The Dark Knight by Tori Phillips Page B

the truth inside his heart. He ran toward the last spot where he had seen her. The bent and broken grass, dry from the previous summer, showed plainly the direction she had taken. Sandor shaded his eyes as he scanned the edge of the forest. Tonia was clever in many ways, but he didn’t think she realized the dangers that lurked within the tangled undergrowth.
    Sandorcrossed the field in her wake. On a rock in the stream, he saw the wet print of her shoe. Tonia would soon rue her cold feet. He cleared the water in two strides, then moved into the woods where he paused to listen. No point in calling to her. She would never answer. It did not matter, for she had left a trail that was easy to follow. He only hoped that in her rush, she had not disturbed any of the wild animals. Many predators were lean and hungry at the end of a long winter and they would not hesitate to attack a lone human.
    Not too far down the hill, Sandor spotted Tonia ahead of him. It appeared that a thick bramble held fast to her skirts. Relieved to find her unharmed, though frustrated, he quietly descended behind her. When Sandor was close enough to hear her muttering under her breath, he stopped and leaned against the nearest tree.
    “’Tis not the best place for a stroll, is it, Tonia?” he remarked.
    She glanced over her shoulder, formed a round “o” with her lips then regarded her entangled skirts with disgust. “You seem to have an annoying habit of following me,” she replied.
    Sandorpicked his way around the bush, then hunkered down to inspect the situation. “By the command of our sovereign lord, you are my responsibility,” he reminded her. He broke off a branch, pulled it free from the bush, then pried the cloth loose from several long thorns.
    “I am well able to fend for myself,” she fumed, watching him free her clothing.
    He flashed her a look that was gentle but carried a warning. “Can you kill a boar?” he asked, unwinding her ragged petticoat from another thorn.
    Tonia gasped. “What boar?” With a shiver, she looked quickly around. “I see nothing. Methinks ’tis a trick of yours to make me afraid.”
    Sandor broke off another branch that held her fast in its thorny clutches. “I speak the truth to you, Tonia. There is a boar hereabouts and a large one judging from the size of his droppings. He is the king of this mountain, and he will not take kindly to your invasion of his realm.”
    Tonia continued to search the area, now a little less sure of herself. “A boar, you say?”
    Sandor nodded. “A very large one, fit for the table of the lord mayor of York.”
    “Perchance ’tis not hungry.” She chewed her lower lip.
    “Boars need no excuse to attack,” he said, pulling the last of her skirt free. “They are hag-ridden brutes spawned by the devil himself.”
    “So my father has said. He often goes a-hunting the boar in the winter.”
    Sandoroffered her his hand. “Then let us quit this place.”
    Tonia regarded him with a speculative gaze. “You could leave me to my own defenses. Mayhap the boar would do to me what King Edward most desires. ’Twould relieve you of your duty.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “You may think me a monster, my lady, but I would not wish that bloody, painful fate on an enemy much less on you.”
    “Am I not your enemy?” she asked in a low voice. “I am a gadji. ”
    He smiled at her use of his language. “You were never an enemy of mine, Tonia,” he replied. The depth of his feeling made his voice husky. “Take my hand,” he whispered.
    Tonia hesitated a moment, trying to fathom his intentions but, as always, he shuttered his true thoughts behind a charming facade. There was no denying his charm now that he had discarded his headsman’s mask. With a sigh of resignation, Tonia gathered up her skirts in one hand then placed her other within his.
    Sandor’s long fingers closed over hers in a warm, gentle clasp. A pleasurable shiver rippled through her. Her heartbeat increased.