Margaret Moore - [Maiden & Her Knight 03] Read Online Free Page A

course I shall not try to change the price. Indeed, if I did, then you would be angry with me, and that I could not bear.”
    Isabelle thought he could bear her anger very well if he thought he could get more money from Connor. Despite his smiles and dimples and his joie de vivre , something told her this man was not quite what he seemed, and even the most charming manner could hide a cheat.
    A green ribbon caught her eye, and she moved toward it. “This is very pretty.”
    She lifted it up and let the morning light play upon it. It shimmered and danced, green seemingly tinged with gold.
    “It is more beautiful next to your pretty face. I have even more lovely things in a box in my cart. Would you care to see?”
    Since many merchants kept their best wares away from the general public, who could not afford them anyway, this did not surprise Isabelle. “Yes, please,” she said, eager to see more of the wonderful ribbon.
    He led her around the cart, and she found herself in an alley between two buildings. “I don’t see another—”
    A tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a ragged cloak, his face shrouded in a hood, stepped out of the shadows.
    “Good day, my lady,” he said in a low, deep and shockingly familiar voice.
    A shaft of fear pierced her, taking her very breath away.
    She whirled around. The peddler blocked the entrance to the alley, and suddenly a strong hand clapped over her mouth while another went around her waist, pulling her back against a body as solid as the stones of the castle. Kicking and struggling like a trapped animal, she was dragged further back into the alley.
    The hand of the man holding her shifted. She twisted her head, then bit down on the tender skin between his thumb and palm.
    The man growled a curse. His hold loosened, but not enough for her to break away. He stuck his bleeding hand into his mouth while his arm held her firmly clasped against him. She managed to turn in his grasp, and she struck him as hard as she could. He didn’t let go, but she knocked the hood back from his face—and stared, dumbstruck with horror and disbelief.
    She was face-to-face with the living image of Rennick DeFrouchette. “Y-you’re dead!” she stammered in a hoarse whisper.
    Something struck her head. Pain radiated, and, as the hated face before her swam and dimmed, she desperately tried to call for help.
    But no sound escaped her as she fell to the ground.
    Panting, Alexander looked down at the young woman’s crumpled body, and he tried to calm his racing heart. Given what he had seen and heard of well-bred young women, he had not anticipated a struggle of any kind. He had expected Lady Allis to be so shocked by the realization that she was about to be kidnapped that she would be virtually paralyzed with fear. Indeed, he had more than half expected her to swoon the moment she realized she was in danger. He had never, ever, thought she would fight back as energetically as she had.
    “Mon Dieu,” Denis whispered, the piece of wood he had used to strike her limp in his hand. “What a wildcat.”
    Alexander nodded.
    “I know she was not to be harmed, but I had to hit her.”
    Alexander could not fault Denis as he crouched down and examined the bump on the side of the woman’s head, but he didn’t want her dead or injured. He wanted her alive, and fit to be ransomed. “I don’t think she’s badly hurt.”
    Indeed, he was rather sure she wasn’t. He had seen many a man injured while working or training, and her wound looked superficial. Still, any injury that rendered one unconscious could not be completely dismissed. “We can’t be sure until she wakes up.”
    “Merde!”
    “You did what was necessary. Go keep watch,” Alexander commanded quietly.
    With a nod, Denis obeyed.
    As his friend peered out of the alley, Alexander pulled out the rag he had stuck into his belt. He knelt, put it between her full lips to gag her, and tied it. His hand hurt like the devil, but he ignored the