Dragon's Dower. Catherine Archer
“My lord Warleigh, I am not prepared to receive you at this time.”
“Not prepared to receive me? You can not have forgotten that we share this chamber.”
“I have not forgotten. You may come back after my maid has prepared your bed.”
Simon scowled, then shook his head. “Nay, ’twill not serve. This is my chamber and you are my wife. It is not improper for me to be alone with you.” He stepped before her, perusing her slowly. “To do anything I wish with you.”
She sucked in a deep breath, as a rush of something dark and unknown raced through her. Desperately she fought for control at her reaction to him.
“I would not say that you may do as you wish with me, my lord. Wed though we may be, it is not a real marriage.”
“Do I detect a note of disappointment, Isabelle?”
Praise for Catherine Archer’s previous works
Summer’s Bride
“A delightful read!”
—Romance Reviews Today
Winter’s Bride
“…a pleasurable medieval romance with conventional characters and a tried-and-true plot.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
Fire Song
“This finely crafted medieval romance…(is) a tale to savor.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
Lord Sin
“…deftly done and sure to please.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
#591 MY LADY’S TRUST
Julia Justiss
#592 CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF
Carol Finch
#594 GOLD RUSH BRIDE
Debra Lee Brown
Dragon’s Dower
Catherine Archer
MILLS & BOON
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Available from Harlequin Historicals and
CATHERINE ARCHER
Rose Among Thorns #136
**Velvet Bond #282
**Velvet Touch #322
Lady Thorn #353
Lord Sin #379
Fire Song #426
*Winter’s Bride #477
*The Bride of Spring #514
*Summer’s Bride #544
*Autumn’s Bride #582
†Dragon’s Dower #593
To my sisters-in-law, Edie, Iris, Lillian and Bev, for their continued interest and support of my writing for all these years. Thank you.
Contents
Prologue
England, 1188
The three boys sat facing one another. The flames of the fire they had lit at the center of their circle burned no hotter than the anger in their eyes.
Simon, who was the oldest by three months, took up his knife and held it over the flames. “I, Simon Warleigh, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.”
He drew the blade across his palm, barely flinching as it left a long shallow cut that began to bleed immediately. He passed the blade to Jarrod on his right.
The dark boy took the blade, held it over the flames and said, “I, Jarrod Maxwell, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.” He made no sign as the knife slit his flesh, passing it to his right.
Christian was the youngest by nearly a year. His brown hair was glossy with golden streaks in the fire-light. He took the blade. He looked to his companions, then held the knife over the flames as they had done. His voice was as firm with conviction as theirs had been. “I, Christian Greatham, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.”
He flicked his tongue out to wet his lower lip, then dragged the knife over his palm with a frown of concentration. He looked up at the other two.
All three stood in unison and they held their dripping palms out over the flames.
Simon spoke with a maturity far beyond his thirteen years. “Brothers we are, bound by the blood