Who's Riding Red? by Liliana Hart Page B

away. Please don’t scream. Everyone has enough to worry about this eve. I swear to you, I mean you no harm.”
    Phillipa nodded her head once sharply, and felt the sigh of relief he gave against her back. When his hand moved and his grip loosened, she scooted away from him as quickly as possible so her back was to another tree. Her pulse calmed as she saw one of the knights who’d escorted them from town. His armor was gone and he only wore his underclothes and boots. A sword was strapped to his back and a dagger tied at his waist.
    “I beg your pardon, Sir. You frightened me,” she said.
    “It is I who should beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have come up behind you that way.”
    The light was dim from the surrounding camp fires, but there was enough to make out his features. The first thing she noticed was his size. Even kneeling he was a large man. His hands were unscarred and she felt heat rush to her cheeks as her gaze moved up and she saw the thin smattering of dark hair at the open V of his shirt.
    Phillipa finally found the courage to lift her eyes to the soldier’s face, but she found quickly that it didn’t help to relieve the pressure in her lungs. His eyes were the purest blue she’d ever seen, and she found it impossible to break from his gaze. They were filled with kindness and compassion. He was a handsome man, yes, but there was something about his eyes that made him beautiful, even with the scar at his chin. He let her look her fill, and as he stared at her with quiet patience, she felt the urge to throw herself into his arms and weep uncontrollably.
    He was at least ten years, maybe fifteen, her senior. His dark hair was graying slightly at the temples, but he was obviously in excellent health. His shoulders were broad and there was no bulge of fat around his middle like many men had as they grew in age.
    “Are you here alone?” he asked. “Where is your family?”
    “They are dead, Sir. I am on the way to my grandmother’s house in Edinburgh. She is the only family I have left.”
    “Where is your escort? You cannot mean to travel to Scotland by yourself.”
    Phillipa stood and shook the leaves from her cloak, feeling like herself once more as her pride and stubbornness warred with her common sense. He mirrored her move, and she found she’d made a mistake since she had to look up several inches now to stare into his eyes. She lifted her chin and felt her eyes narrow as his lips tilted up in amusement.
    “I’m perfectly capable of doing exactly as I wish. As long as I stay with the group, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe. Many people here are headed to Scotland, I’m sure.”
    “Maybe so, but as a gentleman I can hardly let you wander through wooded, and sometimes dangerous, territory without seeing to your safety. I will be your escort and see you to your grandmother’s house.”
    Phillipa felt her anger rise as he began to make plans as if the decision had already been made. Just like her brothers had always tried to do. She had a mind of her own, not that anyone in all of England would appreciate her intelligence. The last weeks had been hell, but she and all of her brothers and sisters had been blessed with a strong mind, and an oftentimes sharp tongue. She’d been reprimanded often enough to know. Her mother had despaired she’d ever find a suitable husband unless she learned to curb her tongue. Now that her family was gone, she didn’t see why she should bother trying any longer. Marriage was the last thing on her mind.
    “That’s quite all right, Sir. I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make my way back to the others.”
    “My name is Richard,” he said. “What is yours?”
    “I am Miss Redmond. My father was Baron Redmond.”
    “Ahh,” Richard said. “I heard of your parents’ passing many weeks ago. I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”
    “You knew my father?”
    “Yes. My father and he were friends. I’m the