Prologue
1071 Northumbria
Lady Jillian stood atop the curtain wall of Sedgeworth Keep, grateful for the new moon, for it would shield her from the guard patrolling the battlements. The darkness allowed her to move like the wraith she was forced to become…a mere shadow of her former self.
The midnight hour was solely hers. A time where she could escape her life of servitude without the worry that she would be late answering the impatient summons from the lady of the keep. A lady whose punishments were meant to degrade Jillian and break her spirit. Determined, she clenched her jaw and curled her hands into fists.
She would not be broken!
A gust of damp, bone-chilling air tugged at her mother’s cloak. She pulled the worn material closer. A lump filled her throat when she snagged her chapped and callused hands on it. Jillian did not mind the work that roughened her hands and put an ache in her back. But she did wonder, would the rest of her body become hard and callused over time? It was through no fault of her own that she had been forced into this mean state. She used to wear lovely gowns and have the soft hands of a lady.
So much of her life and very existence had changed quickly—too quickly. Word of the Norman conqueror’s victory at the Battle of Hastings struck terror in the hearts of the Saxons. When news of the Lord of Loughmoe’s death at Hastings reached them, she and her mother had had no choice but to flee their home.
They thought they’d found their savior in Owen of Sedgeworth, but he’d offered his protection and opened his holding to them under false pretenses and the guise of neighborly concern. His black heart shielded the truth from them: he lusted after their fertile keep—Loughmoe!
Jillian poured every ounce of her being into taking care of her mother, but she had been unable to turn back time or heal her mother’s broken heart. Mother no longer had the will to live without the strength of the other half of her heart—Jillian’s father. Two months after her father was slain at Hastings, Jillian was alone, with no one to turn to. She was no longer the cossetted daughter of Loughmoe Keep, with a loving father and mother, but a slave to the lady of a nearby holding. Accepting the harsh words and beatings as her due for failing to perform her duties to the Lady of Sedgeworth’s satisfaction, she resigned herself to the life she now led.
Had she been able to return to Loughmoe Keep, she would have nothing to offer the people her parents had given their lives to protect. She had nothing of value—even after five years of servitude—save her indomitable will to survive and her callused hands. But of what use would she be without a warrior able to defend her keep standing beside her? A knight of renown who had the strength and cunning to retake Loughmoe Keep from those that had stolen it from her family.
The warrior of her dreams would help her and would have the means to see that the good people of Loughmoe not only survived—but thrived! With his aid, she would reclaim her birthright!
“Lord, how much longer will I have to wait for him to come?”
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