Hugh shifted on his saddle, trying to find a comfortable position. That seemed to be more and more of an impossibility of late. Earlier in the day, he had noticed a certain tenderness on his behind and had briefly wondered if it might be a saddle sore; he had just as quickly shrugged the idea away. Hugh had spent countless hours in the saddle over the years and though he'd suffered the complaint a time or two as a green lad, his hide had toughened with time. It was highly unlikely that he would experience it now. Still, there was definitely a tender spot on his seat. There was also nothing he could do about it at the moment, so he merely shifted again in a futile effort to ease his discomfort and set his mind to other things. The rain was the first thing that came to mind. That was probably because it was presently pouring over him in a steady drizzle. Which, he supposed, was better than the deluge that had been tormenting him throughout most of the last two days. Tipping his head back, he surveyed the night sky, wondering if the rain would ever end. Blinking raindrops away, he looked over the large dark clouds at the lighter, starless background. Dawn was coming. By his estimation, it would crest the horizon within the hour.

Another wasted day and night had passed. Thank God, he thought wearily. But then he realized that another was sure to follow and straightened in the saddle with a sigh followed by a sniffle. Stiffening, he sniffed experimentally and almost groaned at the wet sound his nose made. Damn! Now he was catching a cold. Was there no end to the misery he must suffer to win this woman?

Willa. The name played through his head and a picture of her lovely face suddenly rose before him. The more time he spent with her, the more beautiful he found her. That was an oddity. Usually, Hugh found his attraction waning as he got to know a woman. But not with her. She grew more glorious with every passing moment. Even her stubbornness had become somehow attractive, a challenge to overcome. And it was sheer stubbornness that now made her refuse him, he assured himself. He'd felt her passion when he had kissed her. She'd melted against him, opening for him like a rose to the sun's first touch. He had felt her quiver beneath his caress and heard her moan a plea for more. Willa had responded to him. She wanted him. And still she had refused to call an end to this game and marry him. Hugh didn't understand why. But then, he'd never claimed to understand women and their reasoning.

A growl from the black shadows on his left made him peer into the bushes. Hugh could not see the source of the sound, but the growl could not have come from anything but Willa's pet wolves.

Oh, this is grand, he thought unhappily. Her wolves will attack me, I will kill them in self-defense, and she will never speak to me again.

Willa awoke with a start and found herself staring into stygian blackness. She lay still for a moment, wondering at the source of the anxiety that was creeping over her. Then she realized the night was completely silent. Unnaturally so. There was no snuffling or scuffling or calls of nocturnal animals. There was not even the patter of rain on the roof anymore; it had stopped again.

She strained to see through the dark. The fire was out. Judging by the damp chill that had stolen into the small hovel, it had died hours before. Shivering, she bundled under the fur on her pallet and wondered what had awoken her. A growl sounded somewhere outside and she stiffened. Willa knew instinctively that it wasn't the first time she'd heard it. That was probably the sound that had drawn her from sleep.

"What was that?"

Willa sat up as Eada's hissed question pierced the silence. "I think 'tis - "

Her explanation died abruptly as a cacophony of sounds erupted outside. Growls, shouting, and a horse whinnying and stomping had both women scrambling out of their beds. Willa reached the door first and exploded out of the cottage. She hadn't even formed a full idea of what might be happening outside. What she found shocked her into stillness just outside the door.

After the inky blackness inside, the chaos taking place in the moonlit clearing was startlingly clear. Hugh Dulonget was off his horse. Shouting and cursing loudly, he was in the midst of a sword battle with another man. Wolfy and Fen circled the fighting pair, growling and nipping at whatever bits of the stranger they could reach.

Just as Willa pursed her lips to whistle the animals to her side, Hugh stumbled backward over one of the circling beasts. He tumbled to the ground, his mail jangling loudly. The moonlight glinted off the stranger's sword as he raised it, then Wolfy and Fen lunged almost as one. Both wolves went for the face and neck, the only unarmored portions of the man. The melee was over as quickly as it had begun. The intruder went down under the attack with a gurgle of sound that ended as he hit the ground.

"Wolfy! Fen!" Willa ran forward, tried to stop when she reached them, and lost her footing in the mud. She ended on her knees at the attacker's side. She was between the still-snarling and gnashing Wolfy, who now stood on his chest, teeth buried deep in the man's neck, and Fen who stood on the ground and appeared to have gone for the face. A sob breaking from her throat, Willa grabbed at the scruff of first one, then the other of the wolves. She knew it was a dangerous move. Even domesticated dogs sometimes turned on a master in the midst of blood lust. These were no domesticated animals and they had no master. But neither animal turned on her. Both calmed almost at once, their growls and snarls turning to rumbles in their throats as they allowed her to tug them away from their quarry. It was too late, however. The man was dead, his blood pooling around his throat and shoulders on the already damp ground. Wolfy and Fen had done their jobs well.

Turning away from the gory sight, she sought out Hugh. He had taken a bad tumble. Hampered by his heavy mail armor, he was only now rolling to his stomach in the mud. He got to his hands and knees and paused to shake his head as if dizzy. Then his concerned gaze found Willa and he crawled through the mud to her side.

"Are you well?"

Willa stared at him. His voice was thick and his breathing hampered. Hugh was obviously developing a cold. He was also bleeding from the head. Releasing the wolves, she shifted to face him on her knees and took his head in her hands. She turned him so that she could peer at the source of the blood trailing down his face. "You are hurt. You must have hit your head when you fell."

" 'Tis nothing," he said gruffly, shaking off her hold so that he could turn his head to peer at the prone man beside them. "Who is he?"

"I do not know. Should I?"

Scowling, Hugh edged closer to the dead man. He examined him briefly, apparently looking for some identifying feature.

"Do you know him?" she asked, forcing herself to look at the man's ruined face. It would be difficult for anyone to recognize him.

"Nay." Apparently finding nothing helpful to identify the man, Hugh settled back on his haunches. "I do not think I have ever seen him before."

They both stared at his waxen features in the moonlight, then she asked, "What happened? Did he attack you?"

"Aye. Right after the rain finally stopped. There were a few minutes of silence, then I heard one of those beasts of yours growl. I thought he was growling at me, but I presume he was warning me, for in the next moment this fellow - " he nodded toward the man on the ground - "rushed out of the trees. He ran straight at me, sword raised. I barely managed to get off of my horse in time to counter the first blow."

Hugh rubbed his forehead fretfully. He shifted to get to his feet, only to stumble back to his knees with a startled curse when Willa caught his hand and tugged him off balance. "What are you doing?"

"You should not be getting up just yet. You should rest and regain your strength," Willa said firmly. She tugged at him again and he tumbled forward in the mud, his head dropping face-first into her lap. "Head wounds are tricky. You should rest until Eada has seen the wound and checked your eyes."

"Checked my eyes for what?" His impatience was evident, despite the fact that his voice was muffled against her upper leg.

"I am not sure," Willa admitted. She turned his head so that his face pressed against her stomach and carefully examined the wound at the side of his temple. "But she can generally tell the depth of damage done by looking into the eyes. You took an awful knock."

"I am fine," he repeated, but made no effort to remove his head from her lap. Instead, he shifted onto his back and peered up at her. It was only when he glimpsed her concerned features that it occurred to him he might use this situation to his advantage. The written apology had not worked, nor the vow to guard her, nor his pathetic attempts at pleasing her with limp flowers and a live rabbit. Even the passion he'd brought to life in her in the stable had not persuaded her to agree to marry him. However, perhaps the events of this night and the concern he now saw in her face would do the trick. Hugh should have been ashamed to stoop to such manipulations, but with two castles and all of their attendant servants and soldiers depending on him, he had no time for such petty considerations.

That thought spurring him on, Hugh suddenly lifted one hand to his injured head. He squeezed his eyes closed and moaned as if in pain. Then he peeked at her from between two fingers. The alarm now filling Willa's face was quite encouraging.

"You are badly injured!" she cried and bent closer. Her hair drifted around their faces, a curtain between them and the world.

Hugh produced what he hoped was the brave smile of a man on death's door and let his hand fall feebly away. "Nay. I am fine." He was rather proud of the breathless, almost trembling quality he had managed to infuse into his voice. Never having needed the skill before, he'd not realized what a masterful thespian he was.

Willa certainly seemed convinced. Looking fearful, she straightened and peered desperately toward the cottage. Her voice anxious, she fretted, "Where is Eada? She will know what to do. I should fetch her."

"Nay!" Hugh winced at the sharp strength in his tone, but the last thing he wanted was for Eada to interrupt his best chance at convincing the chit to marry him. "Nay," he repeated, his voice gentler this time. "Prithee, my lady. Do not leave me to die here alone in the mud."

"Oh, Hugh," she breathed in horror. Her arms tightened around him in a protective gesture. "You must not say such things. You will not die. Eada said - "

"Hush." He pressed a finger to her lips. "Do not fret so. 'Tis an honor to die for one as beautiful as you. 'Tis my penance for treating you so shabbily on our first meeting. I have no excuse for my behavior except that Uncle Richard's death came as a shock to me. The madness of grief must have made me behave so."

Now that was inspired, he thought. Perfect! His words had moved her, he could tell. She bent closer, her expression soft as she brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek and breathed, "Oh, poor Hugh."

He blinked his eyelashes several times, trying for the sweetly innocent look women had used on him over the years. It didn't have the desired effect. Instead of melting further, she frowned slightly and straightened the smallest bit away from him. "Have you something in your eye?"

"Nay." He caught at her hair to draw her back and debated what to do. In the end, he decided to push forward. " 'Tis nothing but - "

"But?" she prompted gently.

"I would wish to ask - Nay, beg. I would beg during these last moments of my life that you forgive me my unchivalrous gaff. Pray, say you forgive me."

"Of course, my lord," Willa assured him. "But I promise you, you are not dying. Eada would have seen - "

"She is not all-seeing," Hugh interrupted impatiently, then forced his temper away and managed a pious smile before raising his hand to let it drop across his face in a forlorn gesture. "Alas, no one can see the future. Had I but been able to foresee what the future held, mayhap this night would never have been. Mayhap we would even now be married and cuddled warm and safe in our marriage bed."

He peeked between two fingers again to see how she would react and was gratified by the distress he saw on her face. He let his hand slide away and offered yet another brave smile. "Never fear. I am not afraid to die. Now I shall sleep the long sleep, and at least be able to dream that we were married. Unless..."

Willa leaned closer. "Unless?"

He tried for an expression of longing. "Would that you could find it in your heart to grant a dying man's wish and agree to be my wife."

"Ye're laying it on rather thick, aren't ye?"

Willa lifted her head abruptly, the curtain of her hair swinging away so that Hugh had a perfect view of both Eada and Baldulf standing over them. The pair stood with arms crossed, amusement obvious on their faces. It was Eada who had spoken, and with her usual disrespect. Hugh glared at the woman, wishing he could throttle her for interrupting what he was sure would have been Willa's acceptance.

"Oh, thank goodness you are here, Eada," Willa said. "Hugh has a head wound you must tend to at once."

"So I see." The old woman seemed not in the least impressed. "Well, let him stand up then and I shall tend it. I am too old to be kneeling in the mud in my nightshift."

"But - " Willa began, only to pause when Hugh sat up and began to struggle to his feet. It was a struggle. Not due to his head wound, however. Chain mail was not made for crawling around in the mud. Fortunately, Baldulf unbent enough to lend him a hand. The moment Hugh was on his feet, Willa leapt to her own and placed a hand on his arm as if to steady him. He was too busy mentally cursing his bad luck to appreciate it. One minute. One more minute and he would have had her agreeing to marry him.

"I shall have a look at his head while you dress," Eada told Willa pointedly. Her words drew Hugh's attention to the fact that the girl stood there in nothing but a thin cotton shift. A damp and muddy shift. Worn nearly see-through by many washings, it clung to her breasts and hips with loving affection. Damn! He really must have sustained some damage to the head to have missed that, he thought as Willa moved toward the cottage.

Hugh watched her go, wanting nothing more than to grab her up, toss her over his mount's back and ride off to the castle. Unfortunately, that would hardly convince her to marry him. Things would have been much easier if his uncle were still alive. As her guardian, Richard could have ordered her to marry him and the deed would be done. As it was, she had neither a name nor an identifiable father, so only King John could order such an event. Hugh thought briefly about going to court and asking the king to do just that, then pushed the notion aside. He could not leave her alone while he traveled to court. Tonight's events had made that clear. Even ten years after the "accident" that had killed young Luvena, someone wanted this woman dead.

Willa had reached the cottage. She opened the door, allowing candlelight to spill out and highlighting her scanty garb for him. He was enjoying the view immensely but Eada spoiled it by poking him in the stomach.

"Bend over so I can see yer head," the crone ordered, unmoved by the glare he now turned on her. "And stop looking so morose. Ye got what ye wanted."

"Got what I wanted?" he echoed irritably even as he did as he was bid.

"Aye. She has agreed to marry ye."

"What?" Hugh straightened to stare at her with amazement.

"Did ye not hear her order Baldulf to start packing?" she asked with exasperation.

Actually, he hadn't. Hugh had some vague recollection of her saying something before turning to walk to the cottage, but he hadn't been paying attention. He'd been too busy ogling her in her shift.

"She ordered Baldulf to start packing so that we could move to the castle. She's marrying ye," Eada announced and poked him in the belly.

"I did wonder if that was what it meant," Baldulf said as Hugh automatically bent forward, submitting to the witch's prodding. "But why?"

" 'Tis obvious," Hugh snapped, straightening to scowl at him. The guard was presently scratching his head in apparent bewilderment over what Willa could see in Hugh. His attitude was highly insulting. "She appreciates my saving her life this evening."

Baldulf look doubtful. "That knock to the head appears to be more serious than I thought, my lord. It has rattled your brain." Even as Hugh was stiffening over that announcement, the soldier continued, "First off, it seemed to me that 'twas Wolfy and Fen saving your sorry hide. Secondly, what makes you so quick to assume 'twas her life that was threatened? The fellow attacked you, not her."

Hugh heaved an impatient breath. "He only attacked me because I stood between him and the cottage."

"Uh-huh." Baldulf did not appear convinced. "And why, after all these years without incident, would someone suddenly make an attempt on her life again?"

"Perhaps he did not wish her to marry me. Perhaps she is no threat as a simple village lass, but becomes one as my wife."

"Hmmmm. The only problem with that suggestion is that she had not agreed to be your wife before the attack," Baldulf pointed out dryly. "Perhaps everyone thought her dead until you came along and drew attention her way with your pledge to guard her until she accepted your suit."

"Are you holding me responsible for this attack?" Hugh gaped at him.

"My lord, Eada, Willa and I have lived here for nigh on ten years. In that time, we have never once been attacked... until now. This fact suggests to me that the attack was - "

"My fault? Hugh's mouth dropped open, then just hung there. He was flummoxed by the man's reasoning. He was also thinking, however, and it wasn't long before he made the reluctant admission, "Perhaps my presence did prompt the attack. However, I cannot help thinking it may have been for the best. Ere this we were uncertain as to whether her life was still in danger. Now we know 'tis and may strengthen our guard."

"Hmmm," Baldulf grunted as Eada poked Hugh to get him to bend to her level once more. Then the soldier asked the old woman, "Is it safe for her to marry him?"

"Safe?" Hugh straightened indignantly. "I would never harm a lady."

"There was never any question of that, my lord," Baldulf assured him, then explained, "Willa is a very forgiving girl. She would have married you yesterday, but for Eada's vision."

" 'Twasn't a vision," Eada corrected with a grin that struck Hugh as rather evil. "I read it in the dregs of his wine. She was not to marry him until he crawled to her on his belly, else he would die ere the next full moon."

Hugh snorted at the very thought of such an occurrence. It would be a cold day in hell before he would crawl to any woman.

"He crawled." Eada announced with satisfaction.

"I did not!" Hugh stood upright in surprise, only to bend forward once more with a grunt as the old witch poked him again.

"Aye. Ye did," she corrected in gleeful tones as she dabbed at his head. "I saw ye. Ye crawled through the mud to her side." Hugh now recalled that he had indeed crawled through the mud to get to Willa. Which meant that all that nonsense he'd spouted afterward about dying and last wishes had been unnecessary. So was sitting in the rain for two days and nights. Nothing he could have said or done would have convinced her to marry him because, thanks to the witch, she'd thought she was saving his life by refusing him.

He was muttering under his breath over that when it occurred to him that he'd crawled through the mud, and she'd now agreed to marry him. He had won. She was going to marry him and she, Baldulf and the witch were moving to the castle.

He was just starting to grin at this realization when the old crone smiled at him wickedly and said, "I knew ye'd crawl. I'm never wrong."

"Ah, hell," he muttered, wondering for the first time if he shouldn't just give up the money and the title and flee for his life right now.