Read Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) for Free Online Page A

herself when she had hoped to find a family of her
     own.

For one thing, rather than mother and father, perhaps brothers and
     sisters, she now had a husband.

And what a husband. Valentine was far from the fanciful storybook
     knights she'd always envisioned, and she had learned the hard way
     that that had been nothing more than a silly childhood fantasy.

The tales Duchess of Scarborough had read to her as a little girl
     were much more simplified than real life, as flat as the pages
     they were written on.

Nay, real people had many features, good and bad. And in real
     life, not everyone lived happily ever after.

Valentine was a handsome, charming knight, but also an ambitious
     plotter. He was a wealthy aristocrat, but also a hardworking
     statesman. He loved life's pleasures, but had also beheld tragedy
     in his own past, and been at war more years than he could count.
     Storybook knights had no fears, no problems, suffered no grief.

And as much as she hated politics, as she rode along, she was
     forced to admit with a small twinge of pride despite herself, that
     the man she had married was the third most powerful man in the
     realm.

Even more remarkably, he had got there without trying to wrest the
     throne from the King, ingratiating himself, committing base acts
     like the Woodvilles in order to gain every office they could scoop
     up for themselves and their friends, or by spying on his peers.
     She had to respect him for that.

The only question was, had he betrayed her to the Queen? If he
     had, then how could she ever trust him?

And if he had not, well, it was wonderful to be able to respect
     the man you married, but where did love fit in?

Her new home, the estate of Lilleshal, was nestled in a valley
     beside a stream full of swans and herons. Farmland and cottages
     surrounded the manor home. A network of graveled paths led to its
     three front entrances. Lush gardens blanketed the courtyard.

Denys marveled at its grandeur as they rode closer and closer. It
     flaunted every facet of Valentine's character, from his imposing
     pomp to his love for splendor.

Gleaming in red sandstone, four round towers at each corner rose
     in gallant protection against any possible enemy. Diamond-shaped
     lead glass panes gleamed from the torches within.

The moat and drawbridge were wider than any other she'd seen.
     Battlements ran the length of the thick walls, centered with
     arrow-slits. The gatehouse was a fortress in itself; the closed
     portcullis enhanced the unbroken line of fortifications.

A retinue of servers bowed and curtsied in greeting as bride and
     groom crossed the drawbridge and entered the gatehouse. A watchman
     emerged from the guard chamber, raised the portcullis and let them
     pass.

The inner ward was quiet; a sole dairymaid scurried by, carrying
     pails of milk sloshing over the sides; a stable boy walked a
     palfrey to the horse mill in back.

She could see scaffolding up against the north wall, where
     Valentine was putting some finishing touches to their new home.

Two grooms rushed up to help Denys dismount as soon as they
     stopped in front of the tower door. Valentine waved them away, and
     helped her down himself, his hands lingering on her waist in an
     unmistakable gesture of possession.

She could feel a blush heat her cheeks, and stepped away from him.
     An usher with a fine gold chain around his neck now led them and
     their servers up an external staircase to the first floor.

Denys stared at her surroundings as her eyes took in all of the
     dazzling appointments. Tapestries and bronze sconces graced the
     sumptuous corridors. The floors gleamed, strewn in the center
     walkway with fresh rushes. The colorful glass in each arched
     window depicted mythical gods and goddesses. The oak-beamed
     ceilings soared like the vastness of the sky.

Exquisite as it was, Denys suppressed a shiver. It was a smaller
     version of court, just what she'd longed to get away from.

I'll never feel