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to protect you, someone who would give his life for yours.’

      She moved to sit beside him on his bed. Fear gripped her hard, even as she took his hand in hers. ‘Do not ask me to betray you, Alan. I will not. You deserve better than this.’

      ‘So did you.’ In his tone, she heard compassion and love. ‘I wanted to marry you, Rosamund, and God help me I did everything to make you love me.’

      ‘I do,’ she whispered.

      ‘Not in the way you loved him.’

      Rosamund bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. He was right, though she wanted to deny it. She had loved Alan like a brother, and their marriage rested upon pillars of friendship and affection, but not love. For the past three years, she had tried to make the best of her marriage and forget about Warrick.

      Alan squeezed her palm, and before she could protest, he touched a finger to his lips. ‘I know you care for me, Rosamund, and I will take that with me to my grave. But before I die, you must obey me in this.’ His face hardened. ‘You will do everything possible to ensure that we have a child to inherit. Swear to me that you will lie with him.’

      She said nothing, not wanting any part of this devil’s arrangement. It was unthinkable, and if the adultery were discovered, she could lose everything.

      ‘Swear it,’ he demanded. ‘If you have any loyalty or obedience towards me, I demand this of you.’

      She bit her lip, wanting to lash back at him. But despite his rigid tone, she sensed the regret behind his words. This was about more than conceiving a son to inherit. He was trying to right the wrong, to give her back the man she had wanted to wed. And the arrangement would irrevocably bind her to Warrick.

      With all her heart, she wanted to refuse him. But when she looked into his pain-filled grey eyes, she realised that her words held the power to give a dying man peace. He loved her enough to make this sacrifice, even knowing the Pandora’s box it would open.

      If she refused his proposition, it would intensify his worries and weigh down upon his spirit. But if she lied and voiced her agreement, it would soften his fears. What harm was there in speaking a lie? He need never know whether she had kept her vows.

      She pushed back her apprehension, knowing that she held the power to refuse his request. If words would grant him comfort, then she could give him that much.

      ‘All right,’ she said softly. ‘I will allow him to claim me.’

      * * *

      ‘Why would I kill a man for your sake?’

      Warrick de Laurent gripped the hilt of his sword while staring at Owen de Courcy. The man had summoned him to his settlement at Northleigh, a rotting fortress that reeked of old rushes and neglect. Owen was a younger man with cold grey eyes and dark brown hair cut short to his ears. His beard had not fully grown in, and his lips were pursed like a pouting child.

      ‘Because I will give you land in return,’ Owen said. ‘And because you may take Rosamund de Courcy as your battle prize.’

      Warrick was careful not to reveal any reaction to the mention of Rosamund. For three years, he’d tried to forget her, but the memory of her beautiful face still haunted him at night.

      She made her choice, and it wasn’t you, his mind taunted.

      ‘I have no need of a woman.’ He spoke the words without emotion, as if she meant nothing to him.

      Owen appeared dismissive. ‘As you will. I am certain I can find another of my men who will...take care of her.’

      The barb struck true, and his instincts rose up in warning. No, he didn’t want to see Rosamund again, but that didn’t mean he would let another man harm her. Before he could snarl at Owen, the man continued. ‘Kill my brother, and you shall have everything you’ve ever wanted. You have killed many men in battle already. Why would one more matter?’

      It didn’t surprise Warrick to learn that Owen wanted his brother dead, for he would inherit Pevensham and vast holdings across south-west England. Although Owen already possessed the small estate at Northleigh, it was clear that it was falling into disrepair. All around, he saw the signs of a man who lacked wealth of his own.

      ‘Your brother is already dying,’ he told Owen. ‘Everyone knows it. You need only wait, and you will have what you want.’

      ‘I have debts that must be paid.’ His expression narrowed with distaste. ‘And I grow weary of living like a swine in this place. If Alan’s wife bears a child, I inherit nothing.’

      A sudden flare of possessiveness washed over him at the mention of Rosamund. Warrick didn’t want to imagine her giving birth to another man’s son. His fists clenched and blood roared through him when he thought of Alan de Courcy touching her. Three years had done nothing to diminish his fury.

      ‘What if she has already conceived?’ he asked. Even as he spoke the words, Warrick suspected Owen would ensure that she lost the child. This was a man who was determined to get what he wanted, no matter the cost.

      At his question, a slow smile spread over Owen’s face. ‘She will not give birth to an heir. I will see to it.’ His servant returned and handed him a message. Owen poured a cup of ale and handed it to Warrick. ‘My servants intercepted this missive a few days ago. My brother has invited you to Pevensham as his guest. While you are there, you will have every opportunity to take his life.’

      Warrick accepted the parchment, and saw that the broken wax held Alan de Courcy’s seal. Within the message, de Courcy mentioned that he had a special task for Warrick, one that would bring him a vast sum.

      He had no interest in whatever ‘task’ Alan de Courcy desired him to complete. Ever since Rosamund had married de Courcy, Warrick had not spoken to either of them.

      ‘You will see to it that Alan does not survive this fortnight. Rosamund will be isolated from him until I can be certain she is not with child. He must not have an heir,’ Owen said.

      ‘Why now?’ He could not understand why the man was determined to see his brother dead so soon—especially within a short time. It made him wonder if Owen was facing a threat of his own.

      ‘King Henry will be returning from Normandy soon. We must be ready to prove our alliance.’

      The pieces started to fall into place. If Owen commanded two estates, he would be a valuable ally to the king. Or perhaps he intended to side with the rebellious sons of Henry, in the hopes of securing a higher place for himself.

      ‘And you want to cast no blame upon yourself. If I am caught, I would be executed for murder, not you.’

      The man seemed unconcerned. ‘I would suggest that you do not get caught. Let them believe Alan’s death occurred from a natural means.’ Owen studied him a moment. ‘You could kill him in his sleep, and no one would know the truth.’

      Warrick still wanted nothing to do with this man. ‘I do not kill innocent men.’

      Owen eyed him with a sly expression. ‘You’ve done it many times in the service of your king. How many have you slaughtered in battle? They call you the Blood Lord, do they not?’

      Tension knotted within him, but he betrayed no emotions. ‘I am no lord.’

      ‘Indeed you are not. And that is why you will help me—because you possess nothing at all. I will give you land in Ireland where your poverty will not matter. You can begin again as the lord you always wanted to be.’

      It was true that he did want land. The desire for his own demesne burned through his blood. As the youngest son, he possessed hardly anything, and he had no wish to live with his father or his older brother Rhys.

      But Warrick wasn’t about to reveal this to de Courcy. His hand returned to his sword. ‘If land was all I wanted, I could take it for myself.’

      ‘You haven’t enough men to lay siege to a fortress,’ Owen pointed

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