Lord of a Thousand Nights Read online

  Praise for the novels of Madeline Hunter

  THE PROTECTOR

  “Hunter is at home with this medieval setting, and her talent for portraying intelligent, compelling characters seems to develop with each book. This feisty tale is likely to win her the broader readership she deserves.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Madeline Hunter has restored my faith in historicals and in the medieval romance especially. THE PROTECTOR is definitely a wonderful read.”

  —All About Romance

  BY DESIGN

  “Realistic details that make the reader feel they are truly living in the 13th century enhance a story of love that knows no bounds; not social, political or economic barriers. Ms. Hunter's knowledge of the period and her ability to create three dimensional characters who interact with history make her an author medievalists will adore.”

  —Romantic Times

  “I'd heard a lot about the previous two books in this trilogy, By Arrangement and By Possession, but little did that prepare me for the experience that was reading this book. Whether you've already enjoyed Ms. Hunter's books or she is a new-to-you author, this is a wonderful, sensual, masterfully written tale of love overcoming odds, and one I heartily recommend.”

  —All About Romance

  “With each of the books in this series, Ms. Hunter's skill shines like a beacon.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Ms. Hunter has raised the bar, adding depth and texture to the medieval setting. With well-crafted characters and a delightful love story BY DESIGN is well-plotted and well-timed without the contrived plot twists so often used in romances. I highly recommend BY DESIGN to not only lovers of medieval romance but to all readers.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  BY POSSESSION

  “With the release of this new volume— [Madeline Hunter] cements her position as one of the brightest new writers in the genre. Brimming with intelligent writing, historical detail and passionate, complex protagonists—. Hunter makes 14th-century England come alive—from the details of its sights, sounds and smells to the political context of this rebellious and dangerous time, when alliances and treason went hand in hand. For all the historical richness of the story, the romantic aspect is never lost, and the poignancy of the characters' seemingly untenable love is truly touching.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Madeline Hunter's tale is a pleasant read with scenes that show the writer's brillance. By Possession is — rich in description and details that readers of romance will savor.”

  —The Oakland Press

  “Ms. Hunter skillfully weaves historical details into a captivating love story that resounds with the sights, sounds, and mores of the middle ages. This is another breathtaking romance from a talented storyteller.”

  —Romantic Times

  “With elegance and intelligence, Ms. Hunter consolidates her position as one of the best new voices in romance fiction. I'm waiting on tenterhooks to see what is in store for readers in her next book, By Design.”

  —The Romance Journal

  BY ARRANGEMENT

  “Debut author Hunter begins this new series with a thoroughly satisfying launch that leaves the reader eager for the next episode in the lives of her engaging characters.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Romance author Madeline Hunter makes a dazzling debut into the genre with her medieval BY ARRANGEMENT, a rich historical with unforgettable characters— Layered with intrigue, history, passion, multidimensional characters, this book has it all. Quite simply, it's one of the best books I've read this year.”

  —The Oakland Press

  “The first in a marvelous trilogy by a fresh voice in the genre, BY ARRANGEMENT combines historical depth and riveting romance in a manner reminiscent of Roberta Gellis. Ms. Hunter has a true gift for bringing both history and her characters to life, making readers feel a part of the danger and pageantry of the era.”

  —Romantic Times

  “BY ARRANGEMENT is richly textured, historically fascinating, and filled with surprises.”

  —All About Romance

  “Splendid in every way.”

  —Rendezvous

  Also by Madeline Hunter

  LESSONS OF DESIRE

  THE RULES OF SEDUCTION

  LADY OF SIN

  LORD OF SIN

  THE ROMANTIC

  THE CHARMER

  THE SINNER

  THE SAINT

  THE SEDUCER

  STEALING HEAVEN

  THE PROTECTOR

  BY DESIGN

  BY POSSESSION

  BY ARRANGEMENT

  for

  THOMAS AND JOSEPH,

  WHOSE SMILES MEAN MORE TO ME

  THAN ANY WORDS.

  MAIN CHARACTERS

  SCOTTISH

  Maccus Armstrong: Scottish Lord of Clivedale; he took Harclow from Morvan Fitzwaryn's father

  James Armstrong: Maccus's dead son

  Thomas Armstrong: Maccus's nephew

  Margery: Thomas's wife

  Andrew Armstrong: Kinsman to Maccus, and the steward of Black Lyne Keep

  Robert of Kelso: A knight in service to Maccus, and the lord of Black Lyne Keep

  Reyna Graham: Robert of Kelso's widow

  Duncan Graham: Reyna's father

  Aymer Graham: Reyna's half-brother

  Alice: The cook at Black Lyne Keep

  Sir Reginald: One of Robert of Kelso's knights

  Sir Edmund: Reginald's brother, and a Hospitallar

  ENGLISH

  Morvan Fitzwaryn: English knight and dispossessed heir of Harclow

  Ian of Guilford: A knight in Morvan's service

  Anna de Leon: Morvan's wife

  Christiana Fitzwaryn: Morvan's sister

  David de Abyndon: Christiana's husband

  Gregory: An archer in Morvan's service

  John: Ian's squire

  Chapter ONE

  The Scottish Border 1357

  Be sure he drinks the wine before he gets your clothes off.”

  The instruction was merely the last in a litany of warnings that Reyna had heard as she sightlessly felt her way along the cavernous tunnel.

  She squeezed the thick hand of the motherly woman who accompanied her. “I will be sure to do it as planned, Alice. They appear a coarse lot, and this siege must be boring. He should be glad for the diversion.”

  “There's only one diversion most men are interested in, child. That is the danger, isn't it?”

  “Do not worry so.”

  The total darkness in the tunnel terrified Reyna, so she moved quickly, one hand securely in Alice's and the other on the wall.

  Sounds resonated through the stone beneath her palm. Sappers dug their own tunnel not far from this one. Over the months, she had come to this hidden exit, torch in hand, and listened, judging their progress. She hadn't worried at first, because surely help must come before they completed their work. It wasn't a large army that surrounded the tower house, and a small force from either Harclow or Clivedale could easily lift the siege. But no relief had arrived, and now the sappers were within days of reaching the surrounding wall. Even more worrisome had been the second excavation progressing on the southern side of the fortress.

  They reached a sharp jog to the right. A sliver of light flooded through the narrow entrance carved behind an obscuring rock formation. Thick brush further hid the entrance from view, and only someone carefully examining the entire terrain had any chance of finding it. This army had not done so thus far, and Reyna smiled at the irony of all of that digging when the postern entrance stood just feet away.

  “You will know by morning if I have succeeded, Alice. Watch from the tower
and alert Sir Thomas and Reginald.” Reyna took the basket that Alice carried, and tried to sound brave and calm. “I will go to my mother first, and then to Edinburgh. I will let you know when I am safe there, and you can join me.”

  Alice hugged her. “It is a brave but rash plan that you have, child. Sir Robert would not have approved if he were alive.”

  “If Robert were alive, I would not have to do it.”

  The older woman nodded in resignation. “God go with you, then.”

  Reyna pushed through the entrance and stood within the obscuring brush. Fifty yards away lay the camps that ringed the tower house. It was not a big army, but large enough to ensure that no one left and no provisions arrived. There had been no assaults, no wall scaling, no war machines hurling fire and stones. Nor had there been any negotiations. Just two months of relentless siege.

  Men moved around the camp, their motions lazy in the summer heat. They didn't wear many clothes, and their bodies had browned in the sun. A few had adopted the cooler kilts of the Scots. But these men were not Scots.

  English, she thought with disgust, and the notion gave her renewed resolve. The English had been the monsters of her childhood and the enemies of her youth. Their Scottish king may have accepted defeat by King Edward of England ten years ago, but no Scot, especially those on the borders of Cumbria and Northumberland, readily submitted to the authority that the English claimed.

  She knew all about English soldiers, and what would happen if their sappers succeeded in breaching the walls. Descriptions of English atrocities had been repeated for generations. She forced herself to picture people she knew being butchered and tortured, and she sought strength in those horrible images. It was not in her nature to do what she planned now, but she saw no alternative. Hopefully God would aid her, and then forgive her.

  She darted out of the brush and walked at an angle until she would appear to have arrived off one of the northern paths.

  The men examined her, assessing the meaning of her unbound hair and silk gown. She marched on, circling around to the western camp and the large tent in its center. When it came in sight, she slowed. Once she entered, there would be no turning back.

  A lewd whistle caught her attention. Two knights grinned at each other and began walking toward her, making obscene sounds with their mouths, taunting her. Her skin prickled, and she ran the last few yards to the large tent with green-and-white pennants.

  A squire sat by the entrance cleaning weapons. He looked up, startled, as she bore down on him, swept past, and plunged through the flap. She prayed that the man she sought was within, and that these others would not follow. Then again, for all she knew, he might simply shrug and let them carry her away.

  The white canvas created a diffused, soft light, and it took her a moment to adjust her eyes. She looked around at the simple cot and table and chest that the tent contained. Polished armor glowed on the ground a few steps from her. Not a sound filled the space.

  And then a shadow moved. A man rose from the stool where he had been sitting with his back propped against the tent's central supporting pole.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.

  She just stared.

  She had watched this man from the top reaches of the tower house. He was taller than most, but when everyone is just a speck that doesn't count for much. However, she was shorter than most, and the marked difference in their sizes suddenly made her acutely aware of her vulnerability.

  What she hadn't seen from the tower was just how handsome he was. Thick lashes softened and framed dark, brooding eyes that looked like liquid smudges in this light. Sharp bones defined his cheeks and jaw. A wide, straight, slightly full mouth compelled her attention. Dark hair hung to his shoulders, bound by a sweat cloth twisted and tied around his forehead.

  He wore only a pair of loose peasant chausses, cut off above the knees. Those legs were well formed, all slender muscles and tight lines. The same athletic leanness shaped his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. With his primitive garment, he reminded her of the ancient warriors she had read about in Robert's books. He was the enemy, but her breath caught all the same.

  Magnificent. Stunning.

  Too bad she had to kill him.

  He walked toward her. He gave her gown and hair and tinted cheeks a cool appraisal while he pulled the sweat band from his forehead and ran a strong hand through his hair. She hoped that he couldn't see her blush, because the woman she was today would never be disconcerted by a man's examination, no matter how handsome he might be.

  His expression lightened, and he raised one speculative eyebrow. He had figured out the only part he needed to know.

  He smiled.

  Dear lord, what a smile. Close-lipped, straight, the edges barely lifting at the corners. Utterly charming, subtly suggestive, vaguely sardonic. It formed alluring little creases on either side of his mouth. It transformed the handsome face and fathomless eyes from distant and brooding to sensual and friendly.

  But she saw something else as he looked down at her. She saw it in the casual stance of his body and the glint in his eyes and even in the smile itself. Conceit. Arrogance. Pride. Insufferable self-confidence. She read his awareness of the effect his face and body had on her. On all women.

  She had met such men before. Her father's household had been full of them. Perhaps she wouldn't mind killing him so much after all.

  “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

  She gathered her wits. “I was called by the town of Bewton. The town sent to Glasgow to hire me. The townspeople wanted to be sure that their gift would please you, Sir Morvan.”

  “Gift? Are you saying that the town bought a whore—”

  “I am Melissa, a courtesan,” she said peevishly. “I assure you I am no whore. That is why I am here. The town did not trust their bawds with such a duty.”

  “And what is the purpose of this gift?”

  “They hope that, if you are well pleased, you will spare the town and restrain your army.”

  “And you have come to persuade me of this?” He stepped around her, examining her like an animal for purchase. She half expected him to yawn and announce that she wouldn't do at all. “The knight who gives such an order to his men would have to be very pleased indeed. What is the good of conquering if there are no spoils?”

  “The town will pay tribute. There will be spoils enough. It is the barbaric looting and rape that they wish to avoid.”

  He reached out and stroked her hair, lifting a section, letting his gaze and fingers run along its considerable length. “What did you say your name is?”

  “Melissa. You may not have heard of me, but I was trained by the famous Dionysia.”

  “You don't look like a courtesan to me, Melissa. I had always assumed that they were voluptuous women. You appear too puny and scrawny for it. Lovely hair, though. An unusual color. Very pale, like spun moonlight.” He still held the end of the long strand of hair, and it hung between them like a strip of silk.

  “What you call puny and scrawny, great lords consider diminutive and delicate, Sir Morvan. Besides, a courtesan's skills make such details insignificant. However, it is clear that you are base in your preferences. I will return and tell the town elders that they miscalculated.”

  “Nay. It was a brilliant strategy. There is just one problem with it, and it is not your size.” He still fingered her hair. “I am not Sir Morvan.”

  “But this is the largest tent, in the center of the camp. I was told that this army belongs to Morvan Fitzwaryn.”

  “It does at that, but I command here. Morvan is occupied elsewhere. The main army is at Harclow.”

  No wonder help had not come. Everyone in the tower had assumed that Morvan Fitzwaryn had first besieged this outlying fief in order to have a foothold before he tried to take the more formidable Harclow, but the man had attacked both strongholds at once. And Clivedale, too? How big was this army?

  She rapidly recalculated. If this man command
ed here, the plan should work as well with him as with his lord.

  “If you are not Morvan Fitzwaryn, who are you?”

  “Ian of Guilford.”

  “And you truly command here?”

  “Aye. The fate of this tower and the nearby town are in my hands. If the town sent you to negotiate, you have the wrong name, but the right man. Their gift was intended for me.”

  He regarded her in a frank way that thoroughly unsettled her. His gaze contained the consequences of failure that she had carefully avoided thinking about.

  Her courage disappeared in a blink. “It is unfortunate, then, that you do not find me to your taste. I will leave now.”

  “I insist that you stay. You will lose your pay otherwise, and you traveled a long distance. It was churlish of me to criticize such a gift. Besides, if you were trained by the famous Dionysia, I doubt that there will be disappointment.”

  He stepped yet closer, and his dominating size and masculinity assaulted her. She groped for excuses to leave. “These men appear to be mercenaries. Will they obey you on this? No doubt they are to be paid with spoils.”

  “They are mercenaries, but they are my mercenaries, and will obey me. Morvan Fitzwaryn pays with silver, not the promise of looting. They probably hoped for some, but it was not part of their bargain.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “I did not realize that the townspeople had sent a lawyer as well as a courtesan. Do your favors first require a contract with all eventualities covered?”

  His words and look reminded her of who she was supposed to be, and why she was here. She thought of the danger to the innocents in the tower house if the fortress fell, and of the horrible death awaiting her if it did not. Her plan was the only way to solve both those problems.

  “Let us get undressed, Melissa, so that you can show me this great art of yours.” He coolly regarded the cot. “Hardly fitting for a courtesan. Would you prefer some furs on the ground? More room, then.” He strode to the other side of the tent and scattered several large furs. “Aye, that will be better.”