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

The heavy rain pelted the earth like a sheet of water, making it difficult to see in the distance. She looked at the tree where William had been sleeping, but couldn’t see anything except shadows of trees swaying in the wind, their branches bending like fingers. “Sir William!” she called. Her heart pounded like the thunder. Her gaze swept the surroundings. “Sir William!” He was probably soaked through.
    A forked tongue of light split the sky and she winced. She stepped out into the downpour, searching desperately. “William!” A loud crack of thunder erupted over her head and she cried out. The storm was alive with anger.
    A shadowy figure stood from beneath a tree.
    Rain drenched her as she stared at the shadow, not sure whether it was Curtis coming back from the grave to punish her or William. The man’s figure approached slowly. She pushed wet strands of hair from her forehead so she could see. As the figure advanced slowly, she pressed her back to the wall of the cottage.
    “What are you doing out here?”
    Relief swept her. It was William, not some dead corpse rising, not some shadow monster, not a bandit. Just William. “It’s raining pretty hard. I thought you’d rather be inside,” she called loudly over the downpour.
    He gently urged her back inside the cottage and followed her. He swept past her to his horse. “You couldn’t sleep?”
    “No,” she said softly. Thunder boomed again over their heads, shaking the small structure. She looked up at the thatched roof, half expecting it all to come down around their heads.
    William moved to the hearth. He fumbled around for a moment before a small fire jumped to life. “Come. Warm yourself.”
    Grateful for the light and the warmth, Grace did not need to be told again. She moved to the hearth and held out her hands, relishing the heat emanating from the fire. She knelt before the hearth.
    He rose and moved back to his horse. When he returned, he draped a blanket over her shoulders.
    She pulled it tight around her. They sat in silence for a long time. “He’s a beautiful horse,” Grace said. “What’s his name?”
    William chuckled and it was a low rolling sound that moved through her body and made her smile. “Hellfire.”
    “Why did you name him that? Such a beautiful animal deserves a more majestic name.”
    “Because when he was young he was rather...stubborn and obstinate. Now...” He let the sentence hang.
    “Now he’s not?” she asked.
    “I was going to say now it’s appropriate.”
    Hellfire. A fitting name that tied well with William’s future. Again, silence settled between them. A crack of thunder rocked the ground. Grace knew the tale. Everyone knew the tale. He and three of his friends had killed Archbishop Thomas Becket. The four knights had all proclaimed it was ordered by the king, but King Henry denied any knowledge of it. They were all excommunicated by Pope Alexander III. That was years ago. She had lost track of what had happened to the murderers. Until her father proclaimed she was to marry one. The darkness spread between them. Even the thunder was quiet. “Are you scared?”
    “Of the thunder and lightning?” William asked.
    “No. Of the afterlife. Of what it holds for you.”
    A long silence lingered between them; even the storm seemed to settle to hear his answer. The fire in the hearth snapped and popped. “I’d be a fool to say no.”
    Grace pulled the blanket around her shoulders as another quake of thunder rumbled over their heads. She felt sorry for him. He certainly wasn’t the image of the monster who killed the archbishop she had fashioned in her mind when she had first heard the tale.
    “Thank you for allowing me cover inside. When the rain stops, I shall return outside.”
    He was so honorable. So thoughtful. It was hard to imagine him wielding a sword in a cathedral to kill a man of the cloth. She looked at him. He stared into the fire, the glow of the flames casting his face in a red hue. He