A Flame Run Wild by Christine Monson Page A

sister in one of the plagues that repeatedly scourged Europe. His father, Henri, was rarely at home. He was usually involved in some military campaign, either for King Louis or his own adventurous ambitions. When he was at home, he overwhelmed his lonely son with hearty, bullish affection and demands. He expected the shy, slender stripling to be strapping and aggressive. "Scare off the dogs, boy. Roar at 'em like a lion and give 'em the back of your fists." Fortunately, Alexandre was strong, both in his wiry frame and his will. The old man had not broken him, but he had left several dents. Alexandre, who never cared to be a soldier, was thrown headlong into the violent adventures his father adored. He hated slaughter, the waste, the stupidity; yet all along, he had remained loyal to his one bond of love—his father.
    Alexandre and Charles became closer than most boyhood friends. When old Henri shoved his fist down a dog's throat once too often in Burgundy and had it fatally bitten off, Alexandre inherited the estate he had run from the age of thirteen. Alexandre had shrewdly stretched Henry's war booty further than his clerk nought it could possibly go. However, Alexandre made the mistake of applying to King Louis for monies owed his father for loans and knightly service, and when they were not forthcoming, he went to Paris to demand them.
    In Paris, he met Philip, who at the tender age of fifteen had already governed France for a year in his ailing father's place. Brilliant and dangerous both in intrigue and war, Philip meant to unite all the warring factions of France under his rule. He was in the midst of recruiting officers for a fight in Flanders when he met the audacious, stubborn Alexandre. Finding the young man charismatic, attractive and persuasive, he allowed him to pry from the royal coffers a portion of the monies due him, and thereby hired him into service to the crown. "As I am raising a campaign and cannot pay you the total now, help me put down the rebels," he cajoled Alexandre, "and you shall have all your gold and more."
    To Alexandre, the offer had been irresistible. He would gain the active battle experience necessary to all landed seigneurs and enough money to allow him to spend the rest of his days without having to use that experience.
    Alexandre performed valiantly in the Flanders campaign, yet somehow he did not earn enough in booty and pay to return to his fief; Philip shrewdly saw to that. Alexandre was no idiot; after another campaign, he perceived Philip's ploy. By then, however, Philip had infected him with the fever of duty, patriotism, friendship and the desire to see France unified and strong so that her safety would be insured. Time and disillusionment had killed those dreams. In strength lay a margin of safety, but there was no guarantee. One battle led to another, and at last he knew that the fighting would never end. One day, Alexandre found himself frying in the Holy Land for no reason other than to uphold Philip's reputation.
    Charles, although trained as a squire and ambitious to win a knight's spurs, had not accompanied Alexandre. Alexandre left him to manage the Brueil demesne. Honored, Charles was adept at his task, but he never told Alexandre that he longed to be in the military. Each time Alexandre came home, Charles found him more withdrawn, torn as he was from the roots that gave him sustenance and strength.
    Liliane could have no idea how dangerous she was to Alexandre now. Alexandre desperately needed a home and children and, most of all, a woman to love who would love him in return with all her faith and strength. Liliane's beauty was breathtaking; she was the sort of woman a man dreamed of in deserts and high places. Wildly desirable, she would be all too easy to love. In the last days of Alexandre's illness, Charles had seen she was also strong, intelligent and resilient. She was the wife Charles would have chosen for Alexandre, except for the one fatal flaw of her birth and