Catherine Archer - Dragon's Knight

The fact that he glanced away again, clearly dismissing her, should not have brought such a prodding of displeasure. She told herself that it was because he had had the very nerve to express his own disapproval of her writing without her father’s permission.

But his easy dismissal was especially irritating when she had been so immediately taken with the sight of him. Which was ridiculous of her, given that she was to be married. Yet for reasons she could not understand she found her gaze going to the knight once more as he bowed to her father, his lean-jawed countenance and strong nose in profile. Jarrod Maxwell was indeed as handsome a man as any maid might long for.

She pushed away this thought when her father spoke her name with irritation. “Aislynn!”

He watched her with a glowering expression and she realized she had not answered him. She addressed him hastily. “I deeply regret that I did not tell you, Father. I know how worried you have been, how frustrated in your efforts to find Christian. As I said, I thought that if naught else Warleigh or Maxwell might have some notion of whence Christian has gone. I…” She blushed again, looking down at her hands, feeling very self-conscious as she felt Jarrod’s gaze upon them.

Her father raised her chin to look at her. He continued to scowl, yet she noted that most of his irritation with her had already passed. He said more gently, “In future I will thank you to recall that not only am I your father but the lord of these lands. You will not take such action without my consent.”

She nodded, for there was no denying that she had acted rashly. Then in spite of her displeasure with Jarrod Maxwell, she faced him. She was glad that he had come to aid them. Surely he had come because he thought he could help find Christian. She asked hopefully, “Do you have any idea of where Christian might be?”

His expression showed clear regret as he shook his head, making his rejoinder to her father rather than to Aislynn. “Nay. I am sorry, but I have not the least notion. When he left Avington he said only that he was going home, and, though he seemed a bit preoccupied, I thought little of it after all we had been through.”

She tried to tell herself that her disappointment was brought on by his words, rather than by his continued disregard of her. Chagrined, she found herself studying her folded hands once again and wondering if she had gone quite mad in the intervening moments since this man had walked into the keep.

Even though Sir Jarrod Maxwell addressed his host rather than Christian’s young sister, he could not help being aware of the disappointment that emanated from her. He flicked a glance over and saw the pain that tightened Aislynn Greatham’s delicately beautiful profile and washed the color from that creamy skin. He fervently wished he had another answer to give, which surprised him.

He did not even know the girl.

She took that moment to look up across the table, laden with the evening meal, and Jarrod was held by a pair of startling cornflower-blue eyes. He found himself truly looking at Aislynn Greatham for the first time. There was a restive fragility about her, the type of restlessness as displayed by a butterfly. Her skin was like porcelain in contrast to the dark blue velvet of the head covering that framed her face. Her honey-colored lashes were thick, her lips, pink and pleasingly formed, her cheeks sweetly curved above the slender line of her jaw. He felt a stirring inside him, a desire to touch, though he knew that he could not do so, for to touch a butterfly was to destroy its ability to fly.

He was shocked at this fanciful thought, for it was so unlike him.

It was not the first time he had thought of this girl. Many years ago when he was a boy of fifteen, he had met her when she, so small she could barely be more than a babe, had come to bid her brother, Christian, Godspeed before his journey to the Holy Land. She had been such a little child, straining to see King Richard as he rode by the troops, who had gathered for the journey. He had felt an unfamiliar twinge of affection and protectiveness, reaching down to lift her up. She had weighed next to nothing as he had raised her up to see above the crowd of soldiers.

Now there was a difference in his reaction to Christian’s young sister that he could not quite put his finger on. And, strangely, he felt an intense reluctance to attempt to name it.

Jarrod had no personal interest here other than to find Christian.

Even as she watched him, her gaze darkened with some deep emotion that he could only read as sadness. He felt that tug in his belly once more and deliberately focused his attention on her father again. “I take it, my lord, that you still have no idea of your son’s whereabouts either.”

Lord Thomas Greatham shook his gray head. “Nay, I do not.” He bowed with studied politeness. “But really, sir, you need not concern yourself with our difficulty. It was wrong of Aislynn to bring you all this way.”

Jarrod frowned. “Not at all, my lord. As I said, Christian is as my brother. I am happy to be informed that there is a problem, as was Simon who would have come as well if it were not for his duty to his lands, not to mention his new bride.” Simon was indeed well and happily occupied, having found more bliss with the daughter of his enemy Kelsey than Jarrod would have thought possible. But he did not wish to think on that now, nor the fact that any thought of Kelsey reminded him of the untimely and unjust death of The Dragon, the very man who had brought himself and his two friends together as fosterlings.

The loss of his foster father still brought a wave of pain. The Dragon had taken an angry lad of thirteen and taught him that he was the master of his own fate, had not only made him knight but a man. Jarrod chafed under the knowledge that he and his friends had been denied retribution against Kelsey by a king who loved those who were of like nature as himself.

Knowing these thoughts gained him nothing, Jarrod looked to Lord Greatham. “Neither Simon nor myself would have you do aught but contact us about this matter.”

Jarrod recalled Aislynn’s obvious understanding of their brotherhood, and felt an unwanted rush of kinship toward her. He knew again a strong pull of awareness that centered in his lower belly. Instantly Jarrod called himself firmly to task.

He forced himself to look at her again, to see her clearly as the child she was. It was almost with relief that, as he swept her form, which was enveloped in a gown of heavy sapphire velvet, his eyes told him that she was indeed a tiny waif of a girl with fragile bones. And her blue eyes were, as they had been the first time he saw her, too large for her heart-shaped face.

He also recalled a blond braid of so pale a shade that it was not readily forgotten. His gaze slid over the hood that completely concealed her hair. The honey of her brows and lashes made him wonder if it had darkened as many children’s did as they approached adulthood.

At the moment, his eyes met those blue ones again and he saw that they bore an expression of uncertainty as well as sadness over her brother’s disappearance. He found himself thinking that he would do whatever he must to see that sadness gone from her eyes. To see her smile.

His gaze went to those lips, which were not smiling now. Her tongue flicked out to dampen the lower lip, which seemed more full than before. He felt a stab of awareness and found himself once more looking into the blue eyes that were watching him with an expression he could not begin to name.

The baron’s voice intruded on Jarrod’s thoughts like a cold draft as he said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, sir, but I am certain you must have your own matters to attend.”

Jarrod blinked and turned back to the other man. “Forgive me, my lord, but I have nothing of more import to attend. At the same time, I do not mean to press myself where I am not wanted.” He squared his shoulders, frustrated with the need to convince the other man to accept his help. He sensed the depth of their concern as well as his own. Tact was not one of his virtues, but he ventured, “I understand that I am as determined to find your son as you yourself are, my lord. I am but another pair of hands, another horse, to aid the efforts that are already being made. I would do whatever I can to locate him and see him returned home without delay.”