Free The Redeeming by Tamara Leigh

Unfortunately, it had likely cost him a meeting with Gaenor.
    “I am pleased with your progress,” Sir Everard said.
    “As I am pleased with your instruction. ‘Tis far more than I expected.”
    “Such is the reputation that Wulfen Castle was built upon.”
    “A well-earned reputation. We are done?”
    “For now.” Sir Everard wiped a forearm across his brow. “Methinks on the morrow we shall address how well you perform in the saddle.” He turned away.
    With long strides, Christian drew alongside the knight. “I did not know my horsemanship was in question.”
    “Only with regards to how well you swing a sword and handle a lance from atop your mount.”
    “You are proposing I tilt at a quintain?” Were it so, it would be difficult to not take offense, for he had mastered the training device years past.
    Sir Everard raised an eyebrow. “If necessary, the quintain, though I had assumed you were skilled at it.”
    “I am.”
    “Then we shall tilt at one another.”
    They did not speak again as they left the wood and strode the meadow toward the castle. Thus, Christian’s thoughts turned to whether it was possible Gaenor would wait for him. From the sun’s position in the east, it was not likely. Still, upon entering the donjon, he went to the chapel. Though not empty as expected, the one within was not the one he sought.
    The priest looked up from where he knelt before the altar and quickly covered his surprise at seeing Christian in the doorway. Starting to rise, he asked, “You seek prayer, my son?”
    Christian held up a hand. “Nay, Father. Forgive me for interrupting your time with God.” He pulled the door closed. Grudgingly accepting he would have to wait until the morrow, he started toward his chamber. And paused.
    He looked over his shoulder down the corridor that ran shorter than the one upon which his own chamber was situated. There were only two doors, but one might belong to Lady Gaenor. And then there was the winding stair at the far end. Might her chamber be in the corner tower?
    Remembering when she had told of having watched him at training in the field before the wood, he determined it had to be so, for she would require such a vantage point to see beyond the walls. Too, a tower room would afford her more privacy and make it easier to guard.
    That last made him frown, until he reminded himself she’d had no escort when she ventured to the chapel. Though during her first months at Wulfen she must have been kept well under guard, with all that had passed, such measures would no longer be necessary.
    Though his belly groaned, there having been no time to break his fast this morn, he moved down the corridor toward the stairs. With each step, he listened for the sound of someone upon them, but it was silent. Twice, the stairs turned upward, and at the first landing was a single door.
    Christian looked from it to the next turning of the stairs that led to the tower’s roof. Light filtered down from above, evidence that the door overhead had been thrown wide. Was Gaenor up there?
    He took the winding stairs two at a time. The light grew brighter and, shortly, he saw sky ahead where the door in the tower roof had been laid back. Hoping he would find Gaenor there, and not another to whom he would have to fabricate a reason for his trespass, he continued upward.
    “Do not think I do not appreciate your lack of stealth,” Gaenor’s voice welcomed him in advance of his appearance.
    He stepped up through the hatch, and there she sat with her back against the wall. But she did not see him, her attention turned to the tugging of her skirts down her legs—shapely legs absent hose.
    “Had you not taken such pains to alert me,” she continued, “I fear you would have found your sister a most wanton sight with her gown down about her shoulders”—she looked up—“and…”
    Her eyes widened and smile dissolved.
    From where Christian had halted two stairs down from stepping onto the roof, he