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I must tell you that you
    are very unlikely to qualify for the position of lord of Desire. Mayhap it would be best if you and your
    men left on the same boats that brought you here."
    "Nay, lady. I have waited too long and come too far. I am here to claim my future. I have no intention
    of leaving."
    "But I must insist—"
    There was a soft, deadly sigh of sound. Gareth's sword appeared in his hand as if by magic. The swift,
    terrifying movement brought a collective gasp from the crowd. Clare halted in the middle of her sentence.
    Her eyes widened.
    Sunlight danced and flashed on steel as Gareth held the blade aloft.
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    Once again everything and everyone seemed to freeze into utter stillness.
    It was young William who managed to shatter the spell.
    "You must not hurt my lady," he yelled at Gareth. "I will not let you hurt her."
    The crowd was as stunned by William's boldness as it was at the sight of the drawn blade.
    "Hush, William," Clare whispered. Gareth looked at William. "You are very brave, boy. There are those
    who flee in fear when they gaze at the Window of Hell."
    It was clear that William was frightened, but he wore an expression of stubborn determination. He glared
    at Gareth. "Do not hurt her."
    "I will not hurt her," Gareth said. "Indeed, as her future lord, I am well pleased to see that she has had
    such a bold protector to watch over her until my arrival. I am in your debt, lad."
    William's expression became one of uncertainty.
    Gareth reversed the sword with another lightning-swift movement. He extended the blade, hilt first,
    toward Clare in an unmistakable gesture of homage and respect. He waited, along with everyone else,
    for her to take hold of the weapon.
    A murmur of astonishment and approval swept through the crowd. Clare heard it. She sensed William's
    barely contained excitement. The expectant tension in the atmosphere was overwhelming.
    To refuse the sword would be a move fraught with risk. There was no telling how Gareth would react
    or what his mounted warriors might do to retaliate. They could destroy the entire village in a matter of
    minutes.
    To accept the blade, however, was to give Gareth and everyone else cause to believe that his suit would
    be favorably received.
    It was a trap. A rather neat one, Clare had to admit, but definitely a trap. It was a snare with only two
    exits, both of which were dangerous. And it had been very deliberately set. But then, she had known
    from the first that this was a man who used his wits as well as his strength to gain his ends.
    Clare looked down at the hilt of the polished length of steel. She saw that the pommel was set with a
    large chunk of rock crystal. The cloudy gray stone appeared to be filled with silvery smoke from unseen
    fires. Suddenly Clare knew whence the blade had taken its name. It did not require much imagination to
    envision the crystal in the pommel as a window into hell.
    Clare met Gareth's steady gaze and saw that the smoky crystal was a fine match for his eyes.
    Knowing that there was no way out of the trap, Clare chose one of the only two options available.
    Slowly she reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. The weapon was so heavy that she had to
    use both hands to hold it.
    A great cry of jubilation went up from the crowd. William grinned. Cheers filled the air. Armor clashed
    and rang as the mounted knights and men-at-arms brandished their lances and struck their shields.
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    Clare looked at Gareth and felt as if she had just stepped off one of the high cliffs of Desire.
    Gareth reached out with his huge, mail-covered hands, caught her up, and swept her off the wall. The
    world spun around Clare. She very nearly dropped the big sword.
    An instant later she found herself settled safely across the saddle in front of the Hellhound. She was
    steadied by a mail-clad arm the