“Is this true? Are you Mistress Cicely Milburn?”
Cicely felt a peculiar calmness come over her, and she removed her hat and allowed her braids to ripple down over her shoulders. “Aye, it is true, Your Majesty. I am she.”
The Queen seemed lost for further words, but then appeared to pull herself together and scowled at Cicely. “It is not seemly that you should be dressed in such a fashion and share Lord Mackillin’s bedchamber. It is against holy writ. You will need to be imprisoned and brought before the justice.”
“No! This would be wrong, Your Majesty.” Mackillin started forward.
“You dare to speak to me in such a tone?” said the Queen, looking furious. “I am the Queen of England.”
“And I am a Scotsman, who has answered my own king’s order to come to your husband’s aid.” Mackillin bowed before her. “Forgive my hot-headedness, but Mistress Cicely is a loyal servant of both Your Majesties, as was her father. I speak the truth to you now. Her father gave her to me to be my wife. We are betrothed.”
Cicely drew in her breath with a hiss. Did he realize what he was saying?
Tamed by the Barbarian
Harlequin®Historical
JUNE FRANCIS’s
interest in old wives’ tales and folk customs led her into a writing career. History has always fascinated her, and her first five novels were set in medieval times. She has also written fourteen sagas based in Liverpool and Chester. Married with three grown-up sons, she lives on Merseyside. On a clear day she can see the sea and the distant Welsh hills from her house. She enjoys swimming, fell walking, music, lunching with friends and smoochie dancing with her husband. More information about June can be found at her Web site: www.junefrancis.co.uk.
Tamed by the Barbarian
JUNE FRANCIS
Available from Harlequin®Historical and JUNE FRANCIS
Rowan’s Revenge #214
Tamed by the Barbarian #245
DON’T MISS THESE OTHER NOVELS AVAILABLE NOW:
#915 THE MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS Carolyn Davidson, Victoria Bylin, Cheryl St.John
Three festive stories with all the seasonal warmth of the West—guaranteed to keep you snug from the cold this Yuletide!
#916 SCANDALIZING THE TON—Diane Gaston
Lady Lydia Wexin has been abandoned by her family and friends, and creditors hound her. Her husband’s scandalous death has left her impoverished, and the gossipmongering press is whipped into a frenzy of speculation when it becomes clear the widow is with child. Who is the father? Only one man knows: Adrian Pomroy, Viscount Cavanley….
A Regency tale of secrets and seduction….
#917 HALLOWE’EN HUSBANDS Lisa Plumley, Denise Lynn, Christine Merrill
All is not as it seems for three lucky ladies on All Hallows’ Eve. The last thing they expect from the mystery of the night is a betrothal!
#918 THE DARK VISCOUNT—Deborah Simmons
A mysterious gothic mansion haunts Bartholomew, Viscount Hawthorne, but it is also the new home of his childhood friend Sydony Marchant. The youthful bond they once shared is lost—will one stolen kiss be enough to rekindle that intimacy and help them unravel the shadows of the past?
Old memories can reveal hidden passions….
#246 LADY GWENDOLEN INVESTIGATES—Anne Ashley
Elegant yet feisty, well traveled yet innocent to the world, beautiful yet modest—prying into others’ lives isn’t for Lady Gwendolen Warrender. Until murder and mayhem come to Marsden Wood!
To my dearest John, who is always there for me.
He never refuses to help me with my research, be it traveling an ancient byway or to an abbey in the depths of Yorkshire or abroad or closer to home. A true romantic, he relishes my historical romances with their swashbuckling heroes and feisty heroines, considering them the perfect escapist read.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
January 1461
Cicely Milburn’s brow furrowed as she stared at the bloodied abrasions on the horse’s flank. Whose mount was it? She placed gentle fingers on its neck and the gelding quivered beneath her touch. Yet when she held out a wrinkled apple on the palm of her hand, it lipped the fruit and took it into its mouth. She smiled and moved away to her own palfrey in the neighbouring stall.
Noticing two dried-up burrs picked up on the return journey from her father’s steward’s house, she removed them. She was worried about her fifteen-year-old brothers and wished Matt had not had to make the journey to Kingston-on-Hull, to enquire of his twin, Jack, and their widower father. He had taken most of the male servants with them, concerned about the rumours of a great host of Lancastrians in the vicinity of the Duke of York’s castle of Sandal a week or so ago. If there had been a battle, then, in the aftermath, one could expect to encounter wandering soldiers on the rampage. She wished her stepbrother, Diccon, was here to share the burden of worry with her, but she had not seen him for the last six months and she feared for his safety. She fingered the dagger that hung from her girdle, then glanced round apprehensively as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
Anger surged in her veins at the sight of the man standing there. ‘Master Husthwaite! What are you doing here? How could you use this poor horse so cruelly?’ she demanded.
‘So there you are, Mistress Cicely. I’ve been looking for you.’
The mousy, lank-haired man ran chilling silver-grey eyes over her in a manner that caused her gloved hands to clench.
‘For what purpose?’ she asked coldly.
Master Husthwaite sucked in his cheeks and then released them noisily, not answering her question immediately. ‘The beast is a slug. My uncle should have insisted on his clients paying their bills more readily and then I could afford a finer horse.’
‘What do you mean—should have insisted?’
‘My uncle died recently and I am taking over his business.’ He approached her, sliding one hand against the other, his eyes fixed on her well-formed bosom. ‘So I came here in haste, after speaking to Master Matthew in Knaresborough. I thought you might need my help.’
She stiffened. ‘Why should I need your help here on my father’s manor? I am quite capable of managing the household myself. If in need of further assistance, I can call on Father’s steward’s wife.’
Master Husthwaite stroked his lantern jaw, his eyes narrowing. ‘It is a different kind of help I would offer you. When Master Matthew told me he was travelling to