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       ‘You say you know how to use your dagger? Then defend yourself, my lady,’ William said, his voice deathly quiet.

      He took a step away from Eleanor and turned his back on her. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but with a speed that took her by surprise William twisted the sword about his wrist and spun round.

      Before Eleanor could react William had the sword held full at arm’s length, pointing at her breast. The tip was barely a hand’s breadth from touching her dress. The words died on Eleanor’s lips and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a soft whimper. Her head jerked up in shock and she discovered William watching her intently, his face fiercer and more determined than she had ever seen him look.

       AUTHOR NOTE

      A widow in the Middle Ages was in a better position than most women. While there was pressure—either to remarry or enter a convent—a widow had a degree of independence unavailable to wives and daughters and was able to run her own affairs, often carrying on with the businesses left by her husband and acting as guardian of his estate until any children came of age.

      The only real person mentioned in this story is John Fortin, a merchant who traded with Bordeaux in the late 1290s. He might have been generous enough to allow others to invest in his ventures, but whether he did or not the wine trade out of Bristol flourished from this period onwards and was a great opportunity for those with the finances available to make their fortunes.

      A few inspirations helped me get into Will and Eleanor’s minds. This quote by Giacomo Casanova was one: ‘A girl who is pretty and good, and as virtuous as you please, ought not to take it ill that a man, carried away by her charms, should set himself to the task of making their conquest.’

      ‘Thunder Road’ by Bruce Springsteen was also playing in the background when I wrote, and on the journey to and from work while I did a lot of my thinking.

      For readers wishing to search online for locations, or visit them, Eleanor’s house is heavily modelled on St Michael’s Mount, but also owes some influence to Lindisfarne Castle on Holy Island. Sir Edgar’s fortified house is based on Ightham Mote in Kent and Stokesay Castle in Shropshire.

      A Wager

      for the Widow

      Elisabeth Hobbes

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ELISABETH HOBBES grew up in York, where she spent most of her teenage years wandering around the city looking for a handsome Roman or Viking to sweep her off her feet. Elisabeth’s hobbies include skiing, Arabic dance and fencing—none of which has made it into a story yet. When she isn’t writing she spends her time reading, and is a pro at cooking while holding a book! Elisabeth lives in Cheshire with her husband, two children, and three cats with ridiculous names.

      To my mum, who inspired a love of reading and history and who took me round castles as a child.

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Eleanor Peyton was never certain what was worse: the dreams where her husband died, or the ones where he was still alive. The former were always the same: Eleanor would stand and watch as though she was carved from granite, unable to move while Sir Baldwin clawed helplessly at his throat, sliding to the floor of the feasting hall. The screams of their wedding guests would ring in Eleanor’s ears and she would

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