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family. She would no doubt be pliable and eager to please a mighty lord such as Bannor. Especially since Bannor would laud the very plainness that made her repugnant to other men.
      Hollis stole a glance at the ceiling, where cobwebs drifted in place of the colorful banners that must have once adorned the rafters. She should also be most humbly grateful to be rescued from this place. Upon their approach, he and his men had been appalled by the disagreeable stench of the weed-choked moat. Rain seeped steadily through cracks in the ceiling, running in dank rivulets down the crumbling stone walls. The stale rushes beneath their feet were littered with oft-gnawed bones and the droppings of hounds, both dried and fresh.
    As the girl marched toward the dais, Hollis gallantly made way for her, prompting his men to do the same.
      He expected the girl's arrival to intensify her father's blustering, but the old man began to toy with the folds of his moth-eaten surcoat, taking great care to avoid her eyes. "What are you doing here, child?"
      "I'm not a child any longer, Papa. If I were, you wouldn't be discussing my betrothal with these strangers."
      He wagged a finger at her. "The matter is none of your concern."
      "On the contrary. 'Tis very much my concern. I had no say in the matter when you sold me into servitude for the price of the king's approval and Blanche's dowry. Perhaps I should be allowed to choose my next master."
      Turning her back on her sputtering father, she took a few steps toward Hollis, then hesitated. Although the gloom made it impossible to determine her expression, Hollis could not help but be touched by the dignity of her stance. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her chin tilted to a proud angle.
      "Do you speak the truth, sir? Does your lord want me for his bride? Does he truly want me?"
      Remembering the longing he'd glimpsed on Bannor's face when he had charged him with finding a mother for his children, Hollis nodded and said softly, "Aye, my lady. He wants you more than you can imagine."
      She tilted her chin even higher. "Then he shall have me."
      Hollis broke into a grin, oblivious to her father's groan, her stepmother's triumphant laugh, the garbled exclamation of rage that came from the balcony above them.
      The girl reached around to loosen the ties of her apron. As she cast away the rumpled garment, a crimson shower of apples went bouncing across the floor. One came to rest against the toe of Hollis's boot, but he never felt it.
      His grin had frozen on his face as she'd peeled away the bulky apron. His wide-eyed gaze slowly traveled up her slender, high-breasted form, following the graceful path of her hands as she reached up to drag off the russet cap. She shook her head, freeing a shimmering cloud of raven curls, before baring her own pearly white teeth in an answering smile.
    Hollis's grin faded.
    He groaned aloud.
    Bannor was going to kill him.

Three
    "Leg o' mutton, my lady?"
      Willow tore her gaze away from the chariot window to eye the enormous hunk of meat gripped in Sir Hollis's fist.
    "No, thank you," she murmured.
      The knight's hopeful expression fell, and she was tempted to reconsider. But her hands were none too steady, her stomach was all aflutter, and she didn't want to risk staining her beautiful new kirtle with even a drop of grease.
      While Sir Hollis delved back into the seemingly bottomless hamper of food he'd purchased at the last village they'd passed through, Willow smoothed her skirt, marveling at the absence of little muddy handprints on its plush green velvet folds. She knew she was no beauty, as Reanna and Beatrix were, but arrayed in such finery, she could almost pretend she was. 'Twas the happiest she had felt since that long ago day when Blanche had arrived at Bedlington to wed her papa.
      Willow smiled, bemused by the irony. Today she was the one rocking along in a splendid chariot drawn by six handsome steeds. She was the one