A Knight of Honor by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

proper way to treat a knight of the realm.
    Suddenly, a dark shape shifted in the shadows across the room and Slane felt his body stiffen.   Somebody was in his room!   He glanced quickly to his right, at the sword still secured in its scabbard, leaning against a chair leg on the other side of the room.   Damn.   Too far.
    “I would have given my payment back to see the look on your face when you got my note,” a feminine voice said, its owner stepping out of the shadows to stand at the side of the tub.
    Even though she was clothed in a dark brown robe, a hood half concealing her face, Slane recognized her immediately.   “You...” he muttered, his voice an unbelieving whisper.   The Sullivan woman!   His fingers dug into the edge of the basin; he could feel his nails sink into the wood.   His eyes narrowed to thin slits as his mind transformed the wood into the soft flesh of her neck.   What in God’s blood was she doing here?
    “Are you happy to see me?” she wondered, laughter in her voice.   She grabbed a chair from the bed side and slid it over to the tub so its back was near his hand.   She threw her leg over it, straddling it.   “I heard you were looking for me.”
    Slane sat motionless.   Here she was, the woman he had been searching for, sitting in a chair not more than a foot from him, and all he could do was stare dumbfounded at her.   In the flickering candlelight the bruised and battered face he remembered was gone, replaced by a cheek so smoothly rounded that he found himself entranced by its perfection.   He caught the scent of lavender about her as a soft breeze brushed past the open shutters and circled the room, blanketing him in the delicate aroma.   He felt a stirring beneath the water and shifted his body lower into the tub so his manhood would not break the water’s surface.   It’s just a woman’s cheek, Slane derided himself.   You’ve seen hundreds of them before.
    He watched her lips turn down in a slight pout before she threw back the hood.   Her dark hair tumbled wildly over her shoulders as the material slipped away from her head.   He immediately noticed the perfect fullness of her lips; the earlier swelling that had disfigured them was completely gone.
    “Were you looking for me or have my sources been wrong?”
    Slane felt the throbbing in his loins increase tenfold.   He slunk lower into the tub, draping his arm casually between his thighs.   She was an absolutely stunning creature.   How could he have known that hiding behind those bruises was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen?   He forced himself to look away.   She deserved his contempt for what she had done to him, not his lust.   “You know damn well I’ve been looking for you,” he retorted.   “Have you come here to ridicule me for failing to find you?”
    “Well...” she teased, laughter still in her voice, a smile on her face.
    Damn her.   Slane studied her reflection in the smooth water of the bath.   “Why are you here?” he gritted, thinking again of his sword lying uselessly on the other side of the room.
    “Cut to the point, eh, Slane?   Well, all right.”   Her face lost all its humor.   “Why were you looking for me?”
    “Why ask me?   Didn’t your ‘sources’ tell you?” Slane drawled, his voice thick with acrimony.
    “Slane Donovan,” she mused and he was startled by the tenderness in her voice.   “I used to hear about you all the time when I was young.   You were a hero.   Slane Donovan this, Slane Donovan that.   You were the best gossip around.”
    Slane raised his eyes to meet hers.   He was surprised by the warmth he saw in those bright green gems...   and was that admiration?   Then the wall slammed down and the glimpse of her soul was gone.
    “Are you going to try to kill me?” she asked.
    Slane bridled.   He was a knight; he did not cut down women...   even if they wielded a sword.   “If you really thought I was hunting you