Free A Knight for Love by A.M. Westerling

body, too long since he had lifted his sword in jousting play. If he could earn some spoils, so much the better.
    And you mean to serve the Almighty by laying down your sword and entering a monastery? Yet you look forward to jousting? He shoved away the ironic thought.
    The truth was , Alyna needed her own horse because it disturbed him to have her clinging to his back. It disturbed him to feel her softness jostling into him, to smell her sweetness, to hear her gasps of awe at the beauty of the land they rode through.
    And the easiest way to get another horse was to win one in a tourney.
    He stirred the embers of the fire to put it out. Tomorrow would be an early day if they were to buy her clothing first. Despite her protests at his gift, he looked forward to seeing her clothed as she deserved to be. He had seen enough to know she would be very attractive.
    A gain, he had to remind himself of Mont St. Michel and the monastic life he intended to pursue.
    Alyna could not, would not be there with him.
    A forlorn thought and one that made his heart quiver.
     

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    Alyna stood awestruck before the tantalizing array of cloth and clothing spread out before her. The profusion of fabrics dazzled her eyes and brightened her spirits. Silk, velvet, fine wool, cotton, linen, satin, damask, brocade, so many that they threatened to spill out of the tent serving as shop for the little man that Warin now so earnestly haggled with.
    The haggling complete, the shop’s owner, grey-haired and hunch-shouldered from many hours spent with needle and thread, attended to her.
    “This one,” she whispered, stroking a peacock blue damask tunic that glowed where the light struck it. Then she shook her head regretfully. “ It’s too fine for every day wear. This one.” She pointed to an emerald green wool kirtle, so finely woven as to be satin-like in texture. “This would be better. With this.” She tugged at a tan linen tunic trimmed with gold braid about the neck.
    “A scarf for my lady?” The shop keeper held aloft a scrap of cream-colored silk.
    She nodded. “Aye, I thank you. And these.” She grabbed a pair of green silk hose and a silk chemise. After the weeks in coarse woolens, the prospect of silk enticed her.
    “There. My lady may dress there.” The little shopkeeper lifted an arm, twisting his shoulder about to gesture to a screen set against the back wall of the tent.
    “I thank you,” she murmured again and fairly ran to the screen, ducking behind it. She couldn’t wait to strip herself of the tattered and dirty clothing she now wore. As she dressed, the satiny sensation of fine fabrics against her skin, fabrics she was much more accustomed to wearing, brought a smile to her lips.
    Alyna emerged carrying the discarded tunic and hose distastefully in one outstretched arm. She hesitated then dropped them on the ground.
    “Thank you.” Shyly, Alyna curtsied. Her father had always liked her in green. Would Warin as well? Would he find her attractive? She wanted his approval. It shouldn’t matter but it did. She wanted him to look at her as other than a bedraggled travel mate, wanted him to look at her as a man looks at a woman.
    She raised her gaze. And caught her breath at the admiration sh ining in his eyes. It flustered her and she looked away, only to look back to discover he gazed at her still, a slight smile shading his lips. She flushed and turned her head away. Bewilderment addled her wits and held her tongue.
    “You are fair of face.” He bowed, coming up slowly so he could peruse her from toe to head. “And fair of form.”
    At his words, Alyna turned back to face him. “Th-thank you,” she stammered then dropped into another curtsy in response to his bow.
    H er heart fluttered beneath his continued frank perusal. Her breath came in little gasps and her knees wobbled. Joy filled her at the realization the clothing had had the desired effect – Warin regarded her as a man regarded a