her horrendous fall. His heart was in his throat as he knelt by her side. She was unconscious...and deathly pale. She had a gash on her forehead, and it was already swelling and bruising. "My God, Alexandra," he cried, carefully pulling her into his arms. "What have I done?" She could not answer, of course, and Lionel simply sat there for a time, rocking her, feeling responsible for her injury, hoping and praying that she would regain consciousness. But she didn't wake up. She didn't stir or moan or do anything at all. There was nothing to indicate that she was still alive except her shallow breathing.

And Lionel knew then that she might never wake up again. With all his heart, he wanted to hear Alexandra shout at him again, cursing him for using her as a "brood mare." It wasn't those particular words that he needed to hear. Any words would have done just as well. He still had no idea why she should be so angry that he wanted a son, but now he might never find out. He might never see her jade green eyes light up with anger--or passion--might never again hear his name on her soft lips. As gently as he could, he carried her to his horse, mounted, then rode back to the castle as fast as he dared, holding her in his arms. Apollo simply followed without being led. Even the horse seemed to sense that something was terribly wrong. By the time he reached the gate, Lionel was bellowing for help, and the castlefolk instantly responded, men and women alike scurrying to come to Lady's Alex's aid.

No one noticed a small woman in the shadows of the stable with an evil, triumphant smile upon her sultry lips. Liza nodded her head and turned away from the wonderful sight. She wanted to go to the groom's quarters and tell the "lady" that their plan had finally succeeded. Surely, Lady Alexandra would die as a result of her fall. And then Liza would become the mistress of Larkspur Castle. She would be the one sharing The Lion's bed. She reached the groom's quarters, and her "friend" instantly appeared. "I told you it would work," Liza said to the illusion. "The silly little chit took a very bad fall, and now she's going to die." The "lady," of course, agreed with Liza completely. Lionel lay Alexandra on their massive bed, and his heart lurched as he saw how pale she was, even more so than she'd been on the beach. Her robust, healthy color was completely gone, and her lovely green eyes were still closed. Oliver was sent to fetch the physician in Cliffside, and Lionel stayed by Alexandra's side while he waited for the man. He held her hand and bathed her forehead with cool compresses. He'd already washed the blood from her pale skin, and now there was nothing more to do but await the doctor--and his opinion about Alexandra's chances for survival. The physician--when he finally arrived--looked old to Lionel, doddering even, with bushy eyebrows and heavy, slack jowls. He was nearly as tall as Lionel, but his posture was stooped, his hands gnarled and spotted with age. The doctor examined Alexandra, applied leeches to both her arms, and then turned to Lionel, shaking his gray head. "If I were you, milord," he said, "I would send for a priest. This child probably won't live through the night." Lionel thought his heart might stop on hearing those ominous words. He couldn't say anything, only nodded to the physician and then to Oliver, who understood that he was to fetch the priest. Father Dominic, Larkspur's priest, trundled into the room two hours later. He had been in Cliffside, tending to the poor, where Oliver had found him. He brought his massive girth to the bedside, gave Alexandra the last rites, then placed a hand on Lionel's shoulder.

"My son," he said kindly, "Is there aught I can do for you now?" "Yes, Father," Lionel replied. "Bring her back to me." " 'Tis in God's hands now, Sir Lionel," the priest responded. "But I can see that you love her dearly. Knowing that she's loved might help Lady Alex overcome all odds by her own sheer determination to live." Lionel blanched. "She doesn't know that I love her, Father," he admitted in a hoarse whisper. "I never told her." The priest sighed deeply, folding his hands across his ample stomach. "Then I suggest you tell her right now, Sir Lionel," he advised. "Tell her how much you love her, and keep telling her until she regains consciousness or..." his words faltered. "Or until she dies," Lionel said, finishing his words. "But how will that help now, Father?" "It may not, my son, but who knows what the soul can hear? Mayhap, in her unconscious state, Lady Alex will hear your words in some way only God can understand." Lionel nodded. "I'll do anything I can to help her...anything at all." "You might also pray, Sir Lionel," Father Dominic said. "I've already been doing that, Father," Lionel replied. "I've been praying harder and longer than ever before in my life." "Well then," the priest said, gathering his things. "With God's help, Lady Alex just might live. I will be in the chapel if you need me, Sir Lionel," he added. "There are already many people there, praying for your lady." The priest took his leave of the room, and Lionel fell to his knees. He and Alexandra had attended daily mass and vespers on many occasions, of course, but he didn't dare go to the chapel right now. He didn't dare leave Alexandra's side. "Dear God," he prayed, "Don't take her from me. Please don't take Alexandra away from me." He turned to Alexandra then, still kneeling, and gently caressed her pale, cool cheek. "I love you, Alexandra," he said aloud for the very first time, his voice cracking. "I don't know if you can sense my words--or hear them somehow--but I love you." Such simple words, but so powerful. He didn't know what else to say, never having been very good at expressing this kind of emotion. A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away with an angry gesture. This was not the time for weakness. This was the time for strength--for Alexandra's sake. Somehow she might be able to sense his strength, might be able to draw it into her own frail body. But try as he might, Lionel could not stop the tears from falling. He finally gave up trying, bowed his head, and wept.

Sir Thomas quietly opened the bedchamber door. He could see Sir Lionel on his knees beside the bed, could see his massive shoulders shaking with silent sobs. And what he had to say would not make his

lord feel any better. "Sir Lionel?" he said softly. "May I speak with you for a moment?" Lionel raised his head, turned to Sir Thomas and nodded. Sir Thomas thought he had never seen such agonizing pain on anyone's face before. "I'm sorry to have to bother you at a time like this, milord, but it's important..." He hesitated. "Go on," Lionel said, rising to his feet. "Well, sir, 'tis about Apollo's saddle." "What about the saddle?" Lionel asked, straightening to his full height as a feeling of dread washed over him. "We went to the shore and found the saddle where it had fallen, Sir Lionel. We brought it back here to the stable." "And?" Lionel asked tensely. "And the cinch strap was cut, milord," Sir Thomas replied very quietly. " 'Twas done very cleverly. Not enough of a cut to be noticed on a cursory inspection, but certainly enough to cause the strap to break after the impact of a jump." And Alexandra jumped because she was riding hell bent down the beach, trying to get away from me, Lionel realized with searing pain to his already tattered heart. "I want to see that strap," he said then, already striding to the door. "Of course, milord," Sir Thomas replied.

As Lionel and Sir Thomas crossed the courtyard, Oliver saw where they were headed and followed them. Sir Lionel's expression was fiercely determined, and Oliver suspected it must have something to do with Lady Alex's fall. He himself had been terribly worried since Lady Alex was rendered unconscious. Fetching the doctor and then finding the priest had kept him occupied for a time, but he couldn't help wondering about Lady Alex's fate. Would she truly die, as he had heard the doctor predict? The world would be a dull and lifeless place without her, Oliver knew, and he said his thousandth prayer for her survival as he followed his master to the stable. The head groom was examining Apollo's cinch strap, moving it back and forth in his hands, muttering under his breath. As Oliver watched, Sir Lionel went to the groom and took the strap from his hands. He examined it carefully, then cursed foully. "This has indeed been cut," he finally said. Oliver felt a chill race up his spine. Lady Alex's fall was not an accident?

Liza was in the stable as well. Through his haze of shock, Oliver saw her turn to Sir Lionel. He heard her words quite clearly. "Will Lady Alexandra live, milord?" she asked. Sir Lionel looked at her, his face ravaged with pain. "We're all praying for her survival, Liza," he answered quietly, "but it doesn't look very hopeful right now." Suddenly, a terrible suspicion took root when Oliver saw Liza actually smile after hearing Sir Lionel's words. She tried to hide it, but the effort was futile, and Oliver felt frozen to the spot as horrendous thoughts played through his mind. That one time--the only time--he had lain with Liza, she had asked him about Lady Alex. She had specifically asked him about her riding skills...and whether or not she liked to jump. Could it be? Could Liza be the one who cut the strap, the one would tried to kill Lady Alex? A boiling fury settled into Oliver's mind as he realized that Liza was the only person who could possibly benefit from Lady Alex's death. She had shared Sir Lionel's bed many times in the past. Perhaps she thought that by killing Lady Alex, she could share it again. The mighty roar sounded rather strange coming from a slender youth, but no one in the stable was fast enough to stop Oliver from attacking Liza. He seized her, threw her to the floor and placed both hands around her throat. "You did it, didn't you, Liza?" he cried, choking her now. "You cut the cinch strap, thinking you could kill Lady Alex and take her place in Sir Lionel's bed!" Liza was gasping for air. Oliver could feel her mounting desperation. Showing no mercy, he tightened his hold on her throat, and she finally nodded. Only then did he loosen his grip. "Say the words, wench," he demanded. "Confess your evil deed before I kill you." He was quite serious about that threat, and he saw Liza shudder. "Yes," she rasped hoarsely. "I cut the strap." Oliver loosened his grip a little more. Then he saw Liza turn her head toward Sir Lionel, who was taking in the whole scene in an obvious state of abject shock. "I did it for you, Sir Lionel," she continued, her voice pleading. "Don't you see? I knew if I killed Lady Alexandra, you would be free of her once and for all. Then you could come back to me without feeling guilty for breaking your marriage vows." Having gained her confession, Oliver got up and pulled Liza to her feet. Her eyes were bright with what could only be called a demonic light, and Oliver blanched. She wrenched free of his grip, then walked right up to Sir Lionel and placed her hands upon his chest. Oliver paled a little more. Was the wench insane? Lionel's shock was increasing by the moment, too. As soon as Liza touched him, he heard her say, "Surely, Lady Alexandra will die now, my love." Her voice was low, sultry, and Lionel stood stock still, engulfed in horrid amazement. Then Liza curled her arms around his waist and lay her dark head against his chest. "When she's dead, we can be together again, my beloved," she crooned. "I can become your lady wife, and I'm so much more experienced in bed than--" Lionel abruptly came out of his stupor, shoving Liza away so hard, she sprawled on the floor again. His own fury was so hot now, he might well finish the strangling Oliver had begun if he touched her. "Take her to the dungeon," he tersely commanded, turning his back on the traitorous bitch. "She will be

taken to Earl James for trial on the morrow. By then we may know if the charge will be murder." Liza quickly rose to her feet again, ran in front of Lionel and blocked his path. He grasped her shoulders, intending to shove her away again, but something in her eyes stopped him. "Don't send me to Earl James," Liza said in a strange- sounding voice. Her eyes were dark coals now, reflecting the fires of hell, and drool was slipping out the corner of her mouth. "Keep me in your dungeon, instead, Sir Lionel," she continued, ripping at her blouse until she was bare to the waist. "You can use me, Sir Lionel, any way you want. You can chain me to a wall, whip me every day, punish me until I'm begging for mercy. Please, milord, I need to be punished...I need to be raped!" Once again, Lionel was shocked into silence. He'd known Liza had perverse desires when it came to being used by men, but since he'd never given in to her deviant wishes, he'd had no idea how truly demented she was. Liza was babbling now, uttering nearly incoherent phrases about "erotic punishments," and Lionel felt truly sickened by her words. He turned to Sir Thomas. "Where is the nearest asylum?" he asked quietly. "About forty miles to the west milord," Sir Thomas replied. Lionel nodded. "Take her there--immediately. There's no need to try Liza for her crime. She's already paying the price...in her own private hell." Sir Thomas nodded, too, and Oliver bound Liza's hands in front of her with a leather thong, then led her to a horse that was being saddled for her to ride. Just before Liza was helped onto the horse, Lionel placed a cloak around her shoulders, covering her nakedness. "Thank you, kind sir," Liza said very sweetly, her eyes completely unfocused now. "Who are you?" "A friend, Liza," Lionel replied very quietly. "Just a friend." "Am I going home now, sir?" Liza asked in a little girl's voice. "My mama must be missing me by now. I've been out playing for such a long, long time." "Yes, Liza," Lionel answered. "You're going home now. You're going where you belong." Liza grinned idiotically, Sir Thomas and Oliver mounted their horses, and within a short time, six men were leading her out of the courtyard and through the gate of Larkspur Castle.

The next two days were sheer agony for Lionel. He insisted on caring for Alexandra himself, but there wasn't very much to do. She had not regained consciousness, had, if anything, slipped further away from him. Her skin was chalky now, her lips lifeless and a little blue. He raised her eyelids periodically, but her eyes were vacant, staring--almost like Liza's had been before she was led away. Thinking of Liza only doubled Lionel's mental anguish. If he'd never slept with the whore, none of this would have happened. But how could he have known that Liza was insane? She'd never acted strangely

before that last day, except for requesting harsh treatment. To him, she'd been a release for sexual tension and naught more. To others, apparently, she had been something else. He had learned of the head groom's deviant practices with Liza. That man was now being punished himself, on bread and water, in the dungeon. Lionel had sentenced him to a fortnight of the sparse diet and confinement. The groom had exceptional knowledge of horse breeding--the base of Larkspur's economy. If not for that, Lionel might well have banished the knave. He would not tolerate cruelty to women on his domain. And yet, Lionel still felt guilty. He'd only shared a normal sexual relationship with Liza--before his marriage to Alexandra--and still Liza had fantasized that relationship into perversion. The only possible explanation was that Liza had been slowly going insane for a long time, but that insanity didn't become complete until jealousy drove her over the edge. Jealousy of Alexandra, which led Lionel directly back to his own guilt. All his adult life, he'd thought he was doing the right thing by only using professional whores for his sexual needs. Now, belatedly, he realized that that was the worst kind of woman to use. And it was use--never lovemaking. Nothing at all like what he shared with Alexandra. At least he had never betrayed Alexandra with Liza, though in those first weeks of his marriage he'd been tempted more than once. Added to all that, Oliver had come to him and confessed what had transpired between Liza and himself. Lionel didn't blame the youth--and he told him that quite clearly--but everything came back to Liza. If only he'd never met her. Lionel sighed heavily and once again eased water between Alexandra's lips. He had discovered that if he massaged her throat, she would swallow reflexively, which gave him a little hope. She would not die of thirst if he could keep small amounts of water flowing down her throat. Then, of course, he realized that Alexandra might regain consciousness physically but not mentally. She could become an idiot. He'd seen such things in soldiers with head injuries. Lionel shuddered, rose from the bed and began pacing the floor. That simply could not happen to his lady, not to his Alexandra...his love. He returned to the bed and for the hundredth time that day told Alexandra how much he loved her. He lavished her with praise, complimented everything about her he could think of, and then yet again told her that he loved her as much as life itself. Later, he undressed her, carefully lowered her into a tub of warm water, bathed her, and dressed her again in a clean linen shift, all the while telling her of his love, just as Father Dominic had told him to do.

Alex was swimming in the ocean. She felt surrounded by love, nearly engulfed by it, in fact. The water was warm and soothing. Sir Neptune was there with her. He was so close, so very close--and so very much in love with her. If only she weren't hungry, the dream would be perfect. But she was hungry, famished, to be more exact.

And she couldn't find the words to tell Sir Neptune that she needed to get out of the water and eat. Then she was being lifted out of the water and placed on something. The beach, perhaps? Someone was drying her with a soft cloth. Oh yes, it was Sir Neptune again. He was drying her and then dressing her in soft, soothing material. If only he would feed her. He was kissing her gently now, murmuring such wonderful love words. And then something was trickling down her throat. Water. Yes, water. But that's not what she really needed. How could she make him understand that she needed food? Hungry, too hungry. But then even that thought became too hard to hold, and Alex slipped away from Sir Neptune, back down into nothingness.

By the third day, Lionel was nearly frantic. He'd done everything he could think of--certainly everything the doctor and priest had suggested--and still Alexandra would not come back to him. At times, he really thought she could hear him. She almost seemed to respond to his words. But each time he thought she might be coming closer to consciousness, she would slip away again, leaving him bereft, more worried than ever. He wanted to bathe her again, wanted to do anything he could to make her comfortable. So he ordered another tub of warm, soothing water. When the servants had left, once again, he lowered her into the warm water. His actions brought back memories of their first night together, and Lionel groaned audibly, remembering that terrible mistake. Since then, their lives had improved so much. They'd reached a point where they weren't even fighting anymore, and their loving had been exquisite. Until that day at the cave. Until he'd told her he wanted to give her his babe. Was that another horrible mistake? Was Alexandra simply too young to want a family? Lionel laughed aloud then, but the sound was strange in a room filled with sadness. As much as he and Alexandra loved making love, the likelihood of pregnancy was very good, indeed--no matter who wanted it, or who didn't, for that matter. Maybe she'd been angry because he hadn't told her that was his intention during those ardent, overwhelmingly sexual days before the outing. Was that it, then? Did a woman have a need to be consulted on such matters by her husband? Lionel truly didn't know, but he had vowed to do whatever he could to help Alexandra. So, holding her gently in the warm water, he started apologizing for not consulting her about his "project." Then he felt like a fool. He was apologizing to his own wife for wanting to impregnate her--and she couldn't even hear the words! He sighed for what had to be the thousandth time in the last three days, picked up some sweet-smelling soap and bathed her.

Alex was in the ocean again. But it didn't smell salty. It smelled flowery. Sir Neptune was there, though. He was laughing about something, and then he was apologizing for wanting to impregnate his wife. What a silly, silly man. Didn't he know wives had no rights? Didn't he know he didn't have to ask his wife's permission before getting her with child? What a ludicrous thought, anyhow. If one makes love, one is most likely going to create a babe. What kind of silly wife would be mad at her husband for wanting the natural outcome of mating? Something clicked into place, and Alex gave an audible gasp as she realized just what she was remembering, what she was thinking about. Sir Neptune was Lionel! Of course he was. She had named him that during their little love game at the beach. The beach. Ah, yes...they had loved so wonderfully at the beach. And then she had lost her temper because Lionel wanted a son. I've got to tell him I'm not angry anymore, Alex thought almost desperately, wishing with all her heart that she had the strength to voice the words. I've got to tell him that-Her thoughts stopped abruptly as Alex realized one very crucial fact. Sir Neptune--this wonderful man who had been showering her with love words, bathing her, dribbling water down her throat--could not be Lionel! Whoever he was, he was wonderful, but he was not The Lion. Not the man who had never once said he loved her, much less saying it over and over again. Her thoughts became hazy again, and soon Alex was drifting, drifting...moving back toward that dark chasm where she had been for so very long. But Lionel had heard her gasp--and now he had some real hope for Alexandra's survival. She had responded, if only for an instant. She was not going to die! After that, Lionel redoubled his efforts. He propped Alexandra against pillows, moved each of her limbs again and again, fed her weak broth as well as water. He read to her. He even argued with her--or at her, to be more correct. And, of course, he told her how very much he loved her. And still, by the fourth day, nothing had changed. At mid-day, a servant brought Lionel a meal, and though he had no real appetite, Lionel started eating it, knowing he would have to keep his strength up if he were to continue caring for Alexandra. He'd been sleeping at her side, but fitfully, waking up every hour or so to make sure she was still breathing. He hadn't shaved in days, had only lowered his own massive frame into a tub that very morning, but he knew he had to keep up his strength by eating. The aroma of succulent roast pheasant, steamed vegetables and crusty, freshly-baked bread should have stirred his appetite, but it didn't. The meal tasted like chalk to Lionel, but he began eating it anyway. "Hungry...so hungry." Lionel nearly choked on a bite of food upon hearing that tiny, weak voice. "Alexandra?" he said, shoving the food aside. "Alexandra, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"Hungry, so very hungry," Alex said again. "You'll have to wake up before you can eat anything, sweetheart," Lionel said quite reasonably, feeling more confident by the moment. He patted her cheek. "Alexandra, open your eyes," he encouraged. He patted her cheek more firmly. "Come on now, sweetheart. Open your eyes." "Can you make love when you're asleep?" she asked drowsily. Lionel smiled. "Yes, Alexandra, you can make love when you're asleep. We proved it once, remember?" "That's nice, Sir Neptune," Alex said and then drifted off to sleep. She hadn't awakened very much before slipping away again, but this time she truly was asleep--not unconscious. Lionel could tell because her color was improving. Her lips were pink again, instead of faintly blue, and she would move--just a little--every now and then. He watched her for hours, and then finally, thankfully, her eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. "Lionel?" Alex said, softly but clearly. "What happened?" Lionel heaved a huge sigh of relief, said a silent prayer of thanksgiving, then hugged Alexandra very gently and gave her a sip of water. "You were thrown from your horse, sweetheart," he finally answered. "Four days ago." "Four days?" Alex asked, frowning. "Aye, sweetheart. You've been unconscious for four days." He smiled down at her with unmistakable moisture in his eyes. He was nearly beside himself with joy. He wanted to go up to the battlements and shout to the world that his lady love had survived! He wanted to kiss Alexandra breathless and tell her how much he loved her...if he could actually find the nerve to say the words aloud, now that she could hear them. His smile faded. Alexandra didn't love him. Should he risk that kind of rejection? What if she laughed at his love? "Lionel, are you Sir Neptune?" The soft question brought Lionel out of his painful reverie. "You called me that the day we...argued...Alexandra," he replied. "Yes, I know, but are you Sir Neptune?" "What do you mean, sweetheart?" Lionel asked, stroking her soft auburn hair. She must be a little confused, he reasoned. "Sir Neptune has been telling me he loved me time and time again, Lionel. He was swimming with me in the ocean, too. He was so kind, so wonderful...but that couldn't be you, could it? You don't love me, so who is Sir Neptune?" Father Dominic was right. Alexandra had heard his words! But with that knowledge came another problem. The moment of truth was upon him. The moment of facing possible rejection. He understood the "ocean." That must have been the tub baths. But should he admit that he was indeed "Sir Neptune"? Compromise, he decided. A simple compromise was in order. "I guess I am Sir Neptune, Alexandra," he began, "since I'm the one who's been caring for you these past days. But..." He hesitated then, knowing

he was going to lie, but he simply could not--would not--tell her of his love. "...But you must have been dreaming the other things, Alexandra. How could you have heard anything I was saying when you were unconscious?" Alex sighed. "Of course, Lionel, you must be right," she said, trying to sit up. Lionel helped her. "Can I have something to eat now?" she asked. "Aye, Alexandra. You can have anything you want." Alex smiled ruefully. "Mussels would be nice, but I suppose they burned to a crisp after I rode away that day." Lionel chuckled. "Aye, I suppose so." Then he frowned a little. "Mayhap you should only have broth and bread, sweetheart," he said. "It's been four full days since you've eaten." "Anything, Lionel," Alex replied. "Bread, broth...a piece of boiled leather. I'll eat anything at all at this point. Please, just feed me now." Lionel smiled broadly. Her voice had returned to normal--as well as her wit. "Your wish, dear lady, is my command," he said then, rising from the bed and giving her a mock bow. "I'd like to hold you to that promise, husband," Alex said dryly. And then Lionel knew Alexandra had truly come back to him.

Chapter Sixteen

Life at Larkspur Castle returned to normal after that day. Alex still felt rather confused about "Sir Neptune," but Lionel had become completely domineering again the first time she tried to leave the bed. She was now quite sure that "Sir Neptune" had indeed been part of a dream. The Lion was adamantly demanding that she remain in bed until he felt she had recovered enough to return to her activities, and, quite naturally, Alex bristled.

Now, three days after waking up, Alex was seriously considering escape. There were many ways to leave the castle without being seen--or caught. Then she sighed and leaned back against the pillows. The idea of escape might be appealing, but it was impossible. Her head was still throbbing abominably, and she was still extremely weak. This time, unfortunately, Lionel was right. She still needed rest. But surely he was wrong about his insistence that she stay in bed. What could it hurt to at least have the freedom of her bedchamber? Her own dizziness answered the question, but, if nothing else, Alex was stubborn. She wanted to gain his permission to get up, no matter what it took--even if she had to feign meekness again. Lionel came into the room, carrying a tray of food, and Alex couldn't help smiling. He had been very good to her--taking care of her when she was unconscious--and, except for not allowing her feet to even touch the floor, he really had been quite accommodating. He had told her about Liza, and Alex felt nothing but compassion for that poor, insane woman. She knew Lionel blamed himself for what had happened, but that was truly ridiculous. No one could have known what Liza was planning in her own twisted mind. "Are you hungry, Alexandra?" Lionel asked, kicking the door shut behind him. He was dressed completely in black today, except for the thick gold chain and heavy medallion lying against his chest. The solid gold disk bore the earldom's emblem, and Alex knew it was Lionel's most prized possession, except possibly for his horse. Even bearing a servant's tray, he looked formidable and impossibly tall. Alex shuddered a little. Had anyone ever caused The Lion to change his mind? "I am hungry, my lord," she answered sweetly, "but not for food. I'm hungry for diversion. Will you please allow me to leave this bed?" There. That seemed meek enough. Alex was pleased with herself--until she heard his reply. "Soon, Alexandra," he said. "In another week or so--" "A week?" she interrupted, nearly screeching, all thoughts of meekness suddenly gone. "Are you insane, husband? I might go insane in that length of time!" "Something tells me your sweetly docile request a moment ago was a mere facade, Alexandra," Lionel commented dryly, approaching the bed, "but at least you're not swearing." "Damn, damn and damn again," Alex retorted. She crossed her arms over her breasts, then flushed, realizing that was just the reaction he'd wanted. Lionel threw back his head and laughed. "That's my girl," he said through a chortle. "You must be getting stronger, Alexandra. You're back to your normal, willful little self." Alex glowered. Lionel glowered right back, and then they both started laughing. "Eat something, Alexandra," Lionel finally said, placing the tray on her lap. "I won't let you out of bed until you've regained your strength, so the more you eat, the quicker you'll get your wish." "I wish you were Sir Neptune," Alex grumbled, toying with a piece of bread, but not eating it. "He would never be so domineering. He would probably let me do anything I want."

Lionel studied her quietly for a moment. This was exactly why he could not tell her that he was, in truth, "Sir Neptune." If Alexandra knew of his love, she would twist him around her pretty little finger, and that was something he simply could not allow. "Lionel?" "Hmm?" "Do you love me?" That caught Lionel off guard, and he sat down heavily on the bed. "You're my wife, Alexandra," he answered evasively. "Of course I love you." Alex snorted. "Not bloody likely, Lionel. Not if you have to say it like that." "Watch your--" "Not very likely," Alex corrected, but added, "Sir Beast." "Answer a question for me now, Alexandra." "What?" "Do you love me?" She didn't answer him. In fact, she seemed to grow a little pale. Finally, she said, "Why do you ask?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Just curious." Silently, he added, Because I want you to love me, little hellion. I want that more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. If I thought you could ever love me, I would admit my own love, and damn the consequences. "I'm suddenly awfully tired, husband," Alex yawned. "Could we discuss this another time...please?" "Of course," Lionel replied. He knew very well she wanted to leave the subject, and he was relieved to be leaving it, too. He set the tray aside, eased her down in the bed, then gently kissed her forehead--which was healing nicely, except for a rather colorful bruise. "Get some rest, Alexandra," he said. "Mayhap you'll want this food later." He shouldn't have even asked her if she loved him, Lionel realized. It had been a purely impulsive act. He already knew she didn't; it wasn't really necessary to hear her answer. Feeling more dejected than he liked to admit, he left Alexandra to her rest. He didn't notice her expression as he turned away. If he had, he might have realized that she hadn't answered the question because she could not lie to him. All the love she wouldn't admit was evident on her face in that moment, but Lionel never saw it. Lionel's mood darkened a little more during his father's visit the next day. He welcomed Earl James, then took him to the library. They sat in two chairs before the hearth, drinking ale brought by a quietly efficient servant. A pitcher of the stout brew sat on a table between them. Apparently, the earl was not aware of the attempt on Alexandra's life. He and his entourage had simply

been visiting the earldom's holdings, one of which was Larkspur, of course. Earl James enjoyed making unannounced visits, knowing that was the best way to check the defenses of a castle or manor. Almost the first words out of his mouth were compliments on the superb defense of Larkspur. Lionel was pleased. He had the unending need of a bastard child to win his father's approval, though he would never admit that need to anyone--not even the earl. It was a very private matter. "I have a feeling at least half of your men could be assigned other duties now, Lionel," the earl said. Lionel nodded. He'd been expecting as much. "We had some trouble a few days ago," he said, "but it was nothing even an army of men could have prevented." He explained what had happened to Alexandra. Earl James was astounded. "Is she recovering?" he asked. "Oh, aye, she's doing very well," Lionel assured him. "In fact, she's chomping at the bit to leave her bed." He finished his ale and set down the tankard. "I won't allow her to do that until she's properly healed, of course." "Of course," Earl James agreed. Lionel was relieved his father hadn't asked him how the taming was coming. He hadn't been very successful in that endeavor--at least not yet. He remembered Alexandra's feigned meekness of the day before, and he nearly laughed. Meek was not a word to describe his little hellion. "Randolph has given up on jousting tournaments," Earl James said then. "Oh?" Lionel replied. "Aye," his father answered. "It looks as though you'll not have to intercede with King Henry after all." Lionel had mixed feelings about that. He'd promised to take Alexandra with him--if the trip was necessary--but he despised the trappings and intrigues of court life. "I think he hates me," Earl James said quietly. He was looking down into his tankard of ale. Lionel saw his father's rather morose expression, but he was a little confused. "Who hates you, my lord?" he asked. "Randolph," the earl replied, looking up again. "I've given the boy everything, Lionel," he continued. "The finest education and training, the finest castle in the earldom, more opportunities than you ever--" He stopped and actually flushed with embarrassment. "More opportunities than I had," Lionel finished for him. He felt like laughing again. "And yet it is I who would have begged King Henry's lenience on Randolph's behalf. Life is strange, my lord, truly strange." He picked up the pitcher and poured himself another tankard of ale. "King Henry admires strength, Lionel. You know that. Randolph has no strength--not of character, anyway." His voice deepened. "I don't think he'd be terribly grief-stricken if I were to die." Lionel looked up abruptly. "Are you ill, my lord?" Earl James shook his greying head, then patted his ample stomach. "Robust as ever," he said. Lionel breathed a sigh of relief. No one in the earldom was looking forward to the time when Randolph

would take over the reins. "Please tell me more, my lord," he said. "Tell me why you think Randolph hates you." Earl James sighed deeply. He hefted his bulk out of the chair and crossed to a window, much as Lionel had seen him do at Marlborough Castle. "It's really nothing he's done or said, Lionel," he finally replied. " 'Tis just a feeling, a gut-level instinct that things are not what they seem to be." He turned back to his son. "On the surface, Randolph is reasonably polite to me, as well as to his mother. But there's something ugly writhing beneath that surface, Lionel. Sometimes I even feel a little threatened." He grinned sheepishly. "I suppose that's ridiculous--a father fearing his own child." Lionel was on his feet. "Perhaps I should come back to Marlborough with you, my lord," he said. Protecting the earldom had been his task for many years--and protecting the leader of that earldom was the most important part of the job. "Nay, Lionel," the earl said, coming to clasp the taller man's brawny shoulder. "Stay here with your lady. I'm probably just being a foolish old man." Lionel finally acquiesced, and their discussion turned to the redistribution of his men. The visit was rather brief, since Earl James wanted to inspect one more manor that day, but as Lionel bid his father farewell, he had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Could the earl be in danger from his younger son? After several hours of contemplation, he finally decided his father was right. There was no true danger because Randolph was basically spineless. Patricide was a heinous crime that took nerves of steel. Randolph simply wasn't capable of harming his own father. Lionel felt considerably better. He turned his thoughts to deciding which men should return to Marlborough. An entire week after she regained consciousness, Alex was finally allowed to leave her bed. Her legs were tottery and weak, and Lionel had the audacity to laugh when she swayed on her feet. Bracing her with his own strong arms, Lionel said, "It'll take a few days to regain your sea legs, little mermaid." Alex blushed, remembering their erotic love play in the cave, especially what he had done with the honey. Not to be outdone, however, she retorted, "If the Sir Neptune of my dreams had been caring for me this past week, I would undoubtedly be stronger by now. He would have allowed me to leave this bed whenever I wanted." Lionel merely smiled at that, which Alex didn't really understand, then slowly stepped backward, drawing her forward. Her steps felt shaky and unsure at first, but she followed his lead without stumbling. "Very good, Alexandra," he said with a nod. "If you take it slow and easy--taking a few more steps each day--you might be able to leave this chamber by the end of another week." "Another week?" Alex screeched, nearly losing her balance. "You are insufferable, Sir Beast, completely insufferable!" He ignored her completely, which was really no great surprise, simply helping her walk around the bedchamber a while longer. Just as Alex felt strength returning to her limbs, he scooped her up in his arms and put her back to bed, again ignoring her protests.

"I'll not stay in this room for another whole week, husband," she insisted angrily, crossing her arms over her bosom. She heard him sigh, and then he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Alexandra," he said quietly, "which of us has more experience with treating head injuries, you or I?" "You do, I suppose," she admitted. "Why do you ask?" "Because I wanted you to realize that fact, Alexandra. I know how to deal with this kind of injury--just as you knew how to deal with my knee." Still bristling, Alex retorted sarcastically, "Does this vast knowledge come from being so hardheaded yourself, Sir Lionel?" Then his face took on such a sad, faraway look that she felt immediately contrite for her sarcasm. "Nay, Alexandra," he finally answered. "My experience comes from seeing too many young men die from such wounds--or simply become totally useless, staying alive physically but not mentally." Alex's breath came in on a gasp, and her arms fell to her sides. "I'm sorry, Lionel," she said softly. "It must be terrible to witness the atrocities of war." Lionel nodded, then looked out the open window, its shutters thrown back to admit the cool breeze. Alex could hear songbirds chirping merrily in their freedom. The sound was rather incongruous with Lionel's suddenly somber mood. He seemed lost in thought for a time, then finally said, "I thought I'd miss the battlefield, Alexandra. Waging war was my profession before coming here, and I thought I was satisfied with my life." He hesitated then, and seemed unsure if he wanted to continue. Alex could understand that. It a way, he was baring his soul. "But to my amazement," he said quietly after a time, "I find that I don't miss that old life at all, Alexandra. In fact, life at Larkspur seems to suit me just fine." Alex bit her lower lip and tried very hard not to cry. Lionel's softly spoken, hesitant admission had completely assuaged her anger, replacing it with feelings of tenderness. She loved this man, after all, and she wanted him to be happy. And he had already proven to be a very capable lord for Larkspur Castle. Impulsively, Alex decided to tell him that. She reached up and touched his cheek. "You've been a fine lord for my castle, Lionel," she confessed, then added with a soft laugh, "though I hate to admit it." "Is it really so awful being under my authority, Alexandra?" Lionel asked, still not looking at her but sounding so sincere that Alex felt her heart melt. "Nay, husband," she answered quietly. "At least not most of the time." Lionel laughed just a little, then finally turned to face her. "That was a compliment...I think," he said. He lay down beside her on the bed, drew her into his arms and kissed her gently. "You must stay in this chamber for another week, Alexandra, to regain your strength," he explained. " 'Tis the best way to ensure a full recovery." He kissed her again, more deeply this time. "Please believe me, Alexandra. I'm not restricting your activities to anger you. I'm only doing what's best for you." Alex did believe him, perhaps because of his wonderful kisses, or even because of his logical explanation,

but more likely because she felt cherished in that moment, completely protected. Lionel might not love her, but he could make her feel loved, and then she suddenly realized that she wanted him to make love to her now. It had been so long--far too long--since they had shared sweet ecstasy. "If I must remain in this room for another week, Lionel," she murmured softly, kissing the corner of his mouth, "couldn't we pass the time doing something...interesting?" Lionel hesitated. "I don't think we should make love, Alexandra. You're not very strong yet--" Alex stopped his cautious objection by simply easing her soft linen shift up to her waist, baring her feminine charms. "Mayhap I can take your strength into my body while you're loving me, Lionel," she offered in a husky whisper. She sat up and removed the shift altogether. She saw Lionel swallow hard, and she smiled. His resolve was weakening. "We really shouldn't, Alexandra," he persisted, but his hand was already caressing the soft auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. Alex moaned and parted her thighs, giving him greater access to her need, then gasped as Lionel succumbed to temptation completely. She heard his low groan of defeat, and then he bent to her breasts and sucked each nipple into a tight little peak, his fingers exploring her intimately at the same time. Then he circled the bud of her deepest desire, and Alex could feel the beat of her own heart in the tiny nubbin swelling and hardening beneath his calloused thumb. She moaned again, more deeply this time. She was more than ready to be loved. Panting with pleasure, she watched Lionel rise from the bed to remove his own clothes. His golden eyes blazed with passion as he took in the sight of her nudity, and Alex bent her knee, exposing herself even more to his hungry gaze. She blushed at her own audacity, but she wanted him to hurry. He did hurry his motions considerably, and she couldn't help laughing softly as he ripped a seam of his tunic in his haste to remove it. He joined her on the bed again in scant moments, silencing her laughter with a fiercely possessive kiss. Alex didn't mind in the least. "You won't be laughing so much while you're mending that tunic, woman," he teased against her mouth, then kissed her again. "What makes you think I will mend your clothes, husband?" Alex asked with purposeful sarcasm, then gasped as he pulled her close and playfully smacked her bare bottom. "A dutiful wife will always obey her husband's commands," Lionel returned, arching a tawny brow. Then his voice deepened as he said, "In fact, I have a very specific command in mind for you right now." "And what might that be, my lord?" Alex asked, suddenly shy. His gaze was intense. "Touch me, Alexandra," he demanded huskily, rolling to his back. "Stroke me with your nimble little hands." His manhood was fully aroused, deeply veined and throbbing with need. Alex blushed hotly. She had never actually touched it before...and yet she felt compelled to obey. Sitting up, she rested her hips against her heels, and then--hesitantly at first--she grasped his naked arousal. It was as hard as steel and yet encased in soft, velvety skin. She marveled at the sensation of feeling it pulse in her hands. "Stroke it, Alexandra," Lionel repeated on a groan of raw pleasure. "Move your hands up and down along the shaft." Alex complied, groaning with her own pleasure as he lengthened and thickened even more beneath her

caress. She saw a milky-white drop of moisture on the velvety tip, and suddenly wanted very much to taste him--just as he had tasted her in the cave. "I want to taste you, Lionel," she said, then blushed crimson again. Was it wrong to want to do such a thing? In answer, his manhood bucked with excitement in her hands, and Alex knew then that it must not be wrong. "You don't have to do that, Alexandra," Lionel groaned. "But will it please you if I do?" Alex asked, still a little unsure of herself. "Very much," he murmured thickly, and Alex, emboldened by his words, leaned over his virile masculinity. Lionel pushed Alexandra's lustrous hair out of the way. He wanted to watch her as she performed the intimate oral act--the most intimate thing a wife could do for her husband. And when he watched her pink tongue flick over the crown of his arousal as she tasted his seed, he thought he might die from pure pleasure right then and there. "Salty," Alex murmured, then licked him again. "You taste salty, Lionel--just as if you really were Sir Neptune." She moved her soft lips along his entire shaft, kissing every inch of his length, then moved back to the crown and slowly...so slowly...took him deep into her mouth. Lionel gasped, and his heart pounded, but he still watched what she was doing. Her cheeks hollowed as she instinctively suckled, and he gasped again, stroking her auburn tresses. He was totally amazed that his sweet little innocent could be so erotically skilled at pleasuring a man. The pleasure was so intense, it was nearly unbearable. He became impossibly hard within mere moments and knew he would spill his seed in her mouth if he didn't stop her right now. "You'd best stop, Alexandra," he groaned, gently tugging on her hair. "I can't take much more." She looked up at him, her pink lips slightly parted, her tousled hair partially hiding her face, and he groaned again. She was exquisitely beautiful, so innocently seductive. He felt a fierce need to taste the lips that had just given him such incredible pleasure. Pulling her forward by that glorious mane, he devoured her mouth as he lowered her to the bed. He needed more. He needed to taste her as intimately as she had tasted him. He kissed her throat, then each breast, her belly, her thighs, smiling at her helpless whimpers of pleasure. She obviously realized what he was planning to do. Then he spread her thighs fully and buried his tongue in her sweetness. This time she didn't protest. He nibbled gently on her bud of joy, then slipped two fingers into her moistening depths. He heard delightful sounds of feminine rapture as she arched against him, twining her fingers through his hair, then heard her say, "Come into me now, Lionel...please. Fill me with your strength." He'd intended to love her tenderly, gently, in deference to her weakened condition, but with that request for strength, he reared up and entered her with a single powerful thrust. He possessed her fully, deeply, smiling as she quickly attained release. Then, as he cried out with his own climax, he bent to bite her neck, claiming her as The Lion's mate for life.

Eon's later, he said, "Mayhap I should keep you in bed for two more weeks, Alexandra." "Not bloody likely, Sir Beast," Alex retorted, smiling. Lionel raised one brow, but then he smiled with her. "My sweet little hellion," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Sometimes I think I'll never tame you completely." "Probably not," Alex agreed, snuggling against his chest. Then she stifled a yawn, and Lionel frowned. "I thought making love was supposed to give you strength, Alexandra," he said. "It did, husband," she answered sleepily. "Can't you see how strong I am now?" He laughed softly at that, then watched as her eyelids grew heavy, and her thick lashes fluttered down to her cheeks. He heard her breathing even out as she quickly fell asleep in his arms, then gently released his embrace, rose from the bed, and covered her sweet young body all the way to the chin. "If that's strength, my love," he whispered, bending to kiss her forehead, "I'd hate to see weakness." Then he pulled on his clothes--replacing his torn tunic with the shirt Alexandra had made--and quietly left the bedchamber, completely confident that he was doing the right thing by restricting her activities for another week. She needed time to heal, and she would get that time--whether she liked it or not. He would, however, try to make that time "interesting."

Chapter Seventeen

Within a week, Alex was fully recovered from her ordeal and so glad to be out of her bedchamber, she literally kissed the sweet earth the first moment she left the castle. She was so happy to have her health--and her freedom--back, her cheerful disposition was infectious. Lionel was smiling openly now, even in front of his men. She'd actually heard him laugh at a bawdy joke,

and the sound had warmed her heart. Lionel was the perfect lord for Larkspur--commanding when he had to be, understanding when he should be, and always, always, willing to listen to any complaint or suggestion from the many inhabitants of the castle. Over the next weeks, as spring turned to summer, the castlefolk came to love and respect him. Alex could understand that very well, since she herself loved him to distraction. When he wasn't busy overseeing the defenses of his domain, and Alex wasn't busy with her own duties, they often studied together in the library. They also rode the cliff together, practiced archery, and--to Alex's vast amazement--even sparred with each other on the practice field, though the "swords" were merely wooden props. But the best thing they did together was share the marriage bed. Alex tingled with excitement whenever she thought about the long hours spent there. In fact, if Lionel could return her love, and if not for the recurrent dreams she'd been having about "Sir Neptune," Alex's life would have been completely perfect during the two months following her accident. The day before Alex's peace and happiness were shattered, she and Lionel were in the library, where he was telling her his plans to expand Larkspur's horse breeding endeavors. He was going to breed Larkspur's fleet-footed mares with some of Earl James' formidable warhorses--one of which was already on the way to perform stud service. The male issue of these matings would become warhorses of the highest quality, inheriting swiftness and agility from their dams and incredible strength and size from their sires. Coupled with the intense training Lionel would given them, these horses could be invaluable on the battlefield. Hearing all this, Alex couldn't help thinking back to the time when she had accused him of using her for a brood mare, and her cheeks pinked with embarrassment. "I'm sorry about that day of the outing, Lionel," she finally said, then bit her lip and turned away, truly embarrassed. Her back to him, she continued. "I know my anger was foolish, 'twas just that--" " 'Twas just that you felt used--like breeding stock," Lionel finished. His voice was very close. He had stepped up behind her. Alex nodded, still blushing. "Am I forgiven, then, for wanting a son?" he asked. Alex nodded again, and she heard him chuckle. That should have warned her about what was coming, but it didn't. " 'Tis a good thing," he said, circling her waist from behind, "since I wouldn't want my little brood mare to be angry." Gasping, Alex struggled in his embrace, but he held firm. "Do you want to fight me, little filly?" he said, nuzzling her neck. "It won't do any good, you know. A stallion is far stronger than his mare." He pushed her forward until her belly was resting against the reading table. "Perhaps, I should bend you over this table and mount you right now, little mare. Would you like that?" Alex shivered. She should be angry at the very idea--she knew that--but somehow she wasn't. She was excited instead. He was only playing a game, after all. What could be the harm in that? "The servants..."

she said weakly. Surely she should protest just a little. Lionel left her side long enough to bolt the door, then returned and stripped her with quick efficiency, leaving himself fully clothed. She reached for the laces on his shirt, but he shook his head, and she blushed again, understanding another element of the game. Instead she freed only his arousal, and he turned her around and bent her over the table. It was such an outrageous thing to do...and suddenly Alex felt deliciously wanton. She looked at him over her shoulder, tossed her hair to one side as a mare might her mane, arched her bottom saucily, then spread her thighs. Seeing his eyes blaze, she said, "Use your mare, Sir Stallion. Use her for your pleasure," then gasped as he did just that. It was a truly delicious game. She reveled in his lovemaking, knowing they were simply engaged in erotic play, never once thinking about actually being a "brood mare," forgetting that she, as a woman, truly was a mere possession of Lionel's--his to use any way he wanted. That fact, however, was driven home quite painfully the next morning, when certain events proved the reality of Lionel's immense power over her life, proved to Alex without a doubt that she truly was a mere woman who must, above all, obey her lord husband.

That fateful morning began with a dream. It was the same dream Alex had been having recurrently for two months--ever since being thrown from Apollo. Sir Neptune was there, of course, because he always was, but Lionel was there, too. That was when the dream always became muddled and confused in Alex's mind. The two men kept blending into one. Sir Neptune--that wonderful, caring man who loved her so deeply and told her so countless times--and The Lion, who didn't love her at all, but who had actually taken care of her while she lay unconscious. Alex thrashed her head back and forth on the pillow, her confusion mounting. How could Lionel be Sir Neptune--or was it the other way around? It was terribly confusing. She remembered such tender words of love, such soul-deep happiness at hearing those words. And yet, the voice she remembered was Lionel's...not some figment of her imagination. But that could not be true. Lionel didn't love her. He loved making love to her, and perhaps felt some affection for her, but he had never once said those three little words, I love you. At least not sincerely. That one bland statement, "You're my wife, Alexandra. Of course I love you," made during her recovery had not been a declaration of love. If anything, those words had proven just the opposite to Alex. Restlessly, Alex rolled onto her side, trying to escape the dream. That motion, however, caused her to wake up abruptly--as a wave of nausea brought bile to her throat. She rushed to the chamber pot, barely making it before retching violently. When her stomach began to settle, she sat back against her heels and took a deep breath. " 'Tis just the dream," she reasoned aloud. "The dream is so confusing, it's actually making me sick." She shook her head to clear it, then rose to her feet just as a maidservant came in to help her dress. The woman quickly took care of the chamber pot without comment, then helped Alex don her clothes, and as soon as she thanked the servant and dismissed her, Alex sat back down on the bed. She pulled a carved wooden comb through her hair, then picked up a polished metal mirror and scrutinized her face, turning it from side to side.

"I'm as pale as I was after the accident," she lamented. "If Lionel sees me like this, he'll probably put me back to bed." Alex groaned at the thought. "He can be completely impossible at times," she told her own reflection. "And I certainly don't want to give him a new reason to order me to rest." She smiled then, remembering how often they'd made love during that second week of her confinement. Those memories, however, didn't make her anxious to be confined again, so she quickly braided her hair, then left the chamber. Surely a brisk walk around the courtyard would bring color back to her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for Lionel to think she was ill. She got about twenty feet from the door before rushing back to the bedchamber and emptying her stomach in the chamber pot again. "Oh...my...God," she whispered, as realization dawned. "I'm pregnant." Surely not! her mind insisted, and Alex immediately started counting back to her last monthly flow. Then she simply sat there on the floor in a state of shock. She had had no menses since before her fall. Which meant Lionel had most probably succeeded in his attempt to impregnate her during the outing--which was just what he'd wanted to do. "Damned arrogant man," she muttered. "He used me and bred me, just like a bloody brood mare." Alex literally screamed then to vent her anger and frustration, which didn't work very well, so she began pacing the room with angry strides, her arms crossed tightly over her breasts. "Mayhap yesterday's love play was not a game at all to him," she seethed. "He certainly had his way with me in the library, and what's worse than that, he's evidently achieved his objective--I'm breeding. The little filly is giving the bloody stallion just what he wants!" Then an important question occurred to her. "Why does that fact bother me so much?" she asked herself. "I love children. Why should I regret being pregnant with Lionel's babe?" Because he doesn't love me. That answer came crashing in on Alex, just like a storm-tossed wave against a rocky beach. She sank down in a chair, truly despondent. Lionel would undoubtedly love his son, but he would never love the mother. Not when he'd been forced into the marriage in the first place, and certainly not since Alex, even to this day, was not the completely proper lady he wanted her to be. She'd even wantonly encouraged him in the library yesterday. Surely no proper lady would have done that. "Mayhap if I become a totally obedient, simpering little fool, he'll learn to love me," she said on a choked sob as her eyes filled with tears. Then she nearly laughed at the impossibility of such a thing. Bending completely to a man's authority just wasn't part of her nature. She could never accomplish the feat--and Lionel had become very good at knowing when she was feigning meekness to get her own way. Alex remembered her jumbled dream then, remembered the words of love, the absolute devotion of the hero of that dream. He would love her as well as the babe, and Alex felt a stab of pain to her heart, knowing the silly dream would never, ever come true. "I wish I were married to Sir Neptune instead of the arrogant beast I was forced to wed!" she cried out in response to her emotional pain.

"Why, Alexandra? Because you could wrap him around your little finger, since he loves you so deeply? Is that why you wish you were married to the man from your dreams?" Alex twisted around in the chair, finally noticing that Lionel was in the room. How long had he been standing there? she wondered desperately. Had he heard her talking about the pregnancy? Dear Lord, she didn't want him to know about the babe--not until she could sort through her own tangled feelings about bearing his child. "How long have you been standing there, Lionel?" she asked, standing herself with a surge of anger since her emotions were in such turmoil--and it was his fault. I'm carrying you babe, Sir Beast, and you don't even love me! she added silently, purposely allowing her anger free rein--so she wouldn't collapse to the floor and sob like a child. "Long enough," Lionel replied. He was approaching her with determined strides, and Alex backed up a step. "What does that mean?" she asked. "It means, my lady," Lionel said, reaching her before she could back up any more and grasping her shoulders in a tight grip, "that I want you to forget this foolishness about 'Sir Neptune.' You are married to me, Alexandra, not to the softhearted, softheaded man of your damn dreams!" Alex's anger reached the boiling point, and her good sense left her in a flash of molten fury. "My bloody, damn dreams are more palatable than my bloody damn life, Sir Lionel!" she retorted hotly. "I wish I could leave you and run off with Sir Neptune!" "You would betray your marriage vows for this man if he were real?" Lionel asked softly...too softly. Alex realized by this point that he had not overheard her words about the pregnancy--only her words about Sir Neptune. And The Lion was a very possessive beast. She knew just exactly how to hurt him now. "In a heartbeat, Lionel," she gritted out. "I'd leave with Sir Neptune, make love to him, gladly bear his son, and laugh in your damned arrogant face if you ever wanted me back!" Upon hearing those words, Lionel's anger quickly matched Alex's own...and surpassed it. That anger was made worse by the fact that he'd only come into this chamber to invite Alexandra to join him in the stable. He'd wanted to show her the fine stallion that had just been delivered--the stallion who would begin his plans to produce the finest warhorses in England. He'd wanted to please Alexandra, to see her jade green eyes light up with appreciation of the fine steed. He was even going to allow her to ride him. Now those plans tasted bitter in his mouth, and as Lionel continued to simply stare at his wife--so angry that he couldn't even speak yet--he remembered how he'd told her of his breeding plans the day before in the library. He'd had no obligation to do that, of course, but they'd been so happy together lately that he'd bent his own rules about a woman's involvement in men's decisions. He had told her his hopes and ideas. And then they'd made love--erotic, playful love--until they were both too sated to move. That memory changed Lionel's anger to raw fury. The game had been intensely erotic--Alexandra had played her role with wanton inhibition. Had she behaved that way because she was fantasizing about "Sir Neptune" and what it would feel like to be bred by him?

Logic had naught to do with Lionel's anger. He was "Sir Neptune"--though he'd never admitted that to Alexandra--but all he could think of in that moment was that Alexandra wanted to betray her marriage vows. She wanted to run away with her bloody imaginary lover! Even worse, she'd said she would laugh in his face if he ever wanted her back. Added to all that, she was swearing again, and Lionel was very nearly at the end of his rope. In fact, he was at the end of his rope. Absolutely. "I can see that I've been far too lenient with you, Alexandra," he finally said in an ominously quiet tone. "For the past two months--ever since your accident--you have had your own way more often than not. But that, my dear, is about to change." He strode to the door, signaled a man-at-arms, one of whom was always stationed in the hallway, then turned back to his wife and shut the door, knowing the man would await his orders. "You are in dire need of a lesson in respect and obedience to your husband, lady," he continued just as quietly. "And since I know just how much you hate being confined to this chamber, that is exactly the punishment you shall receive. You will be punished for swearing--and for your desire to commit adultery." "How can I commit adultery with a figment of my imagination?" Alex hissed sarcastically. "Silence, woman!" Lionel growled. " 'Tis the thought that counts...and your thoughts need some changing." He paced the room then, wondering just how long it would take her to learn a proper lesson. When he came to the conclusion, he turned back to her. "You will remain in this chamber--behind a locked and guarded door--for one week, Alexandra. Mayhap by the end of that time, you will have learned how to be a properly obedient wife." Alex saw red...and then she made a very bad mistake. She slapped her husband, slapped him so hard that a bright red blotch appeared on his cheek. Then--adding fuel to the fire--she said, "Never, Lionel. I will never become an obedient wife." Lionel rubbed his stinging cheek and his eyes darkened with anger. "Because of that act of defiance, woman," he said in a low growl, "your punishment will now be for one month instead of one week." Alex blanched. "Bloody bastard," she whispered, all color draining from her face. She knew she had pushed him too far with her impulsive action and that he would indeed confine her to this chamber for a month. A whole month! "Bloody damned bastard," she repeated, still too shocked by his decision to remember how much the term bastard would hurt him. Lionel clenched his jaw and nodded curtly. "Aye, my lady, I am. And since you're married to a bloody damned bastard, you may as well learn to obey him. I will sleep with my men for the duration of your punishment, Alexandra. I have no wish to see you, nor to hear your foul little mouth. For that matter," he added, "you will speak to no one during your confinement. Quiet solitude might be the best way to help you mend your willful ways." With that last cruel addition to her confinement, Alex watched Lionel turn on his heel and simply leave the room. She heard a metallic clank as he locked the door. The finality of the sound brought tears to her eyes--and

Alex flung herself onto the bed, buried her face in a pillow, and cried.

Chapter Eighteen

The walls were closing in on her. Alex was quite sure the walls of her "prison" were literally moving closer together with each passing hour. She had been locked in the bedchamber for four days now. True to his word, Lionel had not been there once, and she'd had precious little other company, either. Three times a day, the door would open just a little, and a tray of food and water would be set down on the floor. Then the door would be locked again, and whoever was bringing the meals never said one word to Alex. The Lion had apparently made his orders very clear. No one was to speak to his wife; not even a servant bringing her food. The only time she saw anyone at all was when footmen brought in steaming water for bathing, or when a maidservant came to clean the chamber. But those servants followed their lord's commands completely. They said not a word to Alex--they didn't even look at her while going about their tasks. As bad as the solitude was, the boredom was even worse. There was nothing--absolutely nothing--to do with her time. And Alex was slowly going out of her mind.

Early the next morning, Lionel rode Lightning at a hard gallop along the same beach where Alexandra had taken her fall. The horse was drawing great gulps of air into his lungs and sweating by the time Lionel

reined in. He cursed himself for being so cruel to an animal. And then he cursed again upon realizing where he was. The cave. Of all the places he didn't want to be right now, this cave--with it's wonderful memories--was foremost on Lionel's list. He wanted to leave, but something made him stay, and he found himself dismounting and then ducking to enter the domed space. He sat down on the straw-filled mattress and looked around the place that had been a bower of exquisite love for one brief morning. Then he saw the honey pot, and he groaned audibly. "Why, Alexandra?" he asked as if she were standing before him. "Why do you have to be in love with the man I can never be?" Sir Neptune. Lionel balled his hands into fists. He knew he should have told Alexandra that she hadn't merely dreamed all those words of love, but in all the time since then, he'd never found the courage to face her ultimate rejection. And then Alexandra had made it blatantly clear that she wanted to be married to someone else. To the man of her dreams, her bloody "Sir Neptune." Lionel was merely the bastard sent to tame her, evidently not good enough for her to love. So he'd punished her--which was completely within his rights to do--but he hated himself for it, anyway. At least ten times a day, he had considered relenting. He'd even considered telling her of his love, despite her obvious lack of feelings for him. But then he would remember her words--that she wished she could run off with "Sir Neptune," make love with him, bear his son, and, worst of all, laugh in Lionel's face if he ever wanted her back--and his anger would renew itself. Lionel sighed deeply and lowered his head to an upraised knee. Even so, a four-day punishment was long enough. In fact, this morning was the beginning of the fifth day. He'd never really intended to make her stay in the chamber for an entire month. That ludicrous length of time had been naught more than an angry reaction to her slapping his face. But Alexandra hated confinement more than anything else. Surely by now she had learned her lesson. Yes, he decided, four days were long enough. It had been, after all, a rather ridiculous argument--since he was "Sir Neptune"--and now it was time to go beyond it, time to get on with their lives. And with that decision firmly in place, Lionel felt the first glimmer of happiness he'd had in all those days. Planning to return to the castle and "free" Alexandra, perhaps even apologize for the severity of the punishment, Lionel rose to his feet...just as he heard Oliver's voice from outside the cave. "Sir Lionel?" "What is it, Oliver?" Lionel asked, approaching the mouth of the cave. He'd had no idea that Oliver knew about this place, but the lad was quite resourceful so it didn't surprise him overmuch. "I think you'd best return to the castle, milord," Oliver said rather hesitantly. "Why?" Lionel asked. He was just about to do that, anyway, but Oliver seemed uneasy. Something must be wrong.

"Because Lady Alex is gone, milord," Oliver answered. "No one can find her." Lionel reached his squire in two paces. He opened his mouth to question him further...but then a suspicion took root in his mind, and he quickly turned back to the cave and searched for Alexandra's disguise. He had removed it from her the last time she'd escaped their chamber, and he'd left the garments here in the cave. The boy's clothes were gone. In their place was a delicate linen shift, stockings, and a black velvet gown. "Damned little hellcat!" he shouted, exiting the cave again with determined strides. And to think he was actually going to apologize to her! "Milord?" Oliver rasped. Lionel turned to him. The lad was obviously upset. "If my suspicions are correct, Oliver," he explained while mounting his horse, "Lady Alexandra will not be found anywhere at Larkspur." He saw Oliver blanch and hastened to add, "But have no fear, squire. I'll fetch her back--and then I may very well wring her pretty little neck!" Oliver's hand flew to his throat and he swallowed hard. Lionel smiled grimly. He would not, of course, truly harm Alexandra, but something must be done to teach her the foolishness of her actions. She had placed herself in horrible danger again. Evidently, she had learned nothing from his warnings about Cliffside, and a four-day confinement had taught her absolutely nothing about obedience. Those facts didn't bother Lionel nearly as much as the idea that he might not even find her before she was... He couldn't complete the thought. Cursing anew, he rode the twisting path to Cliffside with reckless speed. By the saints, he must find Alexandra before some villain saw through her disguise!

Alex was delighted with herself. Her plan had worked, and now she was walking into possibly the seediest tavern in all of Cliffside. "The worse the tavern, the better for me," she muttered to herself. "Lionel would never think of looking for me here--if he even knew I had escaped his damned punishment, that is." Alex smiled at the thought and ordered a tankard of ale from the barkeep. Her disguise was in place, and the man merely nodded, accepted one of the few coins she had found in her bedchamber, then served her the ale. As she sipped the stout brew, Alex thought about her successful escape. She had come up with the plan the day before. In her desperation to be free of her "prison," she had finally decided upon a course of action. There was no longer a vine outside the window, but there were clean linen sheets in a chest at the foot of the bed. In the darkest hour of the night, Alex had fashioned a "body" from pillows and covers, nodding to herself at how convincing her effort looked. None of the servants would speak to her anyway, so they had no reason to question the "woman" sleeping in the bed.

Then she tied enough sheets together to lower herself to the ground, secured them beneath the corner of a shutter, then shimmied out the window. With one fierce tug, the sheets had come free, and she'd quickly hidden them in some bushes. She'd diverted the guards' attention at the gate by whimpering in the dark, silent courtyard. While the guards went to investigate, Alex slipped through the small portal in the gate meant for only one man--or woman--at a time. Lionel's superb defenses had been foiled by his men's code of chivalry, which pleased Alex immensely. They had not found a whimpering maiden, of course, and had undoubtedly shrugged and gone back to their posts, never suspecting a thing. Then she'd simply made her way to the cave, donned her boy's disguise and started walking to Cliffside. She'd arrived in the town at dawn. Alex truly believed that Lionel would never return to the cave where they had once shared such a delightful morning--not after their terrible fight--so he would have no way of knowing that she had donned her disguise, had, in fact, no reason to suspect that she was not in her chamber. Alex felt utterly confident that she could enjoy her visit to Cliffside, and then sneak back into her "prison"--somehow--without anyone being the wiser, most especially The Lion. She had no way of knowing, of course, that a chambermaid had discovered her ruse and reported her missing to Oliver, nor that he, in turn, had reported to Lionel--at the cave. Blissfully unaware, Alex finished her ale. She considered buying more, but her stomach recoiled at the idea, and she blushed at the pointed reminder that she was carrying a babe. She hadn't thought much about the tiny being during her escape, but now it seemed wise to simply sit quietly and enjoy her freedom. Being pregnant was a very new experience for Alex, but she had no intention of doing anything that would harm the child. She settled onto a bench and drank in the rowdy surroundings instead of imbibing further ale, thoroughly enjoying herself...until she overheard a conversation that brought cold chills to her spine. Two men were talking at a nearby table. Alex couldn't see them because a wall was in the way, but she could hear their words clearly enough. "Are you sure the earl's son will go along with the plan?" one man said. " 'Twas his idea in the first place, and besides that, Randolph is a bitter man, though a weak one. He'd go along with any plan that would result in killing the father he hates." The men were talking about Earl James, Alex abruptly realized, sitting up very straight. He was the only earl with a son named Randolph, as far as she knew, and Randolph was obviously heavily involved in their plan! "Is the poison ready?" the first man said--and Alex thought his voice sounded vaguely familiar. "Aye," his accomplice replied. "The earl should be dead within a few days--just as soon as Randolph finds a way to slip the herbs into his ale." "And 'twill look like Earl James died of natural causes? You're quite sure of that?" "Yes," the second man confirmed. "Randolph gave me enough gold to bribe a king--much less purchase a suitable poison." The first man laughed then, and Alex heard tankards clank together as he offered a toast. "To Randolph,

then, the soon-to-be Earl of Marlborough. And a man who will be so easy to manipulate, 'twill be as if you and I were the true power behind the earldom." "Aye," the second man agreed--and now Alex thought his voice sounded familiar, too. "Randolph is as malleable as a small child. We will be the power in this earldom, and we'll become extremely wealthy in the bargain." Alex heard the scrape of a bench and quickly rose from her own table, wanting to see who the men were before they could leave the tavern. She had a sinking suspicion that they were two of the knights under Lionel's command. I must find a way to warn Earl James! she thought determinedly, as she walked around the edge of the wall. She unconsciously swung her hips in a very feminine way, no longer using a swaggering gait. She wasn't thinking about her disguise at the moment--only of how to save the earl's life. Alex was several paces from the wall when four burly men suddenly blocked her path. She tried to move around them--desperate to see the men who'd been talking--but one of the men in front of her grasped her knit cap and pulled it from her head. Glossy auburn tresses tumbled down Alex's back. "Well, well," the man grunted, painfully grasping Alex's hair in his meaty fist, "what have we here? A comely wench dressed in boy's clothes?" He smiled, showing rotting, yellowed teeth, then yanked Alex's head back and claimed her mouth with a wet, open-mouthed kiss. His fetid breath nearly made her swoon. Still holding her captive by the hair, he then turned to his friends and said, "Her mouth's sweet enough, and I'll wager there's a delicious little body beneath these clothes. Why don't we strip the wench and have a little fun?" Alex was frozen to the spot in mortal fear. This is what Lionel warned me about, she realized, her heart racing. My disguise has been discovered, and now these men will rape me. Oh God, what have I done? If only I'd remembered his warning before coming here! The man's three cohorts completely agreed with his lewd suggestion, and Alex found herself being dragged by the hair into a back room. She screamed for help, but the others in the disreputable tavern acted as though they hadn't heard a thing. No one--absolutely no one--came to her aid. As they reached the dingy room, one man twisted Alex's arms behind her back, while the man with rotting teeth tore her boy's tunic from throat to hem. He laughed when he saw that her breasts were flattened by bindings, but then grunted with pleasure after removing the tight cloth, baring Alex to his lecherous gaze. "Lay her on the floor," he commanded, unfastening his filthy breeches. "I'll take her first, while you three hold her down." The strongest of the men cruelly threw Alex to the floor. She landed on her back, and the impact knocked the breath from her lungs. As she struggled for air, the men descended on her; one man pinning her arms above her head while two others stripped off her boy's hose and spread her thighs wide. The fourth man, his breeches now open, knelt between her legs and freed his member. Alex was still too winded to talk. She fought her captors with all her strength, but her struggles were useless. She had nowhere near the strength of one man, much less four. The man above her laughed in her face, then reached out to fondle her breasts. "She's a spirited little wench," he told his companions. "I think after we've had our fun, we should sell her to slavers. I've dealt with some of them before, and I know where a slave ship is moored."

The three men holding Alex nodded their agreement. "Aye," one of them said, "slavers should be willing to pay quite a bit for a sweet little whore like this one." At the word whore, Alex finally found her voice. "I am not a whore!" she screamed. "I am Lady Alexandra of Larkspur!" The brute with his engorged manhood fully exposed threw back his head and laughed. "If you're a bloody lady, wench, then I'm the bloody king!" "I am a lady!" Alex shouted desperately, watching as the man guided himself to her helpless body. She screamed loudly--he was so very close to attaining his goal--then added on a hoarse sob, "My husband will kill you if you rape me!" At that very opportune moment, a calm voice said from the doorway, "She's quite right, you know." All four men looked up at once--the one who'd been leaning over Alex twisting and rising to stand at the same time--and found themselves facing The Lion. Lionel very calmly drew his sword and just as calmly touched the tip of the blade to the first villain's naked arousal. "Were you planning on using that thing on my lady wife?" he asked quietly. The man looked down at the blade, and sweat broke out on his brow. "N-nay, milord," he stammered. "That is, we had...no...idea..." His words faltered. The Lion quite obviously was not interested in an explanation. Lionel withdrew his blade and looked at the other three men, who were quite literally shivering in their boots. He felt nothing but disgust for them--and more anger at Alexandra than he'd thought he was capable of feeling, as well as incredible relief that he'd arrived just in time to save her. "Leave here," Lionel commanded tersely. "Leave this room, this tavern, and this town. If I ever see any of you again, I'll kill you. Is that crystal clear?" The four men bobbed their heads in unison, obviously thinking they would get away with their crime, then quickly left the room. Lionel simply watched them, noting which direction they took upon leaving the tavern, then turned back to his wife. She was pulling her hose back on with shaking fingers, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. He merely stood there while she dressed, not daring to touch her in anger, and finally she looked up and said, "Thank you, Lionel. Those men were going to..." "They were going to rape you, Alexandra," Lionel finished for her. "All four of them. And who knows what else they might have done. They might have killed you, woman! Do you realize that?" "They weren't going to kill me, Lionel," Alex replied, visibly trembling now in the aftermath of fear. "They were going to sell me. The one who was going to...hurt me first said he knows where a slave ship is moored." Lionel blanched. "This time you've gone too far, Alexandra," he said in an ominously quiet voice as he sheathed his sword and finally helped her to her feet. He no longer felt anger, simply cool determination. He had made a decision. Her boy's tunic had been torn in the assault, and he could see the inner curves of her generous breasts. Calmly removing his cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders, then raised her chin and kissed her gently on the lips. "You will not be happy about this, Alexandra," he said, "but I have

decided there is only one way to help you mend your willful ways. What happened today cannot be repeated. For your own good, you must be punished." Alex stiffened. "What are you going to do, husband?" "Let's just say you won't be able to sit down for a week by the time I'm finished, Alexandra." Alex backed away from him. "Nay, Sir Lionel," she hissed. "You locked me in the bloody bedchamber for four days--four days!--and I only escaped to save my sanity!" "Aye, little hellcat," Lionel replied. "I locked you in the bedchamber--and the four days taught you absolutely nothing. Perhaps a tender bottom will teach you a more memorable lesson." Alex protested loudly and ran to the other side of the room. Lionel simply caught her and tossed her over his shoulder. He left the tavern after making one brief, but very important, stop in the main room. Alexandra struggled uselessly as he mounted his horse, but he shifted her to his lap, held her firmly against his chest and sternly demanded silence. He'd heard just about enough from the little spitfire. As they began the ride back to Larkspur, Alexandra was blessedly quiet, and Lionel said a prayer of thanksgiving that she had not been brutally raped. But she'd very nearly been ravished by those men...and what they were planning to do afterward was too heinous to even contemplate. She'd nearly been sold to slavers! A single gold coin had earned him the villains' names from the barkeep, which had been his one brief stop before leaving the tavern. He hadn't wanted to kill the vermin in that back room--not in front of Alexandra--which was why he had let the men believe they were free to go. Then, mounted and holding Alexandra on his lap, he'd stopped two guardsmen and reported the crime. Cliffside might be rowdy and lawless in many ways, but even here, attacking a noblewoman carried a sentence of death. The four men would be apprehended--Lionel had reported which way they'd gone--and the one who knew the whereabouts of the slave ship would be "convinced" to betray its location. The guards had assured him of all this, and Lionel had no doubt that by morning, the ship would be confiscated, and the four criminals would be dead. Thank God he'd heard Alexandra's desperate scream from the back room of that tavern. If he hadn't, by now, she could be facing a fate far worse than having her backside thoroughly warmed. And this time, he vowed, she would remember the lesson for a very, very long time. If she ever went to Cliffside again, he might not be able to save her. As they neared Larkspur, Alex could remain quiet no longer. She squirmed in Lionel's lap, trying to escape, and vehemently renewed her protests. The beast merely tightened his hold and silenced her again--this time with a firmly demanding kiss! As she seethed, he said, "Your protests will gain you naught, Alexandra, so you may as well accept what will happen and remain quiet. Or would you rather I help you by applying a gag?" Alex gasped and immediately closed her mouth. The promised spanking was bad enough, but the humiliation of riding into her own courtyard wearing a gag would be unbearable. She did indeed remain quiet as they entered Larkspur's gate, grateful that no one could see her torn clothing under Lionel's voluminous cloak. That, too, would have been terribly embarrassing. As they entered the master bedchamber, Lionel sat down on the bed. "Remove the cloak, Alexandra," he said quietly, "then come here and lay over my lap."

Alex looked around frantically, seriously considering running again, but he added, "Don't even think about it, woman," and she bit her lip, knowing there was no way to avoid this punishment. Reluctantly, she allowed the cloak to fall from her shoulders, then slowly walked to her husband and bent over his knee. It wasn't until he had bared her bottom that Alex remembered something else. Something that, with the emotions of the last hour, she had forgotten entirely until this very moment. "Wait!" she cried out before his hand could descend, suddenly remembering the conversation she had overheard. "I heard something very important in that tavern, Lionel," she continued in a rush. Lionel's hand was hovering just over her backside, but he said, "Go on." Alex looked at him over her shoulder, quickly telling him of the threat to the earl--and Lionel pulled her off his lap immediately upon hearing her words, Grasping her shoulders, his voice very serious, he said, "Tell me exactly what you heard, Alexandra." Alex quickly pulled her hose back up, grateful for her reprieve, then repeated everything she could remember about the two men's conversation. Finally, she admitted that their voices had seemed vaguely familiar, that they had, in fact, sounded like two of Lionel's own men, though she didn't know which ones. She'd never seen their faces, so she couldn't possibly identify them. When Alex finished the story, Lionel began pacing the room. "I must warn the earl," he finally said. "But how?" Alex asked. "Everyone here knows you have no immediate plans for leaving the castle, Lionel. If you leave here suddenly, riding toward Marlborough Castle--even without an escort, since you cannot possibly know which men to trust right now--the traitors might realize what you're doing and come after you. They might overtake you, Lionel. They might even kill you." She took a shaky breath. That thought was horrendous, no matter how bitterly they had fought a few days ago. "No one could catch up to me if Thunder were still alive," Lionel muttered. "He was the fastest horse in the earldom--by far." He was undoubtedly correct, and Alex felt truly awful, but now was not the time to feel guilty. Not when a perfect solution to the problem had just occurred to her. She took a deep breath and pressed on determinedly. "But if they did overtake and kill you, Lionel, no one would warn Earl James." "Then I will have to sneak away," Lionel said. Alex snorted. "Lionel, the one thing you could never to do is sneak. Your presence is too forceful, too obvious. Nay, that could never work...but there is another way." "And what is that?" he asked. Alex took another deep breath. He was not going to like this idea one little bit. "I could go...disguised as a boy," she finally said. "No." "Yes," she immediately retorted. " 'Tis the best way, Lionel, can't you see that? As a boy, no one will stop me, and no one will suspect that a mere lad would be taking a warning to the earl." "No, Alexandra," Lionel repeated, grasping her shoulders again. "I cannot allow you to take that risk. I

must be the one to go to Marlborough." Alex sighed, chewed on her lower lip...then stepped back from Lionel and began eying him from head to foot. She cocked her head to one side, studying him closely for several moments. Finally, she shrugged her slender shoulders and said, "It might work." "What might work?" Lionel asked, frowning. "Hunch your shoulders, Lionel," she said, completely ignoring his question, "and bend over a little." "For God's sake, Alexandra, this is not the time to play games!" Lionel nearly shouted. " 'Tis not a game, husband," Alex calmly replied. "I simply want to see if you can make yourself look old ." "What are you getting at, Alexandra?" Lionel asked. "Has your fertile little mind come up with a plan?" Alex answered his question with one of her own. "Do you remember the doctor from Cliffside?" she said. "The one you said examined me when I was unconscious?" "Of course I do," Lionel said. "What does he have to do with warning Earl James?" "That doctor comes here frequently, Lionel--in fact, he could come here tonight." She saw realization dawn on his face, and then he smiled. "Are you saying I should impersonate the physician?" he asked. "Aye," she answered, smiling herself. "You see, my most learned doctor, there's this poor young lad with a terrible pain in his gut. I believe he works in the kitchen." Lionel crossed his arms over his massive chest and arched one tawny brow. "Are you that young 'lad,' Alexandra?" "The very same," Alex affirmed, bowing low, which caused her torn garment to fall free of her body. She quickly grasped the edges and stood straight again. This was not the time to remind Lionel of her escapade in Cliffside. Lionel dropped his hands to his sides. "What is your plan?" he asked on a heavy sigh, shaking his head. He didn't want Alexandra involved in this thing, but she, apparently, was quite determined to help. "You don't have to sound so damn defeated," Alex retorted, then softened her tone. " 'Tis really quite a good plan. You'll see." "Not unless you tell me what it is." "Yes, well...I'm still working out the details, Lionel. Give me a moment to think." Lionel sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his muscular thighs. "I'm waiting, Alexandra," he said after watching her pace the room for at least a quarter hour. " 'Tis really very simple," Alex finally replied, turning to face him. "We will send Oliver to Cliffside to fetch the physician--surely we can trust him--but we'll tell him our plan. He'll really just be pretending to get the doctor." "And then I will appear at the gates to examine this young 'lad,'" Lionel said with a nod. "What then,

Alexandra?" "You--the doctor that is--will decide that the lad really needs to go with him to Cliffside...for some sort of treatment he cannot do here." "That will get me away from the castle without raising suspicion, Alexandra," Lionel replied, sitting up very straight, "but I seem to recall saying I would be the one going to Marlborough. Mayhap I should amend that statement by saying that I am the only one who will be going." "No, you will not, husband," Alex said defiantly. "I'm going with you. Otherwise, the plan will not work. Besides that, Lionel, you might need my help at Marlborough Castle. I am quite good with weapons, after all." Now Lionel snorted. "Do you honestly want me to take you along for protection, Alexandra?" he asked, incredulous. "Not for protection, Lionel, just for assistance. I might come in very handy in a fight." Lionel stood, towering over his wife, a fierce scowl darkening his face. "No, Alexandra," he growled. He grasped her arms. "Do you hear me, woman? You are not going anywhere. I am going alone." Alex returned his threatening glare. "If you don't take me with you, husband," she said, "I will simply find a way to Marlborough Castle on my own. Do you doubt that?" Lionel's shoulders slumped with defeat. "Not for a moment, little hellion," he admitted. Alex nodded. "Now that that's settled, let's see how good you are at pretending to be old, Lionel." "Right now, I don't think it will be very much of an act, Alexandra," Lionel said. "You willful ways are aging me faster than the battlefield ever could." Alex merely smiled.

Chapter Nineteen For the next half hour, anyone coming into the bedchamber of the lord and lady of Larkspur Castle might have thought the couple had lost their sanity.

Lionel was perfecting his imitation of the doctor's way of walking--stooped over and with a shuffling gait--and Alex was rummaging through the wardrobe, tearing out one piece of clothing after another, searching for the right "costume" for her husband. "This will do, I think," she finally said, holding up an old gray bed robe of Lionel's, one that would look somewhat like the robes the physician wore. Lionel examined the garment and nodded. "Aye, 'tis quite similar to what he was wearing that day." "Your hair is all wrong, though," Alex observed, "and so are your eyebrows--they're not bushy enough--and your hair is tawny, not gray. Not to mention that strong chin of yours--his sags down his throat." "A hooded cloak, mayhap?" Lionel offered. "Of course!" Alex declared, then turned back to search the wardrobe again. The next part of the plan was to send for Oliver, which they did. Once the squire had been informed of his mission, he was to leave the castle, telling everyone he passed that he was going to fetch the physician to come and tend a sick lad. He would stay in Cliffside for a few hours and then come back--without the doctor, of course, since by then Lionel would be impersonating the man. After that, Oliver was to say that Sir Lionel had decided to make very sure his wife remained in their bedchamber--by staying there with her. By the time anyone realized the chamber was actually empty, Alex hoped, she and Lionel would be too far away from Larkspur for the traitors to overtake them. Alex donned one of Lionel's linen shirts--which looked rather ridiculous on her since she had to roll the sleeves up several times, and the bottom of the garment fell to just above her knees--but it was so full she would not need to bind her breasts, which was a relief. And she was grateful that the rest of her disguise--her knit cap and slim boy's hose--were still serviceable. To Lionel's obvious amazement, when they had waited an appropriate length of time and the sun was just setting, Alex led him to the servant's quarters through back passages he'd never even seen before--without meeting one person along the way. Once Alex was ensconced in a small room, Lionel carried out the second part of her plan. Wearing his normal clothes, he strode into the great hall and reported that the "lad" awaiting the doctor's attention was not to be disturbed--for any reason. His tone was authoritative, and no one dared question his decision, nor the identity of the sick boy. Consequently, no one would discover it was really Alexandra waiting in that room. Having made his appearance, Lionel then returned to his bedchamber, pulled the cloak and robe over his clothes, then used Alexandra's own escape route to quietly leave the castle. Following her instructions, he tied enough sheets together to lower his large frame to the ground, then hid the evidence in some bushes--just as Alexandra had done during her escape. With grudging admiration for his wife's cleverness, Lionel made his way through the darkness to the castle gate, which had been shut for the night. He kept close to the wall, then tossed a stone into the courtyard. When the guards went to investigate the noise, he slipped through the small opening in the gate meant to let in only one person at a time--just as Alexandra had the night before. He vowed that after this, the gate would be manned by four men, two of whom would stay at their posts at all times no matter what kind of distraction tried to draw them away.

Then Lionel simply walked away from the castle, grateful for the dark color of his cloak, then turned and walked right back, freely announcing that he was the doctor and that he had come to tend the sick lad. Lionel was truly amazed at how easy it was to fool his own men. He was wearing the hooded cloak and the gray robe, of course, and he was imitating the physician's walk and speech, but he was still himself--though the guards evidently didn't realize that fact. "Where is Oliver?" one guard asked his own lord. "I think he has been...detained," Lionel replied in the low, rasping voice of the physician. His intimation was clear to the guard, who nodded and said, "So, the lad's found a sweet wench to...detain him." His swarthy face broke into a knowing smile, and Lionel passed the gate without incident and made his way to Alexandra's side. He smiled wryly as he realized that he had indeed been able to "sneak," no matter what Alexandra had first thought. The third part of Alexandra's plan worked so well that Lionel found his admiration for her intelligence and ingenuity growing stronger with each passing moment. He stayed in the room with her for a time, ostensibly examining his "patient," then simply returned to the hall and requested the loan of a cart and horse for transporting the ailing youth to Cliffside. The muscles in his neck, shoulders and back were cramped by the time his request was fulfilled, but keeping his head bowed allowed the hood of the cloak to obscure his features. Once again, he was amazed that people saw only what they expected to see. No wonder Alexandra had had such success during her many "adventures," he mused. Until today, that is. Remembering what had nearly happened to her in Cliffside also reminded Lionel that the wily little hellcat had cleverly avoided her punishment. He had to smile at that, but then his smile faded. He loved Alexandra intensely, but her foolish actions had nearly resulted in enslavement. He shuddered at the thought of losing her that way. Before this night was through, he vowed, he would complete that interrupted punishment. Luckily, no one thought to ask Lionel what sort of "treatment" could only be done at the physician's home--since he had no idea how to answer such a question--but before very long, he and his "patient" were trundling away from Larkspur, with no one the wiser for their ruse. And most importantly, the traitors--whoever they were--would have no reason to suspect that Lionel and his lady wife were starting a journey that would, they hoped, save Earl James' life. Alex laughed merrily when they were far enough from Larkspur to hide the cart in the forest and mount the horse together--bareback, of course, but that could not be helped. "It worked, Lionel!" she declared happily, circling her arms around his lean waist as they began riding down the dusty road. "We fooled them all--completely." "Aye," Lionel said over his shoulder. "Your plan was perfect, Alexandra. Though I hate to admit it, I greatly admire your cleverness." Alex hugged Lionel's compliment to her heart. She loved him so much in that moment, she very nearly told him about the babe--but stopped just in time, biting her lip to keep from confessing that one little fact. If Lionel knew she was pregnant, he would never allow her to continue the journey. Not when the strenuous ride--in his mind, at least--could pose a danger to his unborn child. Correction, she amended silently. His unborn son. What else would Lionel sire on me but another

male? A boy who could grow up to be as arrogant and domineering as his father. Alex sighed heavily, quickly quelling those thoughts. Lionel was domineering and arrogant, but she loved him just the same--even after spending four horrendously boring days in her bedchamber. She had, after all, cruelly taunted him. And slapped him. Four days was not an inordinately long punishment for those acts...and surely he had no intention of locking her in the chamber again. Then she smiled to herself. Fate had certainly been with her when she'd remembered the threat against the earl just in time to avoid that other punishment. She squirmed just a little at the very thought of being spanked. Hopefully, he had forgotten about that particular lesson altogether.

They rode throughout most of the night, covering about thirty miles, Lionel estimated, which was as good as they could hope for riding double on a horse that had seen better days. He could have requested a better horse to draw the cart they had eventually hidden, but that would have been out of character for his disguise. What did a physician know about horses? He wondered if anyone had discovered the bedchamber was empty, but he doubted it. Servants rarely disturbed their lord and lady during the night, and Oliver would be sleeping on a pallet in front of the door--ostensibly to ensure their privacy. He would even continue his vigil during the day, taking meals into the room, which he would eat himself, thus continuing the ruse for as long as possible. Of course, the traitors could conceivably realize the truth despite all these precautions. If they did, they could still overtake Lionel--and Alexandra--since they would undoubtedly be riding faster horses than this one. If such a thing did happen, at least Lionel would learn who they were, but fighting them would present an unusual challenge. In his physician's disguise, he was not even wearing a sword... Lost in thought, he suddenly felt Alexandra's arms slip from around his waist. He grabbed her right arm, catching her just in time to prevent a fall from the horse, and he uttered a quiet curse. She had fallen asleep against his back. He could stand the pace, could easily ride the remaining fifty-some miles to Marlborough without a break, but a woman simply could not. No matter how strong that woman thought she was. Realizing the old gelding was also sagging with fatigue, Lionel cursed quietly again. What he wouldn't give for a warhorse! This nag was perfectly fine for pulling a pony cart but was not at all suited to long-distance riding. Suspecting the horse would need at least two hours to regain its strength, and plenty of fresh water, Lionel guided it into a dense forest, finally stopping at a shallow stream. The horse immediately began to slake its thirst, and Lionel dismounted carefully, holding Alexandra, hoping he would not awaken her. But she did wake up the moment he lay her down. "Where are we, Lionel?" she asked, stifling a yawn. "We're about thirty miles from Larkspur," he replied, gently tugging on her boy's knit cap until her glorious tresses were freed. "And you, my lady, are going to rest for a while. You fell asleep on the horse and nearly fell off before I could catch you." "Nay, Lionel," Alex said, sitting up. "I shan't rest. We shouldn't be stopping at all. Your father's life is in danger and--"

"And the horse needs rest, too, Alexandra," Lionel interjected, raising a tawny brow. "Don't argue with your husband, woman." Alex smiled and lay down on her side, propping herself up with one elbow. "Is this close enough to obeying you, my lord and master?" she teased. "Not nearly close enough," Lionel replied. He removed his hooded cloak, spread it on the ground and said, "Lie down, Alexandra. All the way." Alex complied with a sigh, and then another yawn. "Very well, Sir Beast," she said, "I will be an obedient little wife--for the moment." Lionel chuckled and lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms. "Sleep now, wife," he said, closing his own eyes. "We'll rest for a while, and then we'll be on our way again." The forest was cool and quiet, the only sound the gentle gurgling of the nearby stream. But Alex's thoughts were anything but quiet. There was something she needed to tell her husband, and it simply could not wait any longer--not when he might be facing deadly foes in the very near future. "Lionel?" Alex finally said very softly. There was just a hint of a quiver in her voice. "Hmm?" "I love you." The words were finally out, and now Alex held her breath, hoping against hope that Lionel wouldn't break her heart by rejecting her love. Instead of saying anything, he sat up, then stood. Alex watched him stalk away, pushing a hand through his hair before turning back to her, still saying nothing. "Are you sorry I told you, Lionel?" she asked, standing herself and blinking back tears. Surely she had made a terrible mistake. He looked angry...totally opposite to how a man should look when a woman confesses her love. Unless, of course, that woman was the wife he never wanted. Her face crumbled. "I probably should have kept it to myself," she continued on a quiet sob. "I know you don't love me. 'Tis just that..." But her words, her actions meant nothing to Lionel just yet. He'd been caught by her very fist statement, and he was filled with doubt--and anger. She loves me, he thought, pacing again. At least she says she loves me. Is this some sort of game? Some sort of way to get back at me for confining her to the bedchamber? If I admit my own love, will she then show me what a fool I am by laughing in my face? She threatened to do that a few days ago... He must learn the truth, he decided. The absolute truth. "Alexandra..." he began, approaching her. "What?" she answered. Two crystal tears slowly slid down her cheeks. Lionel swallowed hard.

Then he finally realized what he'd been seeing all along--the way she'd stood up from the cloak with rather jerky motions, the sad look on her beautiful face when she'd seen his reaction to her declaration. But most especially he saw the tears--real tears--in her eyes...and his doubts instantly dissolved. "I love you, too," he said quietly, simply. "You do?" Alex asked. Her smile was tremulous. "More than I can tell you, Alexandra," Lionel answered, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her gently, then added wryly, "Probably more than I should, little hellion." Alex laughed then. It was a full, happy laugh, and Lionel smiled. "My God, Lionel, why haven't you told me before now?" she asked. "How long have you known?" "I've loved you from the moment we first made love--truly made love, that is," he answered honestly. She nodded, smiling brightly. "That's when I knew I loved you, too," she said, "though I never intended to confess my love...at least not until just now." "Why did you tell me now, Alexandra?" Her smile faded. "Because," she began, then swallowed visibly and began again. "Because you could be facing grave danger at Marlborough Castle. Because I might...lose you...and I had to let you know that I loved you...just in case..." Lionel crushed her to his chest in a fierce embrace. "I'm not going to die, Alexandra," he murmured, kissing her soft, silky hair. "I'm not going to leave you--not like that or any other way." She looked up at him, and he could see the belief in her eyes. Her smile restored, she said, "In that case, husband, I guess I'll have to promise not to leave you, either--not even for Sir Neptune." Lionel felt a stab of guilt. "Alexandra," he said, "there's something I should tell you about 'Sir Neptune.'" "Could it wait for a while, Lionel?" Alex asked. "I don't want to talk about him right now. I'm so very sorry about the things I said the other day, but I don't want to talk--or even think--about Sir Neptune. She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. "I want to be loved, husband," she continued, her voice husky. "Please...make love to me now." Lionel groaned--simply groaned--at that thought. "Nothing would give me more pleasure, my lady," he murmured thickly, quickly removing his own ridiculously large shirt from her slender body. He bent to remove her short boots, then stood again, admiring her beauty. She looked so temptingly vulnerable standing there before him, bare-breasted and stripped to the waist. But as he reached for the drawstring on her boy's hose, his shoulders slumped. There was still something that needed to be done. Despite their declarations of love--correction, because of them--it was more important than ever that he maintain firm control over his little hellion. It was for her own good, after all...as well as his own sanity. He simply could not let Alexandra get away with her nearly disastrous misadventure. He smiled a little. At least he couldn't let her get away with it completely. He untied the drawstring, eased her down to the cloak, then removed the hose. Lightly caressing her bare hip, he said, "Tell me something, Alexandra."

"Anything, my love," she answered with a gentle smile, obviously unaware of what he was about to do. "Now that you've admitted your love, will you become a properly obedient lady wife?" Her smiled disappeared. "Not bloody likely," she retorted, backing away from his touch. "I thought not," Lionel replied with a sigh. Had I really thought anything else? "There's still the matter of your little escapade in Cliffside, Alexandra," he continued. "Turn over, wife. I still owe you a paddling." "You wouldn't!" Alex gasped out. "Not after we've just admitted--" The words died on her lips as Lionel simply turned her over himself, exposing her soft, bare bottom. "I would, Alexandra," he replied. "And, indeed, I shall." Alex closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, knowing from experience that it would be useless to struggle. She could, however, seethe. This is how he treats me after I tell him that I love him? she thought bitterly. What a bloody fool I've been-She felt one stinging slap to her bottom...but only one. And then her husband--whom she suddenly realized had no intention of truly paddling her--changed even that tiny pain to intense pleasure. He kissed the spot he had just spanked, parted her thighs and began touching her in the most delightfully erotic way. Alex moaned, arching her bottom against his hand. Her bitter thoughts had melted away with his very first intimate touch, and now she felt the soft quivers of impending climax. He slid one finger inside her, drew back and then entered her again, and Alex cried out with ecstasy, clutching his cloak beneath her hands, convulsing with utter sexual bliss. As she floated back to earth again, she heard Lionel say, "Was that so bad, Alexandra?" "Nay, husband," she sighed. "That was...wonderful." As he turned her back over and drew her into his arms, he was smiling. Looking up at him, Alex suddenly realized why. Light as the punishment had been, he'd made his point. No matter how much he loved her, he would not allow her to indulge in dangerous pranks. She couldn't help smiling ruefully. She would probably have a sore bottom a good deal of the time if she didn't quickly change her ways. He kissed her then, thoroughly, deeply, and Alex sighed against his lips. "Are you trying to kiss me into submission again, my lord?" she asked. "I'll do whatever it takes to secure your promise--a sincere promise this time--to stay away from Cliffside, Alexandra." "You have my promise, Lionel," Alex replied, suddenly serious. "What happened yesterday was so very frightening. I was completely at the mercy of men who had no mercy. If you hadn't arrived just in time..." Her words faltered as horrid memories rushed to the surface. Until now, she hadn't really thought about what had nearly happened to her. And just as they had so long ago, memories triggered her fearful response. She shuddered violently. Instantly feeling this, Lionel's heart constricted. Even as he tightened his hold, reassuring her with a firm embrace, he realized that the frightening experience itself had taught her far more than that one little spank. "Hush, sweetheart," he murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. " 'Tis over and done with.

There's nothing to be afraid of anymore." "I want to feel again, Lionel," Alex sobbed against his chest, "feel...not think." She raised her head, her eyes pleading. "Love me now, husband," she said. "Love me so thoroughly, I can do nothing but feel." She was exquisitely beautiful in her desperate need, and Lionel fulfilled her request. He quickly removed his own clothes, then used every skill he possessed; kissing her soft lips, fondling her ripe young breasts, whispering erotic suggestions and then carrying them out, purposely driving her to a mindless peak of pleasure. Her breaths were coming in soft little gasps when he finally heard her say, "Now, Lionel...please. Take me now." He did. But he withheld his own culmination as long as possible, drawing sweet convulsions from her body three more times before finally giving in to his own need. Afterward, breathing heavily, with perspiration dotting his brow, Lionel rolled to Alexandra's side and stared up at the night sky. Making love had never been so fulfilling before--even with Alexandra's sweetly responsive young body. He smiled then and covered them both with his cloak. Alexandra was already asleep. As he closed his eyes to rest, he was still smiling, realizing that admitting his love had increased his pleasure a thousand fold. Then he realized something else, and his smile faded a little. Alexandra was indeed taming The Lion. He resolved in that moment to never, ever admit that fact--that weakness--to his sweet little hellion.

Chapter Twenty

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Lionel awakened. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then simply lay there for a time, watching Alexandra.

She looked so innocent in her sleep, so vulnerable. A fierce need to protect her washed over him, and Lionel muttered a curse. They could both be facing grave danger before very long. He was rather amazed that his half brother truly had become a threat to his father. Randolph was extremely weak-willed. Lionel had thought him incapable of planning his own father's murder. Though he'd been given every possible advantage life had to offer, Randolph had grown up lacking strength of character. Earl James, though fifty years old, and even with a body softened considerably by age, was still twice the man Randolph would ever be. Randolph probably knew that as well as anyone, which might explain why he hated the earl. So now, apparently, he was behind a conspiracy to kill him. Perhaps he thought he would gain strength by assuming the title. That, of course, was a ludicrous idea. A man got his strength from inside, not from inheriting an earldom. Lionel smiled grimly. His advantages had been meager compared to Randolph's--no matter that Earl James had treated him quite fairly--and yet he had no doubt that he would make a much better earl than his half brother. That could never be, since Lionel had no right to the title, but the crime of attempted patricide was heinous. If it could be proven against Randolph, he would never gain the title, either. Then he sighed and leaned over to kiss Alexandra awake. It was really none of his business who would eventually gain the title. His only duty was to save the present earl's life. Alexandra parted her sweet, soft lips beneath his gentle kiss, and Lionel felt another kind of need wash over him. She stretched languorously, dislodging the cloak, and he saw her nipples tighten. Then she moaned softly in her sleep, slowly spreading her thighs. Fiercely reminded of when he'd brought her to climax while still asleep, Lionel groaned. They really should be leaving soon. There was no time for making love again. Surely the horse was rested by now, and there was always the possibility that they were being followed. All of that meant nothing, however, when Alexandra snuggled against him, her bare breasts pressed to his chest. The touch of her taut nipples to his own heated flesh drove Lionel beyond the edge of control. Rolling over until she was beneath him, he plundered her eager mouth, feeling her soft pink tongue mating with his own, even though she was still asleep. He took her then, swiftly, deeply, and she groaned with pleasure, awakening fully as he withdrew and then impaled her again. "Yes...oh yes," he heard her gasp as she quickly neared her peak. He wanted to hear her cry out with erotic joy. Lifting her hips, he increased his rhythm, and she did cry out, bursting into a climax so powerful it left her gasping for air. Lionel followed her over the edge, roaring with pleasure, his features distorted with passion and his heart overflowing with love. Still joined with her, not wanting to break the intimate contact, Lionel supported his weight on his elbows and bent to kiss her nipples. He raised his head, and she smiled tenderly, reaching up to caress his cheek. He knew it was time to tell her the truth. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he still felt hesitant, and he saw her frown.

"What is it, Lionel?" she asked softly. He took a deep breath. "I have a confession to make, Alexandra," he began, then took another breath. "I lied to you about 'Sir Neptune.'" "Lied to me? How?" "You weren't dreaming, Alexandra," he finally admitted. "Those words you heard were mine...all of them." Alex gasped and her eyes widened. "You mean you really are Sir Neptune?" "Yes," he said simply. "But why, Lionel? Why did you lie to me?" Lionel hesitated again. Should he admit his weakness, his fear of being rejected? Nay, he decided. Alexandra saw him as strong--even domineering--and that was just as it should be. The balance of power in this marriage would shift dramatically if he showed any weakness, especially now that he had admitted his love. He eased out of her sweet body, then sat beside her. "Why I lied is not really important, Alexandra," he finally said, reaching for his clothes. "I just wanted you to know the truth, that's all." He could see that she was not to be dissuaded, however. She, too, sat up, resting her hips against her heels and her hands against her thighs. "A confession is rather useless, Lionel, if one holds back part of the truth," she said. She looked so lovely sitting there entirely nude--like a child of nature--and Lionel felt his throat go dry. He loved her intensely, and that very love reminded him of the danger they could soon be facing. Unbidden anger surfaced. Anger that Alexandra could be harmed--even killed--and anger that she had brought the danger upon herself by insisting on accompanying him. "Just leave it be, Alexandra," he said with finality. " 'Tis time we were on our way again. The horse is rested, and I have a duty to perform; a duty, I might add, that I wish I were performing alone." "Please don't change the subject, husband," Alex calmly replied. "You haven't answered my question. Why did you lie to me?" "I said leave it be, woman!" Lionel thundered, his anger building as he rose to his feet and quickly pulled on his clothes. "You'd best get ready to ride. If you don't, I'll simply continue on my own." He wouldn't, of course, but he wanted to end this discussion before he admitted things he wasn't willing to say. "You lied because you were afraid of rejection, Lionel," Alex said very quietly. "You were afraid I would reject your love because I had never admitted my love for you." She stood up then, placed both hands on his chest, and looked directly into his eyes. "And you're angry right now because you're afraid I'll somehow be hurt at Marlborough Castle." Lionel was nonplussed for a moment. She had read his thoughts so accurately it was truly amazing. How did she do that? "It's because I love you so much, Lionel," he heard her say, answering his unspoken question--which only increased his amazement. "I've come to know you very well, husband," she continued. " 'Twas not very

hard to reason out why you lied to me. I just wanted to hear you say it yourself." Lionel sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around her slender, naked body. "You're right, Alexandra," he admitted. "All those things I said when you were unconscious were entirely true, but I didn't want you to know that because I thought you didn't love me." "I understand that, Lionel, because I feared your rejection of my love, too. But there was another reason for your reluctance, wasn't there?" she persisted. "I think you were afraid that if you admitted your love, I would use that knowledge against you somehow, perhaps by trying to bend you to my will, instead of the other way around." Lionel smiled, lifted her chin, and kissed her gently. "Mayhap you're right, sweet hellion, and mayhap not," he said, "but there's little likelihood of bending me to your will." He patted her bottom. "You see, Alexandra," he continued, "despite my declaration of love, I still fully intend to guide you with a firm hand." Alex blushed. His implication was clear. But then she shrugged, determined to appear nonchalant. He might be the man she loved, but he was still a beast at times, and she had her pride to consider. "I'll take that as fair warning, husband," she commented dryly. "The warning does not change anything, however--as you yourself once said. Threatened spankings will not tame me." She turned away from him then, bent to pick up her clothes--and felt a stinging smack to her bottom. Since that was exactly what she had expected, she simply turned back to him, raising one brow. "Am I supposed to be tamed now, Sir Beast?" she taunted. "If so, I'm afraid I don't feel any different. Perhaps your method has failed." She had expected that playful spank, perhaps even expected another one for her impish taunt, but what he did next took her completely by surprise--although it shouldn't have. He'd done it many times before, after all. He pulled her into his powerful arms and kissed her so thoroughly, she felt his domination all the way to her toes. Her nipples hardened, her femininity moistened, and her knees turned to jelly. By the time the kiss ended, she was sagging against him, trembling softly in his arms. Then she looked up and saw his arrogant, triumphant smile, and she wanted to be angry. Truly she did. But instead she suddenly found herself smiling with him. "Very well, husband," she conceded, "You have proven your power over me--at least when it comes to my traitorous body. But the mind is a very private domain, and though my flesh might be weak, my spirit is not." She smiled her own triumph. "You may tame my body, Lionel, but you will never, ever tame my mind." "Is that a challenge, Lady Alexandra?" "Most definitely, Sir Lionel." "Then consider your challenge met, little hellion," Lionel said with a nod. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and cocked one tawny brow. "Get dressed, woman," he commanded. "Now." Alex simply stood there, crossing her own arms over her chest. She knew it was time to leave but, by God, he was not going to have his way in everything! She fully intended taking her own sweet time dressing. Lionel picked up her clothes and held them out to her. But when she didn't reach for them, he simply

shrugged, then strode toward the horse--taking her clothes with him. "What are you doing, Lionel?" she gasped. "I'm leaving, of course," he said. "At least I can be sure you will stay right here, awaiting my return, if you have no clothes." He looked around. "That bush over there should be a good place to hide, Alexandra, and you can even eat the berries for survival." Alex laughed nervously. Surely he wasn't serious. Then she looked around herself. What kind of animals lived in this forest? Shuddering at the thought, she stomped to where he was standing and grabbed her clothes from his hand. The beast merely smiled, folded his arms over his chest again, and watched her dress. "I'm glad we've settled that issue, Alexandra," he finally said. Then he offered her some dried meat from the pouch on his belt. Alex hadn't even thought about food during their escape, but she was far less than happy to learn that he'd had meat all along. Berries, indeed! She grudgingly accepted the offering. He captured some cool, sweet water from the stream with a piece of bark and offered that to her, too. And as Alex accepted the water, her anger diminished. She sighed deeply. She didn't really want to be angry with him--not after what they had so recently shared. She hadn't said one word since her "defeat," but now she wanted to break her silence. Neither of them knew for sure what they would be facing at Marlborough, after all. No matter what Lionel said, when they confronted Randolph, he could lose his life. "Lionel?" she began hesitantly. "Yes, Alexandra?" "When we confront your half brother, we must be...very careful." She hesitated again, then finally added, "Don't let him kill you, husband...please." I want my babe to know his father, Lionel. I need you to live, she added silently. Lionel's reply was swift and succinct. "We will not be confronting Randolph, Alexandra," he said flatly. "I will be confronting him. You will be waiting somewhere safe--under guard, if necessary." "No, I will not," Alex said with calm determination. "We will secure weapons somehow, and I will be with you to face any possible danger. I've told you this before, Lionel, and you've even seen the proof. I'm quite capable of handling weapons." Then her eyes widened as Lionel produced a hunting knife from the back of his belt. "Did you honestly think I would have come on this journey without any weapons?" he asked. Alex shook her head. She hadn't thought about that either during their escape, if truth be told. "How many men have you killed, Alexandra?" he said then, his voice ominously quiet. "How many men have you seen fall to your blade, with their blood and gore spattered over your own body?" He ran his thumb over the sharp blade, producing a drop of blood, and Alex blanched.

"N-none," she stammered. His illustration had been apt. She felt slightly sick. Then he sheathed the knife and grasped her shoulders, looking directly into her eyes. "If a fight breaks out, Alexandra," he said, his voice still quiet, "it won't be anything like a practice session. I don't want you to even see such a thing, much less experience it." Alex nodded, suddenly very subdued. He was right, of course. She'd never witnessed a true battle. And then another awful thought occurred to her. Until this moment, she hadn't thought about what could happen to her babe if she were injured during a fight. She'd just blithely assumed that she would win. And she thought Lionel was arrogant? "Very well, husband," she acquiesced in a shaky voice. "I'll do whatever you want." "Thank you," Lionel said simply. "I'll need to think clearly when I confront my half brother, and I could not do that if I was worrying about my lady's safety." Alex nodded again, swallowing a lump of emotion. "I love you, Lionel," she said softly. "You must remain safe, too. For my sake as well the sake of...others...who depend upon you." Lionel drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Have no fear, my lady," he murmured, caressing her back. "I've faced far worse foes than Randolph. I will warn my father of the threat to his life, and I will somehow prove Randolph's involvement in the conspiracy, but I will not--I repeat, Alexandra, I will not--die as a result of those actions." "Damned arrogant man," Alex said, but she was smiling, and Lionel smiled with her. "Damned right, wife," he agreed, kissing her again. Then he bent down, picked up his robe and cloak and donned his own disguise once more. And very soon the lord and lady of Larkspur mounted the horse who had seen better days, and set off to face a traitor. A traitor whom Alex knew--in the very depths of her soul--would soon be utterly defeated by The Lion.

Chapter Twenty-One

Cresting the hill overlooking Marlborough Castle, Lionel couldn't help the wry smile that crossed his face. This was the same vantage point he had seen months earlier, after receiving the summons that had changed his life forever. He was married now, and he was in love with his wife, both of which were things he had never expected to experience in his entire life. If not for his knee injury, he'd never have met Alexandra, and--remarkably--now that the knee was completely healed, he had no great desire to return to the battlefield. Nevertheless, there was one battle--if a battle was indeed necessary--left to fight. And win. Randolph of Marlborough must be defeated, one way or the other. Earl James could not fall victim to his own son's treachery. Lionel and Alexandra rode toward the castle slowly, presenting a rather strange picture to the villagers they passed. With Lionel's "costume" and Alexandra's disguise--plus the fact that they were riding bareback on a horse that seemed very near its final breath--more than one peasant looked at them quizzically then shrugged their shoulders and went on about their business. By the time they finally reached the moat and drawbridge protecting Marlborough Castle, Alex was quite sure that her backside would be permanently flattened from the long, grueling ride. They had ridden straight through for the last fifty miles, stopping for only the briefest possible intervals to let the old gelding rest. About half way through that awful ride, Alex's stomach had protested the bouncing gait of the horse quite forcefully. She had managed to convince Lionel that she needed to stop for another kind of necessity--having no intention of ever letting him learn that she'd known about the babe before this journey began--but in reality she had retched violently into the bushes the moment she was out of his sight. Pregnancy and long, grueling rides evidently did not go well together. Lionel reined in at the raised portcullis, dismounted, and helped Alex to the ground. Her knees gave out immediately from stiffness and fatigue, and Lionel frowned as he lifted her into his arms. She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't wonder why she was so weak. His anger would be tremendous if he discovered her secret. The passageway beyond the portcullis was flanked by guards, and they immediately blocked Lionel's path. "State your business," one guard said gruffly. Then he seemed to recognize Lionel, and his demeanor changed considerably. "Sir Lionel?" he asked, but he sounded doubtful. Alex had to smile. The guard had obviously never seen Lionel dressed in an old bed robe and hooded cloak, but Lionel had worn his disguise during the entire journey to help insure the success of his mission. They'd encountered many travelers during the day. The less people who realized his true identity, the better, he had told her. "The same," Lionel replied. "I have come to see Earl James, which I will do if you will stop blocking my path." The guard immediately signaled to his companions, and the human wall parted. Lionel nodded his thanks, but Alex noted that he gave no further explanation of his strange attire as he carried her, and led the

stumbling horse, into the bailey of Marlborough Castle. She could understand his reasons for that. He had no intention of telling anything to anyone--not when there could be more traitors than Randolph under his father's roof. He made his way to the main entrance of the castle, then--as soon as the footman recognized him and opened the door--walked straight to the chapel. Upon entering that sanctified domain, he gently lowered her to a bench. "You should be safe enough here, Alexandra," he said, looking around the domed structure that smelled faintly of incense. Turning back to her, he added, "Just stay right here until I come back for you." He turned to leave then, but Alex grasped his hand. "Be careful, Lionel," she said simply. "I will, Alexandra," he promised, squeezing her hand. "I'll be back as soon as I can." And then he was gone, and Alex felt like all the air had been sucked out of the chamber after he left. But in a strange way, that very feeling gave her a small measure of comfort. Lionel's presence was so forceful, so commanding, surely nothing could harm him. "Wonderful, Alex," she said to the empty chapel. "Now you're giving the man immortal powers." Nay, a tiny inner voice replied. You're just hoping and praying that he'll return to you in one piece. Alex rose from the bench on shaky limbs, far too nervous to simply sit and wait. She was still wearing her knit cap, and her scalp itched terribly, but she was reluctant to remove it. Lionel had told her to leave the disguise in place even here at Marlborough, since he didn't know who to trust, and, for once, Alex had not argued with her husband's decision. She paced the aisle of the chapel from alter to open door, one, twice and then a third time. "How long will it take to find the earl and warn him?" she asked aloud. The waiting was already unbearable. And it had only just begun. "What was that you said, boy?" came a booming voice from the doorway. Alex froze to the spot, not daring to turn around. That voice! she cried silently. I know that voice! 'Tis one of the men from the tavern! "I asked you a question, boy," the man said again, walking up the aisle toward Alex. "If you'll not answer me, I'll have to teach you some respect for your betters." The knight reached Alex and grabbed her arm roughly, forcing her to turn around. He raised his meaty fist, preparing to cuff her ear...but then his arm stopped in mid-air. The curse he uttered made Alex wince, along with the brutal grip he had on her arm. She recognized him now--and he evidently recognized her, too--but she said not a word, hoping against hope that she might be wrong. She was not wrong, however, as the knight soon proved. He yanked the knit cap off her head and cursed again when long auburn hair immediately fell down her back. "Lady Alex!" he declared in a menacing growl, grasping both her arms now. "Where is your husband?" "How should I know, Sir Glinnis?" Alex replied, desperately trying to sound calm and unconcerned. "My lord does not tell me his plans." Sir Glinnis slapped her so hard, a trickle of blood ran out the corner of her mouth. "The truth now, lady,"

he demanded, shaking her roughly. "If you're here at Marlborough--wearing that ridiculous disguise--Sir Lionel must be close by. Why is he here?" Alex merely glared at him and shook her head. So he slapped her again, harder then the first time. "I'll get the truth, wench," he thundered. "Even if I have to beat it out of you." He pulled back his fist, intending to punch her in the stomach, and Alex instinctively put her hands over her womb and cried, "Wait!" Sir Glinnis smiled then...an evil, triumphant smile. "What are you protecting there, Lady Alex?" he asked silkily. "A babe, perhaps?" Alex gasped and then slowly shook her head, but her gesture of denial was useless. Fear for her unborn child must have been bright in her eyes. The traitorous knight saw that fear--and used it. He was a large, heavy man and soon overcame Alex's futile struggles as he pushed her to the floor. Standing over her, he placed one booted foot across her stomach. "Why is Sir Lionel here, lady?" he asked again, applying just enough pressure to frighten Alex into talking. "He came to warn his father of your treachery!" she gasped out, so fearful for her child's life that she would have told him anything at this point. Sir Glinnis applied just a little more pressure to her belly. "How do you know about our plans, Lady Alex?" Alex felt tears welling in her eyes. The cruel pressure of his boot was hurting her stomach now. Dear God, don't let this hurt the babe! "Answer, woman!" Sir Glinnis growled, pushing harder yet against her belly. "I overheard your conversation in the tavern at Cliffside," Alex admitted. "And I told Sir Lionel. He came here to confront Randolph--and to save his father's life." Sir Glinnis pulled Alex to her feet and started dragging her toward the chapel door. Alex was so relieved to be out from under his massive boot that she finally remembered a very important question. "Did you just come from Larkspur, Sir Glinnis? Did you and your fellow traitors discover that Lionel and I were gone?" "I don't know what you're talking about, wench," Sir Glinnis replied. "I haven't been at Larkspur Castle for several days." "Then you came here after leaving the tavern, instead of returning to Larkspur?" "Why does that matter to you?" he demanded, looking down as he dragged her along. Alex bit her lip. She wanted to find answers, but she couldn't very well tell him that. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you now," he said as they entered the hallway. "I did come here straight from the tavern. Sir Fitzhugh and I decided that I'd best come here straightaway, just in case Randolph began losing his nerve. Since he and I have been on roving patrol, ostensibly guarding the roads leading to Larkspur, 'twas simple enough to leave without being missed.

We've done it before--several times, in fact--while helping Randolph with his plan. Of course, one of us always stays behind, to cover for the other." "Sir Fitzhugh!" Alex declared. "Yes, that's the other voice I heard." She was still stumbling along beside the traitorous knight who was holding her slender arm in a brutal grip. "Where are you taking me?" she finally asked. Sir Glinnis pushed open a seldom-used side entrance to the castle before answering Alex's question. "I'm talking you to Randolph, Lady Alex. He'll know what to do with you." Alex struggled against his grip, and Sir Glinnis stopped just long enough to slap her again. "Don't push me wench," he growled. "I could just as easily kill you right here." Alex was a little dizzy from his latest blow, but she could see where they were, and the color drained from her face. There would be no hope of rescue in this secluded part of the castle gardens. They were surrounded by a maze of hedges. Unless Sir Glinnis knew where he was going, they could become completely lost in a matter of minutes. And if he chose to kill her right there on the spot, her body might not be found for hours--or even days. "Is Randolph in this garden somewhere?" she asked, still seeking answers, though she doubted very much they would help her now. "Aye," he answered, moving further into the maze. "And the earl is with him. Randolph is having a very private conversation with his father. Even as we speak, he may be offering the earl a nice, soothing mug of ale." Alex caught his implication. "The poison!" she gasped out. "The poison is in the ale!" Sir Glinnis nodded, never slowing his pace. "You're a smart little wench, Lady Alex. Too bad that won't save the earl. He'll probably die of 'natural causes' within the hour." Alex said nothing more, her thoughts churning as Sir Glinnis pulled her along beside him. What could she do to help Earl James? And where was Lionel?

At that very moment, Lionel was making his way through the maze on the opposite side of the garden. He had questioned a guard, learned that his father was in a secluded part of the garden--with Randolph--and then commandeered the man's sword. Offering no explanation for his demand of the weapon--since there was no way to know if he could trust the guard or not--Lionel started toward his father's favorite place to hold private discussions. It would be a perfect place for Randolph to murder Earl James. And somehow Lionel knew that was just exactly what his half brother was planning to do. He flexed his hand on the hilt of the sword. At least now he was armed with more than a simple hunting knife. His strides lengthened as his determination grew. Randolph could not succeed!

Alex was nearly winded by the time she and Sir Glinnis reached the clearing. Just before they reached it, however, Sir Glinnis turned to her and grasped both her arms in a painful grip.

"Don't say anything about the plan in front of Earl James, wench. Not a thing, do you hear me?" Alex nodded, too frightened by his tone of voice to reply with words. "I don't care how you explain your presence--or your appearance--to the earl," Sir Glinnis continued. "But if you say the wrong thing, I'll kill you." Sir Glinnis calmly led Alex into the clearing then--just as Lionel entered it from the other side. He took one look at her lips and cheeks, which were undoubtedly bloody and reddened from being slapped, and Alex could see that he understood...everything. His eyes narrowed as his gaze moved to Sir Glinnis, and Alex knew by the raw fury on his face that the traitorous knight would soon be dead. She breathed a sigh of relief. As she watched, Lionel turned toward his father. She followed his gaze and cried out a warning, realizing what he was seeing, too. Randolph was handing the earl a mug of ale. Lionel reached his father's side in four powerful strides, then grabbed the mug...just in time. He threw back the hood of his cloak, clearly revealing his identity. Then he turned to Randolph, holding out the mug. "Drink it, brother," he commanded tersely. "Drink the ale you wanted our father to have." "What's going on here?" Earl James asked, rising to his feet. "What are you doing here, Lionel? And what the devil do you think is wrong with my ale?" Suddenly, Sir Glinnis shoved Alex toward the three men, turned on his heel and fled into the maze. Alex stumbled into Randolph's arms, and Randolph took full advantage of that fateful happenstance. He circled Alex's neck with his left arm, unsheathed the knife secured to his sword belt, and placed the sharp blade against her side. "Let the wench test the ale if you think it's poisoned, Lionel," he taunted, unwittingly admitting the truth. "This is the little heiress you were forced to marry is it not? Bring the mug here, bastard. Pour the ale down her pretty little throat." Lionel didn't move--he didn't even seem to breathe--and Earl James was rooted to the spot, too. Alex, however, had no intention of being poisoned. She had a life to live, a man to love, and a child to bear. And this medium height, slightly flabby excuse for a man was not going to interfere with her plans! Using a technique she'd been taught by her father, Alex twisted in Randolph's arms, grabbed the knife--and stabbed him in the left shoulder. Then she ran away from him as fast as she could. The next things happened so fast, the action was nearly a blur. Randolph drew his sword on a thunderous bellow of anger and pain and started after Alex. Earl James shouted a terse command for Randolph to stop--which he completely ignored--and Lionel shoved the mug of ale toward his father, threw off his cumbersome robe and cloak and followed his brother. Randolph was still bellowing insanely, and Alex turned slightly--only to see him gaining on her. He was very close now, with his sword raised, fully intending to impale her in the back!

Then Alex heard the wonderful sound of steel against steel as Lionel blocked the thrust that surely would have killed her. He had saved her life--again. It was clear to Alex that Randolph was completely outmatched as she turned to watch the fight, but instead of wisely surrendering, he lunged at Lionel. The hatred on Randolph's face was so venomous that Alex knew it went far beyond simple anger for Lionel's thwarting of his plan. He obviously hated The Lion intensely--just as much as he hated his father. Alex shuddered. Hate like that was purely evil--and insane. Randolph's thrust was met and returned by Lionel's mighty sword arm. The impact of Lionel's blow sent Randolph off balance, but he quickly regained his stance and lunged again. Lionel blocked that blow, too, then shouted, "Surrender, Randolph. You cannot win." Randolph merely sneered. "Against a lowly bastard? Ha! I can win!" and then he thrust again. "I will kill you, Lionel, as well as my damn father," he added as Lionel blocked yet another blow. "Then I'll be the earl, and your pretty little wife will be my whore. She'll be begging for death by the time I'm through using her." Alex knew Randolph had just made a fatal mistake. Until now, Lionel had been merely parrying his blows--obviously not wishing to kill his own half brother. Undoubtedly, the king would sentence Randolph to death, now that he'd actually attempted to kill his father, but Lionel hadn't wanted to be the one to end his life. But with that threat to her future, and a renewed threat to the earl, The Lion roared like his namesake. His sword came up in a lethal arc...and found its mark. Alex gasped in horror as Randolph stared down at the sword protruding from his chest, then fell heavily to his knees, clutching at the double-edged blade with both hands. Streamers of blood ran down his fingers as he tried futilely to pull the weapon from his body. He slowly fell to his side on the soft garden grass, finally looking up at his half brother and father through glazed eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way," he rasped weakly to the earl. "You were supposed to die...not...me." Earl James knelt beside his younger son and eased his eyelids shut. "You would have succeeded in killing me, Randolph," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "if not for the man you were so fond of calling 'bastard.'" The fight had been so fast, the fatal blow so lethal, Alex had not had time to turn away from the horrible sight. Now that it was all over--and Randolph was lying in a pool of blood and gore on the grass--she felt a violent heave in her stomach. She fell to her knees and retched until she thought her body might turn inside out. Lionel was at her side before the retching ended. He pulled back her hair and pressed a large hand to her stomach to quiet the heaving muscles, and Alex leaned against her husband's strength as her stomach started to settle down. He'd been completely accurate in his description of a death scene. "Are you all right now, sweetheart?" Lionel quietly asked, cradling her in his arms. "Yes," Alex answered weakly, nodding her head. She regretted that action immediately, as a wave of dizziness nearly made her swoon.

"I'm sorry you had to witness the fight, Alexandra," Lionel said sincerely. "The reality of death was such a terrible shock, it literally made you sick." Lightheaded, Alex replied without thinking. "The pregnancy didn't help, either." "The what?" "The preg--" Alex suddenly realized what she had just admitted, and she groaned audibly. "Alexandra..." "Not now, husband," Alex said, hearing the ominous tone in that one word. "I think I'm going to be sick again." At first Lionel thought Alexandra was trying to evade the subject, but when she bent to the side and started heaving all over again, he knew she was quite serious about her claim. Earl James, by this time, had returned to the castle for help. Several people soon came into the clearing--including the earl's private physician. With bustling efficiency, the wiry, energetic man shooed Lionel away from his own wife's side and took over her care. Lionel stood back, feeling rather useless as he watched the doctor carefully examine Alexandra. When the examination was complete, the doctor declared that Alexandra was weak but in remarkably sound health--considering that she was two months pregnant. Lionel smiled wryly upon hearing the physician's report. Alexandra had apparently told the doctor far more than she had told her own husband. That situation, however, would soon be rectified. Just as soon as she was strong enough, Lionel intended to have quite a serious discussion with his little hellion. She was pregnant, and a pregnant woman should be at home--obeying her husband--not gallivanting around the countryside searching for traitors. He couldn't wait to hear her explanation for this misadventure.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alexandra slept for the remainder of that day, the entire night, and a good part of the next day. Lionel couldn't have that planned conversation with his wife while she was recovering from exhaustion, but he put the time to good use, anyway. Leading some of Marlborough's finest knights, he had no trouble tracking Sir Glinnis. That man was killed in the ensuing fight, but before dying he admitted that Sir Fitzhugh was his only other accomplice in the crime. Twelve men were sent to Larkspur to arrest the traitor, and Lionel felt nothing but revulsion upon realizing that two of his own men had indeed planned to kill their overlord. Their motive was greed, pure and simple, and to Lionel, greed was the worst possible weakness a man could have. They didn't deserve the title of knight. Despite the rigid training Lionel had given them, they had become cowards of the worst kind. But the other event that took place while Alexandra slept surprised him even more than the actions of his men. Earl James called him into his receiving chamber, and upon arriving, Lionel was met by several stern-looking officials of the earldom. Those men--his father's advisors, his head scribe and a powerful bishop who was visiting the castle--stood up respectfully as soon as Lionel entered the room. He felt confused, since no one at Marlborough had ever shown him that kind of respect before. They actually waited until he was seated before sitting again themselves. "I have made another decision concerning your future, Lionel," Earl James began. Lionel couldn't help grimacing. What now? Dragon slaying, mayhap? Earl James smiled ruefully. "I'll not be sending you to tame someone again," he said. " 'Tis apparent from the way Alexandra was dressed yesterday--and by the way she defended herself--that The Lion has had very little luck taming his wife." Lionel glowered. He didn't particularly like being reminded that Alexandra was still a willful little hellion. "In all seriousness, son," the earl continued, leaning forward, "what I have to say has naught to do with your lovely wife, at least not yet." "At the risk of appearing impolite, my lord," Lionel said, "might I ask what you are talking about?" His father nodded. "Your wife is with child, you know. I overheard her conversation with my physician." "Aye, my lord," Lionel affirmed. "She didn't tell me that one little fact before coming here with me, else I never would have allowed her to make the arduous trip." "Of course you wouldn't have allowed her to come, Lionel--if you could have stopped her, that is--but her condition, along with Randolph's treachery and death, have caused me to make a decision I should have made long ago." "What decision is that, my lord?" "I am declaring you my rightful heir, Lionel," the earl replied. "And, as such, your lady could very well be

carrying the next heir to this earldom." Lionel was speechless. In all his life, he'd never expected to become his father's rightful heir, had never even seriously contemplated such an event because bastards did not, as a rule, ever gain that kind of recognition. They could be treated fairly, could even become rich and attain a certain level of power, but for a bastard to be declared legitimate--in effect--was nearly unheard of. And yet that's exactly what Lionel's father was doing. "Some documents have been prepared for you to sign," Earl James continued. "If you'll just give me your signature, these men will witness my declaration, and the deed will be done. I have no doubt at all that King Henry will uphold my decision." Lionel took the quill offered by the head scribe and quickly signed his name to the documents. He felt a little numb from what had just happened, but--as always--if his father wanted him to do something, well then, he simply did it. Earl James, however, made one more request. "Will you call me 'father' now, Lionel?" he asked quietly, almost hesitantly. Lionel swallowed hard. He nodded, intending to fulfill his father's request, but the word would not slip past his lips. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes...Father," he finally said. Earl James smiled then, his eyes filling with tears. He'd waited so long to hear that title from Lionel. His heart constricted at the thought of Randolph, but that son had undoubtedly been mad. He'd actually died more mercifully on Lionel's sword than he would have at King Henry's hand. Hanging, drawing and quartering were not uncommon punishments for patricide--or even attempted patricide. Aye, Randolph had at least been allowed a warrior's death, though he was, in truth, no warrior at all. Earl James had realized the moment Lionel saved his life that he should be the heir to the earldom--not Randolph. Even if his legitimate son had been shown lenience by King Henry, his heir status would have been stripped--and The Lion would make a very fine earl. He was the logical choice for heir. And then, upon hearing that Lady Alexandra was breeding, his decision took on a whole new light. He was shortly to become a grandfather, and that grandchild would continue the lineage of Marlborough. If his decision hadn't already been made, that fact alone would have decided the matter. It was only fitting that the babe's father should eventually become the earl. Lionel might not have been able to tame Alexandra, but Earl James had no doubt that he could keep a tight rein on the Marlborough holdings. An entire earldom, after all, was far easier to control than that particular--decidedly willful--young woman.

Alex stretched, yawned sleepily, and then stretched again. The crisp linen sheets felt deliciously cool against her skin, but she was a little surprised to find that there was nothing between her body and those wonderful, herb-scented sheets. She was lying in an incredibly comfortable bed, and she was completely naked. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was, or how she had gotten there--or who had removed her clothes, for

that matter. Then she saw her husband--and the ominous frown upon his handsome face--and her memories abruptly fell into place. She had been brought to this sumptuous bedchamber after throwing up in the garden. And she'd apparently fallen asleep just as soon as she'd been bathed and put to bed--without a stitch of clothing on her body. Whose decision had that been? Need you ask? her mind retorted. "Where are my clothes, husband?" she said aloud, pulling the sheet up to her chin. "If you mean your boy's clothes, Alexandra--I burned them. As far as feminine attire," he shrugged his massive shoulders, "you will be given proper garments when I have decided you are strong enough to leave this bed." Alex sat up, which caused the sheet to fall to her hips, baring her breasts, but she didn't care about that at the moment. "When you decide I'm strong enough! Not bloody likely, Sir Beast. I can make my own decisions, thank you very much." "Like your decision not to tell me of the babe?" Alex bit her lip, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She had almost forgotten her admission in the garden. "How long have you known about the pregnancy, Alexandra?" Lionel persisted. "About five days--mayhap six--depending on how long I've been sleeping. What day is this?" He ignored her question completely. "Five or six days?" he said instead, slowly and carefully, and Alex gulped. She didn't like his tone of voice. She also didn't like the way The Lion was rising from his chair--quite obviously preparing to spring at his prey. "Now, Lionel..." she said, scooting back to the headboard--which was as far as she could go--totally unaware that the action had pulled the sheet down to just above her knees. But Lionel noticed, and he stopped in mid-stride. It was very hard to maintain his anger when Alexandra was so provocatively, so lushly displayed. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed with emotion--fear perhaps? Not bloody likely! he thought--and her delectable breasts looked just a little more full than they had a few weeks ago, now that he thought of it. That realization renewed his anger instantly. Of course her breasts were enlarging. That was supposed to happen to a woman who was carrying a child! He turned his back on the sight of her nudity and began pacing the room. He pushed a hand through his hair, searching for the right words to show her just how displeased he was. "Five or six days ago, Alexandra," he finally began, slowly turning back to her, "I locked you in our bedchamber for a well-deserved punishment." "Aye, Sir Beast," Alex agreed testily. " 'Twas certainly a punishment." She raised her chin defiantly. "But if you thought you could tame me through confinement, you were wrong."

Lionel ignored her and continued his speech. "I ordered you to stay there for one month, Alexandra, and yet four days later, you escaped out the window--and went to Cliffside." There was no need to tell the defiant little hellcat that he himself would have ended her confinement within the hour! He saw her face pale just a little with that reminder of her foolishness, but he pressed on. "And apparently, wife, when you had that little misadventure--when you were nearly brutally raped and sold into slavery--you already knew you were carrying my child." "Your son," Alex amended softly. Lionel's brows drew together, his anger forgotten for the moment, replaced by confusion. "How could you know that, Alexandra?" She shrugged. "I just know, Lionel. I can't explain how." " 'Tis a female thing, I suppose," Lionel muttered, his thoughts quickly returning to the subject at hand. "Nevertheless, Alexandra, you were willfully disobedient--and you endangered my son in the process." "Yes," Alex admitted in a very small voice. "And I'm sorry, Lionel. 'Twas a truly foolish thing to do." Her sincere apology softened Lionel's anger considerably. He went to the bed and sat down beside her. "Alexandra..." he began, but then his words faltered. God, but she was beautiful, sitting there in her naked splendor. He felt himself harden with need, and he wanted to lay her down and thrust into her sweetness, but now was not the time to make love. This issue was not settled yet. "I've already promised I'll never do it again, Lionel," Alex said softly. Then she arched her back in a deliberately provocative motion, subtly offering him her breasts, and moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. It was clear to Lionel that she was using feminine wiles to distract him from his anger--and it was working. She was nearly impossible to resist. "Couldn't you just accept my apology," she continued in a husky purr, reaching out to stroke his arm. "Couldn't we do something more...interesting...than discussing my shortcomings?" "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, little hellion," Lionel replied, shaking his head. But even as he said the words, he was rising from the bed and removing his clothes. One boot hit the floor, and then the other. "On the one hand, you're a willful, unmanageable child." He removed his belt, eased his tunic over his head, then unlaced his hose and pulled them off. "And yet, on the other hand, you're the most desirable, seductive woman a man could ever hope to meet." As naked as Alexandra now, he stood beside the bed, looking down at her from his formidable height. "But if you ever, ever do something that foolish again, I'll fulfill my promise to paddle your backside 'til you can't sit down for a week. Is that clear, Alexandra?" Instead of answering immediately, she slid down on the bed and turned over onto her stomach, exposing her bare bottom. "I've been so terribly naughty," she finally said, looking at him over her shoulder. "Mayhap you should 'punish' me the way you did in the forest, my lord." Lionel growled low and knelt down beside the bed. He played his fingers down the shadowy cleft of her bottom, then bent to kiss each perfect, round cheek. He heard her moan of pleasure, and she parted her thighs. "Please," she said. "Please, Lionel...now." The words were a husky whisper, but Lionel heard them--and understood.

He stroked her intimately, thoroughly, reveling in her groans of delight as her femininity moistened and her tiny pearl of pleasure swelled beneath his touch. Then he eased her onto her back and lavished her breasts with attention, sucking her nipples into tight pink crowns. And he groaned with his own raw pleasure when her delicate fingers reached him, tracing the length of his rigid sex. "Yes," he murmured hoarsely as she closed her hand and began caressing his shaft. "Yesss," he repeated on a hiss of ecstacy when she slid lower on the bed, turned to face his arousal, then took him deep into her mouth. "Am I forgiven?" Alex murmured a while later. She caught a salty drop of his essence on her fingertip, then held his gaze as she slowly licked the finger clean. "Completely," he growled, gently pushing her to her back and then kissing that provocative mouth. He parted her legs, then knelt between them, bending to kiss each inner thigh. "Until the next time, that is," he amended with mock sternness as his reared up and then entered her with one powerful thrust. Alex gasped with pleasure. His possession had been sudden, forceful...and wonderful. "Are you so sure there will be a next time?" she asked. "Undoubtedly, my sweet hellion," Lionel replied, thrusting again. "Even though you will someday be a countess, I seriously doubt that you will ever be a truly proper lady." Upon hearing those words, Alex grasped his hips to stop their sensual motions. She needed to concentrate, and she couldn't possibly do that when he was moving within her--all she could do while he was making love to her was feel. "What did you say about my becoming a countess, Lionel?" she asked. He smiled, then bent to kiss her again. "My father has declared me his rightful heir, Alexandra," he finally said. "Oh dear," Alex muttered. "Is that a problem?" he asked, quirking one brow. "Definitely," she answered. "A countess simply must be a proper lady." She smiled impishly. "I hope your father lives a very, very long time, husband--so that it will be years and years before I must become the simpering, dutifully obedient wife an earl deserves." "Somehow, little hellion," Lionel said, resuming his long, deep thrusts, "I seriously doubt that you will ever become dutiful and obedient, either." Alex couldn't reply to that astute--and probably completely correct--observation because at that very moment her body blossomed with ecstasy. She felt the rapturous culmination overwhelm all her senses and then felt Lionel stiffen and shudder, adding to her joy as he, too, attained release. Later, much later--after they had made love a second time--Alex remembered her husband's words. She snuggled closer into his embrace, then said, "You were right, you know." "What was I right about, Alexandra?" "You were right when you said you doubted I would ever become a dutiful, obedient wife--not even when I'm a countess."

Lionel drew her closer to his chest. "In that case, little hellion," he murmured, lifting her chin, "I may have to kiss you into submission on a regular basis." And then he did just that, kissing Alex so thoroughly, she was soon lost, utterly lost, to his passion yet again. Eons later, so delightfully sated she could barely move, Alex smiled at her beloved husband and said, "Yes, my lord...please do that to me every day--for the rest of our lives." "Every day and every night, Alexandra," Lionel promised. " 'Tis the only way to tame you, after all, and I am still fully determined to achieve that goal." Alex smiled a secret smile. Their loving had been so exquisite--Lionel's passion so fierce and yet at the same time so incredibly tender--that she already knew in her heart of hearts something he would never admit, at least not to her. She was quite obviously taming The Lion--not the other way around.

Epilogue

Seven months later...

"You must keep walking, Alexandra," Lionel said. His arm was around her shoulders, helping her to stay upright. " 'Tis what Mistress Smythe recommended until the midwife arrives--and she's given birth to countless babes." "But I don't want to walk anymore, Lionel," Alex replied, then grasped her belly and uttered a low moan of distress as another contraction ripped through her body. "This is all your bloody damned fault, husband," she continued, gasping for breath. "If not for your insatiable needs, I wouldn't be suffering like this, you beast!"

Lionel chuckled. He couldn't help it. Alexandra had been cursing him for hours now, blithely forgetting than she had played quite an important role in the conception of their child. Now that her time was near, and they had sent for the midwife, her curses were becoming more colorful by the moment--or by the contraction, to be more exact. He had not, however, told her to "watch her tongue" in all those hours. There were more important matters to think of right now than Alexandra's choice of words. "Please, Lionel, let me lie down," Alex said wearily. "I'm simply too tired to walk any longer." Lionel acquiesced, lifting her into his arms and lying her down very gently on the bed. He sat down beside her and grasped her small hand in his much larger one. "You're doing just fine, Alexandra," he encouraged. " 'Twill all be over soon." A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the midwife, and Lionel bid her enter. She came into the room--followed by assistants carrying the birthing chair--and Alex blanched. It was an abrupt reminder of what her body would be going through in the next little while. "Leave now, husband," she said to Lionel, suspecting she would scream her head off during the birthing, and not wanting him to see such weakness in her. "The midwife has arrived. You've done your duty. Now go drink with your men...or whatever husbands do while their wives give birth." "Nay, Alexandra," he calmly replied. "As you yourself said, I am the cause of your suffering, and I intend to see it through to the end." Alex gasped. She did not want him to stay! She turned to the woman who would help bring her child into the world. "Tell him to leave...please," she implored. "Tell Sir Lionel to leave the room." The midwife took one look at the lord of Larkspur--at his look of calm authority and determination--and shook her head. "Nay, Lady Alex," she demurred. "If your lord wishes to stay, I cannot tell him to leave." "A very wise woman," Lionel interjected. "She knows when to abide by a man's decision, even if you don't, wife." Alex would have protested further, but another contraction began just then. Instead of protesting, she whimpered with pain and clutched Lionel's hand for dear life. Over the next two hours, Lionel thought more than once that the bones in his right hand might be broken, but he didn't complain. Alexandra--though she continued to curse him fluently--was using him as a buffer for her building pain, and he was only too glad to help her in that one little way. When she was finally moved to the birthing chair, Lionel moved to the back of the room, well out of the way of the midwife and her assistants. He wasn't quite sure why he wanted to witness the birth of his son or daughter, he only knew he had to be there when the child entered the world. Perhaps to reinforce the knowledge that this child would not be born a bastard. Nay, this child would be born to parents who were properly wed. And completely in love with one another...no matter how often they "disagreed" on certain issues. He smiled then, realizing how seldom they actually disagreed anymore. Alexandra had matured beautifully during the months of her pregnancy. She was still full of spirit and life--but she now tempered her actions with wise choices. Impending motherhood had been very good for her.

He smiled again. Of course, she'd had quite a foul little mouth during her labor, but Lionel suspected that even a trained warrior could not have done better, if men were the ones to bear young instead of supposedly fragile women. Lost in thought for a time, Lionel was abruptly brought back to reality by the sudden wailing of an infant. He couldn't see very much--since Alexandra was surrounded by womenfolk--but that lusty howl told him all he needed to know. Except, of course, if Alexandra had been right about it being a son. Within a short time, Alexandra was being helped back to bed, and the midwife handed Lionel a well-swaddled babe. "Your son, milord," she said with a smile. "Thank you, mistress," Lionel replied distractedly. Alexandra was right. How did she know? Then he dismissed the question--it didn't really matter, anyhow--and became totally enthralled with his new son. He was completely bald and his eyes were closed, his little pink mouth puckered, obviously looking for something to suckle. At that thought, Lionel looked over at the bed. Alexandra was comfortably ensconced now, wearing a clean linen shift and covered with soft blankets. Without a word, he went to her side and carefully placed the tiny babe in her arms. She smiled and nodded, obviously too choked with emotion herself to speak, then opened her shift and offered a nipple to her son. Lionel had only cried one time in his entire life--when he'd thought Alexandra was dying--and he swallowed hard, fiercely determined to show no weakness. He succeeded--just barely--but the victory was hard-earned, more difficult than any battle he had ever fought. His emotions under control, he carefully sat beside his wife, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Well done, my lady," he said softly. "Exceedingly well done, in fact." "Thank you, my lord," Alex quietly replied, then looked down at the babe eagerly suckling at her breast. When she raised her head again, her smile held just a hint of mischief. "I forgive you for causing me such agonizing pain, husband. 'Twas well worth it, after all--though I hate to admit it." Not to be outdone, Lionel replied, "Then I guess I'll also have to forgive you--for all those horrible things you've called me over the past hours." Alex blushed. She'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry," she said, truly embarrassed. She didn't swear very often anymore. "I guess I was just a bit out of control." "Aye, just a bit," Lionel agreed. "Should I call for a bar of soap?" Alex teased, laughing softly. She remembered all too well the battles they used to fight over her language. "Mayhap that would be best," Lionel replied, nodding. "I can't very well kiss you into submission in front of our child, after all." "I don't really think he'd mind," Alex murmured, no longer interested in the playful banter. "Kiss me, husband...please."

He did. Gently, tenderly...and then thoroughly and deeply. Alex sighed against his lips, then laughed softly again. "That was definitely far better than having my mouth washed out with soap, husband," she said. Then she couldn't help adding mischievously, "Though I would fight your bloody damned strength with all my might if you ever did try to use soap on me, Sir Beast." "Watch your tongue, Alex," Lionel said, arching one brow. "Well, husband," she retorted happily, "at least you finally got my name right." Lionel rolled his eyes heavenward with resignation, sighed heavily...and then roared with laughter. "Nay, Alex," he finally said, "your proper name is little hellion." Alex merely smiled. THE END