Read Online The Maiden and Her Knight by Margaret Moore - Free Book Online

her hands tremble again, and she didn’t want them to see such evidence of a temporary, foolish, girlish weakness. Who could say what two gossiping foot soldiers might make of it?“Bob, Harry, why don’t you see if there are other wounded on the field?”
    Dismissed, they bowed and departed, leaving Allis, Sir Connor, Brother Jonathan and his moaning patient in the tent.
    Commanding herself to concentrate and get this over with as quickly as possible so that her heartbeat would settle and her breathing return to normal, she began to wrap the salved bandages around Sir Connor’s shoulder and chest to keep the joint as immobile as she could.
    He suddenly sucked in his breath. “Not wanting to insult you, my lady, but I’ve had gentler nursing from the man who tended the king’s horses.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” She went a little slower, and with more caution.
    â€œIf I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been talking to Caradoc,” he reflected with preternatural calm. “My brother, that is. He would enjoy doing that, but he wouldn’t be as delicate as you. Oh, he’d be rough! Nothing more than I deserved, he would tell me.” He smiled, obviously not realizing he was grinning like a drunken fool. His Welsh accent seemed to grow stronger with every utterance, too. “I’m glad he’s not. You’re much prettier, you are. I don’t know many other beautiful and wealthy ladies would tend to wounded as you do.
    â€œLook you, wanting to rip that scarf off your head, me, and see your lovely hair again,” he continued, his words slurring. “Like gold it is, molten gold. It was your hair first made me stay in the garden, where I knew I shouldn’t be.” He leaned closer and a tendril of titillation slid along her spine. “Aye, knowing that I ought to go, I was, but when I saw you looking so sadand lonely…like I have been so many times…I wanted to make you smile a little. And I did, didn’t I?”
    She tried to fight the excitement igniting and flaming into being within her as he continued. The feelings he roused in her must be put to death swiftly. Completely.
    But the need he awakened proved too strong and too powerful to stifle. She could not find it in her to tell him to be quiet, especially when he caressed her cheek with his callused hand. His warm, rough palm felt so gentle and so good against her skin.
    She nervously glanced over her shoulder. Brother Jonathan was still busily attending to his patient.
    â€œDifferent you were in the garden with me,” Sir Connor whispered. His deep, musical voice seemed to weave a spell around her, as if they were once more alone in the moonlight with the soft scent of roses about them. “Friendlier. Sweeter. I should have kissed you on your lovely rosy lips, I’m thinking.” His thumb brushed over her mouth. “But I could not.”
    Totally entranced, her hands still, she bent closer, until her mouth was mere inches from his. “Why not?”
    â€œBecause I am…who I am.”
    A strange and unexpected answer. “Who are you?”
    He swayed slightly, as if he were drunk. “Why, Sir Connor of Llanstephan, of course!”
    Then he laughed, a great raucous rumble of hilarity that seemed like a slap in the face, so loud and unexpected it was.
    She looked over her shoulder again, to see Brother Jonathan and his patient staring at them.
    â€œThe potion,” she reminded the holy man, who went back to his task as Sir Connor continued to chuckle like a demented fool.
    That was what she got for asking questions of a man who had drunk that potion. Pleasant and exciting though they were, she should pay the mutterings of a drugged man no mind. “Enough talking, sir knight. Lie down. You should sleep.”
    He slowly reclined upon the cot. “Will you join me?”
    Her response was an indignant, “No!”
    â€œVery