On a rare sunny day, Lord Randal Aydar Heton Du Grace, fifth of that name, sat in the castle book room and poured his third goblet of whisky. From outside, where it should have been raining enough to float Noah’s ark, came the sound of carriage wheels and hoofbeats retreating down the long drive to the hillside lane that led from the castle gates to the town and harbor below. As lord of Blancmer castle in his father, the earl’s, absence, he should have seen the travelers on their way. But he couldn’t do it. He could not wish that cheating jade well. Everything that could be said between them had been said. Including the information that she thought him an extremely dull dog.

Why should I care? I should be grateful to have escaped marriage with a woman whose social ambitions had played him false.

Cheating? Playing false? It wasn’t really cheating when your betrothed since birth visits to make final arrangements for the wedding and instead tells you she has her father’s, and more importantly King Edward’s, permission to break off the betrothal so she can marry another man.

A Frenchman, no less.

Not that Randal had anything against his cousins in Normandy and Anjou. But this Comte de Pessac was from the far east of France. The only reason Edward would approve the match was the expectation of gaining an ally against the French King. Then too, Edward probably wouldn’t mind embarrassing the Du Grace family a little in the eyes of the bootlicking courtiers who surrounded him.

I can hardly blame my liege lord when it was our family, in part, who embarrassed him last summer and cost him no small amount of gold in ransoms.

Several more goblets of whisky later a pounding on the door shook Randal from his gloomy thoughts.

“Lord Randal,” came the voice of his squire. “You are needed at the harbor to take delivery of the horses from Scotland.”

“Send my master of horse.”

“I’ve sent for Sir Haukeson, but he’s tending an injured destrier and may be sometime. Also, the ship’s captain insists on speaking with you.”

“Very well. See my palfrey readied and have my factor meet me at the ship. I’ll be in the courtyard by the time you bring my mount.”

Randal stood. He waited until the room ceased whirling then carefully made his way to the great hall and the large double doors that stood open whenever the weather permitted. He was pleased to note fresh rushes had been laid and a manservant was tending to one of the two huge hearths that warmed the hall.

He descended the steps to the inner bailey without stumbling, though his head still spun a bit. He passed through the arch to the outer bailey. Alaine was leading the palfrey from the direction of the main stables.

Soon, Randal rode along the main street of the town that sat below the castle. He nodded and waved at the folk who stopped to greet the son of their Earl. At the docks, he gave care of his palfrey over to a young lad with promise of payment on his return.

His factor waited as ordered, and the two men walked to the far end of one of the cays where stood a large ship. Men busily unloaded goods destined for the town merchants under the watchful eye of a man who, by his stature and dress, must be the captain.

The man looked up at Randal’s approach.

“Be ye Earl Du Grace?”

“No. The earl is my father and is currently at court. I am Lord Randal Du Grace and have authority in his place.”

“Excellent. I need to get these Scottish horses off my ship.” He shouted orders to three sailors who had just placed a load of crates on the cay.

Randal watched as the MacKai blacks—three mares, one already in foal—were brought down from the good ship Woodland Lady.

“Any difficulties with the horses under sail?” Randal queried of the vessel’s captain.

“No, none at all. Baron MacKai knows his business. Gave us specific instructions as to care and feeding. Even sent along a lad, name of Gillam, to tend to the beasts while me crew was busy sailing the ship.

“And where is this ‘Gillam’ now?”

“He’s the boy leading the mare what’s in foal.”

Randal sought the mare and studied the boy as they slowly passed by.

The lad had a hand on the mare’s withers and a solid grip on the reins, yet that grip did not pull at the horse. No, he kept the mare in motion with nothing more than the sound of his voice. To his factor, Randal gave orders for the care of the horses to be relayed to his Master of Horse.

“The lad seems to know his way around a horse.” Randal turned back to the ship’s captain.

“Kept ’em all quiet throughout the entire voyage, even when a storm blew up.”

“If you’re satisfied with his work, perhaps I’ll keep him on. Assuming he’s no wish to return to Scotland.”

“That’ll be between the two of you. Now let’s settle up. I must be in Morecambe on the evening tide.”

Randal took a pouch from his belt and handed it to the captain. “That’s more than the price we agreed on, because you took such good care of my new breeding stock.”

The captain hefted the pouch in one hand, testing its weight. “Aye, I’d say ye’ve included an extra fifty coin over our agreed fee.”

Randal grinned. “I consider it an investment in our future business dealings.”

“Dealings that will profit us both, considerably,” the captain promised.

“Then, I’ll bid you good day and safe journey to Morecambe.” He held out his hand.

The captain clasped it in his own meaty fist but did not release his grip when Randal made to move away.

“We’ve one last piece of business, yer lordship.” Letting go of Randal, the captain signaled two men waiting at the rail of his ship. They immediately disappeared from view.

Randal eyed the man. “My sister’s letter spoke only of the mares. You’ve been paid for them, and I’ve given you a generous vail. What other business could we possibly have?”

“There’s a matter of payment for a passenger. She claims she’s your sister-in-law and demands to be sent back to Scotland.”

“Then send her back. I’ve no time to be bothered with strange women.” Randal flicked his hand and turned to walk away.” The last thing he needed was another faithless female.

The captain moved to stand in his way. “I’m not returning to Scotland, so she leaves my ship here. But not until you pay me for her passage.”

Randal’s head pounded as the effects of drink finally began to wear off. He bit his lower lip to keep from cursing the man. Paying him would cost less than the time and effort to put him in his place. “How much do you want?”

“Fifty gold pieces should suffice.”

“Fi-f-fifty gold pieces? That’s a king’s ransom. No woman is worth that.”

“Nonetheless, I’ll be needing that much to replace the items she damaged, and have the cabin cleaned. She fell sick not long into the voyage, but first she destroyed a cabin full of good furniture and pottery first.”

“Why?”

“Who knows why a woman gets into a rage?”

The two seamen signaled earlier by the captain reappeared at the top of the gangway. They carried something in a blanket slung between them. Bringing it to where Randal stood with their captain, they placed the laden blanket on the ground.

“I’ll take my money now.” The captain held out his hand.

Waving over his factor, Randal told him to pay the captain then dismissed them both from his mind. He bent to peel back the blanket.

Eyes of charcoal grey, so dark as to be nearly black, glared at him—whether with fever or fury or both—from a wan face surrounded by lank red hair. Her mouth, cracked and dried as it was, might be full and generous were she in good health. He wondered if her complexion were always pale or would that too be rosy and alluring. A brief glance at the rest of her revealed attributes too tempting for nearly any man. Not now, while I’m engaged with the ship’s captain.