Rexanne Becnel Read Online Free

Henry. Now Rand meant to make that claim a reality—and return to London in triumph.
    He stood on the pinnacle of the long hill the Welsh called Carreg Du—Black Stone. He stared down the drop-off known as Rosecliffe for its tenacious roses, then swept the horizon with his eyes. Cold sea to the north and east. Cold hills to the south and west. Yet somewhere within those dark forested hills lay a hotbed of opposition. They watched and they waited and they would do everything they could to drive him out, even unite with their enemy brothers, if need be. But he would not be driven out, and though it might take years, they would eventually come to understand that fact.

    Below him the camp had begun to take shape. Already the tents were being replaced by sturdy timber huts. His workers had set to their tasks on the very day they’d landed. Sir Lovell, the master builder, supervised them using stakes and flags to mark the perimeters where the castle walls would rise, the mighty inner wall first, then the far-reaching outer wall. Even the town would have a protective wall, for Rand meant to fortify his holdings well. Every citizen under his rule would know there was safety under his pennant, whether they were English or Welsh, or something in between.
    He grimaced at that thought. In between. Henry had cautioned him that a generation of children born of Welsh mothers to English fathers could as easily turn against him as fight for him. But it was not that generation that concerned him now. His men would need wives. Come the next winter, they would need the warm comfort of women in their beds. He needed to keep his men content and women were his best tool for that. Once wed, his men would be tied to this land as firmly as he now was.
    Unlike them, however, he would not be tied to these lands by a woman. It was ambition that tied him here, and then only temporarily. He’d spent the whole of his life fighting for the right to own lands of his own, besides the past nine years fighting Henry’s wars. Now that he had those lands, however, he faced another sort of battle.
    He’d had the long months of winter to consider his situation, and as he’d assembled men and supplies, he’d also assembled his thoughts. He’d not wanted lands in Wales. But that’s what he’d been granted. Now he meant to make them his—only he did not want to waste either time or effort in the process. While he was prepared to take the land by force if need be, he knew it would be faster to wage peace. But he meant to wage that peace with a powerful hand, and he meant to win.
    Once the lands of northern Wales were secure for England, Henry and his advisors would be forced to acknowledge
Rand’s ever-increasing influence. He would make his way back to London, an even more powerful baron than before. But there was still the matter of a wife well connected to English politics. He would have to address that matter as soon as possible.
    A call drew his attention, and as he watched, his burly captain, Osborn de Vere, clambered up the dark, frozen hill.
    “The ship is unloaded. They sail back to England on the next tide.”
    “Alan has his orders, I take it.”
    “He does. He will return with the carpenters and stonemasons, and the rest of the food stores.”
    The man paused, but Rand knew what he would say next. Five years Osborn had guarded his back, and Rand had guarded his. Their thoughts had become finely attuned in the process. But that did not mean they always agreed. Rand spoke before Osborn could. “Jasper remains in England.”
    Osborn’s eyes narrowed and his jaw jutted forward. “The hills of Wales are more likely to make a man of your brother than mincing around Henry’s court. Even Jasper knows that.”
    “He wants the adventure with none of the responsibility,” Rand retorted. “You know my feelings on this, and so does he. Until he can negotiate the twisted byways of the court and survive in that pit of vipers, he is no more than a