Chapter One          Artois, early summer 1256
Jocelyn looked out from her perch on the battlements, absently gazing down at the vacant yard below her. She should feel relief with the thought of her irksome company pressing on to leave her in peace at last. She was weary of being the center of attention, of finding the will to carry on a conversation with a stranger and pretend she was pleased to do so.Her life had been nothing like she imagined it would be since she took hold of her inheritance, and she was growing more frustrated by the day.Alas, her thoughts shifted from the yard below her and the group passing through her gates to a time in the not so distant past that molded her into the woman she’d become. Jocelyn allowed her mind to wander to the hushed darkness where the fragments of dreams and reality collide until she was vividly reliving a tender memory of her past.
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She rode beside her aunt Suri and her two cousins, entering the battle in the wake of her uncle’s men. There was nothing left to fear for once the enemy saw the refreshed numbers of their foe advancing, they retreated, running for their lives.Jocelyn’s eyes beheld the in distance a man lying upon the ground. Her heart knew him at once for he had been a part of her soul for longer than she would ever care to admit.“Bart!” Jocelyn cried, bringing her mount to a rearing halt. “Oh…nay!” Jocelyn dismounted and was running across the trampled battlefield before her kinswomen could see what alarmed her. Bart was lying on the ground at the base of a tree, his sword resting across his lap, his hands limp at his side.  Jocelyn knelt beside him, tenderly lifting his head to rest it on her lap. His once sun-kissed complexion was terribly pale, his eyes searching her face, causing her to feel for a moment as though he didn’t know her.How could he not, they had all but grown up together.“It should have been her whom he loved,” her cousin, Meredith, whispered to no one in particular, as she sat upon her mount in the distance. Meredith’s heart was breaking as she watched Jocelyn weep over the loss of the man she had loved for the majority of her life. It was not right for Bart to be so blind to Jocelyn’s devotion. Jocelyn would have given anything to have Bart look to her with love in his eyes.Meredith dismounted and followed her cousin’s footsteps to the base of the tree, kneeling beside Jocelyn to offer her comfort as best she could.Jocelyn swallowed hard when Meredith joined her, wishing they could go back and change what had been done. Bart had asked for Meredith’s hand only days before, he’d sworn he loved her cousin as Jocelyn stood by, her heart aching for Bart to speak those very words to her. Jocelyn would have accepted his offer in an instant, where Meredith stood in shock; her heart already lost to another.“Meredith—” Bart whispered, bringing Meredith’s attention to his strained countenance. His eyes were dim and clouded over with pain, his hand gripping Jocelyn’s so fiercely her fingers were swiftly turning white.“Aye,” Meredith answered, her voice heavy with sorrow.“Give Cody my gratitude…tell him I am honored to call him my friend,” Bart instructed, needing the man to know that after everything, he was grateful to him. It was Cody whom Meredith had given her heart, it was Cody who freed Bart from his foe, allowing him to live and die with honor.“I will,” Meredith promised, giving way to her tears, allowing them to flow freely down her wind-burnt cheeks.The man then looked up to the woman who was bending over him, her eyes filled with tears, her usual cheery complexion marred by her sorrow. “Forgive me—” Bart whispered. “I fear it has taken death…for me to truly see you…you might have been more to me than a dear friend.”Jocelyn shook her head at his words, not willing to hear this, not now that he was doomed to leave her. Bart’s confession that he might have loved her would rip her apart; she could not bear to hear him speak such things to her, not when he lay dying in her arms. Too overcome to speak, Jocelyn bent over him as his eyes closed, the life he once so vibrantly lived stilled, leaving him empty and lifeless in the arms of the woman who loved him.
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Jocelyn let out her breath in a mighty puff and shook her head at the distant horizon. It was only two years ago that Bart was taken from her, and yet to think of that night brought fresh agony. Even so, she could not keep the memory of it far from her thoughts. Ever was the image of that day there to haunt and bring her sorrow.“Truly, Jo, was it so horrible?” Tomas asked from where he stood beside her on the battlements. He was looking to the horizon, as she was; watching the large party of their most recent guests fade from sight. “It was not you who was forced to entertain them,” she answered, shaking her head a second time. “You sat back in your leisure, watching as I did my best to entertain and act kindly to those I would never have given entrance to my home at all.” Tomas was a good few years her senior and the captain of her father’s guard. In his youth, he was her father’s squire and was now on loan to her until she could manage to find a captain of her own. As it was, she trusted Tomas and until her father complained about his absence she would keep him in her service.“Aye, are you alright?” Tomas asked, obviously concerned about her well-being. “Well enough,” Jocelyn answered with another heavy sigh.“Is that not the third party you have entertained this season, it is not yet mid-summer?” he questioned, reaching his hands out to rest them on the rough parapet, his pale blue eyes squinting at the distance.“Aye,” she muttered, unable to forget how she’d been passing her days. Jocelyn forced herself to suppress her rising irritation with her peculiar situation and focus instead on the time when it would be her family coming to stay within the walls of her keep, and not some fool stranger seeking her hand in marriage. She’d been mistress of Artois for a little less than two years and already she was being sought after by a throng of suitors she had no desire to entertain. She was not yet ready to wed. She was only just feeling that her heart might be on the mend, why must she jump into a marriage? Jocelyn longed for love. She knew a good deal of woman her age were already married and had families of their own. She wanted this as well, but she was not about to give her heart to the first beggar that came knocking.“I hate to be the one to spoil your most deserved respite,” Tomas sighed, his rich voice breaking the silence. “It would seem you will find no peace after all, a party approaches.” He extended his hand, pointing to where a group of riders were materializing in the distance. Tomas as well was growing weary of the constant stream of visitors that persisted on swarming Artois. It was past time the place was given a rest from entertaining strangers.Jocelyn felt her resolve crumble, she wanted time to herself, to walk in the gardens, fly her hawk or hunt. She was weary of guests for the whole of one lifetime.“Is it too late to make a run for it?” Jocelyn asked, knowing the answer to her own question, even as she knew her duty to those seeking her hospitality. She had every right to turn any visitor away, but even so, to do so would be at the risk of offence.“Aye, my Lady, I fear it is.”“I feared as much,” Jocelyn sighed, lifting the hem of her fine gown to make her way back down to the yard.It was time, to once again, greet a party of strangers, when she had only just sent the previous group on their way. “I am taking you with me, Tomas,” Jocelyn ordered, glancing at him over her shoulder once she reached the stairs. She was too annoyed to do this alone.“I?” Tomas muttered, not wanting to so closely take part of such attention. “Aye, you will be by my side in this, make conversation and take a bit of the obligation from me. I cannot force myself to smile and be hospitable for a minute longer.”He’d kept close to her in the past, but never in the way she was implying. Tomas was the captain of her guard, he was to be there to watch over the woman and make certain she was safe with her company, not become a part of the entertainment.“If I must be subject to this, then so will you be. I am tired of being the center of attention, perhaps you might add a bit to the conversation or even take this next tormenter about the grounds yourself so I might be left to my own for a time." She reached out and took his arm when Tomas joined her, determined to keep him within reach.“As you wish it,” Tomas obliged, hardly looking forward to the task, but if it would make her happy, he would see it done.Jocelyn and Tomas reached the yard as the call of welcome thundered through the air. Her eyes unwillingly turned to the gate as another memory threatened to overrun her.Again she was stepping back into the tender hold of years past.
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After the fighting subsided and the wounded were being cared for, Jocelyn’s family gathered in her parents’ chamber. They gathered together, desperately clinging to the hope that the youngest of their family would win the battle she waged with the illness that ravaged her body. Poor Zoe was weak from the siege. Weary of fighting, but struggling to live for those she loved who were huddled about her.In spite of the pleas from her family and all the best efforts of the healer, dear Zoe had not the strength within her to last the night.Jocelyn vividly remembered the rain of the day that followed. The relentless onslaught of moisture splattered upon them all as her family led the party of mourners from the small cemetery and back to the shelter of the keep. So many died due to the selfish greed of another.She recalled the thunder as it seemed to lament the passing of one so young. It was the very echoing of her own broken heart, the rain her own unyielding tears, and no matter the effort, she could not contain them.Jocelyn stood in the hall for as long as she could manage. She was struggling to be strong for her mother and sister, but the dam she’d built about her heart was threatening to burst, putting her in motion. Silent tears she would give freely, it was the threat of what was coming that turned her from her kin. Jocelyn followed her feet to the door. Not caring that the heavens were weeping, she fled for the yard, stopping midway down the outer stairs when she caught sight of her cousin Meredith. Meredith was standing in the rain, her eyes fixed on the gate as though at any moment the man who left her would return. Jocelyn learned that very morning that Cody returned to his kin, leaving Meredith behind, for it was at her own request that he left. It seemed his mother was in dire need of her son and Meredith refused to stand in the way. In knowing that without the love of her son, Cody’s mother would suffer greatly, Meredith sent the man she cherished away.Jocelyn finished her descent, closing the distance between herself and Meredith, wrapped her arms about her cousin and rested her chin on her shoulder, nothing needed to be said between them. Jocelyn only knew that as she hurt, so did Meredith. They stood in the rain clinging to one another. Their eyes looking to the blurred horizon, waiting for all they had lost to somehow manage to find its way back.
                                                   *  *  *  *  *Jocelyn pulled herself from the horrid memory before the tears began flowing and looked to the party of men approaching her home. It was told to her by their messenger that the group hailed from Summerly and apparently came under the same guise as all the others. They were here seeking shelter and hospitality. In her mind, Jocelyn knew better than to believe this was all they were after.She would very shortly be certain of it for the group was near the gate and would soon fill her yard.
Mortan approached the towering keep, the thundering call of welcome easing away a bit of the ache to his travel-worn body. Self-consciously he ran a hand through his graying windblown hair and smoothed his beard of the same color. He pulled back his shoulders and made himself look as though he felt years younger than he was in truth.He was ailing and longed for a much needed rest after such a tedious trek.  Mortan needed this alliance; he needed it more than he cared to admit. He’d written to Robin, Lord Milberk, asking for the hand of his daughter only to be answered that the girl had a mind of her own, such a decision would be made by her. The news left Mortan where he sat now, stiff and aching as he looked down at the auburn haired angel before him.Mortan feared she would see through his facade and know him for the man he was. In truth, he was old, feeble and well past the use of a woman such as she.His wife had passed years ago, leaving him alone to raise their six children, their son Tristan and five daughters who would soon be in need of husbands, husbands he would never be able to supply for them. If he had not the sum to provide a gift to prospective suitors, the care of his daughters would forever be entrusted to him. That, as well, was a burden he could no longer carry.“My Lord Summerly, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Jocelyn called out, cheerfully offering her best greeting to the aged lord sitting atop his mount. The lady was speaking to him, her sweet voice pulling Mortan from his rambling thoughts. Her hand extended in greeting, forcing Mortan to acknowledge that he’d heard her.“As the pleasure is all mine, Lady Artois.” He dismounted, forcing his limbs to hold his weight, trying for all he was worth to look as though it was not a struggle for them to do so. “We are traveling home, Lady, and I would pray that it would not be an imposition for us to shelter within your walls to rest?” Mortan asked, not wanting to give her any inclination of his true intentions for seeking shelter in her magnificent home.Mortan took her hand and held it for a fleeting moment in his own. He needed her acceptance just as he needed air to breathe.“Not at all, my Lord, you are welcome here.” Jocelyn gave the old man a kind smile, taking relief in the certainty that he couldn't be as the others. Mortan smiled when she gave him a slight bow, gesturing with a silken clad arm to the stairs that would lead them to the keep. She then turned and led the way, followed closely by a stout pale haired man, who from his dress, Mortan could clearly see was the captain of Artois. Had she a need to keep her captain so close?“Have you traveled far?” Jocelyn asked when they reached the great room of the castle. Mortan was propelled toward a cluster of chairs near the hearth. The sight of rest filling him with blessed relief. He knew not how long his shaking legs would offer support.“Aye, I winter near the border. I have family there,” he lied, he and his men had come directly from Summerly. The only family he had left were those he’d left at his dwindling keep.“Truly? It has been ages since I have been so far from home.” Jocelyn motioned for him to sit, eyeing him carefully when he sat himself down in the high back chair and forced himself not to rub his aching limbs.She could clearly see he was weary and in need of a comfortable rest.“Aye, but now it is time for me to journey home where the remainder of my family is waiting. The journey has taken longer than I anticipated as the weather has not been kind until only just recently.” Mortan rested his hands on his lap and stretched out his fingers, even they ached from holding the reins of his mount. Perhaps it should have been his son who came on this errand. Alas, Tristan didn’t know the sad state in which his inheritance rested. Mortan wanted so badly to do the task himself, he was not accustomed to being looked after as though he were a decrepit old man. Mortan alone created this mess of problems and it was only just that he alone find a way out of them.“Perhaps I will leave you to your rest; surely you must be weary from your travels. Tomas will send the steward to you, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask,” Jocelyn graciously supplied. She was more than ready for a bit of fresh air to call her very own and from the look of Tomas standing back with his arms folded and offering nothing to the silence about them, this was just as good a time as any to seek her solitude and allow her new guest to rest.Mortan watched her grant him a warm smile and a bow before excusing herself, but not before she gave an unmistakable glare to the man he presumed was Tomas and then she was gone.“Come with me Lord Summerly, I will take you to your Chamber myself as it seems I have upset my mistress and will be wise to avoid her for the time being.” Tomas gave the man help in standing and slowly led him to the stairs.Mortan allowed the captain to lead him to the upper level of the keep and down a long corridor to a spacious room where his own pages were already busy arranging their master’s belongings. “My thanks,” Mortan offered, then watched the man go, his brow furrowed slightly as he pondered over the look she’d given her captain and the comment Tomas then made about his mistress. There was a kind of unspoken intimacy between them. Was there a reason why the Lady of Artois was still unmarried? Did the captain have something to do with it? Jocelyn waited just outside the door to the great hall; her arms folded, her eyes fixed on a mass of men seeing to horses and baggage in the dust-ridden yard below. It was a party that would surely accompany a traveling lord such as her guest. Now they were in her care, to feed and shelter just as she had so many others.Tomas appeared only a handful of moments later, took one look at her and whistled between his teeth. He attempted to return to the great room, but Jocelyn quickly caught hold of his arm, taking him captive.“I thank you for your assistance, I brought you with me for your help not so you could look on like a twit,” she accused, scowling at Tomas in annoyance.“I thought of nothing to say to the man. You had things well in hand.” Tomas came to stand beside her when she released the hold she had on him, studying her face with concern. She was drawn and irritated, more so than he’d seen in a very long time. “He is not like the others is he?” Jocelyn asked in near desperation. She felt the man wasn’t as all the others; she only longed to be certain before she fully put her guard down.“I dare say he is not. He seems to be traveling as he said. “Are you well, Jo?” Tomas inquired, noticing that the pallor of her skin was slightly paler than usual. He knew the last few months had been hard on her. Tomas could hardly blame her for being leery of these men who enthusiastically arrived at Artois. They came slowly at first, these men who sought her hand. There were two in the fall and a handful throughout the winter, but it seemed as soon as the spring and summer months were upon them, Artois was swarmed with a throng of men who were all after one thing. Most of them were hardly shy about admitting their true intentions and were reluctant to leave even when Jocelyn wholeheartedly dismissed them.“Aye, I am well…I would only have one day, Tomas. One day all to myself.” She turned and gave him a small smile before rolling her eyes heavenward when he stood shaking his pale head at her.It was as though he was telling her she would have it in time, but certainly not this day.“He will not stay long,” Jocelyn stated, as if doing so would make it true.“Perhaps not,” Tomas assured, though he feared the man was in need of a good rest. Lord Summerly was tired from his travels. Tomas knew he would be here longer than Jocelyn wanted, but he chose to keep that thought to himself.
A fortnight later Jocelyn stood outside Lord Summerly’s chamber, listening to the low voice of the healer as he conversed with the aged man. Five days ago he’d fallen ill and was unable to leave the confines of his bed. She’d pleaded with the man to let the healer come to him, but the old fool was stubborn to a fault refusing, until only moments ago.She’d learned a great deal about Mortan since he arrived. His wife had passed years ago and his spinster sister was now helping him raise his son and five daughters. Lord Summerly also told her a great deal about his home. It seemed to be a great holding, beautiful and vast, its grounds spacious, its walls well-fortified. Jocelyn could tell by the way he spoke of it that he was terribly fond of his home.She nodded to the healer when he emerged, wanting nothing but the best of news from the man. “I expect he will be well in a matter of days, it seems his travels have worn on him more than he might have anticipated,” the healer supplied, tipping his head at her before making his way down the corridor.Jocelyn watched him go before tapping lightly on Lord Summerly’s door; she then let herself in without waiting for his reply. “I am told you will be well in no time,” she announced, offering the man a bright smile. He looked years older to her at that moment. Propped up on a mound of pillows, his hair tousled, his face pale and drawn. Even his eyes were dimmed by his ailment.“Will you not let me send for your son?” Jocelyn asked as she’d done so many times before.“Nay, I would not trouble him, my dear.” Mortan shook his head then turned from her, looking slightly ashamed of the trouble he was causing.“Your sister then, surely you would feel more yourself if a member of your family was with you,” she suggested, crossing the room to stand beside his bed. Jocelyn knew if she was ill, she would want nothing more than to have her family by her side.“Nay, I will be well far before they could arrive. You are kind to offer, but I fear I have burdened you enough as it is. You must know I am sorry for the trouble I am causing.”“Aw, my Lord, you were a burden when you first arrived, but I must say I have grown rather fond of you,” Jocelyn teased, hoping to help him feel at ease. “No more apologies, I fear you are considered a friend now and I was raised to care for my friends.”“My Lady,” Tomas called from the doorway, gaining her attention at once. “Forgive me, but there are riders approaching.”Jocelyn felt herself sigh against her will and tried to mask her annoyance when she offered a warm smile to Lord Summerly. “Rest, I have it on good authority that you will be better in no time at all. My healer has never been wrong.” With that said, she left the room to follow Tomas to the yard.“Know you who it is?” Jocelyn asked, longing for him to tell her it was her kin approaching, even as she knew they were not due to arrive until the end of the month.“Nay.” Tomas glanced at her when they left the hall and he came to walk beside her.“I would think no less of you if you chose to close the gate,” he assured her.“I would think less of me,” Jocelyn answered, even as she contemplated the idea. She owed these travelers nothing, not her hospitality or her hand in marriage for that matter.“The order is yours to give, Jo,” Tomas reminded, wishing it was his order to give. He would send the group packing with very little hesitation.Artois was already granting shelter to Summerly, they needed no further company to hinder them.They descended the stairs to the sound of a number of hooves thundering toward them.“I wish to go for a hunt in the morning,” Jocelyn whispered, sounding as though she was speaking to herself and not to the man walking beside her.“Jo?” Tomas asked, not sure he heard her correctly. It was an odd comment to make when one was rushing to greet further guests.“Take me for a hunt in the morning. It has been months since I have ridden out alone, without anyone to hinder me, or conversation to obligate me. I just need to be alone.” She felt the walls of her home closing in around her. Jocelyn had felt confined to the keep since Lord Summerly arrived and now with whoever was arriving at her gate, she knew she would never last unless she had a bit of time to herself.“Aye, you know I would take you whenever you would ask it of me.” Tomas looked at her in concern, hoping her family would make haste. She seemed to be clinging to a very thin rope, drawn and weary and desperately seeking a bit of her life that was forced to be left behind when she became the Lady of Artois. Her father had been reluctant to let her go, but even so, Robin could never have known this would be how her life would be lived. Jocelyn passed her days more like an innkeeper than the mistress of a holding such as Artois. “Are you well, Jo?” Tomas asked, hearing the announcing call from without the gate as the party asked for permission to enter, permission that could not be given without the consent of the woman standing beside him. Alas, at that moment, Tomas was more concerned for her well-being than the fact that someone was waiting outside the gate.“I know not. If it is yet another come to bid for my hand, I will surely run him through,” Jocelyn vowed, never looking at him as she spoke. She was more than capable of completing such a task and Tomas knew as much.“What would you have me do?”“Just stay with me and open your mouth this time, even if you have nothing to say,” Jocelyn softly ordered, nodding to the herald, who instantly gave the call of welcome, allowing the gates to open. The barrier squealed on its hinges when the gate was pulled back, permitting the waiting group to approach.“Aye…and take you hunting in the morning,” Tomas reminded, giving her a half smile when she turned to look at him.Jocelyn returned his smile before turning to face whoever was now coming to call on her. With the promise of a bit of time of her own upon the morrow, Jocelyn felt certain she could meet this challenge head on, and defeat it as quickly as was possible. No amount of planning could have prepared her for the man who rode through her gate. He was a tower of a man, dark and confident. His piercing brown eyes seemed to bore through her, causing her skin to break out in goose bumps and her knees to slightly weaken. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt for years, a feeling that died along with the dear man who caused it.Every thought of solitude fled from her mind as the man drew rein before her and dismounted. Jocelyn’s head hardly reached his shoulder as he stood before her, pulling his gloves from his hands, before boldly reaching out and taking her hand in his.“Sir Rhyes, at your service, my Lady.” He kissed her hand, then offered her a low bow, his deep brown eyes never giving up the hold he possessed on hers.“Jocelyn of Artois, welcome.” She knew she was speaking, but it seemed she’d lost the ability to hear her own voice and prayed she wasn’t sounding like a fool.“My thanks, Lady. I would never impose, but rumors of you have traveled far and I could not help but come to Artois and see for myself if they were true!” Rhyes exclaimed, still holding her hand captive.“Rumors?” Jocelyn questioned, more than happy to hold his hand for as long as he saw fit to do so.“Aye, wild rumors of a foul, shrieking shrew of a woman who would sooner rip a man’s head from his shoulders than lose hold of her freedom. Thousands of men she has turned from her gates, rich and poor alike and each and every one scarred for life from her horridness.” “I beg your pardon?” Jocelyn snapped, coming back to herself at once. She yanked her hand from his, the strange spell he’d woven over her broken as though it had never been. “How dare you!” Jocelyn blurted, grateful to have possession of her wits once more. Tomas was nearly between them, his anger with the man’s insulting words vivid on his face.“I speak only in jest,” Rhyes laughed, placing his hand on the shoulder of her loyal captain as though they were the best of mates. The rich merry tones of his voice caused Jocelyn's knees to weaken against their will. How was it possible for him to vex her and then turn her again to mush so swiftly?“I see no humor in such an insult,” Tomas threw at him, keeping his hand boldly resting on the hilt of his sword as he shook Rhyes hand off his shoulder only to have it return again, irritating Tomas all the more.“No insult, friend. If you must know I have, in truth, heard a great deal of rumors and not a one of them did your lady justice. To be honest, I doubted such a lady could exist, but it seems I was mistaken, for here you stand.” Rhyes gave her another bow, then stood before her, seeming to wait for her reply.Jocelyn watched Tomas push Rhyes hand aside and relax slightly with his words, but her temper was sparked. She would not be made a fool of, not at the expense of any man. “Many a man has entered these gates, Sir, and many a man I have sent packing. If you count yourself to be the same as these lackwits who have entered my walls, seeking their fortune through a meek and unsuspecting woman, then you are greatly mistaken. “I would bid you good day before it is you who is insulted. You may pass the night in the barracks with your men and upon the morrow you will leave my walls.” She turned on her heel and left him where he stood. Her heart pounding in her chest, her breath stolen from her lungs, causing her to fear that she would never breathe again.Tomas folded his arms and looked to the man waiting to see his insult with Jocelyn's harsh words, but Rhyes never flinched. If anything, his smile only grew in size.