"A powerful and beautifully written novel."* The Morlands' rise to power, as tenuous as it was unexpected, now faces its greatest threat. Elizabeth I is on the throne and Protestantism is sweeping the land, threatening the position of the Catholic Morlands and forcing them to seek new spheres of influence. John, the heir, rides north to the untamed Borderlands to wed the daughter of a Northumberland cattle lord. But he finds he must first prove himself and win her heart through blood and battle. John's gentle sister Lettice is given in marriage to a ruthless Scottish baron, and in the treacherous court of Mary, Queen of Scots, she learns the fierce lessons of survival. Through birth and death, love and hatred, triumph and heartbreak, the Morlands fight to hold on to their place among England's aristocracy. What Readers Are Saying:* "I thought after reading Philippa Gregory it would be difficult to find another brilliant historical novel, but these books by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles are fantastic." "Another beautifully written book in Harrod-Eagles's Morland series." "The story of the Morland family is still as addictive as ever." "It's an engrossing story and one which will be enjoyed by any lovers of historical fiction." "I love the pace the author has set and her portrayal of sights, sounds, textures and emotions will leave you very much satisfied with the outcome of the book." ― Yankee Romance Reviewers "Harrod-Eagles' descriptions of England under the reign of the Tudor's was very well done." ― Debbie’s Book Bag "It’s well-written and researched, yet highly entertaining. History textbook authors should take a lesson from Harrod-Eagles... Fascinating stuff, all woven into a story populated with well-developed characters." ― Historical Novels Review "I really enjoyed this generation of Morlands and the book held my attention from start to finish. " ― Passages to the Past "We see the likes of Mary, Queen of Scots, Elizabeth I and Francis Drake... you can just imagine the court and political intrigue involved! However, the stars of the show are the new generation of Morlands. " ― She Read a Book "[The Morlands’] personal stories were riveting, but how they were placed in time and the historical aspects were also compelling. It is a wonderful family saga and great historical fiction." ― Laura’s Reviews "Harrod-Eagles has crafted an extremely well woven tale of love and loss, suffering and achievement in the Morland family. " ― Rundpinne "The Princeling , book three of the Morland Dynasty series throbs with life. Courage and love resonant all through the novel... " ― The Long and Short of It "Yet again I am transfixed with the Morland Dynasty. Each time I read another installment in this saga, the better it gets." ― The Royal Reviews Cynthia Harrod-Eagles was born in Shepherd’s Bush in London. The birth of the Morland Dynasty series enabled her to become a full-time writer in 1979. She won the 1993 RNA Novel of the Year Award. She lives in London with her husband and three children. The solar at Watermill House was warm and steamy and fragrant with rosemary and camomile from the bathwater in the tub in front of the fire. James Chapham was finding it too warm, particularly around the neck where the starched and ruffled collar of his shirt prickled his skin, and he squinted down the smooth, stuffed black silk expanse of his doublet and sighed noisily. 'Not so tight, Matthew,' he said. 'I shall lose all feeling in my legs.' The servant, Matthew, who was kneeling before him tying the garters that held his nether-stocks and canions together, looked up imperturbably. 'You want them tight, Master, for to get them smooth. It won't shew off your fine calves, else.' There was a crow of laughter from the smaller of the two beds in the room on which James's sixteen-year-old son Jan was sitting, tying his own garters. 'A touch, a touch!' Jan cried. 'He has you there, Father, pricked in your vanity.' James rotated the upper part of his body carefully so that he could look at the boy. It was not possible simply to turn his head―the high, upstanding Spanish collar kept his neck rigidly in one position. 'It was no touch,' he said, trying to look stern. 'I am the least vain of men, child, you should know that.' 'Yes Papa. Of course Papa. I tremble before your wrath,' Jan said, springing off the bed and dropping on one knee in mock humility. 'May I crave your indulgence to ask a question?' 'What is it?' James said, managing to retain the frown. It was difficult, though, in the face of this lovely laughing boy. Jan, with his mop of black curls, his shining dark blue eyes, and his fine-cut, impish face drew love as surely as the moon drew the tides. 'If you have no vanity, Father, why did you buy a new suit of clothes for this occasion, when you had a new suit at Midsummer, not three months ago?' James sighed again, and turned the other way, towards the great bed, beside which his wife stood patien