Free The Warrior's Reward by Samantha Holt Page B

panes and the faded wooden beams of the inn. Several men in brown woollen clothes, their faces dark with grime, were huddled by the side of the inn, just under the eaves. A tight band of tension wrapped around her chest but she drew up her chin. She was to prove herself, aye? Well then let her tolerate whatever faced her. She would show Ieuan—nay, the world—of what she was made.
    “Have the horses seen to,” he said to Bryn as the lad clambered down from his spot atop the carriage. Then he motioned to Phylip, Huw and the other men. “Find yourself food and drink, we’ll not need you for the night. I shall see Lady Rosamunde to our rooms.”
    “Aye, sir,” Phylip dipped his head and Huw followed suit. They headed to the rear of the tavern and she assumed that was where those who served stayed. Clearly they knew the inn which at least assured Rosamunde of its suitability. Ieuan would not take her somewhere dangerous... or would he?
    After all, she hardly knew the man and he was Welsh. She knew little of Wales and he was the first Welshman she had ever met, but Father spoke of their fearsome fighting skills and she had heard tell of the rustic nature of life in Wales. Mayhap what she deemed dangerous, he would not.
    “Come, let us go inside before the storm breaks.”
    She nodded meekly, hating the way her nervousness had stolen her voice. Nevertheless, she allowed him to lead her to the wooden studded door. He pressed it open and the odour of stale beer and herbs washed over her. She managed not to wrinkle her nose and keep her expression taciturn.
    But before they stepped inside a voice reached her ears. She peeked to the side and saw the group of three men had moved closer. Ieuan tightened his grip on her hand and shifted her behind him so he could face the men.
    “Fair maiden, ‘tis a cold eve,” one said, revealing a set of crooked yellow teeth. He didn’t seem perturbed by Ieuan’s stiff shoulders and the way his free hand lingered on the pommel of his sword. “Ye’ll need company this night.”
    “She has company, now be gone with you,” Ieuan said with an authoritative air.
    “There be three of us and only one of ye, good sir. Why do ye not relinquish the fine lady and ye be gone?”
    Ieuan released her hand and urged her farther back. Her breath jammed in her throat. She had never seen him so menacing, not even when facing down his foe during the joust. Then he had been full of charm with an arrogant, confident air to him. Now anger seemed to simmer through his body. She gulped, understanding now she was seeing her real husband here and the knight at the joust had been a mere act.
    “I will not warn you twice,” he said, his voice tight. “Be gone with you. Any insult to my lady wife will be considered an insult to me.”
    Rosamunde drew in a sharp breath when the man pulled a knife from his belt. It was no match for Ieuan’s blade but there were three of them. She glanced around. Where were Phylip and Huw? They were likely already inside, enjoying an ale. Oh why did Ieuan have to be so foolish as to dismiss them before they were safely inside the inn?
    “Ieuan,” she begged, hoping he would heed her and they would dash inside but he ignored her.
    Instead he laughed. “You’ll not do much damage with that.”
    “Is it such an insult for me to compliment yer fine lady?” The other men laughed.
    Sweet Mary, only a day away from her home and already she was in trouble. She might have wanted excitement, but not this!
    “Ieuan,” she hissed. “Come, let us leave these men to their business.”
    “Aye, do as yer lady wife tells ye, before I stick ye,” the man sneered.
    Rosamunde thought Ieuan had given up. He turned slightly. But with a sudden movement, he twisted his blade and slammed the hilt into the back of the man’s neck. He crumpled, knocked cold. The other men let up a cry of dismay and stalked closer. One held a small blade too, the other a large stick. Rosamunde clutched her