A True and Perfect Knight by Rue Allyn

not, and the men went away. Mama screamed at you. You are a bad man.”
    “No. I am not a bad man.”
    The child shrugged out of Haven’s grip, doubt drawn in the boy’s raised eyebrows and the mouth that had ceased trembling.
    Despite the rage that poured through Haven at the thought of the woman’s pain, he kept his voice calm. He did not want to frighten the boy.
    “What did these bad men do?”
    “They stole our food. When Mama tried to chase them away, they threw stones at us and kicked her.”
    “Did I throw stones or kick your mama?”
    The boy crinkled his brow. “No. But she screamed at you.”
    “Women scream for many reasons.”
    “Not Mama.” Thomas’s expression twisted into a determined pout.
    “Mayhap not. But you have my word that I did not harm your mama.”
    “I do not believe you.” Thomas thrust his arms out and shoved with surprising strength for one so young.
    Unprepared for this new assault, Haven swayed before bracing himself with his hands, then rose to his full height.
    The boy ran in the opposite direction. “Stay away from Mama,” trailed behind him.
    Haven stood, amazed that anyone, even a child of Thomas’s inexperience, would question his word.
    Footsteps approached from the direction of the tent.
    “Do you now bully children as well as defenseless women, Sir Haven?”
    Haven felt anger tighten his neck and shoulders. Who was this sultry-voiced witch to think she could call him a bully? In one swift movement, he turned to face her.
    “No, madame, I do not threaten children, or defenseless women. By all rights I should have killed your nurse for drawing a weapon on me. But I tolerate even that out of concern for your person.”
    Incredibly she gave a snort of disbelief.
    He had to put her in her place. “Do not imagine, madame, that your meager charms bewitch me.” Haven leaned forward and spoke softly, his face a quill’s breadth from hers. “I do not like you, Madame Genvieve Elise des Jardins Dreyford. I do not like your manners. I despise the treason you inspired in my good friend, your husband.”
    He grabbed his gloves from his belt and saw her cringe. Did she imagine he would strike her?
    “You are entirely too independent for your own good and will bring disaster on us all unless you learn how to take orders. Had I the choice, I would see you burn at the stake like the witch you are. But I do not have that choice. King Edward orders that I bring you to him. Bring you to him I will, and no one will be able to say you suffered harm in my charge.”
    “How dare you, sir.”
    He ignored her outrage. “Even more important to me, I swore an oath to your husband to guard his family. I will perform my duty to the king, and I will keep you safe until I bring you to him, with or without your cooperation. Even if I must protect you from yourself. Do you understand me?”
    Genvieve tucked her chin in toward her neck and nodded, too furious to speak.
    “Good. Now wait here. We will leave as soon as I am mounted.” He strode away casually, slapping his gloves against his thigh.
     
    Gennie goggled at his retreating backside. Her hands fisted at her sides. Her feelings seethed in rank confusion and boiled unchecked out of her mouth. “You bullheaded ox. How dare you accuse me of fostering treason, when you yourself betrayed your best friend to the hangman’s noose.”
    She saw de Sessions’s shoulders tighten and his stride hesitate, but he walked on, ignoring her verbal stab.
    Just who did the high-and-mighty Haven de Sessions think he was to say she was too independent? If what he claimed was true, she wanted the same thing he did, safety for Thomas and his family. Of course, men rarely meant what they said. Roger and his broken marriage vows were proof of that.
    Gennie shook her head slowly. She had no intention of learning how to take orders from a lout like Sir Haven de Sessions. Imagine calling her a witch and insulting her manners, as if his own unmannered display