The real problem was that the inhabitants of the manor did not expect Hugh to last long in his position as lord. None of the other lords had survived more than a year or two.

Within hours of his arrival, Hugh had heard muttered omens of impending disaster. Crops had been trampled by a band of renegade knights. A freakish lightning storm had done considerable damage to the church. A wandering monk who preached doom and destruction had appeared in the vicinity.

To the people of Scarcliffe, the theft of the green crystal from the vault of the local convent had been an event of cataclysmic proportions. It had also been the last straw. Hugh knew that in their eyes it was proof positive that he was not their true lord.

Hugh had realized immediately that the fastest way to gain the trust of his people was to recover the green stone. He intended to do just that.

"Have a care, my lord," Dunstan advised. "Lady Alice is no anxious maiden to be awed by your reputation. She will no doubt try to bargain as though she were a London shopkeeper."

"It should prove an interesting experience."

"Do not forget that last night she appeared more than willing to trade her soul for whatever it is she expects to have from you."

"Aye." Hugh almost smiled. "Mayhap her soul is just what I shall require."

"Try not to barter away your own in the deal," Dunstan advised dryly.

"You are assuming that I have one to lose."

Benedict's twisted leg prevented him from actually storming through the door of Alice's study chamber. Nevertheless, he managed to convey his anger and outrage with a flushed face and fierce green eyes.

"Alice, this is madness." He came to a halt in front of her desk and tucked his staff under one arm. "Surely you cannot mean to bargain with Hugh the Relentless."

"His name is Hugh of Scarcliffe now," Alice said.

"From what I have heard, Relentless suits him all too well. What do you think you are doing? He is a most dangerous man from all accounts."

"But an honest one apparently. 'Tis said that if he strikes a bargain, he will keep it."

"I vow that any bargain made with Sir Hugh will be on his terms," Benedict retorted. "Alice, he is said to be very clever and keen on plotting stratagems."

"So? I am rather clever myself."

"I know you think that you can manage him as you do our uncle. But men such as Hugh are not easily managed by anyone, especially not by a woman."

Alice put down her quill pen and contemplated her brother. Benedict was sixteen years old and she had had the sole responsibility for him since their parents had died. She was well aware that she had failed in her duty by him. She intended to do what she could to make up for the fact that she had allowed his inheritance to slip into Ralf's hands.

Her mother, Helen, had died three years earlier. Her father, Sir Bernard, had been murdered by a street thief outside a London brothel two years past.

Ralf had followed fast on the heels of the news of Bernard's death. Alice had soon found herself deeply embroiled in a hopeless legal battle to hold on to the small manor that was to have been Benedict's inheritance. She had done her best to retain control of the tiny fief, but on that score Ralf, for all his ox-brained wit, had outmaneuvered her.

After nearly two full years of argument and persuasion he had convinced Fulbert of Middleton, Alice's liege lord as well as Ralf's, that a trained knight ought to control the manor. Ralf had claimed that, as a woman, Alice was incapable of managing the estates properly and that, with his ruined leg, Benedict could not be trained as a knight. Fulbert had concluded, after much prompting by Ralf, that he needed a proper fighting man in charge of the tiny manor that had belonged to Lord Bernard.

To Alice's rage and disgust, Fulbert had given her father's manor to Ralf. Ralf had, in turn, given the lands to his eldest son, Lloyd.

Alice and Benedict had been obliged to move to Lingwood shortly thereafter. Once safely in possession of the fief, Lloyd had married the daughter of a neighboring knight. Six months ago they had had a son.

Alice was practical-minded enough to realize that no matter how well she argued her brother's claims in the courts, she would likely never regain possession of Benedict's inheritance. The knowledge that she had failed to fulfill her responsibility to Benedict was a source of deep pain for her. She rarely failed at a task, especially not one as important as this had been.

Determined to make up for the disaster in the only way possible, Alice had set out to give Benedict the best possible chance for advancement in the world. She had determined to send him to the great centers of learning in Paris and Bologna, where he would be trained in the law.

Nothing could make up for his lost lands, but Alice intended to do her best. When she was satisfied that Benedict was safely on his way in life, she would fulfill her own dreams. She would enter a convent, one that possessed a fine library. There she would devote herself to the study of natural philosophy.

Only a few days ago both of her objectives had seemed out of reach. But the arrival of Hugh the Relentless had opened a new door. Alice was determined to seize the opportunity.

"Do not alarm yourself, Benedict," she said briskly. "I have every confidence that Sir Hugh will prove to be a reasonable man."

"Reasonable?" Benedict waved his free hand wildly. "Alice, he's a legend. Legends are never reasonable."

"Come now, you cannot know that. He seemed perfectly amenable to rational discourse last night."

"Last night he toyed with you. Alice, listen to me, Erasmus of Thornewood is Sir Hugh's liege lord. Do you know what that means?"

Alice picked up her quill and tapped the tip thoughtfully against her pursed lips. "I have heard of Erasmus. He is reputed to be quite powerful."

"Aye, and that makes his man, Sir Hugh, powerful, too. You must be careful. Do not think that you can bargain with Sir Hugh as though you were a peddler in the village market. That way lies madness."

"Nonsense." Alice smiled reassuringly. "You worry overmuch, Benedict. 'Tis a fault I have begun to notice in you of late."

"I worry for good cause."

"Nay, you do not. Mark my words, Sir Hugh and I shall get on very well together."

A large figure loomed in the doorway, casting a wide, dark shadow across the carpet. It seemed to Alice that there was a sudden chill in the room. She looked toward the opening. Hugh stood there.

"You echo my own thoughts, Lady Alice," he said. "I am pleased to see that we are of similar minds on the matter."

Awareness prickled along the surface of Alice's skin as his deep, resonant voice filled the study chamber. He spoke very softly yet his words seemed to still even the smallest of competing sounds. The bird on the window ledge fell silent. The echoes of horses' hooves down in the bailey faded.

Alice felt her insides tighten in anticipation. She could not stop herself from staring at Hugh for a moment. This was the first time she had seen him since last night's confrontation in the flame-lit hall. She was eager to discover if his presence had the same odd effect on her this morning that it had had on the first occasion.

It did.

Against all reason and the evidence of her own eyes, she found Hugh the Relentless to be the most compelling man she had ever met. He was no more handsome in the morning light than he had been last night yet something about him drew her.

It was almost as if she had developed an extraordinary additional sense, she thought, and that she now employed a level of sensation that went beyond hearing, vision, touch, taste, and smell. All in all, a most intriguing problem in natural philosophy, she decided.