Page 73 of The Captive Knight
“I would, if time weren’t running out.”
“Ally…” She could see by the deepening ripples on his forehead he was thinking hard. “Things have changed.” His shoulders rose and fell. “Ihave changed.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She no longer jolted with surprise seeing how straight he sat his horse or with what ease he wore the dagger, baldric, and sword. On the contrary, she made a point of tryingnotto notice such things. Those changes needled her because of the part they played bringing her here, only miles from the gates of Paris, soon to say good-bye to Jehan forever.
“I’ve given up all my claims as heir,” he said with a careless shrug. “You always deserved that over me anyway. But the monastery…”
“What?”
“It feels like an old dream. Someone else’s dream.”
“It was yours once, and you wanted nothing more than a life of prayer and fasting and celibacy.”
A flush made his throat as blotchy as if he’d come down with a spotted disease, and then she was sure of it: Therehadbeen a woman during that winter in the hills.
“Someday,” she said with a raised brow, “you’ll have to tell me all the details about your winter travels.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He gripped the pommel of his saddle as tightly as he’d held those secrets from her, despite all her prying. “Since I have no real choice in this matter, the monastery it is.Fini.But I do have a confession for you.”
She perked up.
“You were right,” he said, “all along.”
“Music to my ears,” she said. “But about what?”
“About Sir Jehan.” Laurent glanced forward to where Jehan still talked in a low voice to Thibaud and a man-at-arms. “He’s an honorable man, in the end.”
“Of course he is.” Laurent’s belated respect only tightened the knot in her belly, but she forced herself not hold anger too close. If she dwelled too long on Laurent’s part in this separation, she would grow to resent him. “You should have taken me at my word.”
He squinted up at the cloudless sky. “Hard riding under an open sky makes for strange bedfellows and unexpected alliances,” he said, “but it wouldn’t have changed a single thing I did.”
“Of course not,” she said tightly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You never do.”
“Respect my wishes, Laury.”
“I would, if time weren’t running out—”
“Look,” she interrupted, kicking her horse forward, determined to change the subject. “Thibaud is checking the hooves of Jehan’s horse.”
“You’re changing the subject.” The leather of his saddle creaked as her brother easily kept pace. “There’s proof you’re more stubborn than me.”
“Jehan’s horse must have thrown a shoe, don’t you think?”
“I know he loves you, Ally.”
The air rushed out of her.
“If he had married you, I would have been proud to call him my brother.”
Then the clatter of hooves brought her attention to Jehan, upon his horse, riding bold and hard toward them.
“Don’t reach for your swords,” Jehan said in a low voice, yanking his horse to a stop. “Men up ahead. A dozen maybe.”
He spoke to the men-at-arms behind her, avoiding her gaze.
