The Maiden and Her Knight Read Online Free

Oswald will be arriving tomorrow, after the noon. You will be happy to see him, I’m sure. You were always great friends.”
    In better spirits herself, she finished tidying, and then realized he had finally fallen asleep. Praying he would have a peaceful night, she softly kissed his forehead and quietly left his chamber.
    Once again avoiding the hall, and the baron, she made her way along a side passage to a door leading into the rose garden her mother had set out before her death. A redbrick walk in a herringbone pattern weaved its way through the beds, and the stalks of climbing roses trailed over a trellis above and the walls around. The scent of the roses, dew-damp ground and fertile earth refreshed her, and was blessedly welcome after the close confines of her father’s chamber, or the smoke of the great hall. A half moon provided enough illumination for her to avoid treading in the beds, or stumbling into the wooden benches set along the walk.
    As she drew near the door in the wall leading into the courtyard, she took off her circlet, scarf and barbette, and set them on a nearby bench. She tugged the pin from her hair and let it tumble about her shoulders. Rubbing her scalp and rotating her neck, she sought to lessen the tension.
    â€œMy lady?”
    She jumped and whirled around as the unexpected sound of a deep male voice invaded her peaceful solitude. “Who is it?”
    A man stood in the shadows near the garden gate,as if he were a part of them. Her anxious gaze darted to the surrounding battlements, seeking the sentry who should be patrolling there. “I warn you, I have but to scream—”
    â€œThere is no need to cry out, my lady. Not wishing to cause you any harm, me.”
    His gentle, deep voice seemed a part of the night, and the peace she had found for a few brief moments. He did not sound like a Norman. There was an accent to his words that she thought sounded Welsh. “Then come into the moonlight and show yourself.”
    The handsome stranger from the hall sauntered out of the shadows. The man who knew her heart.
    No, that was impossible. He could know nothing about her except her name and station. “What do you want?”
    â€œTo thank you for a fine meal and your generous hospitality.” He strolled closer, and his movements had that special grace men skilled at arms sometimes possessed, a lithe suppleness of the limbs despite their obvious strength.
    Up close in the moonlight, he was darkly handsome, with his hair black as a crow’s wing waving about his angular face, his eyes pools of mysterious shadow, and his exquisitely shaped lips compelling even in stillness. “You might have done that in the hall, or waited until tomorrow.”
    â€œThe hall was too crowded, and I think you have many cares when you are there.” He smiled that secretive little smile of his and warmth spread along her limbs, a warmth unfamiliar, strange—and yet strangely welcome, too. “Besides, tomorrow, I may be the worse for battle.”
    An alarm sounded in her mind, and in her heart. She must not be alone with him—or any man except her father. “So now you have thanked me and now you may go.”
    â€œI fear I must prevail upon you a little longer, for I confess I am trying to avoid someone.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œA woman.”
    It was ridiculous to feel envious. “What woman? As chatelaine of Montclair, I should know if a woman is annoying a guest.”
    â€œHer name is Merva.”
    Of course. Who else could it be? She should have thought of Merva at once. She was clearly more tired than she supposed.
    â€œI would not call her attention annoying—simply something I would rather avoid and she seems the persistent sort,” he said with a wry self-mockery in his tone that was very different from the way every other man addressed her. He spoke to her like a companion, not a person seeking to impress or command. “A wise