Read Online Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry by A Knight's Victory - Free Book Online
Authors: A Knight's Victory
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the wrath rained down on her. Poor Mary had already been through enough.
“I’d watch where my hands strayed, sir knight.”
The man leaned back, yanking his hand away and snickered. “I’d mind my tongue if I was you,” he threatened.
Elena pressed her lips together and turned from the vile man, her ladies following in her wake as she continued to make her way to the dais. Her husband’s eyes were on her, disapproving as ever. She would hear about her bold behavior later tonight. A chill swept through her, as she was sure it would not be pleasant. It never was.
Slowly she let her gaze drop and through her lashes she spied Michael already seated at the table on the dais. His head rested lazily in one hand as he studied her. For all his outward bored appearance, his eyes were sharp. He didn’t miss a thing, and she wished at that moment she could hear his thoughts, see his reactions.
When she reached the dais, he stood. Painfully obvious was that her husband did not stand. In fact he turned the other direction giving her the cut direct. In earlier days she would have been crushed, but now his anger and resentment no longer mattered. Her heart was numb, ice cold, hard.
“My lady, may I?” Michael pulled out her chair.
She smiled demurely and took a seat. Her hand brushed over his when she placed it on the armrest. A sizzling torrent of delicious sensation surged from her fingertips and through her body, settling in her middle. Shocked, she yanked her hand away and folded it in her lap.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she grappled awkwardly with her pewter cup to gulp some ale.
A quick check showed her husband was still engaged with one of his men in conversation and did not witness her reaction to Michael. But the hall was filled with his men. Someone was sure to notice. She had to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes this eve, or there would be trouble.
She set her cup down and stared down at her plate, unsure how to proceed. She desperately wanted to talk to Michael. Wished that Kent did not exist and she could call Michael her husband as had been their plans so many years ago. They’d not had a real conversation since she’d left Ireland. She missed him, missed how he made her laugh. Missed his touch, his kiss. The whisper of his soft breath on her cheek.
“My lady?” His deep smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. He held a platter of roasted mutton up for her.
Elena took a small piece and put it on her plate, without looking at him.
“Perhaps a bit more?” His voice held a teasing edge, catching her off guard.
Elena glanced up. His face was a mask of non-emotion, but where his mouth lacked any sort of hint to his mood, his eyes sparkled with humor.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
What was he doing? He would capture the attention of every person in the room if he continued. Flashing him a frown, she grasped another hunk of meat and placed it on her plate. He chuckled under his breath and settled himself in his chair.
“I am not fond of mutton, Sir Devereux,” she said under her breath.
Elena scooped a bit of braised pears onto her plate. The sweet aroma wafted to her nose, and she licked her lips hungrily. Unable to wait, she speared a slice with her knife and placed it on her tongue. The sweetness of pear juice, honey, and cinnamon melted in her mouth. Delicious…
“No mutton for the lady, noted.” He leaned closer as if to examine what meager eats she had on her plate, and whispered in her ear. “What the princess wants, the princess gets.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile and quickly glanced about the room. No one seemed the wiser to Michael’s inappropriate behavior. Oh, how happy she was to have him by her side, even if it may not be permanent. Her happiness was only shortly lived. She was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion his words elicited. Her heart beat erratically. Her hands trembled . Tears stung the back of her
“I’d watch where my hands strayed, sir knight.”
The man leaned back, yanking his hand away and snickered. “I’d mind my tongue if I was you,” he threatened.
Elena pressed her lips together and turned from the vile man, her ladies following in her wake as she continued to make her way to the dais. Her husband’s eyes were on her, disapproving as ever. She would hear about her bold behavior later tonight. A chill swept through her, as she was sure it would not be pleasant. It never was.
Slowly she let her gaze drop and through her lashes she spied Michael already seated at the table on the dais. His head rested lazily in one hand as he studied her. For all his outward bored appearance, his eyes were sharp. He didn’t miss a thing, and she wished at that moment she could hear his thoughts, see his reactions.
When she reached the dais, he stood. Painfully obvious was that her husband did not stand. In fact he turned the other direction giving her the cut direct. In earlier days she would have been crushed, but now his anger and resentment no longer mattered. Her heart was numb, ice cold, hard.
“My lady, may I?” Michael pulled out her chair.
She smiled demurely and took a seat. Her hand brushed over his when she placed it on the armrest. A sizzling torrent of delicious sensation surged from her fingertips and through her body, settling in her middle. Shocked, she yanked her hand away and folded it in her lap.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she grappled awkwardly with her pewter cup to gulp some ale.
A quick check showed her husband was still engaged with one of his men in conversation and did not witness her reaction to Michael. But the hall was filled with his men. Someone was sure to notice. She had to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes this eve, or there would be trouble.
She set her cup down and stared down at her plate, unsure how to proceed. She desperately wanted to talk to Michael. Wished that Kent did not exist and she could call Michael her husband as had been their plans so many years ago. They’d not had a real conversation since she’d left Ireland. She missed him, missed how he made her laugh. Missed his touch, his kiss. The whisper of his soft breath on her cheek.
“My lady?” His deep smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. He held a platter of roasted mutton up for her.
Elena took a small piece and put it on her plate, without looking at him.
“Perhaps a bit more?” His voice held a teasing edge, catching her off guard.
Elena glanced up. His face was a mask of non-emotion, but where his mouth lacked any sort of hint to his mood, his eyes sparkled with humor.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
What was he doing? He would capture the attention of every person in the room if he continued. Flashing him a frown, she grasped another hunk of meat and placed it on her plate. He chuckled under his breath and settled himself in his chair.
“I am not fond of mutton, Sir Devereux,” she said under her breath.
Elena scooped a bit of braised pears onto her plate. The sweet aroma wafted to her nose, and she licked her lips hungrily. Unable to wait, she speared a slice with her knife and placed it on her tongue. The sweetness of pear juice, honey, and cinnamon melted in her mouth. Delicious…
“No mutton for the lady, noted.” He leaned closer as if to examine what meager eats she had on her plate, and whispered in her ear. “What the princess wants, the princess gets.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile and quickly glanced about the room. No one seemed the wiser to Michael’s inappropriate behavior. Oh, how happy she was to have him by her side, even if it may not be permanent. Her happiness was only shortly lived. She was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion his words elicited. Her heart beat erratically. Her hands trembled . Tears stung the back of her
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