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on the battlefield, were tempting enough. When the dangerous rumors of his dealings with women were added, the more daring matrons were eager to risk playing with fire for the chance to be scorched by Warwick’s smoldering passion. He kept walking and ignored the invitations. Over the years he’d had a bellyful of spoiled, highborn noble ladies.
    â€œWhy did you not join us on the dais?” King Edward demanded.
    â€œI didn’t wish to ruin the celebration of Gloucester’s upcoming nuptials by voicing my opposition to the taxes you are about to ask for in Parliament, Your Majesty.”
    â€œDamn you, Warwick. What makes you think I’ll call Parliament?”
    â€œSince Windsor is so close to Westminster, I warrant you will seize the opportunity while we are all gathered for the wedding.”
    â€œAnd so I shall. Decisions have to be made. My negotiations with Philip of France have come to naught. Hostilities are raging out of control between the sailors of the Cinque Ports and the fishermen of Normandy who sail our waters illegally. I have reports the wily, ambitious Philip will use this as a pretext to seize Gascony, the last of our French possessions.”
    â€œAre you contemplating waging war with France, Your Majesty?” John de Warenne asked bluntly.
    â€œI am. I plan to lead an army into Flanders and fight it out. I’ll send another army to recover Gascony if he dares touch it.”
    â€œWars cost money, Your Majesty. I am opposed to having my taxes raised,” Warwick repeated.
    Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, stepped forward. “Now that the subject has been broached, Your Majesty, I also disfavor your calling Parliament. I am in full agreement with Warwick.”
    â€œI need money badly, and whether you like it or not, I must take emergency measures to raise it,” Edward said emphatically.
    â€œAnd we are expected to dance to the royal tune.” Warwick always had the balls to speak his mind, but tonight he knew the king was on dangerous ground because this means of raising money broke the stipulations of the Great Charter.
    John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, intervened. “Gentlemen, let us keep the peace among us at least until Gloucester here is wed; then we can hammer out our differences at Westminster.”
    Edward, eager to postpone the inevitable battle of wills until after the nuptials had been performed, called for wine all around. “A toast to the bridegroom.” He hoisted his goblet and his earls followed suit. “Gilbert of Gloucester—here’s to many fine sons!”
    A son and heir was the cherished hope of every noble. Though King Edward had sired four sons, three had died before they reached maturity and only one remained. De Warenne had no legitimate son, and Bigod had only a daughter. All envied de Bohun, the constable, who had two grown sons.
    Warwick clapped his friend Gloucester on the back. His dark eyes brimmed with amusement. “The king believes that once you are his son-in-law you will support him in all things.”
    â€œThen he is delusional,” Gilbert said with a wink.
    â€œI would be hard-pressed to choose which of you has the hotter temper. The Plantagenet rage is formidable to behold, but I’ve seen yours explode and scorch the earth.”
    Gilbert stared at him in disbelief. “Your own temper borders on madness—Warwick’s reputation is legendary.”
    â€œOnly when provoked. I have learned to keep the wolfhound in me tightly leashed. It is a matter of pride.”
    Edward came up behind Gilbert and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve arranged a hunt tomorrow in your honor. I vow there’s nothing better than venison for a wedding feast.”
    Irony danced in Warwick’s eyes as he put his hand on Gilbert’s other shoulder. “It’s an eat-what-you-kill world, my friend.”
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    Jory drew back the princess’s curtains to let in the pale