Page 91 of The Robber Knight's Love
“By the way,” he said quickly, to keep hisimagination from getting out of hand, “these cold thingies reallyseem to work.”
He couldn't see her smile because he had hisback to her, but he could feel it, could hear it in her voice.
“The cataplasms? Of course they do. I'm goodat what I do.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, closing his eyes andcarefully flexing the muscles in his leg, under her fingers.“Verygood. Please don't let meinterrupt you.”
A wet cloth slapped against the sole of hisbare foot, and he yelped in surprise.
“We were, I believe, talking of the defenseof this castle,” she said in a haughty tone. “Let's stick to thatsubject, shall we? Now turn around, I have to wind those cloths allthe way around your legs.”
Reuben did as she asked and lay on his back,staring up at her face. She was looking down at his calves, and theblond curtain of her hair shielded most of her face from him, buther cheeks had definitely reddened. Oh yes, she was blushing.
He grinned as he watched her pick up the nextcold cloth. But then the cloth slipped through her fingers and fellto the floor. With a jolt, Reuben realized that her hands wereshaking. Guilt, hot fiery guilt, washed through him. She was besetby her enemies, had just lost her only protector, and he was makingfun of her! Could he be any crueler? Yes, he probably could, butstill...
He didn't want to make fun of her. All right,maybe he sometimes did, but not now, not when she was in need. Now,he just wanted to help.
But how could he? He was tied to this bed. Hecouldn't even get up, he was so weak.
Her words came back to him:I was talking about knowing what to do. What orders to give,how to appear as a confident leader, what to expect of theenemy.
Could he help with this? How, without blowinghis cover? And if that happened, she would hang him...
“I... I'm sorry,” she whispered, picking upthe cloth. “I'm just not feeling very well right now.”
Oh, hang his cover! And himself, if needbe.
“Soldiers are organized into lances,”[47]he said suddenly, “tactical units of varying size and shape. Anumber of lances in turn make up a banner. Lances are usuallycommanded by a knight, or in his absence, by an appointedcaptain.”
Ayla's head jerked up. The cold cloth in herhands was forgotten as she stared at him. “H-how do you knowthat?”
“When the lances and banners go into battle,”Reuben continued in a rush, “it is the knights who lead the chargeagainst the enemy, riding full gallop with their lances in hand totry and break the ranks of the enemy. The bannermen come afterthem, destroying what is left. Since you are fighting a siege, aprotracted battle without wide open areas and with good defensivepositions, there will be greater emphasis on the foot soldiers thanon knights. You will have to defend a barricade, not charge theenemy on an open field, the only place where knights could bringthe mounted charge with lances, their most powerful weapon, tobear. Isenbard's incapacitation, tragic though it is, might not bethe catastrophe it appears to you now. One knight more or less doesnot win or lose you a siege. With the right leadership, a fewlances of good foot soldiers can hold that bridge of yours againstan army.”
By the time he had finished his lecture,Ayla's mouth was open in the cutest “O” in the history of thealphabet.
“Are you making fun of me?” she demanded.
*~*~**~*~*
The devil of a man actually managed to lookhurt!
“Does it sound like I am?” he demanded.
After a few seconds, Ayla slowly shook herhead, still too confused to really know what to think. “No, Reuben.As strange as that sounds, what you've said actually seems to makesome sense.”
“Why, thank you, Milady.”
“But where did all this stuff come from,Reuben? You're a merchant, not a mercenary.”
He grinned at her, that devilish grin shejust couldn't resist. It made his gray eyes burn right through herto the center of her soul. “Even merchants have brains, youknow.”
She pouted. “Ihave brains, and eyes and ears,andI've lived in a castle with soldiers andknights all my life—but I didn't know half the things that justcame tumbling out of your mouth.”
Reuben shrugged. “Well, I guess I'm a veryspecial merchant.” He raised an eyebrow at her, which made thescimitar scar on his forehead crinkle up in the most adorableway.
Oh, how Ayla wanted to touch the scar, tostroke it with gentle fingers. She couldn't help it; her expressionsoftened and a smile suffused her features. “That you are,” shesaid, staring deeply into his predatory gray eyes. “And I'msupposed to believe everything you've said, just like that? Whatguarantee do I have that you aren't just making it up?”
“You could just trust me,” he suggestedinnocently.
