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at her sister’s exuberant face. It was lit up in true happiness. Mercy scowled. Did Rowena not know that her heart had broken into tiny, unfixable shards and she cared not one wit what happened to anyone?
    “Please, Mercy. I beg you. Ready yourself in your finest dress. He must think we are prosperous.”
    Mercia could see Rowena had donned her finest gown, save for the one she would marry in. “Come, puss,” Agatha softly encouraged. “Let me ready you.”
    Trancelike, Mercia allowed them to bathe and dress her. Rowena’s excitement only deepened Mercia’s despair.
    As they were escorted down the rickety stairway to the open hall, Mercia nearly fainted. The contingent of the prince’s men stood proudly, surrounding the stranger in the cave. He had washed and his handsome face was clean shaven. He wore splendid clothing, and stood regally looking up at her. When their eyes met and locked, he smiled. Nay! This could not be her sister’s betrothed! Nay!
    She stumbled. Her father jerked her harshly to him, keeping a firm hand on her arm. Rowena was on the other side of him, but the prince had eyes only for Mercia.
    Every other eye in the hall was on Rowena, who beamed like the moon. Prince Rhodri cut a most dashing figure in his velvet, leather and fur clothing.
    Mercia held her breath as they descended the last step. They bowed. Lord Cedric cleared his throat, and made the introductions. “Prince Rhodri of Dinefwr, allow me to present my daughter, Lady Rowena.”
    The prince did not once break his gaze with Mercia. She could not have looked away if she tried. Visions of them locked in a passionate embrace as he moved inside her clouded her vision. Her cheeks flamed hot.
    The prince stepped toward her and extended his hand. When Rowena bowed deeper, and her father placed Rowena’s hand in the prince’s, Mercia wanted to disappear into thin air. The prince halted.
    “Nay,” he said, turning to Mercia. “ She is Lady Rowena.”
    “Indeed, my lord, she is not. ’Tis Mercia, my youngest daughter, who is promised to God.” Cedric moved in front of her, obscuring the prince’s view, and soundly placed Rowena’s hand in his. “My daughter, Lady Rowena.”
    Prince Rhodri stiffened, refusing to take Rowena’s hand. His dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What subterfuge is about?” he demanded. Mercia shrunk further back as all eyes turned on her.
    Lord Cedric looked as if he were about to combust. Tears filled Rowena’s eyes as shock and sudden realization dawned. Mercia shook her head. “I—I did not know, Ro. I’m so sorry.” She turned then and fled the hall, heedless of the furious calls for her to return.
    She ran as fast and as far as she could. Blindly. She had no idea where she could go or where she would end up. She could not return to her home, and now as a soiled bride of God, she could not return to the abbey. Shame filled her. She had disgraced her family and her God. But despite all that, Mercia’s deepest pain was that of knowing her sister would marry the man she loved.
    She found herself standing at the entrance to the small cave. The place where she had come alive. The place she felt if she went into she would die. The memories haunted her, they would come to fruition if she stepped inside. Yet, knowing that, she moved into the cave.
    The scent of their lovemaking assailed her senses. She could see him laying here, naked, full of desire for her. The furs she had brought lay scattered about as they had left them this morn. The fire was cold, the wineskin empty. Sucked dry like her heart. Mercia sank into the soft pelts, pulling them around her as his scent filled her senses. She lay down and let the tears flow. She could do naught but mourn what she dreamed of and what surely could never be.

    *

    “I demand to know what trespass you have committed against my daughter!” Lord Cedric shouted.
    Rhodri stood silent, too stunned to move. The realization that the woman he had dreamed of these