She had left her father's farm close to the border of Scotland at sixteen with not but a sword in her hand and the clothes on her back. Her pale green pools had gleamed with pride to have joined the ranks of war. No one had known she was a woman with her hair cut so short. No one had known that her lithe form wasn't that of a growing boy but a woman beneath those clothes borrowed from her elder brother. But the realization of her gender wasn't missed when the clothes were removed to attend a wound, stripping her of the false identity of "Christopher" leaving only Katherine Heyward.

But having saved King Richard from a soaring spear had been well worth the fatal wound. Although her sword arm was no longer useful she insisted she continue fighting at eighteen. Do you really think she had permission? Bravery and stubborness was mixed in her blood, prooving she could be disobedient and loyal simultaneously and get away with it. Others were envious of her for she had caught the good King's eyes with her boldness and intelligence as well as that courage of hers without even trying.

And thus became the legend of the fire spirited Katherine Heyward, the first Duchess of Yarborough at twenty-three.

Wait! you might say. How did the Leighton's get their hands on such a grand dukedom. Patience is a virtue. Bear with me.

Warrior women fall in love as well as any other ordinary person would and this man happened to be Tristan MacCallister, not a lord but not a low farmer either. In fact, he was a squire for one of King Richard's knights. Her heart softened and expanded with love when she gave birth to Cambria and Ariana, the Heyward trait of twins appearing.

For twenty years after the birth of their only children, there was a question as to whom would step in when Katherine departed the world. Cambria and Ariana took the matters into their own hands and using the sword skills taught them by their mother and father they sparred for more than six hours, and that was when darkness was all Cambria can see and her face was scarred for life, thus leaving Ariana MacCalister to keep the Saga of Yarborough going.

And she did keep it going by... yes, finally. I told you all you needed was patience. A Leighton. His devilish smile and dark green pools won the heart of the Duchess at twenty seven. A little late but that's in the family traits as well, Kasha being the exception, but more about that later. He was a Knight of the King of England whom pledged his soul to the dashing Ariana. It was rumored that the Duchess loved his golden hair most, for she was caught with her fingers entangled in his silky locks more than she was caught kissing him. A son became of this love and his name was Aren Leighton.

Now the story of the Duke Aren Leighton could be rather complicated. Many thought that he went to Russia to collect his bride, Anastasia Vasili, and others thought he hid himself in his townhouse for a year because he was embarrassed his bride was Russian. But when London was playing busybodies and trying to sniff in the wrong places, the man was playing the mysterious lover of Katialla Mac Lir on an isle just off the coast of Eire.

He found his little warrior when he was rushed onto a strange horse that could not be controlled by anyone... but the raven haired, blue eyed beauty with her soft tone. She had been the daughter of the tribal king of the Lir and the man persuaded the King to give up his only daughter at the promise of faithfulness and aid when it was needed. Of course the two men were up at all hours of the night for a week trying to persuade the other out of their set decisions, but Aren pushed until his love fell into his arms and the young Duke wisked her off to England... until he died.

Happy days turned dark as Aren grew more ill with each passing year and at last his suffering of Diabetes ended at the young age of fourty four. His son and daughter, Katherine and Jeramie Leighton had reached their seventeenth year and Jeramie was pushed into Dukedom, having found no escape for his mother left for Eire while in mourning, not wanting to show her weakness as the once warrior heavily mourned her late husband with showers of tears.

The new King of the Lir had sent for Jeramie not long after with trouble developing somewhere West... Arcadia he called it. Ties between the allied were weakening and the King feared that war was to begin, thus Jeramie's help was needed. Jeramie had grown perplexed by this point for how could he help?

To be continued...
(Unfinished otherwise)