Prologue

“I will not send my son to some foreign country!” the woman cried as she clutched her son to her chest and paced the small room, her red hair billowing out in waves behind her like a blazing banner.

“M’lady,” the olive-skinned man gruffly began, his heart squeezing as he watched his mistress drop a loving kiss on the infant’s forehead, “You know as well as I that it is dangerous for the lad to remain here. He must be sent to America where he may escape a fate of death.”

“Do not say such things in my presence,” the lady snapped, and then her eyes softened as she sighed, “As always, dear Warrick, you are right.”

“M’lady?”

“They seek to merely drive me out of this land and back to my own. But my child is Benedict’s son, and therefore, their only wish is that he dies. But I refuse to let them kill my son, so the only thing I can do to keep him safe, is to give him up,” the lady responded, tears springing to her eyes.

“My sister shall take good care of him,” Warrick assured his distraught mistress, “She will raise him like a son, and the moment he is old enough to understand, he will be told of his true mother and of her great love for him.”

“So you think it best that he never returns to these shores then?” the lady asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Your dear Benedict already thinks you and your son dead, and so for either of you to return at any time would most likely be unwise, especially when the enemy lurks so near at hand at all times,” Warrick honestly responded, his dark eyes intently watching the lady’s reaction.

Almost immediately, her shoulders slumped and all the fight went out of her. The situation truly was hopeless. She had already lost a husband she loved beyond all doubt and now she was going to lose her son, her own flesh and blood, her beautiful little angel child. And all because fate had dealt her a cruel hand in the past six months.

With pleading eyes, she turned to Warrick, an aging warrior, who had been her protector and man-at-arms since she had been a young child. His loyalty warmed her heart, and she knew that she could count on him for anything and everything. But she dared not ask him to risk his life for her son … a child whom Warrick barely knew; whom even she barely knew.

And she never would be able to get to know her little angel child better. She would never get the chance to watch him grow up, become a man, fall in love, marry, have children of his own, fulfill his true destiny … but it was a sacrifice she would have to make. She needed protection for herself, and that protection would have to come from her relatives in Scotland. But Warrick was right; the best protection for her infant son would be across the seas, in the care of another where he would have no knowledge of his birthright and all the burdens it brought with it.

“M’lady, the ship is waiting as we speak,” Warrick suddenly spoke up, jolting the woman from her depressing thoughts, “I suggest we move on before the spies catch up with us and report back to their masters.”

“Yes of course,” the lady agreed as she began to bustle about the room after setting her son down on the bed, where he instantly fell into sleep. “Who shall be taking my son to the ship?”

“I shall,” Warrick responded as he helped load all the necessities into a sack and finally slung it over his shoulder.

“I cannot ask that of you Warrick, it is far too dangerous,” the lady harped.

Her eyes had grown large at his response, for as she loved him like a second father, she did not want to see anything happen to him because of her. But deep down inside, she knew there was nobody else she could entrust the care of her son to.

“It is a risk I am willing to take for you and for your son,” Warrick gruffly responded as his mistress picked up her son again and cradled him for a last few moments, “I do not trust anybody else to see him safely to the ship.”

“You are right,” the lady agreed with a sad smile as she handed her son over to the large man whom she trusted with her life, “Please go, and return safely to me. I have lost too much already; I cannot lose you as well.”

“I will return m’lady, I promise you that,” Warrick responded as he prepared to leave, the infant cradled gently in his muscled arms.

“I shall hold you to that,” the lady stated as she placed one more kiss on her beloved son’s head before turning away.

Warrick quickly strode from the room, not noticing as his mistress finally broke down and cried for the loss of her son. But there was nothing that could be done now; the plan was in place, and it was for the best.

The horse he rode was swift, causing the tails of his long coat to billow out behind him as the black steed raced across open expanses of land and towards a small sea port. A passerby might have assumed that he was attempting to evade the oncoming storm, its rain clouds dark and threatening at his back. However, the small, sleeping bundle in his arms was a constant reminder of just how precarious and important his mission actually was.

As dirt turned to cobblestones and the warrior finally pulled his horse into the small sea port, he silently breathed a sigh of relief. This mission was almost over, and soon the lad would be safe so he could return to his mistress’ side and see her to the safety of her family in Scotland.

Carefully climbing down from his horse, Warrick concealed the still-sleeping infant beneath the folds of his coat to ward away the chill as well as keep him hidden. As far as he knew, none were aware of the lad’s departure for America, but he was not taking any chances. Not when so many were out to kill him because of his birthright.

“Sir Warrick?” a quiet voice suddenly questioned from somewhere to his right. The burly man quickly turned at the sound, one hand clutching the infant tighter, the other resting on the hilt of his sword, which was safely sheathed.

“Yes?” he guardedly questioned.

When the timid woman stepped from beneath the shadows, Warrick immediately recognized Lady Bethany Laurens, a small woman with mousy brown hair and kind eyes. This lady and her husband, Lord Zachary Laurens, an older couple who were visiting relatives in America, had agreed to transport the lad to Warrick’s sister in Boston, Massachusetts. As distant relative of his, Warrick knew without a doubt that the couple was trustworthy and could complete this mission without a hitch.

Of course, neither Lady Bethany, nor Lord Zachary knew who the lad actually was. They had been told that the lad was Warrick’s daughter, Regina’s son and that she was sending him to America for safety’s sake because of all the political upheaval that was currently occurring in England. It was a believable lie, one which Warrick knew they wholeheartedly believed, and would continue to believe for the duration of their journey west to America.

The fewer people who knew the lad’s true identity, the better, so the deception was a necessity.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” Warrick apologized as he followed the lady in the direction of the docks, where two large merchant ships lay anchored amid smaller fishing boats, “My daughter was very upset to have to part with the lad for such a long amount of time.”

“Quite understandable,” Lady Bethany quietly replied as the pair came upon the ship where her husband stood waiting for them, “I would never have been strong enough to do what your daughter is doing.”

“It is for the best though, what with England in an upheaval over the queen and her infant son’s death so recently,” Zachary Laurens voiced as he overheard the tail-end of their conversation.

“That is the only way my daughter could deal parting with the lad when he is so young,” Warrick explained, the lie passing easily across his lips. Lord Zachary silently nodded his head in understanding.

“My lord and lady, the ship is getting ready to depart, I suggest you board now,” the captain of the ship suddenly spoke as he approached the trio, “Is there anything I can assist you with at this time?”

“No Captain James, we are all set. My wife and I are just finishing up saying goodbye to one of our relatives and will be aboard very shortly,” Lord Zachary responded.

“Very good my lord,” the captain concluded before walking down the gangplank and boarding his ship.

Without a word, Warrick pulled the lad from beneath his coat and handed him to the waiting arms of Lady Bethany. The lady cooed over the infant, who was still sound asleep, as Warrick handed the sack of belongings to Lord Zachary. Warrick took an unsure step back, his heart squeezing in his chest as he realized this would probably be the last time he would see the lad.

“Thank you both very much for doing this for me,” Warrick stated as he shook hands with Lord Zachary and prepared to depart them.

“It is no problem whatsoever,” Lord Zachary responded as he shook his distant relative’s hand, “We shall send word the moment we dock.”

“Thank you. Oh, and please give this to my sister as well,” Warrick said as he handed a sealed letter to the Englishman.

“I shall,” Lord Zachary agreed.

“God speed to you both,” Warrick concluded before turning away and walking back in the direction of his horse.

His part of that mission was now complete. Now it was time to return to his mistress and see her to the safety of Scotland, where her family awaited her. He only hoped that they were doing the right thing, sending the lad all the way to America.

But as the Crown Prince of England, the boy had no chance for survival here, where many already believed him dead, and those who didn’t, wanted him that way. By sending him to America, he would be given the chance to live.