Angel of the Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

of his voice resound with recrimination.
    “Like your uncle’s death?” Titus threw back the innuendo. The silence the statement drew from the crowd made him crow louder. He grabbed hold of his niece’s shoulder and pulled her forward. “Come, Gwendolyn, let the crowd see your pretty face.”
    The girl dug in her heels and fought Titus’s touch. The stallion stretched his bony head forward, bared yellow-stained teeth and clamped down on Titus’s hand.
    “Damn you, demon of hell.” Titus’s roar of curses and pain caused the ladies present to blush. Cravenmoor knights and villeins clustered around in a vain attempt to free their lord. Using his other hand, Titus clobbered the animal’s head. Still the horse held on. Not until the gray-haired servant gave a brisk command did the stallion free his prisoner.
    The crowd parted suddenly with another of Titus’s curses. “Let the devil take the animal. He’ll not taste my blood again.” Cradling his injured hand, Titus whipped a long thin dagger from the folds of his mantle. “’Twill give me pleasure to slit the devil’s throat. Grab the reins so the beast can’t move.”
    Ferris jerked the leather strips from Cyrus. The deadly sharp blade was raised high in the air. Falke raced forward, ready to protect any warrior, man or animal, that drew Titus’s blood.
    “Nay!” As the blade descended, the docile girl lunged at her uncle’s arm, deflecting the blade. It swooshed harmlessly in the air.
    Titus’s ham-sized fist swung at her, but she had expected the blow and rolled away. Knights that should have served and protected her actually kicked at her as she scrambled beneath the feet of her charger. Falke noticed that none of the men dared to venture within striking distance of the stallion’s wartrained hooves.
    Titus bellowed, “You’ll not escape this beating.”
    “Aye, she will.” Falke positioned himself between the horse and the furious knight. Serving as a shield and protector, Falke ordered, “Ozbern, take our guests inside and have someone look at Lord Titus’s injury.”
    “Get out the way, Chretian. That whelp is getting a whipping, then she’ll watch me feed that horse of hers to the dogs.” Titus wrapped a dirty cloth around his mangled hand and took one step toward Falke.
    The sound of twenty blades leaving their scabbards stopped the old man’s advance. Falke’s trusted regiment of men widened their stance. A few knights and lords of Mistedge aligned themselves with Falke’s men. The majority waited with Laron, offering no aid.
    “Fine.” Titus backed off. “Have your show of chivalry.” He peered around Falke at the girl still under the stallion. “Don’t think he’ll protect you, girl, not when it counts. I’ll have my day with you yet.”
    Ozbern gave a cavalier wave of his hand toward the castle door and did a fair imitation of Falke’s sarcastic smile. Titus snorted, then marched towardthe castle. His men followed, their gazes staying on the line of armed Mistedge soldiers.
    “Milord.” The elder man’s voice from behind him startled Falke, his perfect French betraying his birth and nobility. “I and my lady thank you for your intervention on her behalf.”
    “No thanks are necessary. You are a knight?”
    “Was.” The aged man nodded to the girl, and she crawled from the protection of the horse’s feet. “I served Lord William and Lady Isolde. Now I and my wife, Darianne, serve their child, Gwendolyn.”
    Falke started to address the girl but stammered to a stop midsentence. She stood staring at the back of her uncle. For the first time, Falke could see her face uncloaked by hair. And what he saw took his breath away. Her eyes, large and wide, shone with the fires of consuming hate. Titus was wrong about the girl—a soul did reside deep inside her. Only a soul could hate so completely.
    “My wife is riding in the cart and will be along soon. Pray, Lord Falke, is there a place where we and the child could