Page 65 of The Robber Knight's Love
Well, now you've gotyour answer, he thought sarcastically.The answer you know you should be devastated about. Theanswer you secretly hoped for.
He stared up into Ayla's sapphire eyes, whichwere peering down at him with an anxious expression. It was clearthat she remembered his earlier outburst, his fit of rage atlearning about the siege. Only now he realized why he had reallybeen angry that day. Not because of the siege, no. Why would he,Sir Reuben Rachwild, who had been in more battles than one couldcount on all the fingers of the people in this little castle, fearone paltry siege? No. What had truly enraged him was that learningthe truth had robbed him of his only excuse to stay, to enjoy thesparkle of those two sapphires, which were becoming more preciouswith every passing moment, for a few more days. How could hejustify staying when every bit of sense in his brain told him togo?
Sense had served him well in the past. It hadhelped him stay alive.
Now he had his excuse back—and she wasanxious that he would be angrynow!He almost laughed.
“Good,” he said, grinning. “We can spend thetime discussing my compensation.”
Her voice was stern, but she couldn't keepthe corners of her small mouth from turning up. “What's there todiscuss? The window is over there.”
OpposingForces
When Ayla left the room a little later, havingchanged Reuben's cataplasms while trying not to think about whatparts of him she was seeing and touching, she had a little smile onher face. In the corridor, she met Isenbard.
“He's better, isn't he?” the knight asked,studying her face.
“How did you know?” Ayla inquired,perplexed.
Isenbard shrugged. “Just guessed.” He raisedhis hand to scratch his beard—on the back of his armored glove,Ayla could see dried smears of blood. Guilt welled up in her, andfearful of what might be hidden behind the usual stoic expressionof the old knight, she rushed towards him.
“Oh God, Isenbard, I... I'm so sorry. Itotally forgot about Falkenstein's approach! Has there been anotherbattle? There has, hasn't there...? Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. It'sjust, if I hadn't been there all night, I'm sure he would havedied, and I couldn’t...”
He interrupted her with a wave of his hand.“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“There's been no battle. I just don't cleanmy mail very often.”
Ayla let out a sigh of relief—but the reliefwas short-lived. As she pondered Isenbard’s words, a frown spreadover her face. “But why haven't they attacked? They're all here bynow, surely? What are they waiting for?”
“Their commander.” Isenbard's face darkened.Not that any of his features actually moved, no. Rather, theshadows in his wrinkles seemed to get more distinct. “He's acareful one. Waits until all is secure. His soldiers are searchingthe forest as we speak.”
“Searching the forest? For what?”
“Traps. Ambushes. Mercenaries expecteverybody to fight as dirty as they do.”
The words carried the unspoken message thathe would never act in such a dastardly way. Ayla thought that wasrather silly. If she had thought of an ambush and it could help herpeople, she would have tried it immediately. But since she alsothought it rather sweet, and couldn't imagine Isenbard without hisunimpeachable sense of honor, she said nothing.
That moment, a terrible thought came toher.
“Isenbard,” she asked, her voice trembling,“the commander... it's not going to be Falkenstein, is it? Please,tell me it won't be him.”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. Falkensteinhas hounds to do his hunting for him.”
Relief flooded through Ayla like sweetnectar. She had been terrified of having to face the man who had socallously demanded her surrender ever since that day the herald hadpresented that golden ring to her. It wouldn't be so bad if theMargrave desired only her lands, as he had done with all the othernobles whom he had fought. But this was different. The herald hadmade it quite clear that the Margrave didn't only want land. Hewantedher—body, mind, andsoul.
Well, probably mostly body.
As if this awarded her any protection, shecrossed her arms in front of her. The thought alone of that manlooking at her, leering at her, was enough to make her blood runcold.
“Ayla? Did you hear what I said?”
She blinked at Isenbard. “What?”
“Something wrong? You looked worried.”
If Isenbard of all people had noticed, shemust have looked scared out of her wits. Ayla made a mental notenot to show her feelings on this matter to anyone. She was themistress of the castle. She needed to be strong. For everyone.
