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Chapter One

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England 1154 AD

“Another flagon of ale!” The new lord of Beckwith Keep sla wench tripped in her haste to reach hi more ale onto the table than into his hanored her dis back his head to take a long draarm ale

“Perhaps, you should curb your thirst”

Lord Roland Du Bary cast a baleful eye at his friend, Dougal Fitzhugh “Why ever for?”

“The wedding night is still to co?”

Roland licked the foam from the hairs that curved over his upper lip “A little ale has never impeded me in bedsport Not once have I failed to rouse lance at his bride The shy little miss had taken a seat further down the table Her hair, neither blonde nor brown but all the pleasing shades of a pheasant’s tail feathers, hung in a long curtain to her hips “Besides, my wife inspires me sufficiently”

“Aye, you are a lucky man You’ve a fine keep and lands—and a comely wife”

His gaze still on his young bride, Roland replied, “She seeh methinks she tends to overimbibe Her cheeks are quite flushed already”

“Why say you she is a mouse?”

“She’s so timid; she has not once looked me in the eye”

“Perhaps she is put off by your ill looks,” Dougal said with a laugh

Disgruntled, Roland straightened his shoulders “My looks haven’t a thing to do with it My sword arm and my fame as a warrior are all she’s concerned with”

“You only irl today How do you know this?”

“Why, you heard her When she greeted us at the steps of this keep, all she could say was, ‘You are Sir Roland Du Bary? The king’s knight?’ And she looked ood fortune”

“Just howconversation with your beloved?”

“Not a one, as you well know And it is wedded wife I would caution you to get that aright There will be no love Love is for weaklings and puny courtiers who fawn over a lady, read her poetry, and sing, just so that they own at her tits”