Chivalrous by Dina L. Sleiman

allowing her gaze to fall to Allen’s leather boots. Goodness, even his feet were handsome.
    â€œAnd where did I stop you from rushing to?”
    â€œI was just headed for yon bench. I fear my head grew light in this crowd, and I wished to rest for a while.”
    â€œThen allow me to escort you.” Sir Allen gallantly took her arm, sending a confusing blend of warmth and chills shooting through her. What bizarre sort of malady did he inflict upon her? She was not certain that she liked the many odd sensations he evoked in her.
    She did not concern herself with swaying her hips, as she did not wish to bump his, but she twisted herself as small as possible as they moved toward the bench. Once there, she sat and tilted her head while he settled himself beside her, grazing her thigh with his own due to the small space.
    Her thoughts set off in erratic directions at his nearness as her mouth grew tongue-tied. Her heartbeat sped, though she remained at rest. She must strengthen her resolve against the strange reactions she seemed to suffer at his nearness.
    â€œActually, do I know you from somewhere? The more I think of it, the more you look familiar to me.” Allen seemed not to suffer from her affliction of the tongue, although something in his eyes and that playful grin made her think he might enjoy gazing upon her.
    At first Gwen could not find the words to reply, but she needed to come up with something before he associated her with his battle from the afternoon. She asked herself what her mother might bid her say. “I wager you say that to all the ladies.”
    Proud of her answer, she smiled, a true and natural smile. Sir Allen seemed a safe enough fellow to practice her new skills of flirtation upon. Her parents would never consider him a marriage prospect, so she need not fear a prospective romance, but they might be pleased that she made some attempt to follow their instructions.
    He tipped back his head and chuckled. “I deserved that. But truly, I feel I know you.”
    Her tongue finally loosened. “Perhaps you have met one ofmy brothers. My surname is Barnes. Have you encountered a Reginald or a Gerald or perhaps a Hugh?”
    â€œI do not think so, m’lady. But if you might grace me with your own name, I would be forever grateful.”
    She stopped a sigh just in time. No one had ever spoken to her in such a lovely manner, but she was not sure she liked the way it left her feeling weak-kneed and vulnerable. “Gwendolyn. My name is Lady Gwendolyn Barnes, daughter of the baron Lord Reimund Barnes.”
    He lifted her hand and kissed it, sending pleasant shivers to dance across her skin, up her arm, and down her spine. Again he stared deeply into her eyes. Though she must steel her heart against any romantic silliness, something told her that she could happily lose herself in the swirling hazel pool of his gaze.

    â€œAnd are these brothers of yours here tonight?” Allen asked, the taste of her silken skin still heady upon his lips. Perhaps the kiss, though proper and chivalrous, had been a mistake.
    â€œAlas, only Reginald, the one I like the least. And my parents.”
    She indicated to a dark-haired young man with a somewhat shriveled and mousy woman hovering in his shadow, and then to an older gentleman with a fierce demeanor flanked by a diminutive blond.
    â€œAnd they have left you to fend for yourself in this throng? How cruel!” He only half jested, for he himself wished his parents might be beside him for support this night.
    The lovely Lady Gwendolyn laughed. A hearty laugh, not the false giggle of moments earlier, and she sat straight now, no longer hunched. “You understand me well, Sir Allen. In fact, if I had my way, I would not be here at all.”
    â€œAnd where would you be?”
    â€œPerhaps strolling the woods outside the city gate.”
    â€œSo you love the outdoors. Would you believe me if I told you that I lived as an outlaw