An Oath Taken by Diana Cosby Page B

continued, resolute to press his point home. “A disobeyed order or act of negligence during combat could cost us our lives. If you cannot even perform the simple task of remaining in my chamber to aid me donning my garb, how can I entrust you to guard my back in the heat of battle?” He shook his head. “The answer is simple. I cannot.”
    The lad swallowed hard. His lower lip trembled. “I didna think—”
    â€œNo,” Nicholas interrupted with a hard edge. “That you did not.” His temper rose another notch as he remembered that none of his guards had witnessed the lad’s departure. “If you had you would not have slipped through my castle like a thief. I refuse to tolerate further insolence, however slight.” He curled his hand on the hilt of his sword. “If you wish to remain as my squire, you will pledge your troth to serve me faithfully from this moment forth. If you cannot do that”—he glanced toward the portcullis—“the gates of the castle are open.” He leaned down to within an inch of Thomas’s face.
    The lad’s eyes widened.
    â€œBut I warn you,” Nicholas said with a dangerous calm. “If you leave, and if I catch you reiving again, you will not have a second chance. You will pay the price for your crimes to their full extent.” He straightened. “ ’Tis your decision. Make it now.”
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    Fear tore through Elizabet as the castellan’s ultimatum to pledge her troth to serve him faithfully now or leave echoed in her mind. She couldna leave now. Nor could she tell him the truth. If he found out she had searched through his ledger to find her brother’s name, he would toss her out on her ear, and rightly so.
    Mary, Mother of God, when had this entire situation gotten so out of hand? The last thing she wished to do was to care about an English knight who served as a pawn for King Edward. She should hate the castellan, despise him, but instead she found herself beginning to trust Nicholas, to respect a man who should by all rights be her enemy.
    â€œ ’Tis the decision so hard?” Nicholas snapped.
    She jumped as heat stole up her cheeks. The turmoil roiling through her threatened to shatter her fragile hold on her riotous emotions. “I—I will stay.”
    Nicholas gave a dissatisfied grunt and slid his hand up his leather baldric halting midway. “I am not asking you if you will stay. I am asking for your loyalty. If you are someone I can count on.” He paused, his gaze searching, probing with a fierce intensity. “Are you someone I can trust?”
    This was the only way to save Giric. “Aye. I swear to you, while within your employ, I will serve you well.” The roughness of her reply revealed more of her upset than she wished. She prayed he would take her anguish for shame, her hesitation for humility, and nae ascertain the truths she concealed.
    As he studied her, her respect for the man grew. Though she had pledged fealty to the enemy, he was a man whose word she felt she could trust, and a man whom, if he went into harm’s way, she would follow without question. The castellan’s mouth thinned into a tight line, then he nodded. “Upon my return from morning rounds you will begin training with arms.” He arched a brow. “Do you have a sword?”
    Elizabet shook her head. She couldna tell him that in Wolfhaven Castle, a claymore crafted especially for her sat readied.
    He nodded. “Upon my return I will find you a weapon.”
    She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Sir Nicholas.”
    The tension creasing his face slowly ebbed. A twinkle stole into his eyes. “Mayhap by the end of our first session you will not be so quick in your thanks.”
    At his unexpected teasing she found herself charmed. Shaken, she crossed her arms over her midriff, an ineffectual shield to her growing fascination toward him. Elizabet forced her mind