Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) by Kathryn Le Veque

Chloë gazed at the guts of the
towering structure, she began to notice scorch marks everywhere – around the
keep windows, upon the walls, near the portcullis.  Burn marks were heavy and
frequent, a reminder perhaps of the terrible siege three years prior.  She
didn’t dare ask St. Hèver, who had dismounted his charger and was shouting
orders to the men as he made his way back to where the women were still mounted
near the portcullis.  
    As he approached, Chloë couldn’t
help but notice that he had not made eye contact with her, in any fashion.  It
convinced her more and more that the man wanted nothing to do with her as a
result of their rough beginning and her disappointment was growing.  She
watched him until he came to stand next to her, still snapping orders to the
men around him.  Without a word to her, and still speaking to his soldiers, he
reached down and pulled her foot from the stirrup.  Then he extended his
enormous arms and scooped her out of the saddle.
    Heart beating loudly against her
ribs at his closeness, Chloë wrapped her arms around his big neck as he carried
her across the muddy bailey towards the keep. Over her shoulder, she could hear
Cassandra’s voice and she glanced back to see her sister arguing with Pembury. 
The big knight was apparently trying to offer his services to help the lady
across the foul bailey but Cassandra was being stubborn about it. Chloë suspect
it was all for show, for she’d never known her sister to show such attention,
good or bad, to any man. Perhaps there was something more going on than
Cassandra would admit.  Fighting off a grin, Chloë returned her attention to
St. Hèver and the approaching keep.
    The man was so close that she
could see the stubble on his face and the pores of his skin.  He had thick,
dark blond eyelashes, the same dark blond color as his hair and eyebrows, and
unnaturally pale blue eyes.  He was focused on the keep ahead and still hadn’t
said a word to her.   Once they reached the steps, Keir set her to her feet.
    “If you will go up the stairs,
there is an entry hall that should have a warm fire blazing,” he told her.
    Chloë simply nodded and Keir
actually met her eye for the first time in two days.  When their gazes locked,
she felt a shock go through her, something that made her heart race even
faster.  She wasn’t sure if he felt it also but he lowered his gaze quickly,
too quickly, and turned back for the bailey.  Perhaps he felt it and didn’t
want to. Chloë reached out and stopped him.
    “My lord,” she said politely.
“May… may I have a word with you?”
    Keir paused and exhaled heavily;
she could see it.  He turned to look at her again, his expression cold and
guarded.
    “Of course, my lady,” he said
with strained patience. “How may I be of service?”
    Now she had his attention,
suddenly self-conscious and the least bit nervous.  She pulled the cloak more
tightly about her slight figure, thinking on how to phrase what she must say. 
She could only think of one way to say it - the truth.
    “I am sorry that my sister and I
are here,” she said softly.  “Surely the last thing you need at a garrison is
two women and I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.  Please know it was
not my idea and given the choice, I would happily return to Exelby so as not to
be a burden on your good graces.”
    Keir stared at her, feeling the
resurgence of the warm emotions he had experienced two days ago, the ones that
had scared the hell out of him. Now they were back with a vengeance as he gazed
at her porcelain skin and cold-pinked cheeks framed by that glorious deep red
hair.  It was at that moment that he noticed she cut her hair rather oddly, as
she had a fringe of bangs across her forehead, framing her face and eyes,
something that only made her more angelic in his opinion. It was strange but
wholly attractive.  He was under her spell and slipping fast.
    “No need to apologize, my lady,”
he said,