Page 26 of The Captive Knight
Laurent said, “Perhaps the prisoner didn’t get far. Perhaps father will return before the English army arrives.”
“Of course he will,” she said. “Sir Jehan has a limp, he couldn’t have gone far.” She hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt. Her father would likely search the hills and the deep woods to the north, where an escaped prisoner could more easily hide, rather than over the open fields to the southwest through which the prince would likely march.
Her father and his men wouldn’t even see the danger until the English army poured over the ridge.
“I saw you two,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to her. “This morning, in the courtyard, walking around together.”
She flushed, remembering the sight of Jehan’s broad shoulders descending as he crouched to nuzzle one of the hounds, the bare skin of his neck exposed as he bent his head. Her father intended to aim the sharp edge of a sword at Jehan’s vulnerable nape, forever snuffing out the teasing light in the knight’s brilliant blue eyes.
She mentally shook the thought out of her head. “While we were walking about, Sir Jehan was probably counting barrels of arrows and the number of knights on the ramparts all the while.”
“He wanted to kiss you.”
I wanted to be kissed.“Can you read minds now,frai?”
“Everyone in the courtyard was chattering about it. I’m not blind, either. Sir Jehan couldn’t stop staring at you.”
She cast Laurent a glare, noticing the frown on his face as well as the sword strapped around his hips and the dagger in his boot. “Mindless chivalry, Laury, nothing else.”
“That might be enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Should Sir Jehan reach the prince’s army—”
“Don’t speak so,” she interrupted. “The prince is miles and miles away and the knight is wounded.”
“But should he reach the prince,” he persisted, “there’s a chance Sir Jehan will persuade Prince Edward not to attack Castelnau.”
“Why would he do that? After all the terrible things father has done to him?”
“Because of his tenderness toward you.”
The wordtendernessburrowed deep, spreading rays of warmth inside her. How much she wanted to hope…but she couldn’t let sentiment overpower her good sense.
“This is war, Laurent,” she said. “I don’t think there’s room for tenderness.”
