It was in the fall of 1102 that Annelise’s labor contractions began.

Rolfe was banned from the solar at Viandin and found himself in the hall with little to do but wait. His wife’s cries made him cringe, but he avoided both drink and companionship. He paced the length of the hall and back, time and again.

Childbirth carried no small risk and he feared for Annelise’s welfare. Rolfe recalled every moment he had spent with his beloved wife and knew that there had not been enough of those moments to satisfy him. She had taught him so much about love, given him a faith in the unseen, shared with him her passion for life and all its joys.

He had so much, but he wanted only more.

Twilight crept into the hall and lengthened the shadows. A servant silently lit the candles then departed, leaving Rolfe with his concerns. Annelise’s cries reached a new crescendo and Rolfe stared upward, his mouth dry.

If he should lose her this night—no, he could not think of it. His mother’s voice, low and reassuring, carried to his ears as Annelise’s cry subsided.

Rolfe shuddered to think what his wife endured.

And what had he given her in return? His love, his commitment, his protection. The balance seemed rather thin to Rolfe, especially in light of this night’s ordeal. A new mother deserved a gift, but Rolfe knew well enough that Annelise would not care for jewelry or other finery.

He must grant her a gift from the heart. It must be intangible, to show her that he had learned the value of things unseen. It must be something she could not hold but that might make her life more complete.

Rolfe thought of Sayerne. He had sent a message to Sayerne in May when the company had vowed to meet again. Annelise had been so ill early in her pregnancy and he had not wanted to risk a long ride. It would have taken them a week to reach Sayerne, and he had feared she might lose the child. He could have gone alone to see his comrades, but had not wanted to leave her in her distress, even in the care of his mother.

Perhaps it was time to invite Quinn to come to them.

Rolfe distracted himself that day with the task of writing an invitation to Quinn. If he could heal the scar of Annelise’s past by uniting brother and sister again, that truly would be a gift worthy of his bride.

He had no sooner sealed the missive and placed it into a runner’s hand than Annelise screamed with greater vigor. Rolfe muttered a curse and lunged up the stairs to the solar. His mother could not keep him from the chamber in such a moment. He would be with Annelise for the last of her ordeal.

* * *

Annelise awakened as the first rays of the sun slanted through the solar window. The room was lit with a rosy gold glow, its hue reminding her of the good djinn. Without Azima’s influence, she and Rolfe would not be so happy together.

Even better, she had given Rolfe a son.

Annelise was tired and sore, but so filled with joy that she was more content than ever she had been. The midwife had cleaned both Annelise and the chamber before leaving a few hours earlier, then Rolfe’s mother had retired, as well. Annelise had been left alone with her husband and son.

She had slept, but Rolfe, she knew, had not.

Even now, he rocked his son at the foot of the bed, the sunlight glinting in his dark hair. Annelise watched him make faces at the babe for a few moments before he realized she was awake.

“Sleep well?” he murmured.

“How could I not, with you standing guard?” she whispered, not wanting to startle the baby. Rolfe smiled and she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. Her heart swelled that he had been with her at the last and most difficult part of the delivery. His strength had made the pain easier to bear. Their gazes locked for a long, potent moment, one that made her hope she could soon consider giving him another child.

Then the babe let forth a healthy cry.

Rolfe flicked a glance downward at their son. “Do you think he is jealous?”

Annelise laughed. “I think he is perfect.”

“Not as perfect as his mother.”

“He might be hungry.” She opened her arms. “He did not take much the last time.”

Rolfe lowered the babe into her embrace, so gentle that the child might have been made of spun glass. Annelise was awed by the tiny burden of their son and could scarce believe their good fortune. Rolfe sat beside her, his hand beneath the weight of the babe so that she could unfasten her chemise. His other hand brushed over her bare shoulder and along her cheek, leaving her flesh tingling in the wake of his caress. She nestled the boy against her and urged him to the breast. She thought she was clumsy with the task, but Rolfe watched her with glowing eyes, his confidence feeding her own. The babe settled in to suckle, and Annelise met her husband’s gaze.

“Thank you for coming at the last,” she whispered. “I cannot tell you how much it helped.”

Rolfe captured her free hand within his own. “I could stay away no longer.”

“Despite your mother’s demand?”

Rolfe’s lips quirked, but his gaze was warm. “It would take more than that to keep me from your side, Annelise.”

“You said before that I would be safe while in your presence.”

“That is a pledge I mean to keep forevermore, my Annelise.”

The heartfelt declaration brought unexpected tears to Annelise’s eyes. Her grip tightened on his hand and he leaned forward, concern in his eyes. “What is it?”

She shook her head and her tears fell. “I am simply so happy,” she confessed. “I never imagined that I would have a husband such as you, or a home such as this, or a family.” She sniffled and bit her lip in an effort to control her tears. “To have all three and so much love, it defies every expectation. This is what I have always wanted and you have granted it to me.”

“It is no less than what you deserve.” Rolfe moved closer and the welcome weight of his arm slipped over Annelise’s shoulder. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his hand still cradling hers. “You had a family before.”

Annelise shook her head. “No, I had no family, not after my mother died. I will not accept that man as a part of my life. If I had a family, it was at the convent.”

“But I thought you did not think as those women did.”

“No.” She sighed. “We had little in common, but they were good to me. They gave me a home and for that I will always be grateful, even though that life was not for me.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Rolfe teased and she smiled at him.

The babe stirred against her breast, then opened his eyes to gaze upward. To Annelise’s shock, his eyes were the same amber hue as her father’s. She gasped and Rolfe’s grip tightened around her.

“What is amiss?”

“His eyes are the same as my father’s.” Annelise whispered, then looked into Rolfe’s gaze. “What if he has inherited more than the shade of his eyes from Jerome?”

Rolfe’s finger flew to Annelise’s lips and his touch silenced her. “Annelise,” he said in the low tone that always reassured her. “Our son has your eyes.”

“But it is more than his eyes,” she admitted, staring down at the tiny child. “What of the rest? I would hate to know that such evil flowed through his veins because of me.”

“But you share nothing of your father’s character.”

“What of my brother Quinn? He was said to be worse than my father. Perhaps it is a curse upon the men alone!”

Rolfe gave her a little squeeze. “What of your brother Yves? There are men in your family who do not share your father’s curse.”

Annelise shook her head again. “Yves was only a half brother. It could be that his mother’s goodness overwhelmed my father’s evil. My mother, it is more than clear, was dominated by Jerome in every way.” She straightened and looked Rolfe squarely in the eye. “No, you, our son and your mother are my sole family. That is more good fortune than most have to call their own.”

A considering glint lit Rolfe’s eye. “I told you before that I knew Quinn de Sayerne.”

“But you never mentioned as much again.”

“You never spoke of him again, either,” Rolfe said. “Though I think it time to put your ghosts to rest.”

What did that mean?

She might have asked, but Rolfe changed the subject. “What shall we name him?” He tickled the babe’s chin and the child squirmed. He belched with a volume that surprised them both into laughter.

“I do not know. Do you have a family name you would like to bestow upon him?”

“Let me think upon it.” Rolfe kissed her on the nose, and then lingeringly on the lips. “Take your leisure this morning, Annelise.”

“I should like to wash and dress.”

“Then I will send the maids, and the nurse for our son, as well.”

“Your mother will doubtless come to visit, too.”

Rolfe smiled, his gaze lifting to the portal where Hildegarde already stood. Annelise smiled and beckoned to her, and it soon became clear that grandmother and mother were equally smitten with the boy’s charms.

* * *

A week and a half later, just before midday, Rolfe entered the solar. Annelise knew immediately that he had a scheme or a surprise, but expected that he had thought of a name for their son. His mother had declined to provide any suggestions, insisting the task was not hers, and had left the solar but moments before. Annelise was just lacing her kirtle when Rolfe arrived. Her maid tied the knot and secured her girdle, then carried the baby off to his bath.

“What mischief have you been making?” she asked with a smile.

Rolfe grinned. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You have the devil’s own glint in your eye.”

He folded his hands behind his back and strolled to the window. “A messenger delivered something for you today.”

“For me?”

“Yes. It was a twisted little root that I have asked the gardener to plant in the herb garden you favor.”

“What kind of root?”

Rolfe spun to look at her, his eyes gleaming. “One from Outremer. I sent word to a merchant in Lyons when we first returned to Viandin, and he finally had success in locating it.”

Annelise clasped her hands, guessing what he had obtained. “Those flowers. The roses!”

Rolfe smiled. “Yes. Now you shall grow a shrub of your own.”

“But not an enchanted one,” Annelise scolded in a teasing tone. “Do not even think of cutting all the blooms to cast across the bed!”

Rolfe laughed and she launched herself into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “But you had no need to fetch me a gift for bearing you a son. He is my son as well, and his presence gives me joy.”

“No, that was not my intent,” Rolfe said. “This is a nuptial gift that took much longer to acquire than I expected.”

“And a welcome one all the same,” Annelise whispered as she lifted her lips for his kiss.

Rolfe only just touched his lips to hers. “Your gift for bringing our son into the world awaits in the garden as well, but it is not the rose.”

Annelise blinked, but one glance told her that Rolfe was not going to tell her more. She crossed the solar and looked out the window.

A knight strolled there. His cloak flicked in the wind, but it was difficult to see him clearly because of the plants and the sunlight glinting off his mail. His auburn hair, so like her own in shade, gleamed in the sunlight and she took a step back from the window.

He was too tall and broad of shoulder to be Yves, and his hair was not of the same hue of gold. Indeed, he moved like a man older than Yves.

His cloak fluttered and Annelise went cold when she realized it was the robust wine color of Sayerne’s standard.

An older knight from Sayerne could be only one man.

Annelise pivoted to face her husband, only to find that he was watching her closely. “You did not,” she whispered.

“Did not what?”

“Invite my brother Quinn to visit.” Annelise was hot with trepidation.

“Of course, I did.”

Annelise’s mouth went dry. What would she do? What would she say?

“What did you tell him?” she asked. “What does he want?”

Still worse, what would Quinn do and say?

Would he silence her so that she could not tell anyone else of their father’s crime? It was too easy to imagine that a son and heir would not want the truth of her mother’s death to come to light.

“Annelise,” Rolfe said. “Quinn is our guest.”

“Guest?”

“Yes. I invited him to visit.” He crossed the room and gripped her shoulders. “Annelise, I know how you feel, just as I know your feelings are unjustified. It is time you learned the truth.” His voice echoed with the force of his conviction, and Annelise could not help but glance into his eyes.

He was so convinced that he was right, that she had nothing to fear.

“You are wrong about Quinn,” he insisted. “Trust me.”

Annelise returned to the window, watching her brother. “You summoned him without telling me.”

“Would you have approved?” Rolfe’s thumbs traced soothing patterns on Annelise’s shoulders when she did not reply. “A discussion with Tulley at Beauvoir confirmed what I had suspected since you confessed your tale—Quinn and your father argued over the abuse of your mother.”

Annelise spun to face Rolfe. Could this be true? Clearly he believed it to be.

“Quinn sought to defend her until Jerome threatened to cast Quinn out. Tulley intervened, for Quinn was young, and took the boy under his own protection. He never imagined that your mother would bear another child.”

A lump rose in Annelise’s throat. “But how could Quinn abandon her there? He had to know that my father would raise his hand against her again. What kind of man, or even boy, would leave his mother undefended?”

“Perhaps you should ask him that yourself.”

Annelise’s mouth worked for a moment. “I cannot do this.”

Rolfe pulled her into his embrace, and Annelise did not resist. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest as his fingers slid into her hair.

“Where is my fearless bride now?” Rolfe teased softly.

Annelise shook her head. “I am afraid,” she admitted in a small voice. “What if he has charmed you? What if he wishes only to silence the truth about my father’s crime once and for all? What if it is all a ruse?” She could not bear to think of having her happiness threatened, much less the welfare of her child—or her husband, or his mother.

“What if I am right and you have another brother to rely upon?”

Annelise pulled away from Rolfe’s warmth and met his gaze. “I was the only witness and you are the only one in whom I have confided the tale.”

Rolfe cupped her face in his hands. “There is nothing to fear, Annelise. You wanted proof that our son is not doomed to repeat your father’s crimes. That proof awaits you in the garden.”

“But what if—”

“Do not imagine that I would let anything befall you now, wife of mine,” he said fiercely.

Despite herself, Annelise smiled at the reminder of his pledge to protect her. She straightened and looked toward the window.

Rolfe was right. It was time she confronted her fears and put the past to rest.

She took her husband’s hand. “Will you come with me?”

Rolfe closed his hand over hers. “Do not imagine that I would be anywhere else.”

* * *

The knight in the garden spun around at the crunch of Annelise’s footsteps on the gravel. His boots were splattered with mud, as were his chausses and his cloak. He looked as if he had ridden in haste, without care for his garb.

Was that because Rolfe had summoned him?

Did he want to make amends so badly as this?

His gaze locked with hers, and Annelise found herself staring into eyes that were familiar, yet not. Quinn’s amber eyes were so like her son’s, so like her father’s, yet filled with a compassion unknown to Jerome de Sayerne.

That gave Annelise the confidence to approach him. Rolfe waited behind as she crossed the garden one step at a time. Annelise had never met a man who could keep his true feelings from reflecting in his eyes, and Quinn’s were so warm that she felt her doubts melting away.

He smiled a slow and encouraging smile, one that reminded her of her mother. It was a marvel to her to see the echo of both father and mother in his features, as well as a faint reminder of her own son’s face.

“Blood of my blood,” he whispered, as though he could not believe she was before him. He dropped to one knee before her and took her hand in his. “Annelise de Sayerne, I am most pleased to finally make your acquaintance,” he said, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

“As am I to meet you, Quinn de Sayerne.”

Quinn smiled up at her, his gaze dancing over her features. “You look so much like her,” he whispered.

Annelise’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?” she asked, knowing all the while who he must mean.

“Our mother, of course.” Quinn shook his head as he studied her. “But there is a strength about you that she never had. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your grip.” His fingers tightened on Annelise’s hand before he rose. “I am sorry that you were forced to learn that strength so early and while so alone.”

“Why did you leave her?” The question fell from Annelise’s lips with less grace than might have been ideal. She hoped her question did not sound like an accusation. “How could you have abandoned her? You had to know that he would strike her again.”

Pain filled Quinn’s eyes and he looked away. His voice, when he spoke, was strained. “She would not come.” He cleared his throat and looked back at Annelise with new intensity. “She refused to leave him. We argued long over the matter, but she insisted that I was only a child and could not understand. I believe now that she feared no other man would have her, that Jerome alone could see her sheltered and fed.”

“She was wrong,” Annelise whispered. “You should have forced her to leave!”

Quinn’s expression turned sad. “She refused, Annelise. And Jerome swore before Tulley that the beatings would stop. Tulley insisted that I leave immediately, that I accompany him that very moment.” He shook his head. “There was nothing I could do but hope for the best.” His voice faded. “I was only a boy.”

With that heartfelt confession, Annelise knew her fears had been unfounded.

Quinn intended her no harm. He, she could already see, was the complete opposite of their father. He was so still, so thoughtful, so resolute. There was not a line of cruelty in his features or demeanor. Her overwhelming sense was that he was kind and just. That Rolfe thought highly of him could only mean that Quinn shared her husband’s honorable nature.

Annelise claimed his hand, seeing how he blamed himself and how the responsibility was not his to bear. Her vision blurred with unexpected tears. “You could not have known.”

Quinn frowned. “I could have known, if Tulley had sent word. For whatever reason, he told me nothing of what happened at Sayerne, though he kept a close eye on my whereabouts.” His gaze bored into Annelise’s own. “Perhaps he feared that if I had known the truth, I would have challenged my father more seriously.”

“And what would have been the harm in that?”

Quinn grimaced. “I was too young to rule Sayerne well, especially after our father’s lax administration. Even now, if I did not have Melissande at my side, the task would be insurmountable.”

Annelise must have looked puzzled, for Quinn smiled slightly. “My wife, Melissande d’Annossy. Tulley did us the great favor of insisting we wed. She awaits in the hall, for she tires easily now that she is with child.” His eyes twinkled. “I think you might have much in common with her.”

Annelise recognized the name of Sayerne’s highborn and reputedly beautiful neighbor. But because of Annelise’s years in the convent, the two women had never met.

“What would I have in common with your wife?” Annelise asked with a smile, for she knew he teased her.

“Your doubt of my character,” Quinn replied with a smile of his own. “It took me many months to convince her that I was as different from our father as could be. He left a long shadow, did Jerome de Sayerne.”

Blood of her blood, as he had said. She and Quinn shared a legacy—one that had had its pain, to be sure, but the bond between them would be greater for it.

Annelise did not relinquish her grip on his hand. “Then we shall create a new legacy,” she said with conviction. “One so bright and noble that Jerome’s shadow will be eclipsed, perhaps even forgotten.”

Quinn smiled slowly. “Yes. Yes, Annelise, let us do that.” He kissed her fingers again and bowed to her, then turned and escorted her to Rolfe’s side. Quinn shook Rolfe’s hand with hearty vigor. “I thank you, Rolfe. Who would have thought the company of rogues and angels would have brought me a sister so fine?”

They laughed together at what was obviously a familiar jest.

Rolfe’s gaze landed upon Annelise. “Yes, fine she undoubtedly is.” He extended a hand to her and she moved to his side, her heart swelling with joy.

She had another brother, a family both past and present. This was more, so much more, than she had ever dreamed she might call her own.

And she had Rolfe to thank for it all.

“If you will forgive me,” Quinn said. “I would see that Melissande is at ease.” He bowed again then strode to the hall, his concern for his wife clear. Annelise smiled at the sight, very glad that both she and her brother had made matches of love.

She had to hope that Yves would fare as well.

“I have thought of a name for our son,” she said to Rolfe. They walked slowly and she leaned upon him, savoring the heat of the sunlight.

“Yes,” Rolfe murmured, trying to hide a smile and failing. “I imagine it is the same one I always thought fitting.”

“You always intended to name our son Quinn?”

Rolfe only winked in response, and Annelise could not help but laugh aloud. “But you said nothing to me!”

“A wise man knows when an idea must be his lady’s own,” he teased.

Annelise laughed at the truth in that, then sighed with satisfaction. “Oh, Rolfe, you have made me happier this day than I imagined I ever might be. Thank you.”

Rolfe turned to face her, cupped her face in his hand. She stared into his eyes, one blue and one silver-gray, both gleaming with heartfelt sincerity, and forgot her newfound brother.

“Surely I owe no less to the woman who so completely enchanted me with her love,” he murmured. “You cast a potent spell from our first meeting, our Annelise.”

“This is one spell from which you will never wriggle free,” Annelise threatened with a smile.

Rolfe laughed as he pulled her into his embrace. “I will not even try,” he vowed. He smiled down at her. “I think Marcus might have been right, after all.”

“Marcus?” Annelise frowned in confusion before she remembered. “Oh, the man who gave you the dark bottle.”

Rolfe’s smile broadened. “The one who insisted it had the power to make dreams come true,” he said with satisfaction, then bent to claim her lips in a possessive kiss.

And Annelise could only agree.

* * *