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Praise for
Deborah Simmons:
‘Simmons guarantees the reader a page-turner …’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Deborah Simmons is a wonderful storyteller and brings historical romance to life.’
—A Romance Review
‘Deborah Simmons is an author I read automatically.
Why? Because she gets it right. I can always count on her for a good tale, a wonderful hero, a feisty heroine, and a love story where it truly is love that makes the difference.’
—All About Romance
A deserted village. A dragon. A damsel in distress.
The only ring of truth was the beautiful damsel’s reaction to him, a jarring bit of reality in the fantasy. For who would want to dream of that kind of response?
Reynold did not know if Mistress Sexton had laid her hand upon his arm out of some attempt to lure him into staying or if it had been an innocent gesture. But he was certain of what had happened next. He had caught his breath at the lightness of her touch, at the warmth of her fingers and the simple sensation of gentle feminine contact, and then she had pulled away, repulsed.
It was a reminder not to let his guard down or let anyone get close to him, and as such it was welcome. Yet Reynold could not dismiss the incident as easily as he had others in the past. It was too fresh in his mind, too insulting, too much of a disappointment. For deep down inside he had hoped that Mistress Sexton might be different …
About the Author
A former journalist, DEBORAH SIMMONS turned to fiction after a love of historical romances spurred her to write her own, HEART’S MASQUERADE, which was published in 1989. She has since written more than twenty-five novels and novellas, among them a USA TODAY bestselling anthology and two finalists in the Romance Writers of America’s annual RITA® competition. Her books have been published in 26 countries, including illustrated editions in Japan, and she’s grateful for the support of her readers throughout the world.
Previous novels from this author:
THE DARK VISCOUNT
GLORY AND THE RAKE
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
AUTHOR NOTE
It has been a long time since the last de Burgh book, and I want to thank all the readers who have written to me over the years for their continued interest and enthusiasm. I really enjoyed stepping back into the medieval world of Campion and his sons.
Although firmly grounded in the past, these characters have a timeless quality. Certainly they are strapping heroes, tall and handsome and great knights all. But I think much of their appeal lies in the sense of family that is at the heart of the series and transcends its setting. Campion’s sons are proud of their heritage, honourable and loyal. Despite an awareness of the flaws and foibles of their siblings, they share an easy affection, even when roasting each other with good humour. To me, there’s nothing more fun than getting all seven brothers together for a rousing, roistering visit.
I hope you will feel the same.
Reynold De Burgh:
The Dark Knight
Deborah Simmons
Dedication:
For Bridget, Daisy, Irene, Ivy, Janet, Jo, Linda, Lori,
Mary Kay, Sandi, Siglinde, and all members, past and future, of the Tuesday Night Tennis League.
Chapter One
Reynold de Burgh stood on the castle battlements and looked out over his family’s lands as the first faint light of dawn rose on the horizon. He had been planning to leave his home for some time, but now that the moment had arrived, the parting was more painful than he’d imagined. He loved Campion and its people, and he felt a traitorous urge to remain even though he had made his decision.
He could linger, but he knew that today would be no different. He had only to wait until his father, the Earl of Campion, led his new wife down to the hall to be reminded of the changes taking place at the castle. Although Reynold loved and revered his sire and had come to like Joy, their happiness was a bitter reminder of his own lack.
In the past few years five of his six brothers had wed, too, and Reynold was painfully aware that he was next in line. Although he felt no anger or regrets over the marriages that had led his siblings to wives and families of their own, he knew that the future did not hold the same for him.
Yet soon everyone at Campion would look to Reynold or his younger brother Nicholas, wondering and murmuring over who would be the last de Burgh to fall. Reynold had decided it was easier to go, to escape the questions and the pitying glances that would follow, as well as the happiness of others. By the time Campion began welcoming new sons, he hoped to be long gone.
The thought made him rue the precious moments he had wasted in this last goodbye, and he hurried back through the castle to the bailey where his destrier was waiting. He had spoken to no one of his plans, but he had left a message, telling his father that he was going on a pilgrimage.
Although he had no real destination in mind, that explanation would prevent his family from coming after him. A pilgrimage, whether to a local shrine or one further away, was a personal decision that should keep his father and brothers at bay. Reynold did not want them leaving their wives and children to comb the countryside for him—especially when he did not want to be found.
Mindful of the servants and freemen who were stirring with the dawn, Reynold was about to mount his destrier when he heard the jingle of bells coming from the shadows near the castle doors. The sound might have been anything, and yet, he had a sinking feeling that perhaps he had waited too long to make his escape. His suspicion was soon confirmed by the sight of a small plump woman hurrying towards him.
‘Ah, there, you are!’ she trilled, waving an arm that sent the tiny bells on her sleeve to tinkling.
Reynold stifled a groan. Ever since his brother Stephen had married Bridgid l’Estrange, her aunts had felt welcome to come and go at Campion at their will. They were gentlewomen and provided good company for Joy in a household composed mostly of males, but there was something about the two that made their sudden appearance here at this hour unsurprising.
Reynold’s eyes narrowed. ‘I beg your pardon, Mistress Cafell, but I have no time to tarry.’
‘Oh, we know you are leaving,’ she said, waving a plump hand airily as her sister Armes emerged from the shadows to join her.
Reynold vowed they would not sway him with their wiles. In fact, he would tell them he was off to check the dam or the fields or any one of a number of tasks that he helped his father and the bailiff oversee, so that he would be rid of them. However, when he opened his mouth, he blurted out that which was uppermost in his mind instead.
‘Don’t try to stop me.’
‘We wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,’ Cafell said, reaching out a hand to pat his sleeve.
‘Of course, you must go,’ Armes said. Taller than her sister, she lifted