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  DESTINY LIES WAITING

  Book One of The Yorkist Saga

  Diana Rubino

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  SUMMARY

  REVIEWS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  AUTHOR'S NOTES

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  MORE TITLES BY AUTHOR

  DESTINY LIES WAITING

  Book One of The Yorkist Saga

  Diana Rubino

  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.

  DESTINY LIES WAITING

  Diana Rubino

  DEDICATION

  To my Grandmother

  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 hi
s 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.

  Standing alone when he'd entered, separate from the laughing and embracing, she'd looked so despondent. Her eyes, downcast and sad, had brightened like jewels when he approached her. He had seen his own heartache reflected in her eyes, and been moved by it.

  She was no ordinary wench—she was the one he'd envisioned during those lonely nights in far-off France. She was the one he always knew he'd find one day.

  And yet he'd lost her just as quickly.

  He shook his head in despair, swearing, his breath hissing back at him under the helmet in mockery. You lost her, you fool. You can't even do that right.

  He couldn't bear another loss. He shook his head, and pressed on towards the stables. Once he was dismounted, and out of his armor and bathed, he could set about trying to find the silver-haired beauty.

  But for now, duty called, and now that the Yorkists were on the throne, he was more than eager to obey.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Denys felt like an abandoned waif once more as she strolled through the thinning crowd hoping for another sign of the spectacular knight who had made her feel so womanly.

  Once back in the privacy of her chambers after the victory feast, she sat stroking the fragrant white rose he'd given her. The way she had stood alone, feeling so bereft, with no one to share the celebration with, once again brought her mind back to the question that had haunted her since she had been old enough to understand her situation in the world.

  She began to wonder once more who her long-dead parents had been. She was sure she would never feel a true sense of belonging anywhere until she uncovered the truth, and the meeting with the mysterious lone knight convinced her of this even more forcefully than ever before.

  Her Aunt Elizabeth had adopted her, then passionately pursued Edward, the future King of England.

  Edward had fallen hard, and they'd married. Then the new bride had had no need of a demanding young child, so she'd sent Denys to Yorkshire, far enough out of the way to be well brought up, and an asset she could use one day if she ever needed her, but not under foot.

  The childless Duke and Duchess of Scarborough had raised her as the daughter they'd never had, and had been more than kind in a strict, old-fashioned way.

  But now the Duchess was dead, and Denys was back at court, alone and unwanted again, except if she should prove a useful pawn to the ambitious Elizabeth Woodville, Bess the widow, who was now Queen of all of England.

  Many might have though her fortunate. Alas, even with a king and queen for an uncle and aunt, with every privilege of royalty, Denys felt lost.

  Today, just when she had been feeling most unwanted, the knight of her dreams had appeared, only to vanish.

  That was her life up until now—a course of fleeting moments, with nothing ever seemingly permanent.

  As Denys sat pensively gazing at the rose, her lady-in-waiting entered, curtsied, and held out a folded parchment embossed with the royal seal.

  "A royal page just delivered this message from her Highness the Queen, my lady."

  She waved the maid away. "It can wait."

  She was sure it was just another summons to attend one of the Queen's silly musicales, an excuse for the court ladies to gossip under the pretence of making music.

  She put the message out of her mind and didn't remember it again until her tiring woman was brushing her hair.

  "Jane, please fetch me that royal parchment on the writing table."

  Denys broke the seal, unfolded it, and gasped. It was a summons, all right—but not to any giddy musicale.

  It was a summons to attend a wedding—her own.