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Bedded by the Warrior
Denise Lynn
Branded the queen's whore, Lady Sarah of Remy must wed William of Bronwyn. A powerful and notoriously dangerous warrior, he makes her quiver with a fear-and desire-she has never experienced before. William has known the very worst barbarity. He has no time for emotion. But it comes as a shock, when their desire explodes into full-blown passion, to discover that Lady Sarah is actually an innocent.Their marriage is convenient for William, although he soon finds there's nothing easy about having Sarah as his bride. Willful and defiant she may be, but he's determined to tame her-starting in his bed!
Forcing a measure of boldness into her limbs, and hopefully into her voice, Sarah looked up at him.
He smiled down at her with an expression that held no trace of humor. Instead, she saw a promise that chilled her blood and drew a gasp from her.
“Let me go, William.”
“No. I am not one of your court swains you can order about on a whim. You married a battle-hardened warrior, Sarah. Perhaps it is time you realize what that means.”
Bedded by the Warrior
Harlequin
Historical
Author Note
William and Sarah. I’ve lost count of the number of letters asking about Sarah’s story. I’m pleased to tell you that here she is, in all her glory.
Sarah’s had a rough life; so has William. It’s about time they found what they’ve been looking for, and what they both need: romance, love and their own happily-ever-after.
Come, join me in the 12th century for a little while. Discover if William and Sarah’s rock-strewn road leads them to what they so desire.
BEDDED BY THE WARRIOR
DENISE LYNN
Available from Harlequin
Historical and Denise Lynn
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To the Readers.
Wishing you all a little romance to lighten your day.
And to Tom who unknowingly lightens my days.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Chapter One
Queen Eleanor’s Court at Poitiers—May 1171
‘You should be grateful for your freedom.’ The hard edge of warning beneath Queen Eleanor’s words was unmistakable.
Lady Sarah of Remy felt the Queen’s glare against her back as she walked toward the chamber door. Icy fingers of dread clutched her spine at Eleanor’s implied threat.
Unmindful of the voice inside her head urging her to leave the chamber without comment, Sarah turned to face the Queen. Eleanor’s relentless stare prompted Sarah to temper her response. ‘Marriage to a brutal stranger is not worth more than my freedom.’
‘I know you well, Sarah. A temporary marriage to Bronwyn will prove less of a trial than rotting in a cell.’
Sarah trembled at the mere mention of his name. William of Bronwyn was too large and frightening, his shoulders too broad, his manners too coarse. She closed her eyes against the memory of being found naked in bed with him.
The task assigned to her had seemed so simple. Yet, like a bad dream spinning out of control, it had all gone so horribly wrong.
Bronwyn and his friend Earl Hugh of Wynnedom were somehow involved with King Henry. Ever since Archbishop Becket’s death last year, the Queen had become suspicious of anything her husband the King did. Especially when she hadn’t been consulted. Even more so when his secret dealings took place on her lands.
King Henry had been seen with Bronwyn and Wynnedom near the castle. The three men had met with a foreigner unknown to Queen Eleanor and she wanted to know why.
Unfortunately, her questioning of the Earl had produced no suitable answer. In fact, the man’s arrogance had angered her more than his unwillingness to provide the information she wanted. Determined to serve him a taste of his own insolence, the Queen had devised a plan that would place him firmly under her control.
He would be caught compromising one of her favoured ladies—Sarah. Eleanor knew that the Earl’s honour would convince him to wed Sarah, making him a member of her court. She’d been certain that he would then be more willing to share his secrets with her. The Earl of Wynnedom would prove an excellent informant once he realised the benefits of bending to the Queen’s will.
Something Sarah knew well. As the Queen’s spy, she had successfully completed every assigned task—thus far. This task should have been no different.
‘You failed me, Sarah, and left me no choice.’
Sometimes she wondered if Eleanor could read her mind. ‘I didn’t know the Earl was married to Adrienna until it was too late.’
‘Then you should have discovered it sooner.’
And how was she to have done that? While Adrienna was also one of Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting, it wasn’t as if they’d been fast friends.
‘Instead, you let yourself be found in bed with his friend.’ The Queen rose and walked toward her. ‘Sarah, we have been through this already. Even had Bronwyn forced you to do so, he offered marriage.’
‘Offered?’ He hadn’t offered marriage. After the Queen had ordered the four of them—her, Bronwyn, Wynnedom and Adrienna—to leave her court, he’d nearly commanded that they wed.
Waving off her question as if it were nothing more than a flea, Eleanor countered, ‘While the delivery might not have been to your liking, the end result will be the same. You will wed Bronwyn.’
Sarah had been with the court long enough to know that once Eleanor’s anger at being foiled lessened, the Queen could be convinced to see reason. That was why she’d slipped away from Bronwyn in the first place—to hopefully change the Queen’s mind. However, were she to leave the court, how would she ever gain another audience in which to plead her case?
‘My Queen—’
‘No!’ Eleanor’s shout dissolved Sarah’s complaint before it left her mouth. ‘Wed him. Get me the information I seek and then you will have your freedom.’
The Queen paused in front of her and asked, ‘Do you understand me?’
Unable to speak past the lump thickening in her throat, Sarah nodded.
‘Now go. See that you, your new husband and his friends are gone from my court before morning.’
‘What more could one expect from Eleanor’s whore? She is getting no less than what she deserves.’
Sarah held her tongue as she walked quickly past the darkened alcove on her way to the chapel. She heard the snide remarks of the other ladies, just as they’d intended. But she knew any response would be foolish—it would only add strength to the vipers’ tongues.
It wasn’t as if she’d not heard the same spittle repeated numerous times during her prolonged stay with the Queen’s court. So, why now did it sting as much as her father’s hand slapping her face? Sarah held her head high. She’d give no one the satisfaction of witnessing her pain.
Once beyond the alcoves and away from the biting words, Sarah dragged her feet, seeking to delay her arrival at the Queen’s private chapel. She wondered if this was how a condemned man felt as he walked to his death.
Did a sick dread churn in his stomach as he approached the executioner? Did the blood flowing through his veins slow as if thickening from the icy touch of fear?
Regardless of her failure, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She’d been promised more—so much more. For countless months, Sarah had held fast to the sworn promise of a grand marriage.
And now her treasured dreams had turned into a nightmare of doom. Sarah choked back a threatening cry.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to wed—she did. As a young girl, she had come to Queen Eleanor’s court, hoping for many things. Like the other girls and young women sent to court, she had grown up hoping to eventually find a husband.
Not just a husband, but a knighted lord. An honourable man who would care for her, protect her, give her children, a place to call home and a life worth living.
But most of all, she wanted to hold tight to the things she’d gained at court—respite from her father’s sharp tongue and easy rage. And freedom from the harshness of life in a poor keep occupied only by men-at-arms. She couldn’t return to living a life of fear.
Sarah fisted her hands at her sides. She wanted to rail at the unfairness. She’d willingly ruined her reputation by posing as the Queen’s whore—for what? A worthless vow?
