![Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02]](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/573340/thumbs/152x264/susan-king-celtic-nights-02.jpg)
another they came toward her, some bumbling and drunken, a few edgy and intense. Despite the haze of the herbal potion, she maintained dignity and quiet.
Most advances or overtures she ignored until the knights walked away to echoes of laughter. Others were bolder, rougher, pulling on her, even caressing her. Laughter rippled out like haunting music, low male voices with scarcely a female titter among them. Her sense of desperation and fear grew.
She batted hands away, turned her head to avoid drunken kisses. Beside her, the swan hissed continually, rocking his head sinuously on his neck, raising his wings to strike blows.
One of the men tried to lift her, and Artan lunged, his wing striking the man's forearm. Juliana heard the sickening crack of bone. The man howled, grabbing at his arm and stepping back.
"My wrist! The bird has snapped my wrist!" he howled. Some of those watching laughed, while some saluted the swan's prowess.
Another knight came forward and yanked on her arm. Juliana shook free of his grip, while Artan flapped his wings and snaked out his neck. The knight stepped out of the swan's reach and stroked Juliana's face, making cooing noises.
In a fury of anger and instinct, she bit his finger.
The man shrieked and jerked back his arm to strike her. In that moment, a dark-haired knight stepped out of the crowd and strode forward, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
"Leave her be," he growled.
"Wild swan bitch," the other man muttered. "She cannot be tamed—I leave her to you, Avenel!" He stumbled away.
The knight in black stepped back into the crowd, watching Juliana steadily. She stared at him, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, her hair wisping over her eyes. His face seemed familiar, yet she could not place the meeting or name the man.
Even without that protective gesture, she might have noticed him. He was a raven among peacocks, dressed in black amid the brightly garbed knights. Taller than average, broad-shouldered and lean, he was unsmiling, while the others grinned and chatted. His dark eyes were intense, and glossy black hair framed a face of chiseled masculine beauty. Quiet power emanated from him.
Yet he stood awaiting his own turn with her. Juliana looked away. His gesture was possessive, not protective.
Another knight came toward the cart and slurred a greeting. He reached out and grabbed her arm.
"One night in my bed will tame her! Come here, little swan!" The audience laughed and called out encouragements.
Juliana kicked and struggled, and Artan hissed, straining at his chain. The knight lifted an arm to defend against a powerful wing blow, dragging Juliana halfway out of the cart.
"Release her," the king ordered. "This grows tedious. 'Tis poor chivalry and poor spectacle. Move on. Next!"
The knight set her roughly on her feet on the floor and walked away muttering. Juliana leaned against the cart, legs shaking.
"The Swan Maiden needs taming, and requires a lesson," Edward called out. "This display has been amusing, but there are priests and ladies among us. We cannot offend them. Who here can win her obedience—and her love?"
Juliana stood straight, though her head spun and her knees were weak. She waited, proud and still, neck and shoulders tensing beneath the weight of the collar and chains.
A knight stepped forward, a young man with light brown hair and a pretty face that would mature into handsomeness. Artan stretched his neck to utter a snakelike hiss, widening his wings.
"My—my lady," the knight said. "I wish you no harm."
She leaned her head against the cart, feeling dull-witted and weary. Artan hissed. The knight glanced nervously at the bird. "Robin... Sir Robert Avenel is my name. My stepbrother is Sir Gawain Avenel, the man who just championed you. I would be your champion, too." He smiled awkwardly.
Her glance flickered toward Gawain Avenel, the knight in black, who watched with a grim frown.
"If you please, my lady, consent to come with me." The
Most advances or overtures she ignored until the knights walked away to echoes of laughter. Others were bolder, rougher, pulling on her, even caressing her. Laughter rippled out like haunting music, low male voices with scarcely a female titter among them. Her sense of desperation and fear grew.
She batted hands away, turned her head to avoid drunken kisses. Beside her, the swan hissed continually, rocking his head sinuously on his neck, raising his wings to strike blows.
One of the men tried to lift her, and Artan lunged, his wing striking the man's forearm. Juliana heard the sickening crack of bone. The man howled, grabbing at his arm and stepping back.
"My wrist! The bird has snapped my wrist!" he howled. Some of those watching laughed, while some saluted the swan's prowess.
Another knight came forward and yanked on her arm. Juliana shook free of his grip, while Artan flapped his wings and snaked out his neck. The knight stepped out of the swan's reach and stroked Juliana's face, making cooing noises.
In a fury of anger and instinct, she bit his finger.
The man shrieked and jerked back his arm to strike her. In that moment, a dark-haired knight stepped out of the crowd and strode forward, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
"Leave her be," he growled.
"Wild swan bitch," the other man muttered. "She cannot be tamed—I leave her to you, Avenel!" He stumbled away.
The knight in black stepped back into the crowd, watching Juliana steadily. She stared at him, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, her hair wisping over her eyes. His face seemed familiar, yet she could not place the meeting or name the man.
Even without that protective gesture, she might have noticed him. He was a raven among peacocks, dressed in black amid the brightly garbed knights. Taller than average, broad-shouldered and lean, he was unsmiling, while the others grinned and chatted. His dark eyes were intense, and glossy black hair framed a face of chiseled masculine beauty. Quiet power emanated from him.
Yet he stood awaiting his own turn with her. Juliana looked away. His gesture was possessive, not protective.
Another knight came toward the cart and slurred a greeting. He reached out and grabbed her arm.
"One night in my bed will tame her! Come here, little swan!" The audience laughed and called out encouragements.
Juliana kicked and struggled, and Artan hissed, straining at his chain. The knight lifted an arm to defend against a powerful wing blow, dragging Juliana halfway out of the cart.
"Release her," the king ordered. "This grows tedious. 'Tis poor chivalry and poor spectacle. Move on. Next!"
The knight set her roughly on her feet on the floor and walked away muttering. Juliana leaned against the cart, legs shaking.
"The Swan Maiden needs taming, and requires a lesson," Edward called out. "This display has been amusing, but there are priests and ladies among us. We cannot offend them. Who here can win her obedience—and her love?"
Juliana stood straight, though her head spun and her knees were weak. She waited, proud and still, neck and shoulders tensing beneath the weight of the collar and chains.
A knight stepped forward, a young man with light brown hair and a pretty face that would mature into handsomeness. Artan stretched his neck to utter a snakelike hiss, widening his wings.
"My—my lady," the knight said. "I wish you no harm."
She leaned her head against the cart, feeling dull-witted and weary. Artan hissed. The knight glanced nervously at the bird. "Robin... Sir Robert Avenel is my name. My stepbrother is Sir Gawain Avenel, the man who just championed you. I would be your champion, too." He smiled awkwardly.
Her glance flickered toward Gawain Avenel, the knight in black, who watched with a grim frown.
"If you please, my lady, consent to come with me." The
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