The Knight Read online

  Her attempt at nonchalance didn’t fool him. He frowned. He’d been speaking in a low voice to her guardian, Sir Humphrey, on his other side, and the conversation obviously hadn’t been meant for her ears. She blinked up at him innocently, but Robert, the first Baron de Clifford, hadn’t become one of the most important commanders in the war against the rebel Scots because of his rank and handsome face―although he certainly possessed both. Nay, he’d risen so high in King Edward’s estimation because he was smart, loyal, and determined. He was also one of the greatest knights in England, and she was fiercely proud of him.

  Even if he was entirely too perceptive.

  “An unfortunate accident, that is all. Part of the wall collapsed when the prisoners were dismantling it. Two of the rebels were crushed by the stone and killed.”

  Her heart jumped to her throat and a small cry of distress escaped before she could help it. Oh God, please don’t let it be him!

  Aware of her brother’s watchful gaze, she attempted to cover her too-concerned reaction with a maidenly, “That’s horrible!”

  He studied her a little longer, and then patted her hand. “Do not let it distress you.”

  But she was distressed. Deeply distressed. Although she certainly couldn’t tell her brother why. If he learned about her fascination with one of the rebel prisoners, he would send her back to London on the first ship, as he’d threatened to do when she’d arrived unexpectedly a week ago with her new guardian, Sir Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford.

  “Christ’s Cross, Rosalin! This is the last place in Christendom suitable for a young girl.”

  But the opportunity to see Cliff had been too tempting to resist. With her in London and her brother fighting the Scottish rebels in the North, it had been nearly two years since she’d seen him, and she missed him desperately. He, Maud (Cliff's wife of eight years), and the children were all the family she had left, and if she had to venture into Hades to see them, she would. Maud would have made the journey with Rosalin and the earl’s party, but she'd just discovered she was with child again.

  “I don’t understand why the wall is being dismantled in the first place,” Rosalin said. “I thought we won the war?”

  Her distraction worked. Cliff loved nothing more than to talk about England’s great victory. Robert Bruce’s bid for the crown had failed. The outlaw king had been forced to flee Scotland, and the English were now occupying most of Scotland’s important castles, including this one, the former stronghold of the Scottish Earls of Mar.

  “We did. Robert Bruce’s short-lived rebellion is at an end. He might have escaped the noose set for him at Dunaverty Castle, but he won’t find refuge in the Western Isles for long. Our fleet will find him.” He shrugged. “Even if they don’t, he only has a handful of men left under his command.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But aren’t they Highlanders?”

  Her brother laughed and tweaked her nose. Though sixteen―nearly seventeen―was much too old for tweaking, she didn’t mind. She knew just how fortunate she was to have a brother who cared for her so deeply. Not many fourteen-year-old boys would have bothered themselves with a four-year-old sister on the death of their parents, but Cliff had always watched out for her. Even when they were both made wards of the king, he always made sure she knew she was not alone. If he sometimes acted like more of an overprotective father than a brother, she didn’t mind. To her, he was both.

  “They aren’t bogeymen, little one. Or super men, no matter what you might hear at court. They might fight like barbarians, but when they meet the steel of an English knight’s sword, their blood runs as red as any other.”

  As she wasn’t supposed to be watching the prisoners, she refrained from asking why they were kept so heavily guarded then.

  Her brother turned back to Sir Humphrey, and Rosalin bided her time, waiting for the long midday meal to come to an end before racing up to her chamber in the Snow Tower.

  Usually she delayed her return to her chamber as long as possible. Cliff had permitted her to stay in Scotland at Kildrummy only under the condition that she keep to her room except for during meals and chapel (he didn’t want there to be any chance of her coming into contact with one of them), and the small chamber had begun to feel like a prison. (When she protested that it wasn’t fair, the other ladies in Sir Humphrey’s party weren’t being confined, he replied that the other ladies were not his sixteen-year-old sister!) But right now all she could think about was the window that looked over the courtyard and shield-shaped curtain wall. The same curtain wall that had collapsed and killed the two prisoners.

  Her heart raced as fast as her feet, as she climbed the seven—seven!—flights of stairs to the top level of the luxurious tower. The Scots might be “rebellious barbarians,” but they certainly knew how to build castles, which was one of the reasons King Edward was so anxious to have Kildrummy destroyed. The “Hammer of the Scots,” as King Edward was known, was making sure no other rebels could use the formidable stronghold as a refuge in the future.

  Bright sunlight filled the room as she drew open the heavy door of the lord’s chamber and tore past the enormous wooden bed, the half-unpacked trunks carrying her belongings, and the small table that held a pitcher and basin for washing. Heart now in her throat, she knelt on the bench under the window, leaned on the thick stone sill, and peered through the fine glazed window to the courtyard below.

  She knew it was wrong, and her brother would be furious to discover her fascination with the rebel prisoner, but she couldn’t help it. There was something about him that stood out. And it wasn’t just his formidable size or his handsome face, although she had to admit that was what had attracted her initially. Nay, he was… kind. And noble. Even if he was a rebel. How many times had she watched him take the blame (and thus the punishment) for one of the weaker men? Or shoulder more than his share of the work?

  He couldn’t be…

  She refused to finish the thought and scanned the cobble courtyard and wall area between the southeast tower and newly constructed Gatehouse where the prisoners were working.

  In the crowd of men near the wall there were no more than a handful of the rebels, but they were being guarded by at least a score of her brother’s men. Given the state of the prisoners, it seemed an overabundance of caution. Perhaps when the castle was first taken over a month ago such a show of force might have been warranted, but stripped of their crude leather warcoats and weapons, after weeks of imprisonment with barely enough food and water to keep them alive, and being worked nearly to death all day, the raggedy-looking prisoners appeared ill-equipped to mount much of a resistance.

  Except for one.

  She looked and looked, the panic rising in her chest. Where was he? Had he been one of the men crushed?

  Hot tears prickled her eyes, and she told herself she was being ridiculous. He was a prisoner. A Scot. One of Robert the Bruce’s rebels.

  But he was also…

  Her heart slammed, and she let out a small cry of relief, when the powerfully built warrior stepped out from behind the wall.

  Thank God! He was all right. More than all right actually, he was spectacular.

  She sighed with every bit of her almost-seventeen-year-old heart. The women at court teased her mercilessly about her naivety and innocence. “You’re such a child, Rosie-lin,” they’d say with a roll of the eyes, when she dared to venture into their conversations (the nickname sounded much nicer coming from her brother than from them).

  Well, she certainly wasn’t feeling like a child now. For the first time in her life, she was feeling like a woman utterly entranced by a man.

  And what a man! He was the fodder of legend and bard’s tales. Tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair hanging in long tangled waves around a brutishly handsome face, he was one of the strongest, most imposing looking-warriors she’d ever seen.

  As if to prove her point, he bent down to pick up an enormous stone. Her breath caught and her heart started to f