Diana Hall - Warrior's Deception

She kept her eyes on the leader of the group of men. The hard line of his jaw, the bulging neck veins and the scowl announced his emotions. His eyes narrowed as he moved his mount next to hers. The brush of his leg against her own sent currents of excitement speeding up her thigh, settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Drop your reins!” Roen commanded. “Return to my horse.”

“I’ll do no such thing. I’ll ride into Woodshadow on my own mount.” She squeezed Jupiter with her knees, but the horse did not move. Glancing from Roen, she saw Hamlin firmly holding on to her horse’s bridle. He gave her a dimpled smile of apology.

“The horse needs to be cooled down or he’ll colic. Give the reins to Landrick. He also needs to cool his mount.” At the mention of his name, the boyishly lean squire held on to his saddle and slid his feet to the ground. He grasped the girth until his feet would support him. Sweat streaked his red face.

“My grooms will see to my horse. You have no need to be concerned, Galliard.” She tried to wrench control from Hamlin but the knight’s hold persisted. Roen lifted her from her saddle and plopped her down onto his lap.

“But it is my concern, Lady Lenora. ‘Twas my man that ran the horse. ‘Tis his responsibility to care for it now. He will return to your home when the horses have been walked and cooled down. I will be glad to offer you a ride back to your home.”

She opened her mouth to utter several of Tom’s more colorful curses but she was slammed back against Roen when his charger cantered toward the castle. Her back kept colliding with Roen’s powerful chest from the horse’s rocking movement. Each time she banged into the knight’s massive torso, she winced. He made no move to prevent her discomfort.

Exasperated, Lenora finally grabbed Roen’s arm, pulled it tight around her and leaned against him. “’Tis this or bruises,” she muttered under her breath, and shot him a murderous glance when she felt the deep rumble of laughter reverberate in his chest.

The rumble stopped, as did the horse. Only her tight hold on Roen’s arm kept her from being thrown forward. The contingent of men drew close to form a barricade between her and the road ahead.

“Release Lady Lenora!” a voice ordered.

“Sir Hywel.” She craned her neck to see a group of her father’s men blocking the road. Roen’s men waited, their hands resting on the hilts of their undrawn swords.

“Release her now!” In unison the knights of Woodshadow drew their swords, their upheld blades casting a blinding reflection of the sun.

Roen moved forward, his men parting for him. He stopped his horse a few paces from her father’s seneschal. “Greetings, Sir Hywel. I and my men aided her when she lost control of her mount. See, yonder is my squire bringing the horse back.”

Sir Hywel glanced over Roen’s shoulder at Landrick, who was walking the two horses back. “Lady Lenora?”

She gritted her teeth and seethed with inner frustration. Galliard gave her a benign smile that only served to stoke her anger. If she contradicted Roen’s story, the two groups would come to blows. To admit, in front of her men and his, that she needed his help galled her.

“Tis as Galliard says,” she managed to get out through clenched teeth, “I was riding Jupiter and—”

“Jupiter! Girl, are you daft? That horse is more than most men can handle.” The steward raised his hand and signalled her protectors to resheath their swords. The knights surrounding her relaxed.

“I thank you for your aid to our lady. She is at times a trifle foolhardy.” Sir Hywel approached Roen and Lenora. “I will take her back to Woodshadow. I am sure her father would like to extend his thanks, also.”

Roen did not remove his arm from around her waist. “Lady Lenora has graciously extended the hospitality of her home to my men and me. Since we travel the same way, I will be glad to take the lady home.” Spurring his horse, he led the group of knights through the gates of Woodshadow and into the inner bailey of her home.

Damn Roen de Galliard! Lenora swore to herself. The man had caused her nothing but trouble and embarrassment since she met him. Gawking villagers lined the hard-packed road to the castle entrance. The sight of her aunt and cousin on forebuilding steps caused her to cringe with mortification. Roen swung her down and deposited her at Matilda’s feet. Dust, from the horses, stirred whirlwinds of dirt around her. She coughed as grime coated her hair, face and clothes.

Roen gave her aunt a polite smile. “Your niece was in need of help, Lady Matilda. I was more than happy to assist her.”

“Sir Roen!” her aunt gushed, as she brushed past Lenora, pulling her skirts close to avoid soiling them on her filthy niece. “I recognize you from the tourney. We are honored to have a knight of your reputation as our guest.”

A stableboy took hold of his horse. Destner tossed his mane and twisted his head to take a bite from the lad’s arm. One of Roen’s squires scrambled from his saddle and took a tentative hold of the animal. A one-word command from his master and the horse settled. Roen dismounted and Matilda latched onto his arm. She waved to her daughter and steered the knight in the direction of the steps. Eagerness and hope rushed through the older woman’s voice. “I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Lady Beatrice.”

“Galhard! I want a word with you.”

Roen turned casually toward Lenora. She stood covered in dust, her skirt partially tucked into her belt. Her hair formed a red gold mantle; her anger caused it to sizzle around her shoulders like tongues of flame.

“Lenora, you should not delay Sir Roen,” Matilda scolded, and tried to tug Roen up the forebuilding steps.

“I don’t mind. I am sure Lady Lenora wishes to give me her thanks in private. Pray, continue on with my men. We will follow shortly.”

Lenora held her tongue until her aunt and cousin disappeared into the keep. “Things have not changed. My cousin remains off limits to you.”

Roen shook his head in amazement. Regardless of how she looked, she sounded like the mistress of the keep. He had bested the girl in front of everyone and she still dared to oppose him. Her use of his family name needled him. She remembered Hamlin or Landrick’s title with no problem. His should not be any harder to recall.

“I am Sir Roen de Galliard of Normandy. You may address me as Sir Roen or Sir Galliard.”

“The way that I address you is not what I wish to discuss.”

“’Tis what I wish to discuss.”

Lenora shook her dust-caked apron, a delighted look on her face when a light cloud of dirt hovered over Roen. Her full lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “I do not wish to keep you from your admirers, Galliard.” He heard the relish in her voice at the insult. She spun around and trudged up the step to the keep.

Left in another cloud of her dust, he started after her. “And I do not wish to keep you from your much needed bath, Nora.”

Lenora stopped, her mouth moving like a fish gasping on dry land. “My name is Lenora.”

Roen skipped up the stair past her, “I don’t wish to discuss that right now. My admirers await.” His laugh rang triumphant as he entered the great hall.

Lenora fumed. If today was Galliard’s payment for her loose tongue, then they were even.

“Lady Lenora.” Sir Hywel stood on the top step. “Your father wants to see you. Now!”

Her chin sank to her chest. The scales had just tipped. She owed Galliard now and she intended her payment to be a painful one to the arrogant lout.

“Sir Roen, I’m so glad you came along when you did,” her aunt cooed. “Poor Lenora could have been killed trying such an outlandish stunt.” She took a sip from the wine goblet she shared with Roen. The rest of the meal participants listened with rapt attention to the knight’s exaggerated account of the rescue.