Free My Valiant Knight by Hannah Howell

behind her. The bedchamber was far more elegant and comfortable than any she had ever slept in. Heavy tapestries warmed the stone walls. Sheepskins cut the chill of the floor. She was drawn to the fireplace that covered the wall opposite the bed, entranced by the luxury she had only heard tales of. After she warmed her hands at the small fire burning there, she sat on the large bed, not surprised to find that the thick mattress was stuffed with feathers and not the coarse hay she was accustomed to. Gabel de Amalville may have been landless, but he had clearly had a very full purse when he arrived in Scotland. She did not know any Scotsman, save perhaps the king himself, who could afford such luxuries as chimneys and feather mattresses.
    A soft rap at the door pulled her out of her morose thoughts concerning this further proof of the vast differences between her and Gabel. She opened the heavy door and caught a quick glimpse of young Michael standing guard, before the maids scurried in with her bath. Yet another luxury she was unused to, she thought crossly as she watched the wooden tub set before the fire and filled with hot water. She weakly thanked the maids when they handed her scented soap, warmed drying clothes and clean clothes of a quality she could never afford. Only one of the maids was less than friendly and courteous. From what the others said as they hurried the glaring young woman from the room, Ainslee realized the maid was enamored of Gabel’s cousin Justice.
    The moment she was alone, Ainslee shed her dirty clothes. “Ye have a true skill, Ainslee MacNairn,” she muttered to herself as she eased her body into the hot water. “Not many can make an enemy ere they even meet them.” As she began to enjoy the rare pleasure of a hot bath, Ainslee hoped Justice would recover quickly and soothe the maid’s temper.
     
     
    Gabel smiled faintly when he stepped into Justice’s room and a blushing young maid scurried away. “I came to see how you fare, but ’tis clear that you are rapidly recovering,” he drawled as he shut the door and walked over to the bed.
    Justice grinned as he sat up, leaning insolently against the thick newly fluffed pillows. “I am well tended.”
    “Obviously.” Gabel helped himself to a tankard of cider from the flagon set on a table next to Justice’s bed, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have secured our prisoners.”
    “So you have, if one can call giving them the best chambers in Bellefleur securing them.”
    “They have shown no sign of being troublesome. And, I see no need of locking a crippled old man and a wee lass in my dungeons. They are also being closely watched.”
    “And m’lady MacNairn has such a fine, bright pelt of hair, ’twould be a true shame to see its luster dulled by the dungeons.” Justice grinned at his cousin.
    “There is that to consider,” drawled Gabel, but, after a brief smile, he frowned in thought. “Do you think I err in treating them with such courtesy?”
    “Nay,” Justice replied after a moment of thought. “Once the girl surrendered herself and her companion, she has been little trouble. There is also one thing I am very certain of, something which strengthens my belief that you may not even need the guard.”
    “And what is that?”
    “That girl will never leave without her companion, and Ronald MacNairn will not be hale enough for a race back to Kengarvey for many a week.”
    “Ah, of course, the wondrous Ronald.” Gabel looked at Justice with curiosity when the man laughed. “And what do you find so amusing?”
    “You sounded almost jealous, Cousin,” Justice replied, accepting the tankard of cider Gabel served him with a short nod of thanks.
    Gabel looked toward the arrow slot which served as the small bedchamber’s window, averting his face from Justice’s keen eyes so that his cousin could not possibly read his expression. He was jealous of Ronald, deeply so, and found that both embarrassing and