A Lord for Haughmond Read Online Free Page B

aggrieve fair maidens,” Sir Rhys commented in a disgusted tone, cocking a frown up at her. “Natheless, I seem to have succeeded this day.”      
         Katherine felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He had noticed her discomposure. She darted an embarrassed glance in the opposite direction.
         The knight swung up behind her, jostling her within his arms as he wrapped the leather straps around his gauntlets.
         But as the steed was nudged toward the hillock, Katherine found the hard, chain-clad frame at her back not unsettling, but reassuring. In truth, the knight’s presence gave succor to her flagging spirits. For the first time in days she was not burdened with fear of the morrow. The mighty dread overwhelming her and the body-splitting weariness that was her constant companion since Aunt Matilda died in her arms, faded away. With a heavy sigh she relaxed against the stalwart chest.
         “God’s mercy!” 
         While the knight hauled on the reins, his bellow in her ear nigh deafened Katherine. The horse lunged to a stop. Betwixt Sir Rhys’s long arms, she jerked upright and rubbed the back of her head where she had met unforgiving armor.
         “Sit aright, else I’ll be off my horse’s ars—rump!” he commanded.
         Katherine shifted her hips, trying to shimmy closer to the leather saddle. But with her legs dangling on either side of the destrier’s haunches and her wounded hand useless, she found no leverage.
         In the next instant, powerful hands encircled her waist, lifted her as though she were a feather, took her breath away as she was settled up against the high-backed saddle. Sir Rhys pressed behind her, his sinewy thighs cradling her buttocks and legs.
         She resented the pain where the saddle cut into her breasts, resented as well the disturbing apposition of the knight. “’Twas unnecessary to manhandle me,” she muttered. Her skin tingled where his armor rubbed against her spine, while her cheeks flushed with heat.
         He slapped the reins and his mount moved into a walk. “’Twas most necessary, Lady Katherine.” His murmured breath tickled her ear. “A horse has a limited magnitude. You would not wish me to fall onto my—the ground. ’Twould be most ungracious of you when I have rescued you this day.” His voice lowered all the more. “And ’tis possible more Welshmen do lurk hereabouts. You would not have me attacked and left for dead, would you? Particularly when I have been most chivalrous?”
         Was he mocking her? Katherine bit her lip. She inhaled raggedly and winced in sudden pain, her breasts crushed betwixt hard leather and impudent knight.
         “I’d have found a way to escape the brigands,” she replied in a tight voice.
         “Mayhap.” Sir Rhys leaned closer so that his lips all but touched her ear. “But ’twas I who saved you from starvation, if you do recall.”
         Nonplussed by the taunting assertion, Katherine twisted an irritated glance at his profile.
         He grinned and threw her a wink. “You are safe for the nonce, damsel.”
         “I am ever in your debt,” she replied reluctantly, knowing he’d maneuvered her into the compliment.      
         “Ah, but what becomes of you on the morrow?”
         She caught her breath. What, indeed? The knight baited her with her own fears, made light of their predicament. But she could not. On the morrow, would Sir Rhys pry the truth from them? Anne could not dissemble. It made them ever vulnerable.
         The light of a campfire flickering through the trees whipped her fears higher. She felt like an ensnared cony. Mayhap they could flee during the night and she could rid herself of this disconcerting champion, who frustrated her and menaced her peace of mind. 
         Trembling, thoroughly vexed at her predicament, she feared her own misgivings forestalled such a plan. Though he seemed to amuse