A Knight to Remember by Christina Dodd

remained empty, and she turned toward the dispensary with a sigh.
    When the monk had suggested he take Allyn and Parkin on a short pilgrimage, she’d been enthusiastic. The task of tending two tireless eight-year-olds in an abbey stretched her imagination and her resources, and she looked forward to the peace of solitude. And she freely admitted she had enjoyed it. She also missed her sons more than she ever thought possible, and she wanted them back.
    Putting her hand on the gate to the herb garden, she hesitated to open it. Before her lads came home, though, she wanted Wharton and his wretched master gone. She hadn’t slept well last night because of Hugh. Because of his kisses. She worried that she’d hurt him too much, then she wished that she’d struck twice as hard. The scoundrel. He had been insulted when she thought he would take advantage of her lowly state to make her his mistress rather than wed her, then he had taken advantage of her weaker muscles to kiss her!
    Why that even rankled, she didn’t know. She’d had enough experience with men to have taken their measure. Nevertheless, she’d slept too long and missed Mass, and Lady Blanche had glared when they’d met in the square.
    Shutting the gate behind her, she turned—and gasped. Hugh rose out of the patch of thyme, his long legs steady. “What are you doing up?” she demanded. She hurried between the paths, her feet crushing the herb. Then she saw the ruddy color in his face. Clearly, his energy the day before had been no fluke. He was well, or soon to be. She slowed. “Get out of the beds, you fool, you’re crushing the plants.”
    He rebuked her, his voice slow and measured. “That is no way to greet your betrothed.”
    “We are not betrothed.”
    “Then let us go now and remedy that state.”
    She cocked her head and examined him. The ragged growth of his beard had been shaved clean, baring the lines of his cheeks and chin. He wore clothing, not the robe she’d confiscated for him. Hose and boots and a knee-length tunic with laced-in sleeves. They fit him and were of fine workmanship, a further indication of his success. She found her mouth set in petulant lines and tried to smooth them from her face. After all, why should it matter to her if he’d won a title and the lands he’d always longed for? She, more than anyone, understood how temporary were the trappings of wealth.
    “Will you not go to the church and have them read the banns?”
    He said it as if it were her last chance to do as he wished. If he were giving up his pursuit, that should surely please her, but somehow she expected more tenacity from Hugh. “You are a warrior. I have no wish to be betrothed to you.”
    He moved so quickly she had no time to run, and she found herself wrapped in his arms. It reminded her of yesterday and made her angry all over again. “I didn’t expect to see you standing so soon after that blow I gave you.” A slight shudder shook him, and that satisfied her need for respect.
    But he said, “I never underestimate my opponents twice.”
    A warning, and she took it as such. “I never use the same tactics twice.”
    He inclined his head. “I will remember. My thanks for telling me.”
    Stupid , she railed at herself. As if he needed help with his schemes.
    He quelled her attempt to withdraw. “You left too quickly yesterday.”
    “Not quickly enough, I’d say,” she answered.
    “I would have shown you more.” He pressed a tender kiss on her forehead.
    “You showed me quite enough.” She tried to slither down out of his grip, desperate to get away, to get him inside. The high stone wall around the garden might shield them from watching eyes, but anyone could walk through the gate.…
    He followed her down. She’d sprouted these plants through the late winter, cherishing them through the last cool nights until they could be placed in the ground, and now this big oaf wanted to roll in them. “Let me up,” she said. “It’s