Free One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) by Dana D'Angelo Page B

Jared had chosen this pace on purpose, to punish her for running away and ruining the holiday for him.
    He was silent the entire ride back to the castle and had not glanced over at her direction at all. Derrik was silent too, although she preferred it that way. He was entirely too insufferable.
    She pulled the cowl down further to hide her face. Not that it would do any good. By now the entire castle knew that she had run away. And the fact that she was flanked by her father’s garrison commander and his nephew, made it easy to determine the identity of the hooded figure in the middle.
    She could hear the whispers and could sense the eyes burning through her cloak, as if they wanted to see for themselves how low she had stooped. Well, the idea of running away sounded good at the time, she had to admit. It might have worked if she didn’t tarry so long in town, and if Whitshire wasn’t so far away.
    When they arrived at the stone keep, Sir Jared lifted her off the horse and placed her on the ground. At his nod, the groomsmen took the horses away.
    Rowena ran her sweaty hands down her cloak as if to smooth away the wrinkles. She was in no hurry to see her father.
    Derrik’s eyebrows furrowed at her slow movements. “God’s bones!” he burst out. “Will you cease your infernal dawdling?”
    Rowena wrinkled her nose at him. He wasn’t the one that had to face her father. She pulled the cowl off her head and brushed past him.
    But when she arrived at the entrance leading to the great hall, her steps began to falter. She chewed on her bottom lip. What would her father do to her? She could imagine him waiting impatiently for her arrival, his fury evident in his bearing. There was no escaping it and she had no one to blame except for herself.
    The Lord of Ravenhearth sat in his chair, his head bent in conference with the steward. But he looked up from his work as if he could hear Rowena’s worrying thoughts.
    His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared at the sight of Rowena crossing the threshold.
    He stared hard at her as if he was seeing a stranger and not his only daughter. Rowena no longer resembled a child yet she acted like one — willful and disobedient. Nothing like Rosalid in personality, but the woman coming toward him was a haunting reflection of his late wife. Her tresses were the color of the night sky; her oval face was smooth and as unblemished as a freshwater pearl. But this was not Rosalid, he reminded himself.
    “Leave us,” he barked to everyone in the hall. The steward gathered his papers in hast and looked with some alarm at Rowena as he passed her. The sound of more scraping feet filled the room and the last of the servants, knights and men-at-arms quickly dispersed, leaving Rowena alone with her father.
    The door closed behind them with a thud.
    Rowena made her way slowly to stand in front of the high table, where it was well known that her father liked to mete out his punishments. He had the advantage of intimidating his subjects from the dais.
    She folded her hands in front of her as if bracing herself for the verbal attack that she knew would come. “You wanted to see me, Father?” she said in an even voice.
    The relief that she was found safe subsided and in its place was a lingering anger burning inside his chest.
    “I hate being made a fool,” he said at last. He grabbed the edge of the trestle table, and pushed himself out of his chair.
    Rowena glanced up at the sound of his movement and watched him warily.
    “You of all people know of this yet you make a game of it. The entire fiefdom — from the servants to my vassals — they are all laughing at me for my inability to control you. You are no longer a child however you act like one — unruly, defiant — why?”
    But Philip already knew the answer to that question. He moved away from the trestle table, and walked to the window, wanting to put distance between them. He gazed out the window as if he was seeing his beloved Rosalid and