He had pushed his company hard, determined to arrive in Scarcliffe on market day. As he had anticipated, virtually everyone who belonged on the manor and its surrounding farms was gathered in the narrow street to witness the triumphant return of their new lord.

This should have been a moment of enormous satisfaction, Hugh thought. He had it all now. He had retrieved the green crystal and he had betrothed himself to a suitable lady. He was ready to settle down as lord of Scarcliffe.

But things were not going as smoothly as he had planned and that made him uneasy. He was said to have a talent for stratagems. Some claimed he had a mage's skill at such. But something had gone badly awry the other night when he had tried to convince Alice to make their betrothal genuine.

He was still stinging from the blow she had unwittingly landed. She acted as though she preferred the convent to sharing a marriage bed with him.

That news did not set well, especially now that he suspected that he would very likely walk through hell if it meant an opportunity to finish what he had begun between her soft thighs.

His body grew taut and hard whenever he recalled the way she had shivered in his arms. As he had spent much of the journey with just such thoughts plaguing him, he had passed the time in an uncomfortable condition.

Leaving Alice alone in the tent the other night and the two nights since had taken more heroic effort than a dozen forays on the jousting field. What annoyed Hugh the most was the realization that in her innocence, she had no appreciation of how much self-mastery he had been forced to wield. In truth, the stunningly volatile nature of his own need made him deeply wary but it did nothing to lessen his desire.

Acknowledging his own ravenous appetite for Alice's sweet, warm body had been one of the most difficult things Hugh had ever done.

He had spent the past three nights staring at the stars while he concocted excuses for his fierce urge to claim her. There were logical reasons for his thundering blood and deep hunger and he had enumerated all of them as though he were doing sums on his abacus.

He had been too long without a woman.

He had always been attracted to the unusual and Alice was nothing if not unique.

The promise of passion in her green eyes was enough to compel any man with the wit to perceive it.

And touching her had been akin to touching the heart of a storm.

Aye, there were reasons enough to explain why he had just finished a hard ride in a state of near arousal.

But unlike his abacus, which always gave him a satisfactory answer, none of the explanations had done much to lighten Hugh's grim mood. If anything, they darkened it.

No matter how he examined the situation he was forced to come to the same conclusion. He wanted Alice with a degree of desire that was dangerous. He would have to exert more care in the future.

He would also have to find a way to convince her to make the betrothal real.

"A lady. He brings a fine lady with him."

"Mayhap a wife."

"I did not think to see him again. Thought he'd get himself killed as the others have all done."

The excited murmur of the gathering crowd interrupted Hugh's reverie. Several people turned to one another to exclaim in amazement, as though they witnessed a great wonder rather than merely the return of their lord.

Prioress Joan and a handful of nuns came to stand at the convent gatehouse. Their eyes went straight to Alice. One of the women leaned forward to whisper in the ear of the tall nun who stood next to Prioress Joan. The tall woman nodded in response. She alone did not appear pleased by the sight of the returning company.

Hugh glanced at her fleetingly and recognized the healer, a woman named Katherine. She was a lady of somber, melancholy mien who appeared to be in her late forties. He had met her the night that Prioress Joan had sent for him to inform him of the loss of the green stone.

Hugh prayed that he would never need her professional services. The notion of being treated by a healer whose expression indicated she expected a poor outcome was not particularly appealing.

He raised a hand to bring his men to a halt. When the clatter of hooves and wagon wheels had stilled, he urged his horse slowly toward the prioress.

Joan waited with a smile that was composed of equal parts of relief and welcome.

Hugh was only a few paces from the convent gate when a scrawny, hulking figure in a brown monk's cowl surged out of the crowd. The hood of the man's robes concealed his face, but Hugh swallowed a silent oath when he recognized Calvert of Oxwick.

Hugh had hoped that the wandering monk would have wandered on to another village by the time he and his company returned.

"My lord, I bid you welcome to Scarcliffe," Calvert intoned in a rasping voice that grated on the ears. "I give thanks to God that you have returned alive."

"I had no intention of returning in any other fashion, monk." Hugh drew his horse to a halt and waited until he had everyone's attention. "Bring forth the stone, Sir Dunstan, so that all may see that it is safely returned to Scarcliffe."

"The stone," someone muttered. "He has found the stone."

An expectant hush fell over the crowd.

"Aye, m'lord." Dunstan rode forward. There was a small wooden chest balanced on the pommel of his saddle.

A gasp of anticipation rippled through the throng of onlookers. All eyes were fastened on the chest. With a suitably grand flourish, Dunstan unlocked the chest, raised the lid, and revealed the contents.

The ugly green crystal gleamed dully in the gray light.

The sharp silence was broken by a great cheer. Caps soared into the air.

"I knew this was our rightful lord." The blacksmith swung his anvil against the forge. The crash of sound mingled with the clang of a church bell.

" 'Tis the crystal, right enough." John the miller grinned at his wife. "Lord Hugh has brought it back, just as the legend says."

His youngest son, a child of four called Young John, bounced up and down and clapped his small hands. "He found it. Lord Hugh found it."

"Lord Hugh has recovered the stone," another boy called gleefully to a friend. "All will be well now, just as my father said."

Amid the uproar, Prioress Joan stepped out from the shadow of the gate. She was a woman of middle years with strong, well-defined features and warm, cheerful blue eyes.

"My lord, I am delighted to see that you have been successful in your quest to recover the stone."

"Hear me, good people of Scarcliffe," Hugh called out in a voice that was loud enough to carry to the brewer's cottage at the end of the street. "The legend has been fulfilled. I have recovered the green crystal and I vow to keep it safe in my hands. Just as I shall keep Scarcliffe and its people safe."

Another shout went up.

" 'Tis not only the stone I have brought back with me," Hugh continued, "but also my betrothed, Lady Alice. I ask you to welcome her. My future and yours is now bound up with hers."

Alice flinched and then shot Hugh a sharp glance but she said nothing. Any words she might have spoken would have been lost beneath the villagers' roar of approval.

Calvert's hot eyes glittered in the shadow of his cowl. Hugh ignored the monk. He was more concerned with Alice's reaction to this clamoring welcome.

She recovered quickly and swept the crowd with a genuinely gracious smile.

"I thank you for your kindness," she said with grand composure.

Calvert threw back his hood, exposing his cadaverously thin face and feverish dark eyes. He raised his staff to command attention.

"Hear me, daughter of Eve." He fixed Alice with a burning gaze. "I shall pray that you will be a meek and proper wife to Lord Hugh. As there is no priest in this village, I, myself, will undertake to instruct and guide you in your duties as a bride."

"That will not be necessary," Alice said coolly.

Calvert paid her no heed. He aimed a skeletal finger at her. "Under my direction you shall become the most estimable of wives, one who is neither quarrelsome nor difficult. One who is modest in her dress and restrained in her speech. One who embraces her position at her husband's feet. One who will find glory in humbling herself before her lord and master."

Hugh was about to silence the irritating monk when another, far more interesting stratagem occurred to him. He would allow Alice to deal with Calvert.

A woman of Alice's temperament needed to be able to exercise her many skills and talents else she would be discontented and unhappy. Furthermore, as with all those who took a professional approach to their business, she required respect and appreciation for those skills and talents.

Hugh strongly suspected that one of the reasons Alice had caused her uncle so much trouble at Lingwood was that Ralf had never comprehended the true extent of her intelligence and capabilities, nor had he given her the opportunity to wield them. Instead of respecting her abilities, he had attempted to treat her as though she were a servant.

Hugh had no intention of making the same mistake. He made it a rule to employ the most adept individuals and then he gave those individuals the authority to carry out their duties. The stratagem had always worked well for him in the past. He saw no reason not to apply it to a wife.

Hugh readied himself for Alice's response with a sense of relish.

"I thank you for your generous offer, monk," Alice said in an icy, polite voice, "but I fear I am too old and too set in my ways to learn such things. Lord Hugh must take me as I am."