Free Once a Knight by Christina Dodd Page A

cynicism.
    Blast the woman! He was observing her again, trying to decipher emotion that another woman would have gladly shared.
    â€œMy village women are lovely, are they not?” She stared behind him, where Avina and Gunhild still posed, and he had to fight to keep his eyes focused on where he was going. “They admire you a great deal, and if you wish to linger here, you would still be welcome at the castle when you arrive.”
    â€œMe?” He widened his eyes in what he hoped was innocence. “I hadn’t noticed any individuals among your village women. I only noticed that everyone seemed plump and happy.” Remembering Avina’s bounteous breasts, he thought, overflowingly plump . “It is a tribute to your husbandry that your people are so well fed.”
    Solemnly, she considered him, then nodded. “My thanks. Without offense, may I assume that your estate has not fared so well?”
    His injured pride blazed fiercely. Through stiff lips he said, “You may assume that.”
    â€œPerhaps you would care to send one of my men to Radcliffe with the first month’s gold you have earned.”
    You have earned . Not “that I paid you,” but you have earned . It was a generous offer sensitively put, and that surprised him. She hadn’t been overly sensitive about his previous humors—chiding him for his late arrival, yawning when he won the pissing contest, openly doubting his ability to protect her. But for a woman with twelve bags of wool, he could forgive and forget. “That would be most courteous of you, lady. Ithank you for your kind thought. I’d be grateful when a man may be spared.”
    There. That comely speech surely proved his fitness to be her consort. A most peculiar expression marred her features, as if she smelled something nasty. Quickly, he examined the bottoms of his shoes, then glanced back to review Louis’s footsteps. Neither of them had stepped in something malodorous.
    Her horse moved on before he could ascertain the reason for her expression. “Is your steward to be trusted with such a sum?” she asked.
    â€œAye, he is.” He grinned at her back. “He is Guy of the Archers.”
    She swung around in the saddle and stared, wide-eyed, clearly astonished. “There is really such a man?”
    Well! That was a mask she wore. Emotions seethed beneath it. And he’d just proved that he could strip the mask away. “Did you think the legend all lies?”
    â€œNay, I…nay, it is just so very difficult to realize that the legend lives within such a common…that is to say, that you are the repository of such extraordinary…”
    He would have been offended, but he understood. Being a living fable encompassed a difficulty most people could scarcely comprehend. Women lusted after him, sure that his thistle—undoubtedly the largest in the world—would induce ecstasy. Men clung to his every word, gathering insight where none existed. Everyone expected him to be wise and sincere, and he’d learned one thing well—sincerity was hard to fake.
    David knew he was just a man, and when others got acquainted with him, they knew it, too. Disillusionment set in, but he was never less than himself and never asked anyone to believe more than the truth.
    Alisoun had gone through all the stages, and right now she looked at him through eyes that saw him .
    She nodded as if they’d said something important in their silence. “I’ll send someone right away.”
    As he rode beside her up the winding track, he concluded that a decisive woman was not all bad. Above them on a hillock, George’s Cross Castle rose like a rocky intrusion on the green, misty mountain. The curtain wall snaked around, mossy green and impenetrable gray. On the highest point, lit by the late afternoon sun, the keep rose, a serpent’s fang of smooth black stone. The place frightened David—as it was