Free Hunted (Book One of the Forever Faire Series): A Fae Fantasy Romance Novel by Hazel Hunter Page A

had a mind to, which I do not, Kayla’s too small. More than a peck at her would likely break–”
    Ryan’s gaze snapped to Colm’s face. He quickly stepped to within an inch of the man.
    “Kayla?” Ryan demanded. “Kayla Rowe is our new groom?”
    “Aye.” His second’s brows rose as he glanced down at his shirt. The center of the garment was bunched in Ryan’s fist. “You know her?”
    “No,” he said, almost shouting. He released his second and turned away. “I but let her warm herself at my fire on a cold night.”
    “Is that what they call it now?” Colm said. As Ryan spun around Colm held up his hands. “’Twas a jest, my liege. If you want her gone, she’ll go.”
    Avoiding temptation by sending Kayla away was the only course that made sense. But as Ryan met his second’s gaze, he remembered the delicious feel of Kayla’s lips under his. Just the mention of her name buoyed his spirits. He’d let her go once, and it had taken every bit of willpower he possessed.
    “Let her stay, for now.”
    If Colm had something to say about his decision, he kept it to himself.
    Ryan draped his mail standard around his neck and picked up his jousting helmet. As he tucked it under his arm he picked up the ten-foot lance and stalked out of the tent.
    Outside sunlight poured over the faire grounds, gilding dozens of tents, shoppes, gaming stalls and performance stages. The sharp scents of ale and wine blended with that of roasted joints, sugared nuts and ginger cake. Mortals clustered and crowded everywhere. Despite the outlandish costumes that many wore, Ryan smiled. Somewhere out there, too, was Kayla Rowe.
    “Good day to you, sir knight,” said a willowy woman dressed in a neck ruff and low-cut scarlet gown. She dropped into a wobbly curtsy before him. Her long curls bobbled and her earrings glinted as she drew a small square of red silk from her sleeve and offered it to him. “Will you carry my favor?”
    He eyed the over-large dagger she wore on her leather girdle, which was tied in the sheath with thin leather straps.
    “Do you vow to keep your blade peace-bonded should I lose, milady?”
    “But of course.” She produced an ornate fan and peered at him over its edge. “You shall owe me a forfeit, however.”
    Colm stepped between them. “Alas, Sir Ryan of the Sheridans does not carry colors, but he is grateful for your favor just the same. If you would accompany me, I’ll see to it that you have the best seat in the jousting arena. It is just the spot where all may admire your beauty, milady.”
    Wallace joined Ryan to watch Colm lead the simpering fan away.
    “Should someone tell milady,” Wallace said, “that back in those days, the only women who let their hair down, bared their ears, and wore red were trollops?”
    “Best not to,” Ryan replied, searching the crowd for Kayla’s petite form. He handed the smith his helmet. “How is Gavan’s mood?”
    “His town wench threw him over for a mortal. You’ll need that ten,” the smith said as they walked over to the entrance of the jousting arena.

    K ayla checked over Sampson and Titan one last time before she took hold of their reins and led them out of the barn. The high pommels on the saddles looked odd, and she still couldn’t understand why they needed to wear tail guards, but neither horse seemed to mind being laced into their armor. Someone took very good care of the mounts’ gear, too. The riveted slats of the cruppers over their hindquarters had been lovingly polished to a mirror-brightness. Every bit of leather trim had been kept oiled and clean.
    One of the performers halted in their path and stared.
    “This is getting old,” Kayla muttered under her breath as she stopped and looked up at yet another broad, ordinary face. “Hi. Kayla Rowe, new groom. Not a lad.”
    “I can see that,” the man said, his tone as cold as his frosty amber eyes. “You’re the sister, then.”
    This was Jannon, the drunk she had seen spoiling