The Warrior's Reward by Samantha Holt

who surrounded her. He stomped down the spiral stairs, strode across the hall and burst out of the doors before anyone could open them for him. He paused in the bailey and faced Phylip.
    “Speak with her lady-in-waiting.  She shall know something. Both of them were at the morning meal and it is not yet noon. She will likely still be in the village. Mayhap asking for help. Tynewell will want to send his men out but I’m not willing to wait for them. I’ll go ahead. Tell the earl should you find out anything.”
    “Aye, sir.” A slight grin sat on Phylip’s face at the idea of speaking with the lady-in-waiting. The dark-haired woman had a fine face if Ieuan recalled, though in truth, he could hardly remember. His betrothed was quite the distraction.
    Ieuan headed directly to the stables and was frustrated to find he had to wait for Melfed to be saddled. He folded his arms and rested against the door frame of the wood and straw building, the scent of manure making his lips curl in distaste. When his stables were restored, he’d have them cleaned out before the morning even started.
    When his destrier was finally saddled, he climbed on with ease and bunched the reins in his hands, taking a moment to enjoy the leather pressing against his palms. He’d find her and he’d marry her.
    She’d liked him before. Was he only good enough for a dalliance? Good enough to kiss but not good enough to marry him. Mayhap she did not wish to be married to a Welshman. She likely thought him barbaric and a heathen. He allowed himself a grin and spurred the horse down the short slope toward the village. If he caught up with her, he’d show her just how barbaric he could be. He’d have her tied up somewhere until their wedding day.
    Ieuan slowed his horse as he made his way through the pavilion tents. She could be hiding in one of them, he supposed, but for all her impulsiveness, he did not think her that foolish. The tents would be taken down today and then where would she have to hide? Where she even expected to go, he knew not, but her first stop had to be the village.
    He urged Melfed into a gallop once he’d moved past the red and white tents. His own worthless tent had been dismantled and packed away by Bryn as they had slept in the Great Hall last night. Sleeping on a pallet on the floor had certainly been preferable to sleeping in a draughty tent.
    The village sat on a flat piece of land, almost surrounded by a river, save for a stretch of fields that were planted and nearing ready for harvest. He crossed the bridge and nodded to the villagers who dipped their head in greeting. A few congratulations drifted up to him but whether they meant to congratulate him on his betrothal or his victory, he knew not. At present, neither achievement felt worthy of praise. Mayhap once he had his bride safe and sound, he’d be more willing to accept their felicitations.
    The white cottages dictated his path through the village. They were huddled close together, lining the rutted roads through to the other side of the river. Would she have sought shelter in one of them? Most were simple homes and far from the luxury she was used to but most appeared cared for. The walls were clean, the wooden struts dark with recent coats of stain. He doubted she would have entered any of them though. If the tales were true, she rarely set foot outside of the keep and would a peasant even agree to hide her? It would take a brave person indeed to go against their lord.
    Besides which, the village was quiet. Many were in the fields or clearing up after the tournament. So she must have continued on. Where the hell did she expect to go?
    Though forced to trek slowly through along the rough, narrow road, Ieuan forced himself to take deep breaths. He could still catch up with her with ease if she was on foot. No other horses were missing and she’d have had a time trying to sneak out on horseback so he suspected she had to be.
    When he rounded the corner of a tiny