LITMIR.BIZ

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       Chapter One

      They said Guy St Edmond was the spawn of Satan. They said he was as tall as a tree and that he could slay a man with a single stroke of his sword. There were darker tales still in his shadowed past, rumours that Guy St Edmond was the despoiler of innocents, that he ate the flesh of his victims and that he devoured everything in his path.

      Battle after battle he led his troops to victory after victory. The king and hardened warriors granted him their respect and deferred to his opinions, and by the time Jane was seventeen years old he was already a legend in Cherriot Vale. It was said he had never lost so much as a skirmish. His name was a password for victory and it was rumoured he only had to appear on the horizon for the enemy to turn and flee.

      The mere mention of his name made little children cling to their mothers in terror and hide their faces in their skirts. But as far as Jane knew, no one had ever dared confront him to find out if all of this was fact or legend.

      Yes, she thought as, with a thundering heart and almost suffocating with fear, she peeked through the foliage to look at the demonic spectre who was one of the young King Edward of York’s most favoured and most formidable knights, Guy St Edmond might well be all those things, but no one had said how handsome he was, that he was a devastatingly masculine male, with a certain air about him that could not help but intrigue and attract every female eye. How could he be all those terrible things? Was that what the wars had done to him, or just his nature?

      Power, danger and bold vitality emanated from every line of his towering physique as he rode ahead of a small entourage of knights and squires. Some wore his red-and-black livery. They had evidently been riding hard for some considerable distance for their clothes were dusty and their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. With a jingle of harness and a noise like thunder, the stately chargers came at a gallop in a swirling cloud of dust and earth, looking unreal in the small clearing—yet Guy St Edmond had the God-given right to be there, for was he not the Earl of Sinnington, the lord of Sinnington Castle, to have and to enjoy the lands and revenues to be reaped from his domain?

      There were ten horsemen in all, but Jane felt no inclination to move her gaze past the imposing man astride the black steed prancing in the lead. It was huge, a warhorse, high, wide and broad in proportion, with a hint of wildness in its eyes. It had its ears back, its head well up, its smooth-flowing gait a perfect complement to the proud, majestic bearing of his rider. His leather boots were silver-spurred and he wore a sword and a long dagger attached to his belt.

      The earl rode with a purpose that was impressive. Tall and powerful, he was of an age perhaps a score and ten. But it wasn’t only the height and the impressive display of bulging muscle and sinew that caused him to stand out from the other horsemen. There was about him an air of confidence and intelligent command that he wore as easily as he did his sword. Everything about him spoke of control. Or so it seemed to Jane, who could hardly judge for certain when she’d never seen him before or heard him utter a word.

      As if sensing he was being watched, Guy St Edmond snatched at the reins. Wrenched to standstill, his horse stood up on its hind legs, the following riders wheeling and coming to a jarring stop, metal clanking against metal as they cursed at the sudden halt. They were close to where Jane was hiding. The sun sent shafts of light through the high trees and softly crept through the clearing. At closer range she noted Guy St Edmond’s hair was unruly and very dark, almost black, curling round his neck. His skin on his hawk-like face was bronzed above the black beard.

      Displaying a coat of arms on his tabard, he was clad in a leather tunic and leggings. It showed his strong limbs and thick torso. He turned in the saddle to speak to his

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