Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart by Merry Farmer

his bum. “What were you doing at Pennington’s estate ?” he asked with far more restraint than he felt.
    “ I followed Prince John th ere from the Tower this morning, ” she answered in little more than a whisper.
    Ethan goggled at her. “You followed Prince John to Arthur Pennington’s estate ?”
    Even Rebecca stared at her in surprise.
    “What business do those two have?”
    “ Prince John was fleeing the Tower.” Joanna’s face contorted in misery at the revelation. “He’s fleeing England, Ethan . ”
    For half a heartbeat she looked to him with the same pleading that had flushed her cheeks when she’d begged him not to leave for the crusade years ago . The jumble of emotions in Ethan’s chest flared hotter. He jerked his focus back to dressing Wulfric.
    “ The prince’s horse threw a shoe and he stopped at Pennin gton’s estate to get a new one ,” Joanna went on. “ Matlock is staying there as well.”
    Anything could have happened to her. She could have been seen or captur ed or worse. If Toby knew he….
    “This is why you never should have left the inn,” Ethan rumbled. He yanked his shirt off over Wulfric’s head and put the boy’s own shirt on in its place.
    “It’s a good thing I did leave the inn,” she argued as quietly as she ever had. “Prince John said he would have helped if he could , but now he’s gone to Normandy . He also said that Matlock owes him for something, that there’s something he’s meant to be doing for him.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Their argument fizzled. Ethan knew too much about Sir Stephen of Matlock to assume he was in London for the sights. Maybe Joanna was right to worry, dammit.
    He slid the miniature chausses onto Wulfric’s legs one at a time and set about tying them. Joanna sank to sit on the cot at Wulfric’s side , rubbing her eyes . Wulfric was now studying him while picking his nose.
    “Are you a knight?” he asked.
    “No,” Joanna began, “he’s a-”
    “Yes, I used to be a k night,” Ethan interrupted her.
    “Where’s your armor?” Wulfric asked on.
    “I sold it,” Ethan replied. “ T o pay my way home from the Holy Land.”
    “Do you have a sword? My papa has a sword.”
    Ethan shook his head and finished tying his chausses. “Sold it.”
    “Why?”
    “I needed the money to get home.”
    “Do you have a horse?”
    “No, I sold that too, to pay for passage across the Channel.”
    Pink patches splashed Joanna’s cheeks as she listened, studying her hands.
    “Is this your home?” Wulfric asked, his head cocked to one side.
    “No, little man,” Ethan shook his head, “this is not my home.”
    “Did you run out of things to sell?”
    “Yes, I did,” Ethan whispered.
    “You can come home to my house when my papa and mama come back,” he told Ethan. “My home is called Windale.”
    “Is that so?” Ethan choked. As desperately as he wanted to stay away from it, the pull of Derbyshire politics held him in an iron grip. Exile or not, it was still his home. There was no way out.
    He stood, decision made. “I need you to do me a favor,” he murmured to Joanna, scowling.
    “What?” she croaked and cleared her throat, blinking rapidly.
    He took a breath and swallowed his pride. “I need you to cut my hair and give me a shave.”
    She stared up at him.
    “I’m serious,” he answered, stomach knotting. “I … I need you to shave off this beard.”
    “Do it yourself . ” She stood and moved to sort through the trunk .
    Ethan swallowed. “I don’t know how.”
    “What?” She blinked up at him .
    “I don’t know how to shave myself.” All she did was gape. “Toby always did it for me.” The ever-present sting of grief sapped the last of his energy.
    Joanna’s face lost all color save for two bright patches on her cheeks. “Oh.”
    An over-long silence followed. Ethan shifted from Wulfric to crouch by Joanna’s side . As fast as a summer storm her anger had passed. In its wake was