The Warrior's Game by Denise Domning Page B

reluctant explanation.
    A woman as bold as Lady de la Beres wouldn’t quietly absorb a blow like the one that band offered. Nay, she’d plan retaliation at the earliest opportunity, and that opportunity arrived with today’s meal. Jesus God, but he'd played right into John's plans! What had he been thinking?
    And there was the crux of the problem. He hadn’t been thinking. Instead, he'd let a woman distract him.
    Once again, the possibility of leaving England without the prize he’d been promised rose up before Michel. Damn, but he didn’t want to turn his back on what he’d accomplished here to begin again somewhere else under some other capricious prince.
    Roger gave a snort. “Not an uncommon event when men spar with women,” he said in gentle reproof. “Care to elaborate?”
    Michel didn’t question how Roger knew his error had to do with Lady de la Beres. For all his brutish appearance Roger was surprisingly perceptive.
    "Perhaps later. Suffice it to say I think it's time we take that journey I mentioned, leaving as soon as our interview is done this very day."
    Michel shifted in his saddle. "Will," he said to the man behind Roger, "you and the others return to the smith's house. Tell Mistress Hughette all of us will be dining with the household for this meal, doing so at my expense. Tell her as well that Roger and I will come late, depending on the length of my meeting with the castellan."
    The man nodded and with the lift of his hand signaled for the troop to turn. As they retreated there was nothing left for Michel to do save gaze at Winchester's wide courtyard while his stomach churned.
    Leaving Winchester hardly resolved the mess he'd just made of matters, especially not with John still lingering at nearby Windsor. Although Sir Hubert would accept an excuse of personal business as a reason for a two or three-day absence, the king's wards would not. As much as the high-born bitches despised Michel sitting at the head of their table they'd resent his absence even more, finding insult in his empty chair, claiming it evidence of his disdain for them. Their complaints would fly along ancient Roman roads and overgrown country byways to the king, reaching John about a day and a half into Michel's three day journey.
    At least by then Michel would know if the lady's properties were worth the trouble she and the king were making for him. The king's wrath over his defiance Michel could bear, especially if he liked the lady's lands. The trick would be escaping Winchester before he again crossed paths with Amicia de la Beres.
    Michel drew his horse to a halt before the king's hall. "I've changed my mind. We won't be leaving Winchester until after None and I won't be dining at the smith's house,” he said to Roger. “Instead, you return and eat your fill. When your meal's done send the men outside the city walls to wait while you bring my armor here to me." After he'd armed he need only wait to leave the castle until after the midday meal was underway and the lady was safely trapped within the hall with all the other wards.
    Frustration joined Michel's disappointment. Damn John. Damn the lady. He could be trapped here for almost an hour twiddling his thumbs when he could be making good use of those lost moments.
    Roger’s laugh was a quiet rumble. “What makes you think she'll make it that easy for you to avoid her vengeance? Trust me, an angry woman knows how to lay a trap."
    Michel sent his man a narrow, sidelong look. "I didn't realize you were such a swain, so attuned to the thinking of the weaker sex.”
    Roger grinned. “What choice have I with this face of mine?” The lift of his hand indicated his scarred features. “No women is going to tap at my door, hoping I’ll open my arms and take her into my bed. I must woo by sly insight.”
    Michel grunted in amusement despite his present dire situation. Roger winked and turned his horse back the way they'd just come, whistling that lewd tune of his as he