Margaret Moore - [Maiden & Her Knight 03] by All My Desire Page A

his rumpled clothes as if trying to restore his lost dignity. “For a bastard, you have a lot of gall.”
    “So do you, for a man who takes few risks,” DeFrouchette answered, his voice low but stern and harsh. “The woman is mine, not yours. I went to Bellevoire and got her. Your father paid for this ship and this crew. What have you done, except get drunk and sleep?”
    Osburn put his hands on his hips. “I command here, DeFrouchette, not you. You are in my father’s service, and since I am his son, you will obey me!”
    “I am not in your father’s service, nor am I in yours. I have made a bargain with him, and thus far, I have done what I swore to do.”
    “I represent my father!”
    “Quiet!” Ingar ordered from the stern.
    “You be quiet!” Osburn cried. He waved at the dark country all around them. “There’s nobody around. Do you see any lights? Hear any dogs barking?”
    The man was a drunken fool, Alexander thought as anger boiled within. A spoiled sot, a brat foisted upon him, and he had no right to go within ten feet of—
    “Where is she?” Alexander demanded as he realized Lady Allis was nowhere to be seen. She had been back near Ingar only moments ago, obviously getting as far away from that sot as she could—but where was she now?
    “Ingar, she was in the stern, near you,” he said, striding toward the back of the ship.
    “I was not watching her. I have enough to do to guide the ship and with you arguing fit to call down the Valkyries—”
    “Oh my God!” Osburn wailed like a helpless child. “We’ve lost her!”
    “Not yet, we haven’t.” A sound reached his ears, a splash different from the ones made by the oars. “Damn the woman, she’s gone over the side.”
    “Rest oars!” Ingar ordered as Alexander scanned the dark river and banks behind them.
    The Norsemen stopped rowing, leaning on their oars so that they would act as brakes, but they could not stop the ship immediately.
    Osburn stumbled toward Alexander at the gunwale. “Can you see her? Where is she?”
    There was real panic in his voice, and Alexander knew it was not concern for the lady’s life that caused it.
    “I’ll find her,” he vowed as he wrenched off his boots and threw them on the deck. He tore off his tunic and tossed it aside.
    “You cannot just jump into the river!” Denis protested, hurrying to his side. “You will drown!”
    The ship, already on an angle from the extra weight, rocked more, making the Norsemen sitting on the side curse. Denis quickly moved back toward the center.
    Alexander put his hands on the gunwale. “I can swim.”
    Denis didn’t know of the days Alexander had spent by the miller’s pond in his childhood, catching frogs to supplement the meager fare his mother could provide.
    Alexander dropped into the frigid river, which was deeper than he expected. The cold water hit him like a slap, nearly paralyzing him, but he got his legs to move and rose to the surface, gasping for air. Fighting the cold as he treaded the water, he pressed his lips together to keep them from chattering and listened again.
    There! He could hear her wading toward the bank.
    With long, strong strokes his body cleaved the water as he headed toward the sound. He stopped once more to look and listen, and was rewarded with a brief flash of white on the bank. Her gown was red, but she was probably wearing a shift beneath and had gathered up the sodden skirts to run. A few moment’s later, soaked and shivering in the chill night air, he scrambled up the slippery slope after her.
    Once more he looked and listened, holding his breath. He saw a stand of trees not far off. If he were in her place, he would make for that.
    With strides as swift as his swimming, and searching for another flash of white, he ran toward the trees.
    He nearly cried out with triumph when he saw the telltale white. Picking up speed, but mindful that he was on unfamiliar ground, he reached the trees. Now he could hear her raspy panting