Tender is the Knight Read Online Free Page B

requested.”
    “And the other woman?”
    “I sent her back with Clive,” he said. “There are fifty soldiers to watch over her.” He moved closer to the pair, gazing at the unconscious, gasping woman. “She is seriously ill.”
    Dennis ’ jaw was against her forehead. “I know,” he said quietly. “Her breathing is much labored.”
    Riston nodded, his usually self-assured nature subdued. “My brother suffered from the same ailment.”
    “How did he treat it?”
    “With camphor and peppermint until he died.”
    Dennis cocked a concerned eyebrow and Riston held up a soothing hand. “He died in battle a few years ago,” he said. “At Flint Castle in Wales. Remember?”
    Dennis nodded his head. “Ah, yes. An uprising against the king, as I recall.”
    “A minor skirmish that took my only brother,” Riston’s blue eyes reflected sorrow for a brief moment. “At any rate, I believe we have some oil of Peppermint in the provisions wagon. If we boil some water, she could inhale the vapors.”
    To both their surprise, the woman in Dennis’ arms suddenly stirred. “Pep… peppermint,” she said groggily, her voice hoarse. “I shall… I shall not breathe it, do you hear? And you cannot force me!”
    The top of her amber-colored head smashed into Dennis’ jaw and he grunted. “Hold still, my lady. You must not exert yourself.”
    She appeared not to hear him, still twitching about. After a moment, her head lolled back and her eyes slowly opened. She gazed at him, unfocused, and Dennis met her gaze steadily. Her eyes were the most amazing golden-brown he had ever seen.
    “You… you are not my father,” she muttered, her delicate brow furrowing in confusion. “Who are you?”
    “Someone who means you no harm, my lady.”
    Her sweet lips, blue that they were, frowned. “You d…did not answer me. What is your name?”
    “ Dennis.”
    She blinked. Her chest, struggling for air, seemed to rise and fall faster. It was a supreme effort for Dennis not to watch her succulent breasts as they heaved against his flesh.
    “ Dennis?” she repeated.
    He nodded, once. He found himself studying every inch of her angelic face as her eyes, so incredible in color, darkened.
    They darkened for a good reason; Ryan wasn’t stupid. There weren’t many men in Cornwall named Dennis. Her mind was foggy and her chest was painfully constricted, but still she could think.
    “ D’ Vant?” she whispered. “Dennis d’ Vant?”
    He nodded again, once, watching with amusement as Ryan’s eyes widened so big that he thought they might burst from her skull. But he could see the squall coming and before he could quell it, she shoved her palms against his chin and propelled herself from his grip. But in that brief instant she realized she was without a stitch of clothing on except for her hose, and she howled in horror at her state. Her crimson gown and woolen sheath lay on the freezing ground and she swooped to her knees, picking them up and wrapping them haphazardly about her nakedness.
      “You… you fiend!” she panted and gasped, the color of embarrassment flushing her pale cheeks. “My clothes! What have you done to me?”
    Dennis struggled not to laugh. “My lady, you were nearly frozen when we happened upon you and your hysterical companion. The quickest way to warm you was to apply heat in the most direct way possible, flesh to flesh. And I see that it has worked.”
    She noticed that he too was naked from the waist up. She did not know why she hadn’t noticed their naked state before this.  Had she not been so embarrassed and furious, she would have realized he was absolutely magnificent; his torso was trim and muscular, covered in a fine matting of blond hair. His shoulders, wider than a door, were attached to equally enormous arms, now casually crossed.
    “You… you had no right,” she breathed. “No right at all!”
    His humor faded and he cocked an eyebrow, going in search of his tunic. “Your outrage is