[The deBurghs 07] - Reynold De Burgh: The Dark Knight by Deborah Simmons Page B

to ride into battle on a unicorn, he thought, swallowing a snort. In order to accomplish that, according to the bestiaries, he would have to find out where one lived and bait the place with a virgin. He nearly laughed aloud at the likelihood of that…although Mistress Sexton might volunteer.
    Reynold sucked in a harsh breath as he pictured her lying on a green bower, long strands of her golden hair flowing about her, smooth and bright as ribbons. For a moment, his chest ached with the beauty of the vision, but he pushed it aside firmly. There was no point in taunting himself, a lesson that he had learned the hard way.
    Lest he forget himself and fall prey to Mistress Sexton’s charms, Reynold forced himself to remember the visit to Longacre years ago when he had realised the depth of his difference.
    The de Burghs had been visiting a noble family with several daughters and fostered girls, probably in a misguided attempt by Campion to expose his sons to a female household. But the earl was not pleased with the outcome, as the young women fluttered around the boys and Stephen was caught in a compromising situation that enraged their host and curtailed future stays at noble homes.
    In his mind’s eye Reynold could see each one of the girls. Pale and soft, with high voices and flashing smiles, they had been more exotic and enticing than the finest sweets. But it was Amice who had enthralled Reynold. He had thought her beautiful, perhaps as beautiful as he now thought Mistress Sexton.
    Indeed, probably more so, because his young heart had not yet been hardened. He had trailed after her like a lovesick puppy, and she had tolerated him, no doubt in order to gain access to his brothers. For good or ill, the older de Burghs did not notice or else did not care to share the obvious: that Amice did not return his admiration.
    Reynold had had to find that out for himself. He had come upon a gaggle of the girls giggling and whispering, only to stop short when he heard his name mentioned in her company.
    ‘He is quite taken with you, as everyone can tell. What say you?’
    ‘Reynold? Why should I be stuck with the lame one?’ Amice asked in a petulant voice. ‘Let one of the fostered girls have him. I’ve my eye on another de Burgh.’
    And that was the way of it, then and always, as the boys grew into men. If they chanced to meet a wellborn woman, she preferred one of his brothers—or even his father.
    In the back of Reynold’s mind, he might have thought that by leaving them behind, he would no longer suffer in comparison. But he could not leave behind his leg, which soon gave evidence to all that he was the de Burgh who was different, the lame one.
     
    The next morning, Sabina sat at the head of the manor’s table for the first time in a long while. For years she had taken her place beside her father, looking out over a hall bustling with residents and servants. But those few who remained in Grim’s End these days usually gathered elsewhere, in the kitchens or cellars or a villager’s empty home, to eat. They varied their movements and their sanctuaries, so as to avoid attack. And that lack of routine and comfort had become their lives—until now.
    Sabina hoped that sort of existence was over, yet she sorely felt the lack of her household, knowing that she could not present her guest with all that she would have in the past. Although Lord de Burgh didnot look like the type who would be impressed by much, he was probably accustomed to far more than she could provide.
    She told herself that he was just a man, like any other, and not the first knight she had known. But when he entered the hall, Sabina realised just how wrong she was. Reynold de Burgh was not like anyone else she had ever seen. Tall, dark, lean and handsome, he might have been excused for some conceit, but he did not even appear to be aware of his own good looks.
    As he slowly made his way across the tiled hall, Sabina decided it was the way he held himself