A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series by Laurel O'Donnell Page A

head. “I don't think he cared who I was friends with. He never asked me. All that was important to him was his vow and gaining lands. Not my happiness.”
    There was something sad in her words, some underlying tension between her father and her that was obviously bothering her. “Women are often not consulted in their betrothal.”
    Grace looked down at the bread in her hands, shaking her head. A scowl marred her brow. “I never want to see him again,” she whispered and tore a piece off.
    Surprise rocked him. Her own father. She never wanted to see her father again. He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and was shocked. His surprise gave way to anger. “Did he hurt you?”
    She didn’t look up. “He was my father,” she said quietly. “Why would he hurt me?”
    The question was directed at herself as much as him. She looked fragile and frightened. A sudden image of Lord Alan raising an angry fist and Grace cowering before him flashed in William’s mind. His jaw tightened. He knew some men kept their women in line with a stern fist and an occasional beating, a philosophy he had never agreed with. “Did he hit you?”
    Grace shook her head, but didn’t look at him.
    He didn’t know if he believed her. And it wasn’t his place to ask.
    Grace’s shoulders drooped and her head bowed.
    William had the sudden urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, to hold her. But he knew she would only pull away from his touch. Instead, he reached to her and placed a comforting hand on her wrist. “At some time you must face him, face your future.”
    She snapped her gaze to him and there was accusation in her eyes. “Have you faced your future?”
    William closed himself off from the sudden, unexpected pain her angry words aroused in him. He slowly removed his hand. He had no right to touch her. “Yes. I know what my future holds.” There was nothing for him. Just penance and a loveless life. No woman would have him. And he deserved none. He didn’t even hope anymore. He tried to live his life honorably after the death of the archbishop. He prayed every night and attended mass when he could. But he lived under no illusion. He knew there was no forgiveness for him.
    “And you are content with it?” Grace wondered.
    “I have accepted my fate.”
    She took a bite of bread and stared into the fire with resolve. “I will not accept mine. I am asking for your help.”
    “Your father will betroth you to another.”
    “He will not be cursed, will he?” She lifted her chin stubbornly.
    Surprised at her sharp, hurtful words, he looked away. No. There were only three other men who could understand what he felt and what he was combating. “As you wish, m’lady. I will do all I can to help you break our betrothal.”

    William had given Grace a blanket for the evening and she curled up in it. One of the first things she had done when cleaning was to make a spot to sleep. It wasn’t as comfortable as her chambers at the castle, but it wasn’t filled with bugs. She had to admit William was more attentive than Curtis ever was. He saw to her comfort, her hunger. And he was honorable, which truthfully surprised her. He had agreed to help her prevent his own marriage to her. For that, she was grateful.
    She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, a large trembling boom shook the ground. She leapt up in a panic. Curtis’s horse whinnied and stomped its foot. William’s horse remained calm, gazing out the door. Rain pelted the ground outside the doorway of the cottage in an onslaught of large, hard drops. It was raining. Not just raining, storming!
    William was outside, caught in the thick of it!
    She stepped forward, her hands stretched out in the darkness so she wouldn’t bump into anything. The blanket slid off her shoulders. The blackness inside the cottage was so complete, she couldn’t see anything.
    Another flash of lightning lit the room and she used the flash of light to quickly make her way to the door.