other portion stood before her. Too sure of himself. Too appealing. Threatening her father’s return home and her peace of mind.
“ ’Tis among my many wishes to have you
all
leave.”
The upward quirk of his mouth also sparked something deep and dangerous in his exquisite hazel eyes, and her traitorous heart skipped a beat.
“I fear, my lady, I cannot grant all of your wishes,” he said softly, the rumble of his voice low and thrilling, as if he’d read her mind and ferreted out every desire of her heart. As if Roland were aware some of those desires had naught to do with her father, or the earl, or hidden passages.
Impossible. Roland was a mere man, couldn’t possibly divine her innermost, foolish thoughts.
“You are right. We are in accord where the earl is concerned. So how do we rid ourselves of him?”
His smile widened. “Now I wish I had an answer for you.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, we must wait him out.”
Eloise crossed her arms, kicked at the dirt, her brow scrunched. “Waiting out Kenworth may drive us all witless.”
“We will survive. Come, my lady, the shadows grow longer. You should return to the hall.”
She couldn’t continue to search for a hidden passage with Roland acting as her guard. Besides, sometime during her walk she’d begun to wonder if a passage existed at all. Surely, if there was one, either Simon or Marcus would know of it, and neither did.
But how else had Edgar entered the keep to deliver the message? Puzzling.
They walked slowly toward the inner gate.
“Do you expect further trouble from the squires?” she asked.
“Possibly. Especially from Gregory, Kenworth’s squire.”
“How so?”
“Gregory is as arrogant as his master, as bent on seeing Edgar hang as Kenworth is of your father.” Now Roland came to a halt. “Timothy expressed concern for Edgar’s sister’s safety. ’Twould not be amiss to keep a close watch on Isolde.”
Eloise’s anger flashed bright and hot. “Should anyone lay a hand on her, he will lose not only the offending hand but his worthless head! Just because her brother is not here to protect her does
not
mean she is vulnerable! Why, the very idea of taking advantage of one so innocent—”
Roland’s hand landed on her shoulder. “I hear you, Eloise, and I agree. The squires have been warned to keep the peace and mind their manners. If need be, I will set a guard on her, too. Just tell her to have a care.”
The warmth of his hand and calm tone didn’t banish her upset, but went a long way to reassure her. If anything untoward happened to Isolde—but it wouldn’t. Because Roland wouldn’t allow it—and she believed him and trusted his word, on this anyway.
Naturally, she’d do her part to keep her maid safe from insult, but it was Roland’s absolute determination to do his duty that allowed Eloise’s fear to ease.
He realized at the same moment she did that he still touched her. So large, his hands. The fingers long, the palm wide. She felt strength, and warmth, and the oddest sensation that if she leaned forward and sought succor in his arms, she’d find him willing and welcoming.
Always she’d been the one to give comfort, not seek it.
’Twas part of her duty as her father’s chatelaine to give alms to the poor and administer medicinals to the sick. A duty she’d never shunned because she enjoyed the tasks. Eloise knew that betimes a mere smile from her could brighten a villager’s day, her touch could halt a wailing child’s tears.
Few dared touch her without her express permission or invitation. And then ’twas with the respect due her rank.
That Roland dared … how strange she felt no urge to shake him off, demand he cease.
Except one didn’t seek succor in the arms of the enemy. For all the accord they found in their attitude toward the earl, they were yet on opposite sides. She for her father and Lelleford, he for the king and himself.
Nor dare she forget Roland St. Marten didn’t like
“ ’Tis among my many wishes to have you
all
leave.”
The upward quirk of his mouth also sparked something deep and dangerous in his exquisite hazel eyes, and her traitorous heart skipped a beat.
“I fear, my lady, I cannot grant all of your wishes,” he said softly, the rumble of his voice low and thrilling, as if he’d read her mind and ferreted out every desire of her heart. As if Roland were aware some of those desires had naught to do with her father, or the earl, or hidden passages.
Impossible. Roland was a mere man, couldn’t possibly divine her innermost, foolish thoughts.
“You are right. We are in accord where the earl is concerned. So how do we rid ourselves of him?”
His smile widened. “Now I wish I had an answer for you.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, we must wait him out.”
Eloise crossed her arms, kicked at the dirt, her brow scrunched. “Waiting out Kenworth may drive us all witless.”
“We will survive. Come, my lady, the shadows grow longer. You should return to the hall.”
She couldn’t continue to search for a hidden passage with Roland acting as her guard. Besides, sometime during her walk she’d begun to wonder if a passage existed at all. Surely, if there was one, either Simon or Marcus would know of it, and neither did.
But how else had Edgar entered the keep to deliver the message? Puzzling.
They walked slowly toward the inner gate.
“Do you expect further trouble from the squires?” she asked.
“Possibly. Especially from Gregory, Kenworth’s squire.”
“How so?”
“Gregory is as arrogant as his master, as bent on seeing Edgar hang as Kenworth is of your father.” Now Roland came to a halt. “Timothy expressed concern for Edgar’s sister’s safety. ’Twould not be amiss to keep a close watch on Isolde.”
Eloise’s anger flashed bright and hot. “Should anyone lay a hand on her, he will lose not only the offending hand but his worthless head! Just because her brother is not here to protect her does
not
mean she is vulnerable! Why, the very idea of taking advantage of one so innocent—”
Roland’s hand landed on her shoulder. “I hear you, Eloise, and I agree. The squires have been warned to keep the peace and mind their manners. If need be, I will set a guard on her, too. Just tell her to have a care.”
The warmth of his hand and calm tone didn’t banish her upset, but went a long way to reassure her. If anything untoward happened to Isolde—but it wouldn’t. Because Roland wouldn’t allow it—and she believed him and trusted his word, on this anyway.
Naturally, she’d do her part to keep her maid safe from insult, but it was Roland’s absolute determination to do his duty that allowed Eloise’s fear to ease.
He realized at the same moment she did that he still touched her. So large, his hands. The fingers long, the palm wide. She felt strength, and warmth, and the oddest sensation that if she leaned forward and sought succor in his arms, she’d find him willing and welcoming.
Always she’d been the one to give comfort, not seek it.
’Twas part of her duty as her father’s chatelaine to give alms to the poor and administer medicinals to the sick. A duty she’d never shunned because she enjoyed the tasks. Eloise knew that betimes a mere smile from her could brighten a villager’s day, her touch could halt a wailing child’s tears.
Few dared touch her without her express permission or invitation. And then ’twas with the respect due her rank.
That Roland dared … how strange she felt no urge to shake him off, demand he cease.
Except one didn’t seek succor in the arms of the enemy. For all the accord they found in their attitude toward the earl, they were yet on opposite sides. She for her father and Lelleford, he for the king and himself.
Nor dare she forget Roland St. Marten didn’t like
Similar Books
