Sword for His Lady by Mary Wine

needed to be gone. If he wasn’t near, she would forget him and his appeal.
    She was just going to have to ensure that he had a reason to forget about her.
    * * *
    Supper was the last meal of the day. It was not the largest but it was the only time the inhabitants of Thistle Keep allowed themselves to linger at the trestle tables in the great hall. The sun had set, so work would have to wait until dawn. The scent of roasted meat filled the hall, along with bread and stewed vegetables. Once again, Isabel was sitting at the common tables. Ramon stared at her, enjoying the way the lady fought not to look at him.
    â€œMore rabbit, milord?” He paid the serving girl no attention at all. She leaned over in front of Ramon, holding a platter out and making sure he had a clear view down the front of her open robes—a generous amount of cleavage for his enjoyment. A long lock of her flaxen hair teased his cheek. She sent him a saucy look full of passion.
    The collar of his tunic suddenly felt tighter.
    Ramon locked gazes with her. “My captain will be more appreciative of your efforts, madam. I am to wed on the morrow.”
    Ambrose choked but controlled himself when the maid gave him her full attention. She brushed right up against him as she served him, a soft, husky sound rising from her lips before she straightened and went on her way.
    â€œAle… milord ?”
    Ramon jerked as a second maid pressed up to his side. This one had dark hair and rolled her lips in when their gazes met. She traced the handle of the pitcher she held. Up…down…and up again.
    His collar was definitely too tight.
    His squire bumped into her, holding Ramon’s goblet out in front of her. She tipped the pitcher up but shot Ramon an invitation when she was finished.
    â€œMethinks your bride is less settled than you are when it comes to taking vows on the morrow.” Ambrose was trying to contain his mirth, leaving his face looking pinched while his eyes sparkled.
    Ramon jerked his attention back to Isabel. He caught only a flash of her satisfied expression before she turned away and gave him nothing but the back of her wimple to look at.
    He was going to have every wimple in the keep burned on the morrow.
    â€œThen best I go and see to her contentment.”
    Ramon pressed his hands flat on the tabletop to rise. Ambrose reached for his forearm. “Be considerate and sit a while longer. I have no plans to wed and would happily enjoy the efforts being put forth.”
    Ambrose cast a long look toward the side of the hall where the passageway opened up, allowing food to be brought in from the kitchens. There were three more women lined up, waiting to serve the high table.
    â€œSo kind of Richard to take the men away for so long…” Ambrose muttered softly. “I admit, I have never seen this advantage to Holy Crusades. We should have retired years ago.”
    The women were rosy-cheeked with excitement as he sent sly, hopeful smiles toward them. Each appeared freshly bathed, their hair brushed and hanging free, tempting him to feel it. They giggled as they mounted the stairs to climb to the raised platform the high table was placed on.
    Ramon looked back at Isabel. She was ignoring him. But her companion was watching the high table, astonishment on her face. Her lips were moving as she sent a stern look at her young mistress. Isabel shook her head and squared her shoulders.
    Ramon held out his hand for his goblet. His squire tripped as he tried to perform his duties, too busy watching the women serving the table.
    â€œVixen,” he growled softly. He took a long sip from his goblet and nodded.
    Aye, vixen it was.
    * * *
    â€œYou are playing a dangerous game,” Mildred warned.
    â€œRamon de Segrave needs to be on his way. I am simply helping him notice that I am nothing exceptional.”
    Isabel laid her over robe aside and turned so Mildred could loosen the ties in the back of her under