boots and gathering their few possessions. One man stirred the fire and added more wood, but she did not move from her place.
She was undone, the thought echoed back and forth in her mind. She was undone and in the most unimaginable manner. A painful shudder ripped through her, and in self-preservation she turned away from him. Who would have thought she could turn out like Winna, she who had never cared for men—who had indeed spurned them all, and willingly? Yet let but one of them touch her—let but the most wicked of them kiss her!—and she had succumbed. She shook her head in abject misery, unwilling to believe it, yet unable as well to deny the truth. Last night this arrogant black-hearted knight had kissed her, and like a pitiful wooden palisade, her defenses had gone up in a fiery inferno. Even now the memory of his lips on hers conjured up that same coiling heat in her belly.
Joanna took a sharp breath, willing away the tears that lay so near the surface of her eyes. She had never wanted a man. She still did not, at least not in her heart and soul. Yet her body seemed to have a will of its own in this one instance. Slowly she turned her head to see him, forcing herself to be calm. Whatever she felt, he need not know, she told herself. Everyone made mistakes—people were sinners all, and she was no better or worse than the rest. Her most serious mistake had been believing that she was immune to the temptations of the flesh. God had punished her for her pride and had shown her the error of her ways. But now she knew, and now she repented. If she prayed hard enough and denied these wicked feelings, surely God would approve.
Her spirits lifted a fraction as she contemplated her circumstances. God often tested His people, and this was undoubtedly her test. God tempted her and waited to see if she could resist the temptation to sin. It was up to her to prove she could. And as she glanced around her, she knew that, more than ever, escape was the only way.
“There’s bread and raisins, milady,” one of the men offered her in a reasonably friendly manner.
“Thank you, no.” Joanna scanned the clearing with a new, more observant gaze. “Is there a place where I may wash?”
“I’ll fetch you some water,” he answered, clearly eager to placate her.
Joanna shot a glare toward Rylan who was watching her as he fastened his sword belt around his waist. “I shall need a moment of privacy as well,” she stated, a note of challenge in her voice.
Rylan’s mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible grin, but Joanna was instantly aware of his mocking intent, and her jaw clenched furiously. Somehow she would make him pay for this humiliation!
“Kell. My Lady Joanna requires a few moments of privacy. Guard her well, for I would not have her lost in these thick woods.”
Joanna did not wait for the big Norseman to respond, but turned and strode imperiously from Sir Rylan’s amused presence. Clod! she fumed as her pulse beat an angry tattoo in her head. Cretin! Any hope she had for escape disappeared when the giant Kell appeared at her side. Though he was silent and not so prone to provoking her, his very presence nonetheless infuriated her. She made a hasty toilette while he waited at a little distance, his back turned. Then she quickly studied the forest around her.
“Is there a stream?” she addressed him in a stiff voice.
“Down this knoll.” He gestured to her right.
Joanna did not wait for his permission. She would have a good washing, whether Rylan Kempe liked it or not. This brute guard of his could do no worse to her than his master had done. Indeed, as she strode angrily down the hill through the wet underbrush of the still-shadowy forest, she almost wished he would try to stop her, for in her present mood she would not have hesitated to turn her consuming fury upon him.
But Kell did not stop her. He only followed silently behind her, too near for her to try to escape. When they reached the stream,
She was undone, the thought echoed back and forth in her mind. She was undone and in the most unimaginable manner. A painful shudder ripped through her, and in self-preservation she turned away from him. Who would have thought she could turn out like Winna, she who had never cared for men—who had indeed spurned them all, and willingly? Yet let but one of them touch her—let but the most wicked of them kiss her!—and she had succumbed. She shook her head in abject misery, unwilling to believe it, yet unable as well to deny the truth. Last night this arrogant black-hearted knight had kissed her, and like a pitiful wooden palisade, her defenses had gone up in a fiery inferno. Even now the memory of his lips on hers conjured up that same coiling heat in her belly.
Joanna took a sharp breath, willing away the tears that lay so near the surface of her eyes. She had never wanted a man. She still did not, at least not in her heart and soul. Yet her body seemed to have a will of its own in this one instance. Slowly she turned her head to see him, forcing herself to be calm. Whatever she felt, he need not know, she told herself. Everyone made mistakes—people were sinners all, and she was no better or worse than the rest. Her most serious mistake had been believing that she was immune to the temptations of the flesh. God had punished her for her pride and had shown her the error of her ways. But now she knew, and now she repented. If she prayed hard enough and denied these wicked feelings, surely God would approve.
Her spirits lifted a fraction as she contemplated her circumstances. God often tested His people, and this was undoubtedly her test. God tempted her and waited to see if she could resist the temptation to sin. It was up to her to prove she could. And as she glanced around her, she knew that, more than ever, escape was the only way.
“There’s bread and raisins, milady,” one of the men offered her in a reasonably friendly manner.
“Thank you, no.” Joanna scanned the clearing with a new, more observant gaze. “Is there a place where I may wash?”
“I’ll fetch you some water,” he answered, clearly eager to placate her.
Joanna shot a glare toward Rylan who was watching her as he fastened his sword belt around his waist. “I shall need a moment of privacy as well,” she stated, a note of challenge in her voice.
Rylan’s mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible grin, but Joanna was instantly aware of his mocking intent, and her jaw clenched furiously. Somehow she would make him pay for this humiliation!
“Kell. My Lady Joanna requires a few moments of privacy. Guard her well, for I would not have her lost in these thick woods.”
Joanna did not wait for the big Norseman to respond, but turned and strode imperiously from Sir Rylan’s amused presence. Clod! she fumed as her pulse beat an angry tattoo in her head. Cretin! Any hope she had for escape disappeared when the giant Kell appeared at her side. Though he was silent and not so prone to provoking her, his very presence nonetheless infuriated her. She made a hasty toilette while he waited at a little distance, his back turned. Then she quickly studied the forest around her.
“Is there a stream?” she addressed him in a stiff voice.
“Down this knoll.” He gestured to her right.
Joanna did not wait for his permission. She would have a good washing, whether Rylan Kempe liked it or not. This brute guard of his could do no worse to her than his master had done. Indeed, as she strode angrily down the hill through the wet underbrush of the still-shadowy forest, she almost wished he would try to stop her, for in her present mood she would not have hesitated to turn her consuming fury upon him.
But Kell did not stop her. He only followed silently behind her, too near for her to try to escape. When they reached the stream,
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