"Come on, boy, just a little further."

   Luke urged his weary horse onward down a thoroughfare of birch trees, in dappled sunlight that would soon turn to crimson. He had been riding three days in cold, dreary weather to reach Ancaster castle in Lincolnshire to meet a woman the king had asked him to consider for marriage. Twenty-four years old and the second son of the powerful Cameron family, he was considered a prime catch for any noble woman. The fair-haired Luke was shy around women, who always found his boyish good looks, dancing blue eyes and massive, muscular body an overpowering combination. His charm matched his wit, as well as his uncanny ability to make money. It was simply a fluke that some enterprising matchmaker or young maiden had not snared him before now. Some had tried, but he usually didn't recognize their actions as flirting and didn't reciprocate. In many ways, his indifference rendered him more innocent than some of the maidens pursuing him.

   He knew nothing about this possible match, except that her name was Elanna Dayen, and she was the remaining heir to Ancaster manor. Having now reached marriageable age, King Henry demanded she take a lord for her extensive lands, and suggested Luke as a possible suitor. Since Luke's father and Henry were longtime friends, he couldn't turn down the request. He hated to leave so abruptly; his brother Matthew and his warrior wife Pet had just finally reconciled their differences and he would have enjoyed their company a while longer. He hadn't even taken the time for a haircut. The wind whipped his long hair about his face, and he had an uncomely growth of beard. He was still a bit hung-over from the huge New Years party he spent in a tavern, celebrating not just a new year but a new century. This poor woman would probably take one look at him and scream. No matter - he was fairly positive she would meet him and turn him down regardless, as he always got tongue-tied around the gentle sex and ended up embarrassed. Joking was usually his way out of an uncomfortable situation; he didnt know the flowery words of a lover. He hadn't had a serious relationship, and very few non-serious, which was fine with him. He preferred the company of a fine horse. He didn't feel big and dumb around them.

   Ancaster loomed before him, a beautiful castle with well- kept fields and surrounding pastureland. Cherry trees, splendorous in summer, now bore naked limbs along the avenue leading to the castle. His mind instantly began figuring yields and active estate management. One field could be planted with alternating crops, and the pastureland would be wonderful to raise horses, his passion. By the time he reached the manor gates he had already increased the coffers of the estate by half.

   His arrival was announced, and a servant led him across an elegant, rather ornate hallway and into a lavishly furnished room. Masculine, hide-covered chairs made a circle in the center for easy conversation, and relics of all sorts embellished the walls. A displayed suit of armor - each with lance and shield - stood in the corners, as if to guard the room from trespassers. The castle was indeed impressive; this Dayen woman could prove to be a profitable merger when his own large inheritance was considered. He strolled around the room, passing the time by looking at lavish paintings and an array of display weapons, when the double doors opened and an ominous man appeared. The room seemed to grow cold simply by his presence. He was tall, almost as tall as Luke's six feet four inches, with short black hair and well- trimmed beard. Luke disliked him immediately. His eyes were cold and dangerous, even when he smiled and extended his hand to Luke.

   "Lord Cameron . . .'twas good of you to make this trip, although I regret to inform you 'twas for naught." His voice was smooth and controlled.

   "For naught?" Luke repeated with a frown. "By what do you speak? Who are you?"

   The man raised a hand to his forehead and let out a short, loud breath. "Forgive me, where are my manners?" He smiled charmingly, if snakes could be charming. "My name is Giles Dayen, uncle and guardian to the love-struck child you were haplessly sent to meet. I fear she has already chosen her mate. Contacting you was impossible; all we could do was simply await your arrival."

   Luke instantly felt relieved, then felt guilty for feeling so. "'Tis fine, I understand. There is no telling what will attract a woman's heart."

   "Exactly. She already had a young suitor that I fear none knew about." He laughed smoothly. "The wedding shall be next month. I am so sorry for your inconvenience."

   "Think naught of it, Lord Dayen. If you do not mind, I would like to pay the young lady my respects and take my leave."

   Dayen's face grew a little paler, and Luke detected a tinge of apprehension. His eyes darted around the room in an attempt to avoid eye contact. "Ah, well, yea . . .I fear that may be difficult at this time. She is . . .at the dressmakers being fitted for her wedding gown. You understand."

   Something in Dayen's mannerism made Luke pause; he had an overwhelming tendency not to trust him. But, this was not his problem. He was off the hook, and could leisurely travel home. He bowed to Dayen, and took his leave.

   He exited the castle gates and made his way to the town he had passed on his way in; if memory served him, an inn was nearby where he could rest his weary body, drink excessive amounts of ale, and forget this whole trip. He could reach the inn by nightfall. A bath sounded good, too. The more he thought about it, this worked out fine; he still had his freedom and the lady was marrying the lover of her choice. Pity about Ancaster, however. He could have done so much with those fields.

   The road narrowed through a dark wooded area, and Luke kicked his horse into a canter on the soft dirt road. Suddenly, a white figure darted out in front of him, forcing his horse to rear up as he quickly reined it in. The figure stumbled in the road, then got up and fell again. Luke leapt off his startled horse, and ran to the small white heap in the road. When he got up close, it appeared to be nothing but a mass of blond-white hair. He gently turned the girl over, and gazed into the face of an angel. A dirty angel, as her face was smudged and scraped, but an angel nevertheless. Her small perfect features - high arched brows, small nose, and heart-shaped lips - complimented flawless, albeit dirty, skin. Her white gown was torn, wet, and soiled, and she wore no coat or cloak. Being the middle of winter, it was a miracle the girl hadn't died from exposure to the elements. Her body shivered uncontrollably, and he quickly took off his jacket and threw it over her.

   "Are you all right?" he frantically asked. As he impulsively touched her chilled face, her eyes flew open.

   He took in a breath at the sight of her eyes. They were the palest blue imaginable and still be human, and seemed to advance inside his very soul. She reached out and touched his warm face with an icy hand. Even with her chill, her touch could not have affected him more than if someone had put a hot brand to his skin.

   "Luke, please help me."

   He searched her face, grasping for recognition. "Do I know you?"

Her tormented eyes beseeched him, pleaded with him, and his heart melted into a helpless puddle.

   With his coat carefully wrapped around her, he carried her effortlessly to his horse. She encircled her arms around his neck, and lay her head on his shoulder. Luke could not explain the fierce sense of protection he suddenly felt for this small whit of a girl. He placed her on the front of his saddle, then mounted the horse, careful to not let her fall. Her frailty was compounded by the cold.

   "T-they are after me," she stammered through her shivers. "Please, do not let them take me."

   "No one is going to harm you, you are with me." He kicked his horse into a gallop and headed for the town, holding her with one hand, and controlling the horse with the other. She was so small, so helpless, he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. What threat could this small whit of a girl be to anyone?

   Galloping down the muddy, rutted road, Luke prayed the horse had enough energy left to reach his destination. He promised the horse an extra bucket of oats.

   When they reached the inn, he carefully carried her inside. Slamming his fists on the counter, he practically demanded a room. The innkeeper, a man small in stature, was not going to argue with the massive Luke. After ordering a bath, Luke carried the girl past the downstairs tavern, which was not yet rowdy with patrons, and up to the room. He gently laid her on the bed.

   "I shall be right back. Rest, you are safe here."

   The girl closed her eyes and nodded.

   Luke bounded down the stairs and went directly back to the innkeeper. "I need a woman," he ordered.

   The innkeeper looked Luke over warily, and narrowed his eyebrows in suspicion. "Did you not bring one in with you?"

   "What?" Suddenly aware of the implication, Luke flushed, and shook his head. "Nay, nay, I mean, I need a woman to give a bath to . . .my, uh, niece. She is dirty and cold, and I also need a dry gown. Quick, man! There is extra coin in it for you!" The innkeeper nodded enthusiastically while Luke leapt back up the stairs to the room. The girl slept peacefully just as he had left her. He sat down on a stool and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the vision in front of him. What the hell was he going to do with her? He didn't know her name, or even who she was, and he already felt as if she were part of him. Was he letting his emotions cloud his judgment? Is this what his brother Matthew had described when he first met Pet? His heart beat faster with the thought.

   The door opened, and two servants carried in a wooden tub. Several servants followed, each carrying a bucket of hot water, and dumped them into the tub. A woman servant remained when all others left.

   "Milord, you requested help with a bath?"

   "Aye, my . . .niece took a walk and . . . became lost, I fear. She is quite cold, and I understandably cannot give her a bath myself." He winced; he was a horrible liar.

   "Very well, Milord. What is her name?"

   Luke blanched white. "Uh . . .her name? Er, well . . ."

   The girl slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him. "Elanna."

   He quickly looked at her, and smiled with relief. "Ah, aye, Elanna. Her gown will need to be cleaned, also. I shall wait downstairs." He cast Elanna one last look, and smiled. She smiled back, and he felt weak in the knees. What was wrong with him?

   He waited in the tavern, downing tankards of ale as if none would ever be made again. Why was he so nervous? She was just a small bit of a girl; she could be just a child, for all he knew. Nay, the way the wet gown clung to her when he first saw her belayed that notion - no child could have breasts like that. He shook his head in bewilderment; what was he thinking? This was not like him, to fantasize over a woman, of all things. A fine horse, perhaps, but never a woman. Had she totally bewitched his mind?

   After a horribly long wait, the maid tapped him on the shoulder. "She is done, Milord, I apologize for the length of time - her hair was quite a chore." She held out her hand in expectation of a large tip, which he gladly forfeited.

   "Is she, uh, dressed?"

   The maid nodded. "Aye, we are laundering and mending her gown, and she is using a loaned dress until 'tis ready. It should be ready by your departure tomorrow." She gave a knowing smile. "I must say, Milord, your . . .niece is very comely."

   Luke cleared his throat, and stood up. "Aye, she is." He left the maid as fast as his muscular legs would carry him.

   When he entered the room, Elanna was sitting on the bed combing out her masses of hair with a small comb. The dismal, brown, common dress she wore could not diminish her radiant beauty. She raised her head to look up at him, and smiled shyly. He pulled up a stool and sat down, facing her while he studied her fresh-scrubbed, pink face.

   "I knew a pretty girl was underneath all that dirt."

   "Thank you for the bath." She lowered her gaze, displaying long, sweeping eyelashes that framed her fascinating transparent eyes.

   "You are most welcome. They are also cleaning and repairing your white gown. Twill be returned shortly." He paused, unsure of what to say next. "Er . . .are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "I am not used to eating much."

There could be no more stalling. He attempted a stern expression, and cleared his throat. "Very well, young lady, I believe you have some explaining to do."

"You want to know what I was doing outside alone in the cold without a cloak, and how I know your name."

He sat up straight, his face displaying surprise. "Well, that will do for starters."

"You also want to know who I am, and who is after a little thing like me."

He folded his arms and frowned. "Well, actually, aye. I do."

"You also want to know . . ."

"All right, that is quite enough of what I want to know, why do you not just tell me?"

Her lower lip trembled, and she looked down at her lap. "I am sorry . . .I did not mean to invoke your anger."

He reached out and lifted her chin, then smiled assuredly. "I am not angry. I am simply concerned."

"I know."

"Therefore, why do you not start by answering all those questions that I did not get to ask?"

"My name is Elanna Dayen."

"Dayen? You are the woman I was to meet!"

"I know nothing of that, only that I escaped from a dreadful fate, and now you have rescued me. I knew you would."

"Dreadful fate?" He stroked his chin in thought. "I believe your uncle told me you were to be married. To most young ladies, that prospect is not so dreadful."

Her eyes flashed in desperation. "To a man of his choosing, that he paid. 'Twas all a ruse to get Ancaster. He was going to kill the poor unwitting villager after he married me, and keep me locked up in the cellar for a reasonable amount of time to make it appear the marriage was a success. Then he was going to send me away. Ancaster would be lost to me forever."

"He told you all this?"

She lowered her gaze. "Not exactly."

"Then, how do you know this?"

"The guard that locked me up . . ."

"Oh, then he told you this."

"Not exactly."

He gave her a confused scowl. "Well then, just how do you know? "

She pursed her lips and fell silent.

"All right, then. By Gods bones, why would someone lock you up in a cellar?"

Her voice lowered to a soft, whispering tone, as if she were talking to herself. "To keep me in darkness."

He leaned back, raising his eyebrows in contemplation as he processed all this confusing information. "Perhaps you better start at the beginning."

"I cannot."

"And why not?"

Her eyes flickered from fatigue, and Luke instantly felt like a great fool.

"Of course, you are tired. I shall let you rest." He stroked his scrubby beard. "I could do with a bath and a shave, myself."

She nodded, and lay down.

Luckily, Luke was able to secure another room right next to Elanna's. The hot bath also brought out his weariness, and he closed his eyes while soaking - for just a few seconds, he told himself - while the strange, yet fascinating girl slept. He awoke a while later in a cold tub. Shivering and feeling like an idiot, he climbed out of the tub and dried himself off. The tavern down below him was full and rowdy, by the sounds of it. He immediately felt compelled to check on Elanna.

He quietly opened the door - as if it would be heard above the noise emanating from downstairs - and peeked in. The white gown had been returned, and was lying across the chest at the foot of the bed. She was peacefully asleep. Good. Whatever her plight, it would appear better in the morning after a restful night. He closed the door and went back to his room. In a few minutes he was fast asleep.

Miles away, Giles Dayen was red with rage. He paced the study, stopping only to glower at his half cousin, Patrick, who stood unwaveringly before him.

"How did she escape? I thought you had a man posted outside her door? "

"We did. He took a small break to relieve himself, and she seized the opportunity to flee."

"This is what I get for being nice. I should have locked her in the dungeon straight off."

"Nice? You abduct her in the middle of the night, bound and hooded, and then keep her confined to a small room in the tower? Well, I guess in your eyes that is nice."

Giles banged his fists on his desk. "That little witch! She should have burned with the rest of her wretched family, then Ancaster would be truly mine."

Patrick flinched at the display of total hatred. "How did she escape the fire; you have ne'er told me."

"I have no idea! The miserable guttersnipe was found the next morning by a garrison of knights sent to investigate the fire. Her fate would not have been life if I had found her first, I can assure you!"

"Quite true; I have no doubt you would not have hesitated choking the life from a five-year-old."

Giles snorted. "Do not be so melodramatic. My worthless brothers entire family had to die in order for me to gain Ancaster, you know that. Her living was not in my plans. And now, thanks to that stupid, meddling King Henry, she must marry to obtain a lord for her lands. If she were not a witch, I would marry her myself; I would like to have that little body of hers in bed. Unfortunately, I cannot get that close to her."

"Aye, she would finally know who killed her family."

"Is that a judgmental tone I hear? Come now, Patrick, let us not forget your little part in all this. "

"I did not set the fire!"

"But you barricaded them all in! You sealed their fate as much as I."

"You did not tell me you planned to burn the inn to the ground. You said you simply wanted to scare them." His hands clenched with the foul memory.

"Only because her death at this time would look suspicious, and we cannot have the king poking his nose around here, now can we? Nay, twill look better if she marries and turns her land over to her new husband. Then I can send her back to the convent where she can live out her miserable life as a nun."

Patrick frowned with disapproval for his heartless cousin. "How generous of you to let her live."

"May I remind you that if our smuggling ring is revealed, we shall hang for sure. Piracy might be rewarding, but it has its risks. No not worry, if it comes to be necessary I am not beyond still killing her, believe me."

"I have no doubt."

Giles smirked, then his voice rose again in frustration. "But first we must find her! Get your men back out there; she cannot have gone far with no food ere coat."

"But tis dark. We are not likely to find her tonight. We have already searched the woods."

"Then go to neighboring villages; see if someone found her. With her fetching looks, she might have someone helping her."

"Very well. Do not worry, my concerned cousin, we shall find her - dead 'ere alive."

"Then move! I grow impatient!"

Patrick turned to leave when Giles called his name. As he whirled around, Giles tossed him a sword. Patrick reached out, but was not able to catch it. It clanked to the floor as Giles began laughing in a mocking tone.

"Still not able to use your right arm very well?"

"You know I cannot." He picked up the sword with his left hand and tossed it back. "But then, I would rather use my mind. I leave the brutality to you." He left the fuming Giles to his hatred.

Giles slumped in a chair, and nervously tapped his fingers on his leg. The girl had to be found; all his plans hinged on it. No one must be suspicious of foul play. When she was found alive thirteen years ago, a small huddled heap under concealment of bushes, he quickly seized the opportunity and stepped in as her guardian. He played the part of the loving uncle, until the child began telling people their thoughts. Soon she was talking of events that had not yet happened - a broken leg; a terrible storm; the birth of a baby; the death of an ill servant - she always foretold the exact time and place. But her ability to know a persons very thoughts frightened him most. He discovered she could not sense in the darkness or from a distance, and he was able to use that phenomenon to keep her from his mind. It would not do for her to know he had set the fire that killed her family. Knowing that her powers would most likely grow as she did, he sent her away to be raised by nuns - in the pretense of being purely for her own good, of course - until she reached an age of reason. Then he planned to force her to sign Ancaster over to him, or reveal her as a witch. He certainly didn't expect the new Tudor king to step in and ruin his carefully conceived scheme. He found a willing subject to marry her for a price. Of course, his victim didn't know that he was to meet with an unfortunate accident, leaving Ancaster to the only remaining male relative, Giles. Now the girl was loose, heaven only knew where, and she had to be found. His control of Ancaster depended upon it.

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