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Castle of the Wolf
Margaret Moore
PASSION FOR HER PROTECTORFacing marriage to a man she loathes, virtuous Thomasina is forced to choose family duty over her own happiness – until a high-stakes tournament ends in her abduction! Trapped with her fearless captor, the legendary Wolf of Wales, she soon finds herself irresistibly drawn to the man beneath the armour.Though Rheged captured Tamsin in the name of revenge, he can’t ignore his instinct to protect her. Although to love her might bring the wrath of his enemies down upon them…
PASSION FOR HER PROTECTOR
Facing marriage to a man she loathes, virtuous Thomasina is forced to choose family duty over her own happiness—until a high-stakes tournament ends in her abduction! Trapped with her fearless captor, the legendary Wolf of Wales, she soon finds herself irresistibly drawn to the man beneath the armor.
Though Rheged captured Tamsin in the name of revenge, he can’t ignore his instinct to protect her. Although to love her could bring the wrath of his enemies down upon them….
Rheged took hold of her shoulders and regarded her sternly.
“There is doing a thing because honor demands it and there is being honorable to the point of madness. I tell you, it’s madness to marry Blane.”
“Do you truly want me to marry Sir Algar, Rheged? Would that make you happy?”
“God, no!” he said through clenched teeth. “I would rather—”
“What?” she pressed, his manner and the look in his eyes making her heart race and her breathing quicken. “What would you rather?”
“What I want does not matter, except that I would see you safe. You won’t be safe with Blane.”
“I would be safe with Sir Algar, though,” she replied, “and cherished, no doubt, as well as given whatever material goods my heart desires.”
“Yes,” he snapped.
“That would be enough, do you think? And I should be content to be the substitute for the woman he loved and lost?”
“No!” he said, his voice husky with need as he tugged her into his embrace and captured her lips with his own.
Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author Margaret Moore:
‘Moore taps into the culture and mores of Scotland to create a colourful Highland love story.’
—RT Book Reviews on
HIGHLAND HEIRESS
‘The talented Moore has penned another exciting Regency.’
—RT Book Reviews on
HIGHLAND ROGUE, LONDON MISS
‘The story is fresh, fun, fast-paced, engaging and passionate, with an added touch of adventure.’
—The Romance Readers Connection on
THE NOTORIOUS KNIGHT
‘Readers continue to ask for “Moore”. Her latest book is a sparkling, dynamic tale of two lonely hearts who find each other despite their pasts and the evil forces surrounding them.’
—RT Book Reviews on HERS TO DESIRE
‘Colourful and compelling details of life in the Middle Ages abound.’
—Publishers Weekly on HERS TO COMMAND
‘A lively adventure with enough tension and romance to keep me turning pages.’
—International bestselling author Roberta Gellis on HERS TO COMMAND
‘This captivating adventure of thirteenth-century Scotland kept me enthralled from beginning to end. It’s a keeper!’
—Romance Junkies on BRIDE OF LOCHBARR
‘When it comes to excellence in historical romance books, no one provides the audience with more than the award-winning Ms Moore.’
—Under the Covers
Castle of the Wolf
Margaret Moore
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With thanks to Nalini Akolekar, everyone at Spencerhill, and my writing buddies for their advice and support, and to my family for all the love and laughter.
Award-winning author MARGARET MOORE actually began her career at the age of eight, when she and a friend concocted stories featuring a lovely, spirited damsel and a handsome, misunderstood thief. Years later, and unknowingly pursuing her destiny, Margaret graduated with distinction from the University of Toronto with a Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature.
Margaret began writing while a stay-at-home mum, and sold her first historical romance to Mills & Boon® Historical in 1991. Since then she’s written over forty historical romance novels and novellas for Mills & Boon and Avon Books, as well as a young adult historical romance for HarperCollins Children’s Books. Her books have been published in France, Italy, Germany, Great Britain, Australia, Belgium, Switzerland, Brazil, Korea, Japan, Sweden, the Netherlands, Russia, Poland and India.
Margaret currently lives in Toronto with her husband and two cats. She also has a cottage on the north shore of Lake Erie, in an area that first became home to her great-great-grandfather.
Previous novels by the same author:
THE OVERLORD’S BRIDE
COMFORT AND JOY (in The Christmas Visit) BRIDE OF LOCHBARR LORD OF DUNKEATHE THE VAGABOND KNIGHT (in Yuletide Weddings) THE UNWILLING BRIDE THE DUKE’S DESIRE HERS TO COMMAND HERS TO DESIRE THE DUKE’S DILEMMA MY LORD’S DESIRE THE NOTORIOUS KNIGHT HIGHLAND ROGUE, LONDON MISS KNAVE’S HONOUR A LOVER’S KISS THE VISCOUNT’S KISS HIGHLAND HEIRESS
And as a Mills & Boon
HistoricalUndone!eBook:
THE WELSH LORD’S MISTRESS
Did you know that some of the novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One (#u5e86788a-e0f5-5615-8345-80dc788fff2b)
Chapter Two (#u5135e776-6bcd-5d0a-a6c2-3cbef38e8ac6)
Chapter Three (#u0a85280c-2cfa-597f-a98f-488f73a1340d)
Chapter Four (#u98e930bf-1062-5a5b-8643-c843247f8c0e)
Chapter Five (#u621dfea8-b39c-5358-9571-01a5258b74a0)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
England, 1214
The flickering light of the torches and beeswax candles in the great hall of Castle DeLac threw huge, moving shadows on the tapestries depicting hunts and battles hanging on the walls. A fire blazed in the long central hearth, warming the chill of the September evening. On either side of the hearth, knights and their ladies sat at the tables closest to the dais where Lord DeLac, his daughter and the most important guests dined on a sumptuous repast. Hounds wandered among the tables, snatching at the bits of food that fell into the rushes covering the flagstone floor, while a weak-chinned minstrel, dressed in blue, warbled a ballad about a knight on a quest to save his lost love.
Sir Rheged of Cwm Bron didn’t care about the feast, or the ballad, or the other guests. Let the nobles spend the rest of the evening amusing themselves with banter and drink, dancing and music. He would rather be well rested for the tournament on the morrow.
As he rose from his place, straightened his black tunic and started for the door leading to the courtyard, he ran another measuring gaze over the knights who would compete with him in the melee, a contest more like a true battle than a tilt in the lists. Some of them, like the excited young fellow dressed in bright green velvet, or the old knight already dozing over his wine, could be dismissed outright, being either too young to have much experience or too old to move swiftly. Others had clearly come more to enjoy the feasting and entertainment than to win the prize.
Rheged glanced again at the prize resting on the high table, a golden box embossed with jewels. That was what had brought him here, as well as ransoms for arms and horses from those he defeated in the melee. Since he was a veteran of many a real battle, a melee was more familiar to him and, he thought, a better test of true skill.
While he strode down the side of the hall, whispers of the other knights and nobles followed him like the wake after a ship at sea.
“Isn’t that the Wolf of Wales?” one drunken Norman nobleman slurred.
“By God, it is!” another muttered.
A woman’s voice rose above the minstrel’s music. “Why doesn’t he cut his hair? He looks like a savage.”
“My dear, he’s Welsh,” another nobleman drawled in equally disdainful reply. “They’re all savages.”
There had been a time those whispers and insults would have infuriated Rheged. Now it didn’t matter what they thought of him, as long as he triumphed on the field. And if his long hair made them think he would fight with all the fierce determination of a savage, all the better.
Taking a deep breath of the fresher air, Rheged stepped into the courtyard and looked up at the cloudless sky. The full moon lit the yard as bright as day, yet there was a hint of rain on the wind. It would be a light rain, though. Likely not enough to postpone the melee.
A door opened in a long, low building to his left that was attached to the hall, sending a shaft of golden light onto the cobblestones. The noise of clattering wooden bowls, chopping and the querulous demands and orders of a harried cook told him it was the kitchen.
A slender, shapely woman in a dark gown and lighter over-tunic, carrying a large basket, slipped out of the kitchen into the courtyard. As she nudged the door shut with her hip, he recognized Lady Thomasina, his host’s niece, dressed in nunlike garments, her long, dark braid swishing down her back like a living thing. When he was introduced to her upon his arrival, he’d been impressed by the bright intelligence gleaming in her brown eyes. Later it became clear that she ran the well-regulated household, and not Lord DeLac’s beautiful daughter, Mavis, although that should have been her responsibility.
Rheged watched as Lady Thomasina crossed the yard to the wicket gate, the smaller door inside the huge double gate. Despite her relatively plain attire, Lady Thomasina had a dignity and a graceful carriage that no garment, however costly and well made, could enhance.
She spoke a few quiet words to the guards, who opened the wicket. Then he heard voices that sent his mind racing back to his childhood—the grateful words of the poor and hungry who would receive the remains of the feast.
“Thank you, my lady!”
“Bless you, my lady!”
“God save you, my lady.”
“There is plenty for all,” she replied. “Come closer, Bob, and take something for your mother, too.”
There would be no bruises or black eyes from scrambling for the scraps, or bellies left empty here, tonight.
Once upon a time, he had been among the beggars waiting at a lord’s gate with starving bellies and desperate hope, anxious to get even the smallest bit of bread or meat. The person doling out the remains—always a servant, never a lady—had usually dumped the food on the ground like so much refuse and looked at those eagerly awaiting as if they were worth even less.
Leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed, he tried to shove the memories of those days of hunger and need, loneliness and desperation into the back of his mind. Those days were long ago. He was a knight now, with an estate of his own. It wasn’t a rich one yet, but in time, with effort—
“Sir Rheged?”
He opened his eyes to find Lady Thomasina standing in front of him, her empty basket over her arm, her brown eyes regarding him with grave concern. “Are you ill?”
He straightened. “I am never ill. I merely sought a breath of fresh air.”
She frowned, her eyebrows drawing together, her full lips turning down at the corners. “You found the hall too smoky or stuffy?”
“No more than most.”
“Nevertheless I shall see that more of the shutters in the hall are open.” She turned as if she intended to do that at once, and by herself.
“I wouldn’t bother. It’s going to rain soon,” he said as she started to hurry away.
