Lord Of Danger by Stuart, Anne (free ebook reader for android txt) 📗

idea why Richard had set such an ogre to watch over them, but then, Richard the Fair had proven to be a great disappointment to his younger sister. She’d always stubbornly clung to the notion that he’d just happened to forget their existence, but sooner or later he would ride down on the convent, his golden hair gleaming in the sun, and rescue the two of them, restoring them to their rightful place at Summersedge Keep.

Well, in effect he’d done that But his golden hair was straw-like and thinning, his eyes were cruel, and if it were up to Claire she would have spent the rest of her days in the convent, safe behind those walls, with her sister for company and her precious Arabia for love.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to rescue Alys from that tall, strange creature who haunted Richard’s side; she wanted to force her onto Arabia’s back and ride off into the forests, never to be found again.

But that was only a dream. She had no way to get to her horse, and her guardian ogre would be watching her.

Not to mention the fact that Alys would rather be torn limb from limb than get within ten feet of a horse.

Who would have thought serene Alys would be crippled by such a fear? It made no sense to Claire, but then, little in this world was logical. At least she had been given a reprieve from marriage for the time being. Alys had sacrificed herself to the monster, but Alys was made of calmer stuff. She would endure, she would bend, not break under the burden of such a loathsome marriage.

She didn’t even seem to consider it particularly loathsome. And in truth, Simon didn’t seem particularly Grendel-like. Apart from the twisted hand he kept hidden in the folds of his tunic, he was not ugly. There was, she supposed, even a strange kind of beauty in his distant, elegant face.

If only he didn’t have those eerie eyes. Ghost eyes. That stillness that clung to him, like a mantle. He was a creature unlike any that Claire had ever imagined, and she could only hope Alys was fully aware of the danger she’d gotten herself into, by making such a noble sacrifice.

The alternative, of course, was far worse. Alys had a strong chance of surviving. Claire wouldn’t.

“My lady, the knight is waiting outside your door.”

Madlen, the serving woman, was hesitant as she broke through Claire’s abstraction. “Which knight?” Claire asked, though she knew only too well.

“Sir Thomas, my lady. He bids me ask if you wish to take the air before the evening meal.”

“If I wish to take the air I will do so,” she snapped. “I certainly don’t need his approval.”

Unfortunately Sir Thomas was not conversant enough with polite behavior to keep his distance. He’d already ducked beneath the low portal of her room, and he glowered at her impressively. “I’m afraid you do, my lady. Neither you nor your sister are to step outside the keep unaccompanied.”

Claire immediately retreated to the deepest window, perching herself on the broad expanse of stone beneath it. “My serving women will attend me.”

He shook his head. “You may apply to your brother, my lady, and he will tell you what I have told you. Neither you nor your sister are to venture anywhere beyond your room or the great hall without my protection.”

“There are two of us, and only one of you, Sir Thomas. How can you be in two places at the same time?” she demanded. “For that matter, where is my sister now? Perhaps she’s being tortured and assaulted by Saracens…”

“There are no Saracens at Summersedge Keep, Lady Claire. And the Saracens do not make war on women.”

He caught her interest, much as she deplored it. “Did you go on Crusade, Sir Thomas?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And was it to seek forgiveness for sins already committed, or to be prepared in case the urge to sin overcame you later in life?”

“Sin is always in the midst of us, Lady Claire,” he said.

“But I’m certain you manage to avoid it better than most.” She shifted, moving closer to the window as she felt a soft breeze blowing in the unshuttered opening, stirring her hair. She pushed it back with annoyance. “Unless you call mistreating women a sin. I imagine you wouldn’t.”

“Have I mistreated you, my lady? I see no marks on your body.”

He had a bandage wrapped around his hand, and Claire knew a moment’s shame. She was too hot-tempered; Alys had tried to reason it out of her, the nuns had tried to beat it out of her, but the fact remained that she was far too quick to anger. And there was something about handsome Sir Thomas with the distant expression that made her want to stir him.

“You’ve been looking at my body, Sir Thomas? For what reason? Surely that’s a sin as well. And you a married man!” she chided.

The arrow hit its mark, quite nicely. Faint color deepened his already sun-dark skin, though in the end she couldn’t be sure which of her words had disturbed him. The mention of her body, or his wife.

“My immortal soul is not your concern, my lady. Nor is my wife.”

“And what is my concern, sir knight?”

“That you behave yourself chastely and modestly at all times, that you prove yourself worthy of the husband your brother chooses for you, that you love God and esteem your betters, that you strive to be grateful for the gifts God has given you and the instruction of your elders.”

“And is your instruction one of the gifts I’m supposed to be grateful for?” Her voice was arch.

He ignored her question. “You’ve been gifted with high-birth, good health, and family. Few people are so lucky.”

“Are those the only gifts I should be grateful for?”

“Aye, my lady. For your undeniable beauty is nothing more than a curse, for you who bear it and for those, like me, who are sworn to protect it.”

She should