Free Her Rogue Knight by Natasha Knight Page B

If he were simply cruel. But he was not.
    “How much time have we lost?” she asked, avoiding his comment.
    He paused, then must have decided to let it go for now. “We’re about an hour from the trail we need to be on,” he answered. “We’ll have to ride into the night.”
    She nodded. “I’m ready,” she said.
    “Eat first,” he said.
    She shook her head no. Her stomach hurt with hunger, but she wasn’t sure she could get the bread past her throat.
    “Gemma, you need to eat. Take a few bites, and we can go.”
    Knowing he wouldn’t let her off the hook, she managed two bites of bread then handed the rest back to him. He took it and placed it in her saddlebag, then held out her bracer. Her eyes teared up again at the sight of it. She slipped her arm inside it, unable to say a word. He laced it up tightly while she watched him, her skin almost vibrating every time his touched hers.
    “It’s not too tight?” he asked.
    She shook her head.
    He looked like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. She followed him to the horses to find a sack sitting on top of her saddle.
    “What is that?” she asked.
    “I filled it with hay. I don’t think you’ll have a comfortable ride.”
    He wasn’t looking at her when he said it, but she still blushed furiously.
    “Let me help you up,” he said.
    She normally would have refused help and mounted on her own, but today, that wasn’t a possibility. She’d never felt like this before. She’d never felt so vulnerable. She needed time to process what could have happened to her as well as what he’d done to her. She needed to understand her own confused emotions about it all; but now was not the time.
    “Thank you,” she said once she was situated on the sack he’d tied to Morning Glory’s saddle.
    He only nodded, seeming uncomfortable himself. He then mounted, and they rode off in silence.
     
    * * *
     
    The quiet bothered him. She had almost let herself go, almost let herself weep and sob and get it all out. The trauma of being taken by those men had added stress she may not have been aware of, and his punishment had been harsh. He suspected her father didn’t whip her, or if he had, he hadn’t in a long time. That coupled with the humiliation of her position, the shame of his threat of anal punishment… well, he wondered if he hadn’t taken it further than she could handle. He felt guilty.
    He glanced at her. She was shifting on her seat, and although she was looking straight ahead, he imagined she wasn’t seeing a thing. She looked so caught up in her own thoughts.
    “You were right to recognize the emblem on my sword,” he said, startling her and surprising himself.
    He needed to do this. He needed to build some trust. He could make her obey, force her to submit to him, but he wanted her to give her obedience, to surrender to him freely. He did not want to take it from her.
    She looked at him, expectant, some of the spark suddenly back in her eyes.
    “I served a great king once,” he said, turning his gaze to the path. “The greatest king.”
    He could feel her eyes on his even though he refused to look at her. “You were right about the innkeeper. He knows me. He knows my real name. As, I believe, does your father.”
    When he turned to look at her, he found her staring intently.
    “I am the bastard son of Lancelot and Helaine of Corbenic. I am a Knight of the Round Table. My true name is Sir Galahad.”
    Long moments of silence followed.
    “Sir Galahad is dead,” she said, her words filling space even though he knew she didn’t believe them.
    “For a long time, I wished for death,” he said. It was silent again for a while before he continued. “The bracer you wear,” he began, touching the leather on her forearm before letting his fingers brush against the back of her hand, hovering there. When she didn’t flinch or pull away, he gained courage. “It was once Excalibur’s scabbard.”
    Her mouth fell open, and she glanced at