{"product_id":"rosehaven-isbn-9780515120882","title":"Rosehaven","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom the #1 \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLING AUTHOR.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When heiress Hastings Trent is joined with warrior Severin Langthorne in marriage, she must uncover the mystery surrounding a secluded estate known as Rosehaven.\u003cb\u003eCatherine Coulter\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the FBI Thrillers featuring husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. She is also the author—with J. T. Ellison—of the Brit in the FBI series. She lives in Sausalito, California.Early Summer, 1277, East Anglia, England\u003cp\u003eOxborough Castle, Home of Fawke of Trent,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEarl of Oxborough\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHER FATHER DIDN’T LIKE HER, BUT HE WOULD NEVER DO THIS\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto her, never.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEven as she swore over and over to herself that it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecouldn’t be true, she couldn’t stop staring at the man. The\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eair seemed to stir in seamless folds about him as he stood\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eutterly still and silent. She knew somehow that he wouldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emove, not until he had judged all the occupants of the great\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehall of Oxborough Castle. Only then would he act.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis face was dark, his expression calm and untroubled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSharp sunlight poured in through the open doors of the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egreat hall, framing him there as he stood motionless. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estared at him from the shadows of the winding stone stairs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to accept that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe was here at Oxborough. But he was here, and he didn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elook like he had any intention at all of leaving.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis eyes were as blue as the sea beneath the bright morning\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esun, yet they seemed somehow old and filled with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknowledge and experience a man his age shouldn’t possess,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand distant, as if part of himself was locked away. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould feel the strength of him from where she stood, feel\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe determination in him, the utter control, the deliberate\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003earrogance. He looked to her like the Devil’s dearest friend.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis finely made gray cloak moved and swelled about him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeven though there was no wind. The black whip coiled\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout his wrist seemed to whisper in that thick, contained\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eair. But he made no movement. He was still and calm,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewaiting, watching.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe wasn’t wearing armor, the whip around his wrist and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe huge sword that was sheathed to his wide leather belt\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere his only weapons. He was dressed entirely in gray,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeven his boots were a soft, supple gray leather. His tunic\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas pewter gray, a rich wool, his undertunic a lighter gray,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efitting him closely. His cross garters were gray leather\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estrips, binding his leggings close.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo, her father couldn’t mean this. Surely this wasn’t the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eman her father had brought to Oxborough to marry her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHastings wasn’t afraid. She was terrified. Marry this man?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe would be her husband, her lord? No, surely this couldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebe the man, more like he was an emissary from Hades or\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea messenger from the mystical shades of Avalon.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer father wanted to make this man of his line? Leave\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim all his possessions and land? Bestow upon him his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etitles since all her father had produced was her, a single\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efemale, of little account in the long scheme of things. Except\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor this marriage. Except to bind her to a man who\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003escared her to her very toes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis was the man her father’s longtime friend Graelam\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ede Moreton wanted her to marry? Lord Graelam was her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efriend, too. She remembered him throwing her squealing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einto the air when she was naught but seven years old. Graelam\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas as good as family, and he wanted this unearthly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecreature to be her husband, too? Indeed it had been Graelam,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enow striding into the castle’s great hall, who said this\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eman was a warrior to be trusted, to be held in respect and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eawe, and who held honor more dear than his own soul.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHastings didn’t know what it meant. Of course she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshouldn’t have heard his views, but she’d been eavesdropping\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etwo months before, bent low in the shadows behind\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher father’s chair. Now her father no longer sat in his chair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe no longer ate his dinner in the great hall, in his finely\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecarved chair, served by his page and squire, both vying to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egive him the tastiest cut of beef. Now he sipped broth in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis bed, praying it would stay calm in his belly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe man’s cloak seemed to move again and she thought\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe’d scream. All the Oxborough people in the great hall\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere huddled together, staring at the man, wondering what\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould happen if he became their master. Was he violent\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand cruel? Would he raise his hand when it amused him to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edo so? Would he brandish that whip as her father had done\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen he had found that her mother had bedded the falconer?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHastings hated whips.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe man’s cloak rippled yet again. There was an unearthly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshriek. She stuffed her fist into her mouth and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esucked herself farther back into the shadows.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe man slipped his gloved hand beneath his cloak and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epulled out a thickly furred animal with a bushy tail. There\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas a low hiss of fear from all the Oxborough people in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe great hall. Was it a devil’s familiar? No, no, not that,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot a cat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was a marten. Sleek, thick-furred, deep brown in color\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esave for the snow white beneath its chin and on its belly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe had a beautiful sable cloak made from this animal’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efur. She’d wager this animal would never have to worry\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout being a covering for someone’s back. Not held so\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esecurely by this man. What was this warrior doing with a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emarten?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe man brought the marten to his face, looked directly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einto its eyes, nodded, then very gently slipped it once again\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeneath his cloak inside his tunic.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe smiled, she couldn’t help it. The man couldn’t be all\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat terrifying if he carried a pet marten next to his heart.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam de Moreton stepped up behind him and slapped\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe man on his back—as if he were just a man, nothing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emore than a simple man. The man turned and smiled. That\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmile transformed him. In that moment when he smiled, he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elooked human and very real, but then he wasn’t smiling,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand he was as he had been, a stranger, a dark stranger, with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea marten in his tunic.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe two of them were of a size, both taller than the oak\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esapling she’d planted three summers past, big men, too big,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etaking too much space, crowding everyone around them.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe’d never feared Graelam, though. She knew from stories\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher father had told her since she’d been small that he was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea warrior whom other soldiers backed away from if they\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould, that her father had once seen Graelam sever a man\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein half with one swing of his sword and kill another three\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emen with the same grace and power. She had never before\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003econsidered that a man could be graceful while he butchered\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eother men.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Graelam,’’ the man said, his voice as deep and rough\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eas a ship pulling at its moorings in a storm. ‘‘It has been\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etoo long since I have tapped my fist into your ugly face\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand watched you sprawl to the ground. All goes well with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, too well. I don’t deserve what I have, the luck\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGod has bestowed upon me, but I give thanks daily for my\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elife. I caution you never to call my face ugly in front of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy wife. She has a fondness for it. She may be small but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe is ferocious in her defense of me.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe man said, ‘‘She is a special lady, unlike any other.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou know why I am here.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Naturally,’’ Graelam de Moreton said. ‘‘I regret that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke of Trent is very ill and cannot be in the great hall\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto welcome you. Hastings should be here to greet you but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI do not see her. We will sup, then I will take you to him.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I wish to see him now. I wish to have this over with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eas quickly as possible.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Very well.’’ Graelam nodded to her father’s steward,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTorric, so thin Hastings had once told him that she feared\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe would blow away whenever there was a sharp wind off\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe sea. Graelam then motioned for the man to precede him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eup the winding stone stairs that led to the upper chambers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Then,’’ he said to the man’s gray-cloaked back, ‘‘you will\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewant to meet his daughter.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I suppose that I must.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen they were out of sight, Hastings drew a deep\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebreath. Her future would be sealed at her father’s bedside.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer future and the future of Oxborough. Perhaps the man\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould refuse. She walked into the great hall. She called out\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto the thirty-some people, ‘‘This man is here to see Lord\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke. We will prepare to dine.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut who is he? she heard over and over.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePeople were whispering behind their hands, as if he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould hear them and would come back to punish them.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir faces were bright with curiosity and a tinge of fear.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis was the sort of man who would wage a siege and show\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eno mercy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe said aloud, ‘‘He is Severin of Langthorne, Baron\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLouges. He, Lord Graelam, and their men will dine here.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMacDear, please return to the kitchen and keep basting the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epork with the mint sauce. Alice, see that the bread remains\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewarm and crisp. Allen, fetch the sweet wine Lord Graelam\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eprefers.’’ She shut up. They were all staring at her, all filled\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith questions. She raised her hands, splaying her fingers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein front of her. ‘‘I believe,’’ she said finally, ‘‘that Lord\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSeverin is here to wed with me.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe didn’t listen to the babble. She was frankly surprised\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat everyone, all the way to the scullery maids in the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ekitchen, hadn’t known who he was or why he was here. A\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewell-kept secret. She knew he had just returned from France\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto find his older brother murdered, his estate beggared, his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epeasants starving, nothing there but devastated fields destroyed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eby marauding outlaws.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAye, he was here to wed her, the heiress of Oxborough.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe’d heard this when her father had asked Graelam what\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe knew of the man, what he thought of him and his honor\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand his strength. And Graelam had praised Severin, told\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim how King Edward had requested Severin ride at his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eright hand when they had been in the Holy Land during\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethose final battles with the Saracens. He had stood beside\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEdward on the ramparts at Acre.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was called Severin, she’d heard Graelam say, then he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould add as he rubbed his callused hands together, ‘‘Aye,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSeverin, the Gray Warrior.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e• • •\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Severin is here, Fawke.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke of Trent, Earl of Oxborough, wished he could see\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe young man more clearly, but the film that had grown\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eover his eyes was thicker than it had been just this morning,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eblurring everything, even his daughter’s face, which was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egood since she looked so much like her mother, and it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epained him to his guts to look at her. Too much pain, and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enow death was coming to him. He hated it, yet he accepted\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit. At moments like this, he welcomed it, but first he had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto see this through.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Severin,’’ he said, knowing he sounded weak and despising\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehimself for it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe young man gripped his wrist, his hold firm and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estrong, but it didn’t hurt Fawke. It felt warm and powerful,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea link to both his past and the future, a future of many\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egenerations, and his blood would continue to flow through\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethose warriors who would come after him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘You will wed my daughter?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, I will wed her,’’ Severin said. ‘‘I thank you for\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eselecting me.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam said, ‘‘I have told you she is comely, Severin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe will please you just as you will please her.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke of Trent sensed the young man freeze into stone\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen he said in that damnably weak voice of his, ‘‘All I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eask is that you take my name. I have no son. I do not want\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy line to die out. You will own all my lands, all my\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epossessions, collect all my rents, become sovereign to all\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy men. You will protect three towns, own most of the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eland in the towns, accept fealty from three additional keeps.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI have nearly as much coin as King Edward, but I have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etold him I am barely rich, for I don’t wish him to tax me\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eout of my armor. Aye, you will wed my daughter.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I cannot take your name, Fawke of Trent.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam said, ‘‘Severin, you need not efface your own\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ename. It is long known and you will continue to wear it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eproudly. Nay, what is to be done is that you simply add the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efamily name of Trent to yours and the earl’s title to your current\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eone. You will then become Severin of Langthorne7\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTrent, Baron Louges, Earl of Oxborough. King Edward\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eagrees and has given his blessing to this union.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt would serve, Fawke thought, wishing again that he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould see the young man clearly. His voice was deep and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estrong. Graelam had assured him that he was of healthy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estock. He said, ‘‘My daughter will be a good breeder. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis built like her mother. She is young enough, just eighteen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou must have sons, Severin, many sons. They will save\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eboth our lines and continue into the future.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOddly, Severin thought of Marjorie. He remembered\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eclearly the glory of her silvery hair, her vivid blue eyes that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eglistened when she laughed and darkened to a near black\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen she reached her release. Then her image dimmed. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehad not thought of her in a very long time. She had long\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esince been married off to another man. She was buried in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea past that he would no longer allow to haunt him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe said to Fawke, ‘‘Graelam has told me her name is\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHastings. Surely a strange name for either a male or a female.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke tried to smile, but the muscles in his face\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewouldn’t move upward. He felt the deep weakness drawing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon him, pulling him toward bottomless sleep, but he managed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto say low, ‘‘All firstborn daughters in my line since\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe long-ago battle have been named Hastings in honor of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eour Norman victory and our ancestor, Damon of Trent, who\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas given these lands by William in reward for his loyalty\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand valor, and, of course, the hundred men he added to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWilliam’s force.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis eyelids closed. He looked waxen. He looked already\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edead. He said, voice blurred with pain and weariness,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Come to me when you are ready. Wait not too long.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Two hours.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam motioned for Severin to follow him from the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echamber. He nodded to a woman who went in and sat beside\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFawke of Trent, to watch over him whilst he slept.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, if we can find Hastings, it will be done in two\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehours,’’ Graelam said. ‘‘She is usually working in her herb\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egarden. Aye, it must be tonight. I am afraid that Fawke\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewon’t survive until the morrow.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ‘‘As you will. Trist is hungry. I would feed him before\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egiving my name to this girl Hastings.’’ Severin reached his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehand into his cloak and pulled out the marten. He raised\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe animal to his cheek and rubbed his flesh against the soft\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efur. ‘‘No, don’t try to eat my glove, Trist. I will give you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epork.’’ He raised his eyes to Graelam’s face. ‘‘No other of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis species eats much other than rats and mice and chicken,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut when I was captured near Rouen last year and thrown\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einto Louis of Mellifont’s dungeon, he had more rats on his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edinner plate than a village of martens could eat. He didn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehave to hunt them down. All he had to do was wait until\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eone came close, kill it, and eat. After I escaped, he wouldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehunt another rat. I believed he would starve until he decided\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat he would eat eggs and pork. It is strange, but he survives\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand grows fat.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam said, ‘‘He poked his head out a few moments\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eago. It seemed to me he didn’t like being in Fawke of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTrent’s bedchamber. He quickly withdrew again.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘He remembers the smell of sickness and death from the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edungeon. Not many of us survived.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, well, now he will eat all the pork he wishes.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGraelam paused a moment on the winding stone stairs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Severin, I have known Fawke and Hastings for a goodly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enumber of years. Hastings was a clever little girl and she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehas grown up well. She knows herbs, and over the years\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe has become a healer. She is bright and gentle. She is\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot like her mother. As the heiress of Oxborough, she will\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efulfill her role suitably. I will have your word that you will\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etreat her well.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSeverin said in an emotionless, cold voice, ‘‘It is enough\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat I will wed her. I will protect her from the scavengers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho are already on their way here, just waiting for the old\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eman to die so they can come and steal her. That is all I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epromise—that, and to breed sons off her.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘If she were not here to be wed, then you would have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto become another man’s vassal. You would still be Baron\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLouges but you would watch your lands turn hard and cold\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith no men to work them.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ‘‘They are already hard and cold. There is naught left\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘You will have the money to make things right. You\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewill have Hastings as your wife. She will oversee the management\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof Oxborough when you are visiting your other\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eestates.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘My mother wasn’t able to oversee anything. When I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003earrived at Langthorne, she was huddled in filth, starving,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eafraid to come into the sunlight. I doubt she even recognized\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eme. She is a woman with a woman’s mind and now\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat mind is mired in demons. She is quite mad, Graelam.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe could not hold Langthorne together. She could not do\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanything save whine and huddle in her own excrement.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhy would I expect anything different from this Hastings?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom any woman? What do you mean she isn’t like her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emother?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Her mother was faithless. Fawke found she had bedded\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe falconer. He had her beaten to death. Hastings isn’t like\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher mother.’’ He thought of the girl Severin had wanted to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewed, this Marjorie. He had spoken of her long ago, with a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edimmed longing. Did he think little of her also?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘We will see.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSeverin was a hard man but he was fair, at least he was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efair to other men. Graelam knew there was nothing more\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe could do. He missed his wife and sons. He wanted to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eleave as soon as these two were married. He rather hoped\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHastings would approve her father’s choice, though that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t particularly matter.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305073496293,"sku":"NP9780515120882","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780515120882.jpg?v=1767735921","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/rosehaven-isbn-9780515120882","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}