York, the north of England
Late summer, 1072
Briar lifted aside the heavy tapestry screen and peered
cautiously through the narrow gap. The large, well-lit
room beyond was filled with smoke and noise. Lord
Shelborneβs daughter had made a worthy alliance, and the
celebrations were to be stretched over several days.
Presently the merry guests were finishing the last course
of a sumptuous feast, but soon the trestle tables would be
cleared, and the entertainments would begin.
Briar cast her gaze over the crowd. She dismissed the
women.
The man Briar sought was on his own.
She had hated him for full two years, and now she thought
of little else. Without that consuming and single-minded
hatred, she sometimes thought she would long ago have died
of hunger or cold or simply walked into the sea and let
the saltwater take her. In a strange way, her hatred of
this man had kept her alive.
He was standing beside a rowdy group, half listening to
their conversation, and yet he was apart. Alone. He was
big, a wolfskin cloak draped about his broad shoulders,
while his wild and tangled dark hair framed a fierce face.
There was something lost about him, an air of abandonment.
And his eyes, brooding and passionate, were as black as
his soul. Aye, mayhap that was it; he had long ago sold
his soul to the devil.
Her breath checked in her throat. Her fingers tightened
upon the embroidered curtain that separated the chill,
dank passageway where she stood from the welcoming warmth
of the other room. The candles spun dizzily, the laughter
faded, and for a brief moment Briar was catapulted back to
Castle Kenton in 1070, a girl bereft, and yet trying to be
brave, while the armed men bluntly informed her that now
her father was dead her home was no longer hers ...
It was but a moment of despair, and then Briar was herself
again.
Impatiently she shook her head. Enough! This was no time
for weakness. Tonight of all nights she must be strong.
Briar focussed her eyes once more, and this time she
controlled her reaction, taking her time as she examined
the shape of him, the look of him, the essence of him.
Her heart gave a single, hard thump.
It was the man she sought; she couldnβt possibly be
mistaken. Jocelyn had said he had been invited here
tonight, and there was no one else in the room who drew
her eyes like he. So big, so dark, so fierce. It was as if
a certain power emanated from him and touched her,
surrounded her. Her body tensed and goose bumps rose on
her skin. This was the man who had begun that terrible
chain of events, which had blighted her young life, her
future and all her hopes. Aye, it was he. There was no
doubt in her mind.
βJesu, protect me, and allow me to complete my task,β
Briar whispered, and then shuddered uncontrollably.
Strangely, the shudder wasnβt due to fear, or dread, or
terror of what was to come. It was a shudder of
anticipation, almost of β¦ longing.
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