Kenric stood also, stretching in a way that made his muscular torso seem to ripple, "is find one of your Roger's men, if not he himself."
Transfixed, Megan couldn't help but stare, her mouth dry. She'd never seen a man more beautiful, more ruggedly attractive. It took her a moment to realize that Kenric had spoken. What had he said? Something about finding Roger. Roger was the last person she wanted to find. But the way to Roger was the way home. Did she really want to go home to her empty, sad life?
"Good." She muttered through numb lips. Her breasts tingled. God, she hadn't known a man could affect her the way this man did. Sexual attraction wasn't everything, but it sure didn't hurt.
"We will ride in the morning."
This got her attention. "Ride? Like that huge animal over there?" She pointed to his horse, wondering what he'd say when he learned she'd never been on a horse before in her life.
He laughed again, obviously thinking she was kidding. "My war horse will not hurt you. Unlike most others of his kind, he is gentle and a good friend. He can easily carry twice my weight."
Looking at the massive animal, she didn't doubt it. She decided not to tell him of her lack of equestrienne skills. Maybe she'd luck out again and he'd simply assume it was one of the problems with her being a woman.
Still, she'd wished she had her car.
"One other thing." Kenric folded his massive arms across his chest. "When we leave here, you will become a boy."
"A boy?"
"Yes. Dressed in my clothes," his gaze traveled the length of her, making her burn, "it shouldn't be too difficult."
Great. So he thought she looked like a boy. Glancing down at herself, clad in the too large leggings and huge, shapeless tunic, she supposed she couldn't really blame him. Especially since he was most likely used to women in the ornate, formal gowns of his time.
"Your vassal?" She asked.
After a startled look, he through his shaggy dark head back and laughed.
"Perhaps I missed it." He said, the amusement making him look ten years younger - and ten times more handsome.
Megan tried to clear her brain. It seemed to get a bit foggy whenever she looked at him. "Missed what?"
"When you swore your oath of allegiance to me."
Ok, so maybe vassal had been the wrong word. She searched her brain, trying to remember what the correct term could be. "Sorry. I was only trying to help."
At his brusque nod, she gave a sigh of relief, watching as he went to where he'd heaped his belongings. After a moment, he pulled out a long leather scabbard, carrying it almost lovingly to the fire. Even she, as ignorant of medieval things as she was, recognized it for a sword.
Slowly, he withdrew it, the metal blade sparkling in the cracking firelight. Megan couldn't help it - she stared.
When he noticed her, he held it up so that the point faced the roof of the cave. It looked wickedly sharp, yet oddly beautiful. She wondered if Kenric would take offense were she to touch it.
"Yes, it is mine." His deep voice seemed to echo in the small cave, reverberating with a fierce pride and what she thought might be sorrow.
"It's magnificent."
He seemed to accept her words as due homage. Lowering the blade, he began to polish it with a soft cloth, his large hands moving lovingly over the sharp steel. "It belonged to my father, and his father before him. It was to have been my
Transfixed, Megan couldn't help but stare, her mouth dry. She'd never seen a man more beautiful, more ruggedly attractive. It took her a moment to realize that Kenric had spoken. What had he said? Something about finding Roger. Roger was the last person she wanted to find. But the way to Roger was the way home. Did she really want to go home to her empty, sad life?
"Good." She muttered through numb lips. Her breasts tingled. God, she hadn't known a man could affect her the way this man did. Sexual attraction wasn't everything, but it sure didn't hurt.
"We will ride in the morning."
This got her attention. "Ride? Like that huge animal over there?" She pointed to his horse, wondering what he'd say when he learned she'd never been on a horse before in her life.
He laughed again, obviously thinking she was kidding. "My war horse will not hurt you. Unlike most others of his kind, he is gentle and a good friend. He can easily carry twice my weight."
Looking at the massive animal, she didn't doubt it. She decided not to tell him of her lack of equestrienne skills. Maybe she'd luck out again and he'd simply assume it was one of the problems with her being a woman.
Still, she'd wished she had her car.
"One other thing." Kenric folded his massive arms across his chest. "When we leave here, you will become a boy."
"A boy?"
"Yes. Dressed in my clothes," his gaze traveled the length of her, making her burn, "it shouldn't be too difficult."
Great. So he thought she looked like a boy. Glancing down at herself, clad in the too large leggings and huge, shapeless tunic, she supposed she couldn't really blame him. Especially since he was most likely used to women in the ornate, formal gowns of his time.
"Your vassal?" She asked.
After a startled look, he through his shaggy dark head back and laughed.
"Perhaps I missed it." He said, the amusement making him look ten years younger - and ten times more handsome.
Megan tried to clear her brain. It seemed to get a bit foggy whenever she looked at him. "Missed what?"
"When you swore your oath of allegiance to me."
Ok, so maybe vassal had been the wrong word. She searched her brain, trying to remember what the correct term could be. "Sorry. I was only trying to help."
At his brusque nod, she gave a sigh of relief, watching as he went to where he'd heaped his belongings. After a moment, he pulled out a long leather scabbard, carrying it almost lovingly to the fire. Even she, as ignorant of medieval things as she was, recognized it for a sword.
Slowly, he withdrew it, the metal blade sparkling in the cracking firelight. Megan couldn't help it - she stared.
When he noticed her, he held it up so that the point faced the roof of the cave. It looked wickedly sharp, yet oddly beautiful. She wondered if Kenric would take offense were she to touch it.
"Yes, it is mine." His deep voice seemed to echo in the small cave, reverberating with a fierce pride and what she thought might be sorrow.
"It's magnificent."
He seemed to accept her words as due homage. Lowering the blade, he began to polish it with a soft cloth, his large hands moving lovingly over the sharp steel. "It belonged to my father, and his father before him. It was to have been my
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