A Lord for Haughmond Read Online Free Page A

and gave you a future doesn’t endow you with the right to beset me with your opinions.” He vented an exasperated sigh and tried to rein in his growing ire. “And you’d best remember to speak the King’s English, if you expect to become a knight.”
         Simon sliced him a sidelong glance at the rebuke. “’Tis a holy portent ta have stumbled upon Sir Robert’s daughters.” An unbidden smile tugged at his lips.
         Rhys arched a speculative brow. “The younger sister has a charming face, do you not agree?”
         His squire ducked his head in embarrassment.
         “One to inspire a new adventure, methinks.”
         Simon’s chin jutted out in defiance.
         He laughed aloud. Yea, his squire was indeed smitten.
         Simon spied the loitering knights. “What are ye two buggers gapin’ at?”
         His surliness prompted them to set off to search the miserable Welsh camp while trying, without success, to contain their mirth.
         Rhys swung about and set spurs to his horse. But abruptly he reined in the destrier with an angry oath. The heavy hooves dug into the frozen turf as the stallion jerked to a halt.
         “Stay, Zeus!” His arm slashed the air in a commanding arc. Beside him, the dog stopped in his tracks, his broad, shaggy head lowering. He gave the hound a rueful look. “You’ve suffered ample abuse for one day. ’Tis unnecessary to purchase more.” 
         A lop-sided grin played on Simon’s face. “Come on, ye beggar.” He withdrew a piece of dried venison from the leather pouch strapped across his shoulder and tossed it to the alan, who snapped up the offering. “Yer beloved master will have powerful trouble without ye addin’ ta the fray.” The dog’s long, pink tongue lolled out at the side of his mouth. His lips drawn back gave the appearance of a smile.
         Simon chuckled. “Ye agree ’tis a fool’s errand.” He threw Rhys a provocative glance. “Which is more wearisome, Zeus, the long days in the cold or challengin’ Sir Geoffrey to the death?”
         Clenching his teeth to prevent further comment, Rhys tapped his destrier’s ribs and galloped off into the glooming forest.
     
    *  *  *
     
         “God’s bones!” Sir Rhys’s angry expletive echoed through the trees.
         Hidden in a thicket of hemlocks, wanting naught to do with the ill-tempered knight, Katherine held her breath and prayed they had not left tracks.
         The knight passed them, examining the ground as he went, and disappeared from view. But presently he returned, his eyes yet on the ground as he leaned over his mount’s withers.
         Anne bolted from Katherine’s grip. “Have pity, Sir Rhys!” Stumbling from behind the trees, she prostrated herself upon the frozen ground. “I beseech you, be merciful.”
         The knight flinched. 
         Katherine did likewise, self-condemnation welling up within her at the sight of her sister’s anguish. Verily, she had muddled their escape. Filled with shame, she hurried to Anne.  
         But Sir Rhys brushed past her. Having dismounted, he lifted the weeping Anne in his arms and carefully deposited her into the high-backed saddle.
         “By God’s grace, we’ll recover your lost courage,” he said with a strained smile. Turning, he beckoned to Katherine and offered his interlaced fingers. “I have no pillion, but mayhap we can fit, if we sit tight.”
         Reluctantly she set a boot in his hands and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder for balance. A jolt of heat surged through her at the contact. He was strong and young, with muscles developed for war. Gladdened when his boost settled her astride the horse, when she could remove her hand from the rugged shoulder that strained beneath his chain mail, she dared not venture a look in his direction.
         Faith, when had the mere touch of a man been so nettling?
         “’Tis not my wont to