Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

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Also from Pocket Books and
New York Times
bestselling author

JULIE GARWOOD

Return to medieval Scotland in her beloved novel
THE WEDDING

Discover the unforgettable Clayborne family
FOR THE ROSES

THE CLAYBORNE BRIDES
:
One Pink Rose • One White Rose
One Red Rose

COME THE SPRING

And don’t miss her page-turning novels of romantic suspense
HEARTBREAKER
“A crackling good thriller.” —
New York Post

MERCY
“A page-turner.” —
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“Julie Garwood attracts readers like beautiful heroines attract dashing heroes. . . .”

—
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Praise for Julie Garwood’s splendid
New York Times
bestseller

RANSOM

“AN ENTHRALLING TALE. . . . In this powerful story, passion, loyalty, friendship, and mystery superbly blend with realistic, three-dimensional characters.”

—
Romantic Times

“PURE ENTERTAINMENT. . . . TRULY UNFORGET-TABLE. Romance never felt so good.”

—
Rendezvous

“A KEEPER. . . . Anyone who has had the pleasure of reading Julie Garwood’s classic tale
The Secret
will remember the two lovable rogues Brodick Buchanan and Ramsey Sinclair. Now they star in their own story. . . . The plot is crisp, entertaining, and makes Medieval England seem real.”

—
Under the Covers Book Reviews

B
OOKS BY
J
ULIE
G
ARWOOD

Gentle Warrior

Rebellious Desire

Honor’s Splendour

The Lion’s Lady

The Bride

Guardian Angel

The Gift

The Prize

The Secret

Castles

Saving Grace

Prince Charming

For the Roses

The Wedding

Come the Spring

Ransom

Heartbreaker

Mercy

The Clayborne Brides

One Pink Rose

One White Rose

One Red Rose

P
UBLISHED BY
P
OCKET
B
OOKS

This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to nonhistorical figures are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such incidents, places, or figures to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1985 by Julie Garwood

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN -13: 978-0-671-73780-1
ISBN -10:         0-671-73780-5
ISBN: 978-1-4516-8188-8 (eBook)

First Tapestry Books printing October 1985
First Pocket Books paperback printing November 1989

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Cover art by Lisa Litwack
Cover photo © Gary Yeowell/Tony Stone Images

Prologue

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

“Gentle knights were born to fight, and war ennobles all who engage in it without fear or cowardice.”

Jean Froissart, French Chronicler

I
N SILENCE THE KNIGHT PREPARED FOR BATTLE
. H
E SAT
astride a wooden stool, stretched his long muscular legs before him, and bade his servant to pull on the steel-mailed hose. He then stood and allowed another to fasten the heavy hauberk over the quilted cotton undershirt. Finally he raised his sun-bronzed arms so that his sword, a gift prized mightily for it came from William himself, could be attached to his waist by means of a metal loop.

His thoughts were not of his dress nor of his surroundings, but of the coming battle, and he methodically reviewed the strategy he would employ to gain
victory. Thunder broke his concentration. With a frown the knight lifted the opening flap of the tent and raised his head to study the heavy cloud formation, unconsciously brushing the dark hair from his collar as he watched the sky.

Behind him the two servants continued their duties. One picked up the oiled cloth and began to give yet another polish to the warrior’s shield. The second mounted the stool and waited, holding the open-faced conical for the knight. The servant stood thusly for several long moments before the warrior turned and noticed the helmet outstretched before him. With a negative shake of his head, he disclaimed it, preferring to chance possible injury in return for freedom of movement. The servant frowned at the knight’s refusal to wear this added protection, yet wisely chose not to give verbal argument, having noted the scowl upon the warrior’s face.

His dress complete, the knight turned and walked with quick long strides until he reached and mounted his powerful steed. Without a backward glance, he rode from the encampment.

The knight sought solitude before battle and rode hard and fast into the nearby forest, oblivious to the scraping both he and his destrier suffered from low-hanging branches. Having reached the top of a small rise, he reined his now-snorting animal to a halt and gave his full attention to the manor below.

Rage filled him anew as he thought about the infidels nestled within the castle below, but he pushed the anger aside. He would have his vengeance after the manor was once again his. Only then would he allow his rage to go unchecked. Only then.

The knight turned his attention to the layout before him, again impressed by the simplicity of the design, noting the wide, uneven walls stretching almost twenty feet into the sky and completely surrounding the multiple
structures within. The river banked the walls on three sides and this pleased the knight considerably, for entry from the water would be almost impossible. The main building was constructed primarily of stone with but an occasional piece of sod, and was flanked on both sides by clusters of small huts, all facing the large grassy courtyard. When it was all once again his, he would make it impregnable, he vowed. This could not be allowed to happen again!

Dark angry clouds linked together in an attempt to block the rising sun, resulting in gray streaks arched in protest across the sky. The wind gave sound to the eerie sight. Gusty howls intermingled with low whistled moans that caused the warrior’s black mount to prance in agitation, but the knight quickly calmed him, using his heels as his command.

He again looked to the sky, saw that the swollen clouds were now directly overhead, and thought that it was as if night would once again descend. “The weather does nought to quiet my mood,” he muttered. Was this a bad omen, he wondered, for he was not entirely without superstition, though he scoffed at those who were ruled by it, ritualistically seeking signs before each and every battle to predict the outcome.

The knight once again reviewed his bid for victory, looking for possible flaws in his battle plans, and could find none, yet still he could not feel content. In frustration, he picked up the reins and turned the charger, intent on returning to camp before total darkness was full upon him. And it was then that the sky exploded in a silver flash of light, and he saw her.