tearing into the hall as Lord Barton and I sealed our pact. Rather bold for a mere serving wench, wouldn’t you say?”
The two men’s eyes met and Lilliane knew some understanding passed between them.
“Well, then, I leave you to your sport.” Dunn shrugged. “But bear in mind that she’s got the advantage. She no doubt knows exactly which way the wind blows. She’s on her home ground.”
“It’s my home ground now as well,” Sir Corbett countered. He released his hold on Lilliane and watched as she scurried across the room. “I’ll soon know which way the wind blows also.”
Lilliane had to fight down her panic as the other knight departed. As frightened as she’d been at being caught in such awkward circumstances, there was something in her that feared much more being alone with this tall, battle-hardened knight.
Nervously she started to identify herself, then stopped and gathered her courage. He thought her a servant? Well, she would just play the part and see where it might lead. It seemed he was a man who had an eye for a comely maid. If he should become too free with her, she might be able to convince her father that the great Sir Corbett of Colchester was no better than a common, lusty soldier. Certainly he was not worthy of being lord of Orrick!
She peered at him through partially lowered lashes. It would not be easy. He was inordinately tall with muscled arms and shoulders that would put even Orrick’s armorer to shame. But it was more than his physical strength that concerned her. There was a dangerous quality about him. She could not define it any better than that. She only knew he would not be a good person to have as an enemy.
Still, she reminded herself, they were already enemies. He might not recognize that fact, but she did. And she was fighting for her very life. She weighed the circumstances and decided. If she could prove him a dishonorable man, her father would have to break the betrothal. He would have to!
She was standing against the rough limestone wall. Sir Corbett had not moved a step closer to her, and yet when his smoky gray eyes swept over her she felt his gaze as profoundly as a long, lingering touch. To her chagrin she felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she wished devoutly that she could simply disappear into a crack in the wide plank floor.
“Whether a thief or spy, you are surely a pleasure for the eyes,” he commented quietly. Then he abruptly turned away from her and crossed the room to pull a velvet hanging back from one tall, arched window. He peered out into the late-afternoon sunlight.
“I should not be surprised that the ‘lady’ of the castle isn’t here to attend her guest.” He snorted. Then he shot her a sardonic look over his wide shoulder. “I’ll have my bath first, then you can unpack my belongings. Those two tasks should satisfy your curiosity fairly well.”
Lilliane almost snapped an angry retort back at him. Did he truly think she would assist him any further in his bath than seeing that everything he needed was at hand? But she wisely decided caution might be the better course, at least for now. Still, he must have seen the rebellious look in her stormy golden eyes, for his grin widened.
“You’ve a bold manner for a mere serving wench.”
“If you were familiar with Orrick you would know that I’m no ‘mere serving wench,’” she replied, unable to keep a note of belligerence out of her voice.
“Oh?” One dark brow lifted knowingly and his eyes seemed to take in every aspect of her appearance.
For a brief vain moment Lilliane wished she were dressed as befitted the lady of a castle. She knew her gown was serviceable at best, its soft blue long ago faded to drab gray. The linen that bound her hair was plain as well, and without even a wimple to add some dignity.
But then reason returned and she lifted her chin haughtily. She didn’t care what he thought. She would never care what anyone from Colchester thought.
Noting her
The two men’s eyes met and Lilliane knew some understanding passed between them.
“Well, then, I leave you to your sport.” Dunn shrugged. “But bear in mind that she’s got the advantage. She no doubt knows exactly which way the wind blows. She’s on her home ground.”
“It’s my home ground now as well,” Sir Corbett countered. He released his hold on Lilliane and watched as she scurried across the room. “I’ll soon know which way the wind blows also.”
Lilliane had to fight down her panic as the other knight departed. As frightened as she’d been at being caught in such awkward circumstances, there was something in her that feared much more being alone with this tall, battle-hardened knight.
Nervously she started to identify herself, then stopped and gathered her courage. He thought her a servant? Well, she would just play the part and see where it might lead. It seemed he was a man who had an eye for a comely maid. If he should become too free with her, she might be able to convince her father that the great Sir Corbett of Colchester was no better than a common, lusty soldier. Certainly he was not worthy of being lord of Orrick!
She peered at him through partially lowered lashes. It would not be easy. He was inordinately tall with muscled arms and shoulders that would put even Orrick’s armorer to shame. But it was more than his physical strength that concerned her. There was a dangerous quality about him. She could not define it any better than that. She only knew he would not be a good person to have as an enemy.
Still, she reminded herself, they were already enemies. He might not recognize that fact, but she did. And she was fighting for her very life. She weighed the circumstances and decided. If she could prove him a dishonorable man, her father would have to break the betrothal. He would have to!
She was standing against the rough limestone wall. Sir Corbett had not moved a step closer to her, and yet when his smoky gray eyes swept over her she felt his gaze as profoundly as a long, lingering touch. To her chagrin she felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she wished devoutly that she could simply disappear into a crack in the wide plank floor.
“Whether a thief or spy, you are surely a pleasure for the eyes,” he commented quietly. Then he abruptly turned away from her and crossed the room to pull a velvet hanging back from one tall, arched window. He peered out into the late-afternoon sunlight.
“I should not be surprised that the ‘lady’ of the castle isn’t here to attend her guest.” He snorted. Then he shot her a sardonic look over his wide shoulder. “I’ll have my bath first, then you can unpack my belongings. Those two tasks should satisfy your curiosity fairly well.”
Lilliane almost snapped an angry retort back at him. Did he truly think she would assist him any further in his bath than seeing that everything he needed was at hand? But she wisely decided caution might be the better course, at least for now. Still, he must have seen the rebellious look in her stormy golden eyes, for his grin widened.
“You’ve a bold manner for a mere serving wench.”
“If you were familiar with Orrick you would know that I’m no ‘mere serving wench,’” she replied, unable to keep a note of belligerence out of her voice.
“Oh?” One dark brow lifted knowingly and his eyes seemed to take in every aspect of her appearance.
For a brief vain moment Lilliane wished she were dressed as befitted the lady of a castle. She knew her gown was serviceable at best, its soft blue long ago faded to drab gray. The linen that bound her hair was plain as well, and without even a wimple to add some dignity.
But then reason returned and she lifted her chin haughtily. She didn’t care what he thought. She would never care what anyone from Colchester thought.
Noting her
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