Free Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) by Kathryn Loch

thrall.
    Her lips tugged upward slightly.  “I would like the man I marry to be strong and noble.” She looked to the stars, her gaze taking a dreamy quality.  “He would be honorable and gallant, but not overstuffed with himself.”  She paused, her intense eyes returning to him, fixing him in place, as if she peeled away his defenses and stared into his blackened soul.  “He would hold chivalry above all else,” she continued, her voice dulcet.  “His strength would be tempered with gentleness.  He would be a man I could love with all my heart.  To him I would not be an inheritance or status, but the woman he loved in return.”
    Talon couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.  “I fear you have listened to too many bard’s tales and are in for a tragic disappointment, lady.  No man exists to those high standards.”
    “I think there is,” she said with soft conviction.
    He shook his head, chuckling.  “In all of my travels, I have never met such a man.”
    “I have,” she snapped, then pulled her hand forcefully from his and strode away, Talon’s cloak swirling around her.
    Confused, he watched her leave and an unsettling sense of loss washed through him.  Was it possible?  In the past had she somehow found the man who could be her true love?  Did she pine for this noble knight and did the man even know such a beauty longed for him?
    Whoever he was, he was a lucky man indeed. 
    Talon shook his head and turned back toward the dark vista before him.  He tried to push away the sudden despair coiling in the pit of his belly and failed miserably.
     
    ****
     
    Come the dawn, after another night of no sleep, Talon strode out of the keep and into the bailey as his men mounted their horses.  A dull headache pounded between his temples, promising to grow worse.  But he was accustomed to the pain now.  Although exhausted every night, he slept fitfully, no more than a nightmare filled hour or two, usually getting up in the middle of the night to walk the ramparts to clear his head.  Unfortunately, more and more often he did not even attempt to sleep, knowing it would be futile.
    Movement on his right caught his attention.  He saw a slight figure, wearing a finely woven mantle, slip furtively into the stables.  Talon hesitated, his eyes narrowing and his body coiling.  The figure was no doubt Gwen and he immediately wondered if she might be seeking her horse.  Suspicion gnawed at him; perhaps she had lied about not wanting to escape, waiting for him to drop his guard.
    On the other hand, the mischievous lass could be planning another picnic.  He turned immediately for the stables, hearing the loud barking of his hunting dogs from their kennels, the cry of the falcons in their mews.  Horses whinnied, sheep bleated, and joined with the normal cacophony of the bailey yard.  Talon had several barns and stock pens and at first he did not see Gwen.  Then he saw a flash scamper around a corner and into another stable, with the furious sound of barking.  He turned and lengthened stride.
    Talon stepped into the barn in time to hear Gwen’s cry of outrage.  “Oh you beast!” she shouted.  “Get away!”
    A sudden panic completely obliterated any remaining suspicion.  He broke into a jog, seeing her at the very end of the barn.
    “Nay!” she cried.  “Get away demon dog!”
    Talon slid to a stop, two paces away, as he saw his best wolfhound, Samson, snarling at something in the corner.  Without heed for her own safety, Gwen interposed herself before the giant hound and scooped something into her arms.
    Samson, infuriated at the loss of his prize, snarled and lunged.  “Samson, nay!” Talon roared, charging forward.  His long arm reached out and he somehow managed to grab the dog by its collar in mid-flight.  Samson’s jaws snapped closed in front of Gwen’s face.  With a snarl of fury that matched the wolfhound’s, Talon flung the beast away with all of his might and quickly