Jennifer August by Knight of the Mist Page A

Her father had been imprisoned by Tristan’s false words and mayhap now, he sought to destroy the damning proof of his own guilt. Smoothing the soap over her breasts she vowed to discover his purpose. Should he return to the keep, she would be ready for him.
    Perhaps ‘twould be wise to carry a sharp dagger instead of her usual eating knife. Thoughts of Quinn and their nearing wedding intruded. She must find a way to hide her plan from his already suspicious glare. Resting her toes on the edge of the basin, she trailed the frothy bar over her legs and a giggle escaped her. Her mother would have been appalled at her mischief, but the thought of the Norman attempting to fit into the small washtub brought on a new bout of laughter.
    “Pray tell, demoiselle, what amuses you so?”
    Stirling gasped and slid beneath the water. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at Quinn’s tall shadow through the screen.
    “Get out!” she hissed, trying to cover her body as though his hungry gray gaze drifted down the length of her, searing her skin through the cloudy water. “Leave this chamber immediately!” Stirling sank further beneath the rapidly cooling surface, swallowing a mouthful of water. She coughed harshly, trying to expel the vile tasting liquid.
    “Are you well, Stirling ?”
    “Aye!” She gasped and coughed again, then cleared her throat.
    “My lord I prefer to finish my bath in private.” Her words were breathlessly hesitant and she groaned aloud.
    “Your pardon, Stirling , I did not intend to interrupt your bath.”
    She heard the barely concealed amusement in his voice and gritted her teeth. “Then why are you here?”
    “To escort you to the chapel. As the new lord and lady of Falcon Fire, we must set a good example for our people, don’t you agree?” He chuckled wickedly.
    She gritted her teeth at his slightly mocking tone. “Of course. ‘Tis how all gently-bred people conduct themselves.”
    He laughed again. “I suggest you complete your toiletry, Stirling . Vespers begin in an hour. I shall await you here, lest you form a sudden desire for more… thinking.” He rapped on the screen and she jumped, sloshing water to the floor. “Quickly, demoiselle, I am most anxious to be wed.”

Chapter Four
    “You cannot stay, ‘tis improper!” Stirling protested loudly from behind the wooden screen.
    Securing the large bathing sheet about her, she peered around the side of the barrier. Quinn made himself at home, sprawled in the large oak chair her father always used. She glared at him, ignoring the flutter his broad shoulders and strong face caused. She cared not a whit that his leather-queued midnight black hair appeared freshly trimmed and now brushed those muscular shoulders. Nor did the fact he wore her colors of red and black endear him to her. She suspected ‘twas a ploy to gain her easy capitulation, and he would soon strip away all that remained of her father’s legacy. “Sir Norman, if you must await me, I insist you do so in the hall.”
    He lifted an arrogantly arched brow, a wicked smile curving his sensuous mouth. “You insist, demoiselle? And what shall you do if I decline?”
    She popped back behind her meager safety. “I will curse you and all your family,” she muttered.
    “Are you a witch, then?” His voice was closer and she gasped, peeking around the frame again. Her nose bumped the broad expanse of his back. She ducked away before he could turn.
    “Nay, sir, I am not, more’s the pity.”
    She inched past the hearth, toward the other side of the screen. The side closest to the bed. The fire sparked, showering the flagstone floor with red embers and she jumped back. “Lucifer’s tail, what next?”
    “Do you require aid dressing, Stirling ? I am more than willing to lend my expertise.” His voice resonated with amusement and she wondered briefly at his good mood. She had the notion the dark warrior rarely found pleasure or humor in anything. Except her. For some