Destiny Lies Waiting

SUMMARY

England, 1471

Beautiful orphaned Denys has been brought up a member of the Woodville family. The War of the Roses finally at an end, the Woodvilles have clawed their way to power thanks to her scheming Aunt Elizabeth, wife of the new Yorkist King Edward IV.

But despite all the opportunities that seem to lay before her, Denys longs for something more. She has always felt an outsider in her own home, an unwanted orphan whose past no one ever dares speak of. Unwilling to become a pawn in her aunt's bid for ultimate power, Denys determines to seek the truth about her own mother and father, and her true identity.

Valentine Starbury, loyal ally to young Richard, Duke of Gloucester, the King's brother, agrees to woo Denys in order to save his friend from the Queen's plot for Richard and Denys to wed. Valentine undertakes this for the sake of friendship, but unexpectedly begins to fall in love with Denys, thus earning the enmity of the manipulative Queen.

As Denys and Valentine grow ever closer, the forces their affair unleash have the most stunning consequences for the couple, and those in their close circle. Their passion sparks off a cataclysmic chain of events which threatens the very foundation of the English throne, and will have far-reaching consequences for the whole of England itself.

The shock of hitting the water was nothing compared to what assailed her senses next. Valentine's arms wound round Denys and brought her to her feet. Their brief contact sent the stars and all their brilliance searing through her body, as this intense surge drained all her energy.
They stood now, both waist-deep in the water. Her bodice clung to her breasts, rising and falling rhythmically as she breathed. She could feel his intensifying breath fanning across her cheek.
Before he could touch her any further, she stumbled out of the water, dragging her skirts behind her, her fists flailing through the air to fend him off, even as her arms ached to pull him closer…

REVIEWS

Elizabeth, married to King Edward Plantagenet, is Denys (Dove) Woodville's aunt. Having placed many relatives in high court positions, it is now Denys' turn. Elizabeth has betrothed her to Edward's brother, Richard. Neither Denys nor Richard wants this. In love with another woman, Richard persuades his good friend, Valentine Starbury, to woo Denys.

Denys has other plans. Even though she's attracted to Valentine, she is determined to find out who she really is. Little does she know that what she finds may not bode well for her, her family or even for England.

I thought this historical novel was a most satisfying read. The mystery of Denys will all be explained later in the series, so I look forward to the next novel in the series. SENSUAL.

—
Romantic Times

A superb read. Ms. Rubino has an excellent command of the history of the period, and presents it in an entertaining way. The characters are well-rounded and the settings and events are drawn deftly. The mystery and suspense alternate with some hilarious moments, for a thoroughly satisfying romp into fifteenth-century England.

— Sorcha MacMurrough, author of
The Sea of Love, The Faithful Heart

A heady blend of romance, mystery, and history, in this brilliant historical novel from Ms. Rubino. The heroine is intelligent, lively, and determined, the hero a worldly man of action who takes on the might of the queen to help the woman he comes to love. Put this one in your To Be Read pile! A definite keeper!

— Jacinta Carey, author of
The Starbuck Saga

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Diana Rubino

Having lived in England for several years, I devoted much time to research. My membership in the Richard III Society, with access to its library and the invaluable assistance of its Research Officer, has given me an additional wealth of material.

My publication credits include stories in
Espionage and Fiction Writers Monthly
, among other periodicals. I also served as Editor/Staff Writer of a Washington D.C. trade association in the late 1980s. I am a current member of Romance Writers of America, and the author of ten novels.

Copyright the author

First Edition 1999

Second Edition 2009, with additional material

Third Edition, 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Under the 1988 UK copyright laws, the author asserts the right to be identified as the creator of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-58345-453-4

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CHAPTER ONE

Westminster Palace, London, April, 1471

Denys Woodville hoisted up her skirts and hopped up onto the palace gate to see over the cheering crowd.

King Edward and his Yorkist army were marching home after beating the enemy Lancastrians at Barnet.

She loved all the pomp of victory parades, but, oh, how she wished she had her own soldier to welcome home!

She could see the King's banner, brandishing a blazing sun, flying high above the others. Mounted on his grey stallion, King Edward waved to his adoring subjects as if today were like any other. A stream of knights in dress armor followed.

The parade entered the palace grounds, accompanied by the blast of trumpets. Yorkist battle flags fluttered, and gaily caparisoned horses pranced past her. The knights dismounted and removed their helmets as their families and lady loves rushed up to them.

Richard, the King's brother, leapt off his mount into the waiting arms of his sweetheart Anne. Surrounded by squires and grooms, the King strode into the castle, where the heavily pregnant Queen Elizabeth awaited him.

Amidst all this embracing and kissing, Denys stepped down from her perch and stood alone. The moment was one of mixed emotions for her. England was at peace once again. The King and his army were home.

But no one was coming home to her.

Only one knight remained mounted. He hadn't rushed into the arms of any ardent maiden.

Instead, he halted his cream white stallion directly in front of Denys.

"Good morrow to you, my lady!" His tone was clear and confident from behind his visor.

Her eyes locked upon the proud figure with its regal bearing, a stunning portrait of chivalry. She felt she was looking up at a god as the sun's rays blocked out all but the outline of his pointed helmet.

With one graceful move, he threw back his visor, revealing his face to her at last.

Her gaze lingered on his features, shadowed with stubble. The sun glinted like rays of gold in his eyes. A cut on his chin was the only imperfection in his otherwise magnificent face.

"Welcome home, my lord!" she greeted him. "We are all very proud of you."

He plucked a white rose from the vine behind him, reached down, and handed it to her.

This display of tenderness, and the striking contrast between the delicate rose and the hard plate armor encasing his body, sent a thrill rushing through Denys. She wished he hadn't been wearing gauntlets so their bare fingers could have touched.

"Why, thank you, my lord."

Then his eyes fixed upon hers, so deeply, so intently, she knew he shared her loneliness, her displacement. He gazed down at her as if admiring a magnificent work of art.

She could tell he longed for a special someone to come home to as well.

"How lovely you are," he said softly, reverently, like a prayer. His voice had barely reached her, yet she'd heard every word.

The crowd was converging on them, pushing them apart, yet their eyes still remained locked.

As the press of people and horses drove him away, all she could see was his helmet and gauntlet as he waved.

Standing on her toes, she waved back, but for certes he could no longer see her.

"Farewell, Sir—"

Sir—
who?

Now only his waving gauntlet was visible. Then he was gone.

She caressed the rose's petals and let her imagination soar.

She'd never been that close to a man before, not in that romantic way. She had her childhood friend Richard, but that was no more than a childish closeness.

This man had made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. He'd gazed at her with such appreciation, he'd made her heart skip. Would she ever see him again?

He mightn't even be real!
she thought in awe as she recalled his handsome perfection.

But no, the rose in her hand was proof that he was real enough. She would just have to bide her time, and learn more. Her uncle Ned, or Richard, would know more of the man who had ridden with their Yorkist forces like a conquering hero. She just had to bide her time, and wait. And dream of what might have happened between them if the crowd had not forced them to separate…

Valentine Starbury carefully guided his mount around the perimeter of the palace courtyard. The crowd was thinning from the streets of London at last. Trampled flowers and handkerchiefs were now almost the only remnants of the joyous return.

He took a swift glance over his shoulder, but couldn't find her, the only maiden without a steepled head-dress, just an elegant pearl circlet gracing her rare silvery hair.