Free The Dark Knight by Elizabeth Elliott Page A

to enjoy the comforts of our home and hospitality, a just reward after his long journey. Sir Percival, the chamberlain will show you to quarters above the garrison. In the meantime, you are welcome to partake of our feast. Perhaps a bit of ale will restore your wits.”
    “Thank you, Lord Brunor. I appreciate—”
    “There will be naught but a cold pallet in the garrison for Sir Percival,” Margaret interrupted. “The comfort of a warm bed is the least we can offer the man to show our gratitude for his heroic rescue of our niece. The turret room near my solar should do nicely. Avalene, see that the room is prepared for Sir Percival and move what you will need to the solar. You nap often enough on the window cushions. They should make you an adequate bed for the next few nights.”
    Dante could tell by the way the other three looked at Margaret that something odd was afoot. He could scarce credit the notion, but it sounded as if Margaret meant to put him in Avalene’s chamber and move the girl just a short distance down a hallway. It was unheard of to quarter a visiting knight anywhere near an unwed noblewoman. Surely he had misheard.
    John was the first to find his voice. “My lady, this is most … unseemly. I feel certain Sir Percival would prefer the company of other knights and soldiers in the quarters above the garrison.”
    “Nonsense. There is nothing wrong with rewarding a man for noble deeds. Putting him in a room with a warm brazier and a soft bed is the least we can do.” Margaret waved her hand to dismiss John’s objection, although she gave her husband a sideways glance. “My mind is set upon the matter. Avalene, I will accompany you to make certain everything is prepared as I wish.” She rose, then turned toward her husband. “My lord, if you will excuse us?”
    “Aye, be off with you both,” Brunor said, as he reached for a pitcher of ale, only to find it empty.
    Avalene dropped into a curtsey before Dante. “Thank you again for your rescue, Sir Percival.”
    The proper response to her polite gesture was a gallant bow and then an offer of his hand to help her rise. Instead he found himself frozen in place by this alternate view of what he had so recently considered a modest neckline. Even the most banal response was beyond his ability. For the first time in his memory, he was dumbstruck. All he could do was stare in dazed admiration as she rose from her curtsey to follow her aunt to the stairway. He shook his head again, knowing the gown revealed far less of Avalene than the gowns of many other ladies in the great hall. Still, hers was the only gown he had peered down the front of. He sincerely hoped he was the only man who had ever enjoyed that view, because he had an insane urge to plant his fist in the face of any other male who had even imagined such a sight.
    “John, there is a decided lack of refreshment,” Brunor said, interrupting Dante’s thoughts. “Find someone in the kitchens who can see that the pitchers are replenished,and then meet with the chamberlain to discuss the preparations that need be made to send Avalene off to Wales in two days. You will also speak with the carpenters about the repairs needed in the gallery. I will expect your report in the morning.”
    “Of course,” John said, his oily smile firmly in place. “Avalene was supposed to— Ah, but that is of no consequence. I will see to the ale immediately. Perhaps I should meet with the chamberlain and carpenter after the feast so I can be here to serve you should anything else go awry.”
    Brunor gave John a pointed look. “I wish to speak with Sir Percival in private.”
    John looked as if he had bit into a green apple, but he set off to do as he was bid after muttering, “Aye, my lord.”
    “Have a seat, Sir Percival.” Brunor indicated the chair that Margaret had recently vacated, then signaled to a servant. A fresh trencher piled high with slices of meat and fish soon appeared along with another pitcher