The Maiden and Her Knight by Margaret Moore Page A

than had ever been in Rennick’s hard blue eyes. “That is not unusual.”
    â€œThey were very…vivid.”
    She took a step back. “The potion can have that effect.”
    Edmond came out of the tent holding an apple. He went toward the huge horse, which lifted its head and whinnied.
    She had been alone with Sir Connor only a few moments, but she felt as if she had experienced a lifetime of emotions, both thrilling and sad.
    â€œDemetrius will be his friend for life now.”
    If Sir Connor sensed her mood, he did not show it. He stood and spoke as if they had merely exchanged meaningless pleasantries while Edmond was gone. Perhaps, in his mind, that had been all they had done.
    That realization added to her sorrow, until he turned to her. Then she saw, in the brown depths of his eyes, a spark of true respect and even affection that lifted her from the depths of her despair. Yes, it was wrong of her to feel as she did when she looked at him thus, but oh, how good it was! And yet because of that look, she had to tell him that she was not free. Because of that look, he deserved nothing less.
    She settled her features into the familiar mask of calm dignity that was so easy to assume with Rennick.
    Gesturing for Sir Connor to follow, she walked away from her brother and the horse. When they were far enough from Edmond that he couldn’t hear, she said, “I believe you may be under the mistaken impression that I do not care for Baron DeFrouchette, the man to whom I became betrothed yesterday and will soon marry. At times he does annoy me a little, but what couple does not have their little spats?”
    She watched Sir Connor’s face, seeking some sign of the effect of her words, but if she had assumed a public mask, so had he, and she found no answers there.
    â€œI wonder why you did not tell me this before.”
    â€œI am not in the habit of telling everyone my business. I would have, if I had known you were going to kiss me.”
    â€œOn the wrist only.”
    â€œYes, but you shouldn’t have done that.”
    He made a little bow. “Forgive me.”
    How cold and aloof he sounded, and so very proper. And how she silently mourned the change, which was necessary and inevitable, yet agonizing all the same. She was tempted to leave, but she had another reason for coming here. He had made a serious accusation yesterday when he was under the influence of Brother Jonathan’s draft, and she had to know if he still had the same suspicions. “Yesterday you implied that you suspected someone of foul play.”
    Standing as stiffly as a solder, he inclined his head in affirmation. “That is true. My lance should not have split and shattered that way.”
    â€œIt was made of wood, Sir Connor.”
    â€œOak, my lady. Hard and strong. To split along its length is unusual, but not unheard of, if a chisel is driven into the shaft at the base just above the hand guard and along the grain. Then the gouge is filled with colored clay to hide it.”
    â€œCan you prove this?”
    â€œPerhaps, if I have the pieces.”
    â€œThey were all gathered up and taken to the armory in the keep. You may examine them later.”
    â€œI shall.”
    â€œYou believe the baron did this?”
    â€œI think he might have reason.”
    â€œWhat reason?”
    â€œCan you not guess, my lady?”
    She looked away from his accusing eyes and enticing lips toward her young brother, so happy and innocent of the ways of the world. So few things he did could have serious consequences, while she…“The baron has no cause to be jealous.”
    â€œThen I am wrong and I shall have to try to discover who else might cheat.”
    She glanced at Sir Connor once more, and this time their gazes met and held, as they had that first night. She saw no harsh accusation, but a longing that seemed to meet and touch her own lonely soul, as if his hands reached out to save her as