Page 14 of The Captive Knight
“The next time I come, I’ll take out the stitches.” She pushed back on her heels. “For now, I’ve been gone too long.”
“Wait.”
He seized a handful of cloth as she stood up. It turned out to be a long, tapering sleeve hanging from above her elbow. It slid through his fingers as she straightened to her full height but he squeezed tighter to capture the tip.
He said, “I owe you my thanks.”
Back-lit as she was by the rush light pouring through the door, he couldn’t read her expression. “I’ve done no more,” she said, “than what is expected of a noble house.”
“What nobility resides in this house comes only from you, Aliénor. I know the true nature of your father.”
She glanced away, toward the hallway. “Please don’t insult my family, Sir Jehan. You know nothing about us.”
“I make you the exception.” He tried very hard to not notice the sweet indentation of her spine or the flare of her kirtle over the curve of her hips. “For that, I insist you don’t return here anymore.”
“Don’t be foolish. The stitches need to be removed, and—”
“Send a servant in your place. I won’t have your punishment on my conscience.”
“Your conscience?” Her back straightened a measure. “Where was your conscience on the day you destroyed my future?”
He met those brown eyes, not as soft as before, and thought of the castle that had lifted him out of the life of a sell-sword, put the first real roof over his head in nearly a decade, and brought a measure of security long denied to him and to his men. Then he thought of the blood spilled in the name of Castétis, for no reason other than rage.
He let go of her tapering sleeve. “I mean you no harm, mademoiselle.”
“But you harmed me anyway.” She turned away only to stop in the portal, her hand on the doorjamb. “If you truly wish to thank me, Sir Jehan, then give me back my dowry.”
