“Well now, what’s the problem?” Hawk asked after a long swallow to banish the dust of the training field. Dragon hesitated but, to his credit, not for long. “I brought a girl with me. Krysta is seeing to her now. She’s Lady Rycca of Wolscroft.”Hawk’s brows rose slightly. “Your betrothed.”“My errant betrothed. I met her a few days ago, apparently after she donned boy’s garb and fled from her home rather than come here and be married to me.”Hawk cleared his throat, decided this was a good time for more ale, and emptied the horn. He finished up with a deep breath before attempting a response. “I see . . . well, I don’t actually. She was dressed as a boy, you met several days ago, but you didn’t bring her until now?”“I didn’t know who she was. She wouldn’t tell me her name so I—” His mouth thinned sardonically. “I decided not to tell her mine. Clever, don’t you think?”“Why do I have the distinct impression that it was anything but?”“Not knowing who I was—” Dragon broke off. His gaze sought a distant corner of the hall. Quietly, he said, “Not knowing who I was, she lay with me.”

“The Lady Rycca of Wolscroft and you would be well advised to take your eyes from her. She is betrothed to a Norse lord who comes soon to claim her.”

“What is it?” Dragon asked.“There is a man, lord, just off a ship from Normandy. He’s in the tavern over there and he’s asking for the Lady Rycca.”“Is he? What manner of man?” “Tall, slender, actually he looks rather like her ladyship. He says she is his sister and he seeks word of her.”“Does Rycca have yet another brother?” Wolf asked. He was close to Dragon and had overheard the exchange. The news had him fingering the hilt of his sword.“Yes, she does, but I gather he’s an altogether different sort. Do you mind finishing up here?”“Not at all. Go ahead.”Scant minutes later, Dragon set a horn of ale in front of the visitor from Normandy. The young man looked up, startled. He was pale skinned, with eyes like honey and hair that held the promise of fire. Had Rycca been a man, she would have looked just like him.Happy, happy day that she was not.“What brings you to Hawkforte, friend?” Dragon asked as he took the seat opposite his new acquaintance. “I seek word of my sister, the Lady Rycca of Wolscroft. I have had troubling word of her in Normandy and wish to be assured of her safety.”Trouble involving Rycca? How astonishing. Dragon hid a grin and said, “You would be called—”“Thurlow. And you are—?”This time, Dragon’s smile would not be denied. “Ah, well, as to that, therein hangs a tale.”

“Do you not think you could share this with Dragon?""Dragon,who was reluctant enough for this marriage and who now finds himself with a wife he can never hide anything from. Who will always know whether he is telling the truth or not. You think he would welcome such a wife?"Cymbra thought for a moment. "Well...I don't know...Perhaps if you rubbed his feet."Rycca stared at her in shock, saw the look of pure deviltry in Cymbra's eyes, and burst out laughing at the same moment as her new sister-in-law-and friend-did the same.They laughed and laughed, not quieting until Lion stirred, gazed at them reproachfully, and opened his mouth to unleash a bellow that reverberated off the nearby hills and sent the sea birds scattering to safety."Oh,my heavens," Rycca said when it was finally quiet enough to say anything at all.Cymbra sighed.She rose, picked up her son, and tried to settle his head back against her shoulder. "It has been ever such.He almost brought the rafters down in the chapel at Hawksforte where he was christened.""It is most impressive," Rycca said as she, too,stood. "I suppose that accounts for his name.""It's actually Hakon,to honor Wolf and Dragon's father,but he is called Lion and I suspect he always will be."Just as he would be satisfied only to be set down. On his own two feet, he toddled off determinedly toward the top of the hill, leaving the bemused women to follow.”

“She turned her head slightly, relieved that she could do so, and found Dragon not asleep or at least drowsily replete, as he should have been—oh no, not he—but wide awake, propped up on an elbow, and looking at her with what appeared suspiciously to be amusement.“I don’t think you are human,” she said sulkily.He grinned. “I felt like a god a few moments ago, but that’s to your credit, not mine.”

“Don't you think Rycca would like to hear about Hadding, the warrior Odin rescued from his enemies? Indeed, so would I for as I recall, the last time I asked about him, you told the story in great haste without the scantiest details." There was a gleam in her eyes that Rycca had come to understand meant she was up to something, but she had no idea what might lurk behind so seemingly innocent a suggestion.Dragon grinned and looked at his brother, who leaned back in his chair and laughed. When Rycca appeared puzzled, Cymbra said, "I confess, when I noticed how attentive you are to Dragon's stories I was reminded of myself. At Wolf's and my wedding feast, I persuaded Dragon to tell a great many tales. He was the soul of patience.""He was?" Wolf interjected. "I was the one with the patience. My dear brother knew perfectly well I was sitting there contemplating various possibilities for doing away with him and he enjoyed every moment of it.""Now how could I have known that, brother?" Dragon challenged. "Just because the wine goblet you were holding was twisted into a very odd shape?""It was that or your neck, brother," Wolf replied pleasantly. He looked at Rycca reassuringly. "Don't worry, if I hadn't already forgiven him, that sword he gave me would force me to.""It is a magnificent blade," Dragon agreed. "They both are. Every smithy in Christendom is trying to work out what the Moors are doing but...""It's got something to do with the temperature of the steel," Wolf said."And with the folding. They fold more than we do, possibly hundreds of times.""Hundreds,really? Then the temperature has to be very high or they couldn't pound that thin. I wonder how much carbon they're adding-"Cymbra sighed. To Rycca, she said, "We might as well retire.They can talk about this for hours."Wolf heard her and laughed. He draped an arm over her chair, pulling her closer. Into her ear, he said something that made the redoubtable Cymbra blush.She cleared her throat. "Oh, well, in that case, you might as well retire, too." Standing up quickly, she took her husband's rugged hand in her much smaller and fairer one. "Good night, Rycca, good night, Dragon. Sleep well." This last was said over her shoulder as she tugged Wolf from the hall.Her obvious intent startled Rycca, who even now could not think herself as being so bold, but it made both the Hakonson brothers laugh."As you may gather," Dragon said in the aftermath of the couple's departure, "my brother and his wife are happily wed.”

“Take off your clothes. Better yet, I’ll do it.”“Oh, no!” She stepped back quickly in alarm, which prompted a swift frown from him. It vanished when Rycca said, “I saw how you manhandled that tunic. You aren’t about to do the same to this gown. Just wait a moment . . .”Even as she spoke, she deftly undid the laces down the side of the garment and lifted it carefully but quickly over her head. Her husband was in a mood, ridden by tension she could not understand. She wanted to placate him, yet she also wished to surrender to the urges he so effortlessly unleashed within her.Naked save for the gauzy chemise that hid nothing from his eyes, she stood before him, her head lifted proudly to conceal the quivering she felt within. She gloried in his gaze, hot and potent, raking over her. But when he reached for her, she stepped back again. “I ask a boon, lord.”She had never asked him for anything—save freedom and that he could not give. Caught, knowing he could hardly refuse, Dragon rasped, “What?” He had not meant to be so curt but speech was almost beyond him. He wanted her with a desperation he had never felt before save every time he lay with her, and even then he usually managed to maintain some semblance of control. Not now. He burned, his body drawn bow-taut. If he did not sheathe himself soon within his wife’s silken depths . . .She looked at him directly, her eyes wide and candid. “All day I have wanted to . . . touch you.”His dark brows rose. “All day?” Well, that was certainly pleasing but it didn’t make his condition any easier to bear. Harshly, he said, “You don’t have to ask permission to touch me.”She shrugged her lovely, almost bare shoulders. “I know, but under the circumstances . . .” Her gaze drifted down his body, rather pointedly, he thought.Which definitely did not help matters at all.“You can touch me later,” he said and reached for her again. She pressed her palms against his chest, tossed back her gleaming hair, and laughed. Really, he was going to die from this. “Just a little now . . . please?”Dragon squeezed his eyes shut and reached deep down inside himself for the control that was so intrinsic a part of his warrior’s nature. It had to be in there somewhere. Any moment now he’d stumble across it.”