Desired by Virginia Henley Page A

would remain in that state.
    Dame Marjorie’s words came back to haunt her.
I shall advise the queen to betroth you to an older man who will rule you with an iron hand
. Brianna swallowed with difficulty, her mouth suddenly as dry as a desert.
    “Lady Bedford.” His voice was harsh.
From years of giving orders that must be obeyed
, Brianna told herself.
    “My Lord W-Warrick,” she whispered. Her father had warned her to be careful for what she prayed in case her prayers were answered. Whatever had she asked of St. Agnes? Honorable, brave, and strong. He was certainly all of those, she thought wildly. Why hadn’t she asked for someone young?
    Because she had been without a family from such a tender age, it was the thing she longed for most. She had been an only child whose constant companion had been loneliness. Her dreams were filled with the laughter and noise of the many children she would share with a special knight whom she prayed would be a strong, yet indulgent father. Together, they would become loving and devoted parents. Therein lay happiness and security, banishing loneliness forever.
    Her hopes for the young knight who would father her babies faded away dismally and was replaced by the bleak vision of the stern, old warrior breeding his last progeny upon her young body.
    The Mad Hound spoke. Brianna tried to hear his words over the roaring inside her ears.
    “I knew your father well. He was a worthy knight.”
    “Thank you,” she managed.
    “I don’t think he would have any objections to uniting our two houses in marriage.”
    Jesu, she had asked for someone noble. None stood higher than the Earl of Warrick in all the land. “Nay, my lord, you do me too much honor … I am not worthy.”
    “That is for me to decide.” His words silenced her. Then, as if he had spoken too harshly, he offered a compliment. “You will make a beautiful bride. I am well pleased. However, the decision is yours. You are gently bred and seem over-young to a man of my years.”
    Jesu, he must be forty, perhaps fifty, she thought wildly. They would have nothing in common. He would be no companion with whom she could share laughter and love. Her loneliness would last a lifetime.
    Brianna clutched at the word “over-young.” That would be her excuse. She raised her lashes and saw the look of pride and hope written on his craggy face. Her tongue could not form the words to refuse him. “You do me much honor,” she said woodenly, then lowered her lashes, but not before she had glimpsed a flash of aquamarine eyes. The eyes, identical to another’s, caused a sharp pain in her chest. As Warrick loomed over her, she felt as if a dark cloud had settled above her. The pain was heavy. She wondered if she might die of it.
    She had never felt so miserable. “I—I will need time,” she temporized, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “I think a long courtship best, so the c-couple may get to know each other.”
    Warrick laughed. “I leave the courtship and the wooing to Robert, now that I know you are agreeable to a match with my son.”
    Suddenly the dark cloud departed and the sun came out. “Robert de Beauchamp …” Brianna murmured with delight. She caught her breath, remembering the intense gaze of his aquamarine eyes. Her world was unfolding as it should after all!
    She offered a quick prayer of thanks to St. Agnes. Jesu, she had treated the great Earl of Warrick wretchedly. To compensate, she gave him a brilliant smile and sank into a deep curtsy. “You do me much honor.” This time she said it with all her heart.
    He offered his hand to raise her to her feet. She was all soft, womanly compliance. A real man’s woman. God’s Splendor, if he were a young warrior again—
    Adele was awaiting Brianna in the Guard Chamber. Her face was filled with anxiety. In her agitation she had shredded the hem of her surcoat. “Oh, my lamb, did Warrick have marriage in mind?”
    Brianna’s mood was light and