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swung round relentlessly because he had looked at the ladies, forgetting to duck. Scores of young men were training in the tilt yard. It was a dangerous place to be amidst splintering lances and flying chargers’ hooves.
    A blond demi-god in chain mail, carrying a broadsword, descended purposefully upon them. Elizabeth Grey screamed. Joan sighed.
    “There you are, Edward,” cried Isabel.
    “Bella, what the hellfire are you playing at?”
    “We’ve ridden all the way from Windsor to surprise you.”
    “Well, you can turn around and ride back again,” Edward said bluntly.
    The heir to the throne had a lightning temper, but his sister was merely a nuisance. The young men with whom he’d been practicing swordplay gathered behind him, grinning openly at Brianna, Joan, and the other delectable females who had suddenly emerged through a sea of males.
    Isabel’s cheeks flamed. “How dare you welcome Lionel and send me packing? When Father learns of your shabby treatment he’ll call you to task.” She looked with distaste at the sweat and blood on him.
    “When Father learns you’ve ridden farther than Windsor’s forests he’ll warm your arse!”
    A trill of laughter escaped from Joan’s lips. Edward’s brow cleared. “I’d know that laugh anywhere.” He came to stand by Joan of Kent’s palfrey. They were cousins and had played together as children. “Little Jeanette, how are you?”
    Though Joan was a year older than Prince Edward, his great height and physical maturity made him seem at least ten years her senior. From beneath her lashes she saw the beads of sweat glistening on his face, saw the blood-streaked dirt along the muscles of his bare arms. Suddenly all she could think of was what it would feel like to trace a finger over those muscles. She forgot to breathe. He was her golden god, always had been, always would be. With a dizzying effort she regained her composure and raised her lashes. Her eyes sparkled as they looked down into his. “Is it not part of a knight’s training to learn respect for women? Think of us as an opportunity to teach chivalry,”
    “Little minx,” he murmured. He strode back to Isabel and said grudgingly, “Well, I suppose we have to eat anyway. Allow me to extend the hospitality of Berkhamsted. You may stay for the midday meal.”
    Princess Isabel was all smiles now she’d achieved her objective. She would have thrown a tantrum had she realized it was Joan of Kent who had wooed him into a giving mood.
    The castle chamberlain showed the princess to a private chamber. At the door she said, “I’ll only need Elizabeth,” and shut it in the other girls’ faces.
    Brianna, refusing to blush, asked the chamberlain to show them to a garderobe. There was no scented water, no facilities at all for gently bred ladies in this male stronghold.
    Joan pulled on Brianna’s sleeve. “Come or we’ll miss all the fun of passing the towel.”
    In the hall their birds of prey sat on the perch provided for visitors’ hawks. The grooms who had accompanied them had already gone into the dining hall, which was filling up quickly with the young men who made up the heir to the throne’s army.
    Joan pulled Brianna to the lavatory close to the entrance of the hall, which contained washstands with pitchers and basins. The men surrounding the two females immediately began to tease and flirt with them. Brianna of Bedford had many would-be suitors who took this opportunity to vie for her attention. She laughed with them all, taking care not to single out anyone.
    Joan slipped in beside Edward. “May I have the soap, Your Highness?”
    He looked down in horror. “Didn’t my bloody chamberlain show you to a private room?”
    “Yes, but Isabel wouldn’t share it with us.” She laughed up into his handsome face, unable to hide her admiration from him.
    “She’s such a spoiled little bitch,” he complained.
    “Perhaps she’s paying us back for the wretched things we did to her when we were