The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

efficiency of Spelthorne’s servants. In fact, they moved swifter than any servants they had ever seen, almost a panic to the movements, as if fearful they would not be just as fast and competent as their master wanted them to be.
    The man known as The Iron Knight.
    As Juno watched the last of the hot water poured into the tub, she was coming to wonder if the nickname of the man she was betrothed to meant more than simply his durability on the field of battle. She wondered if it was in his manner, too. Was he a man so old and battle-hardened that there was a sword where his heart should be and a shield and chain mail where his soul once rested? For servants to be so swift, and so rigidly efficient, surely Sir Lucien de Russe was far more in his manner than simply a man who fought for the king and administered justice in the name of the crown.
    Perhaps he had an iron fist, as well.
    With that frightening thought, she went about preparing to meet the man with a reputation that was coming to consume her thoughts.
    Papa… who is this man you have pledged me to?
    *
    “It is fortunate the day is warm,” Lucien said. “I believe our clothing has dried sufficiently. At least, I am no longer dripping.”
    He’d meant it as a joke, smiling, because his heart was lighter this day than it had been in a very long while. What had started off as a very bad day had, after a few rough patches, grown into one of the better days of his life.
    Spelthorne Castle was in the distance and he had already pointed it out to the ladies, which had conveniently caused him to turn and look at them. Truthfully, he really wanted to look at Sophina but he was pretending that every glance in her direction or ever word out of his mouth had some sort of greater purpose. It didn’t. He was just trying to be very casual about speaking with her.
    All he wanted to do was speak with her.
    As for Sophina, the past two hours had seen her struggling not to warm to the man who had saved her and her daughter. She was, indeed, trying very hard not to but it was oh so difficult.
    What wasn’t to like? He was tall, broad, strong, and very handsome, she thought. She liked his long, dark hair with streaks of gray at the temples. She liked his square jaw with the big cleft in the chin, and his eyes… they were an odd color, a sort of muddy brown, but they were beautiful. At least, she thought they were. In fact, there wasn’t one thing about Lucien de Russe that she didn’t find handsome or charming, and it made her sick to her stomach. Why couldn’t her father have pledged her to someone like de Russe? The answer was obvious, of course.
    Lucien de Russe was far too good for her.
    But that didn’t stop her from dreaming. They’d covered two hours, chatting about a variety of things, but it seemed like two minutes. She felt as if she had known him forever but the truth was that she didn’t know him at all. She very much wanted to. Her thoughts were lingering heavily on the man when Oswald the ferret suddenly slithered out of Emmaline’s arms and onto the dusty road.
    In response, Emmaline slid off the horse to run after her naughty pet, leaving Sophina alone on the big gray beast, watching her daughter as she chased down the cavorting ferret. At the horse’s head, Lucien snorted at Emmaline’s antics.
    “I thought all young ladies had tame and obedient pets,” he commented. “I hesitate to say that your ferret friend does not seem very obedient.”
    Sophina laughed softly. “He is very affectionate and loving,” she said. “But he has not learned much obedience. It is my daughter’s fault, truly; she does not have the heart to discipline him.”
    Lucien was watching the young girl romp around in the grass beside the road where the ferret was giving her a good chase. “And you think you could do better?”
    Sophina feigned insult. “Of course I can,” she insisted. “I am a mother. It is my job to discipline.”
    Lucien lifted his eyebrows. “Is that