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life. He would hate the thought of leaving Summersedge Keep without claiming Alys of Summersedge’s virginity.

And he wanted more than that. He wanted more than the awkward, messy first coupling. He wanted to take her on a journey of sensuality that left her breathless and heartstruck. He wanted to try everything with her that he had learned in his travels, and some things he’d only dreamed of during long, fever-ridden nights.

He wanted her almost to the point of madness, a dangerous, vulnerable state for a man like him.

He had lain down on the bed beside her for a reason. Not to warm her—within moments the heat from the fur throw would have penetrated her chill bones. Not to seduce her, though his body was crying out with the need for it Not to comfort her, because he liked her wary and uncertain. It made things easier for him.

He had lain beside her on the bed to prove to himself he could resist her. He was still stronger than her irrational allure, his furious appetites, his needs, and his hungers. He could torment himself by breathing in the scent of her hair and remain unmoved.

Or at least, unmoving. He could lie beside her, hard as a rock, and not do a damned thing. Even if it killed him.

As he was beginning to suspect it might.

He’d never been overly fond of celibacy, even in his most idealistic days, but there was nothing he could do about it He’d already fixed it so he couldn’t find release with a wining kitchen maid—the rumors had spread so quickly it would become the talk of the castle if he found himself miraculously regenerated.

No, it would wait. He wasn’t sure for how long. The only reason not to take her right now was to prove to himself that he didn’t have to.

Once he was certain he had his hunger under control he could take the steps to assuage it. He could strip off her ugly, ugly clothes, toss them into the garderobe, and keep her naked in his bed for days and weeks and months, and to hell with Brother Jerome and Richard’s murderous plans.

Or maybe he’d wait until he’d done Richard’s bidding, as he knew he would, eventually. He’d come too far along this particular path to turn back now. If Richard managed to seize the throne in the aftermath of the young king’s death, there’d be a place of unlimited power for the advisor who happened to be his brother-in-law. It would give him everything he wanted, and he would be content.

He rolled over on his back, and she curled closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder. There were times he doubted if he knew what contentment was, or ever had. Years and years ago, when he’d been a child living in the north, on his parents’ estates, he’d been hopeful, foolishly believing in a forgiving God and an honorable mankind.

He’d learned the folly of both, and that contentment was a sham, a lie to trick weaklings.

But even now, lying amidst the furs with Alys of Summersedge sleeping by his side, so trusting, so small and sweet and delicious, he could feel the first dangerous trickle of peace. The kind of peace that would strip away everything he’d worked for. The kind of peace that would allow him to make the mistake of caring for Alys of Summersedge, only to have her die in childbirth and her child die with her.

The kind of peace that would slaughter innocent children and turn him into a weak, useless coward.

He wanted no peace like that He would remain as he was, invulnerable, clever, wicked as he could be.

And he would survive.

Chapter Fifteen

Richard the Fair had a knack for choosing his weapons. His knights were among the bravest and the strongest in all of England, his servants were devious and skilled, and his chief advisor, Simon of Navarre, was feared throughout the land.

Simon had no doubt that whoever was foolhardy enough to sneak into his tower room in the middle of the night would be well-armed, and sent by Richard in search of the deadly herbal concoction. Richard was an impatient man, and Simon had put him off for too long.

He lay perfectly still on the wide bed, Alys asleep beside him with the thick fur throw chastely between them. It was just as well he hadn’t given in to temptation and deflowered her. Lovemaking, when done properly, took too much away from the participants. He needed to be in full control of his senses to defeat the intruder.

The man would be entirely ready to kill him once he found the potion. It would simplify Richard’s life enormously—there would be no witness, no accomplice to pay off, and he could hand his older sister to a wealthier prospect Therefore, whoever was in his rooms must be possessed of intelligence and judgment as well as ruthlessness. Richard wouldn’t entrust such a decision to just anyone.

It wouldn’t be Thomas du Rhaymer. Thomas wasn’t willing to do Richard’s dirty work, and Richard knew it. He saved Sir Thomas and his formidable fighting skills for straightforward battle. He used others to commit murders.

The man moved with great stealth—that narrowed the field down to Aidan of Montrose, a squire to Sir Horace and a young man totally without conscience. Simon slid from the bed in utter silence, leaving Alys sleeping still.

Aidan didn’t hear him coming. Simon moved up behind him like a wraith, absently aware that he was unarmed and Aidan had a long dagger that had cut more than its share of throats. He had little doubt he would prevail, and little concern if he didn’t. And then he remembered the woman lying asleep in his bed.

Something alerted Aidan, for he spun around, dagger already drawn and flashing outward, and Simon acted instinctively. His right arm shot out, his hand closing tightly around Aidan’s thin neck as he slammed him against the stone wall by the window. With his

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