Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) Read Online Free PDF Page B

daughter of a traitor ought to be bound like her father to a tree. She ought to fear for the crimes she faced. And yet she saw only Hugh and uttered commands to the old woman as if she were a king at war.
    Light brushed her face, soft as the fine weave of her gown and cloak, stained by travel. ’Twas a pretty face, not beautiful, but striking. She had big, almond-shaped eyes, blue like winter, direct, not coy. Long curled lashes, as gold as her hair, framed those eyes. He admired her gently sloping, feminine nose. And her mouth! God’s teeth, ’twas bow shaped and as tempting as that of the moon goddess herself.
    Then Elin sighed, a soft release of air, all emotion, allsadness. Her unblinking gaze collided with his directly; there was no flirting, no shyness, no feminine submission. “I fear there is more damage than I can repair, but the wound, both inside and out, is closed.”
    He swallowed. “Hugh will die?”
    â€œThere’s no fever yet.” She laid a small hand to the unconscious knight’s forehead. “A fine sign. Now we must pray he is strong enough. I will do all I can.”
    â€œYou will, because I command it.” She may have returned of her own volition, but Elin of Evenbough was his prisoner still. He would not fail his king.
    A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, and that defiant chin firmed. “Again you try to terrify me, a woman half your size. Always the valiant warrior.”
    Anger snapped in his chest and he held his tongue. She challenged his authority; she rebelled at something deeper. He was, as she said, twice her size and twice her strength. And he had her knife—her last one, he guessed—in his keeping. The only weapon left her was her tongue, and he could withstand those barbs. And if not, he would gag her, as he had her betrothed, the treacherous Caradoc.
    â€œOld woman.” He caught the crone’s gaze, and she trembled at the attention. Though old and stooped, she possessed a strong set to her jaw, too. “See that your charge tends the injured men, mine and those captured. But not her father. Let the man suffer like the men he left to die.”
    â€œYes, Sir Malcolm. I will see the rebellious one obeys.” Head bowed, she scurried away.
    Malcolm stepped away into the darkness. The wee hours of morning meant there would be little, mayhap no sleep for him before dawn. And then another day of raising his sword for the king.
    Elin of Evenbough had the freedom to speak as she wished, whether innocent or criminal. But Caradoc wasright. Malcolm was a peasant born, a barbarian king’s bastard, and both peasant and bastard he would always be. A savage hired merely because he was useful. Useful until another took his place, his livelihood or his head.
    He thought of Caradoc’s threat, thought of the unrest of ambitious knights wanting to lead, thought of Elin’s courage in returning to aid her captors.
    Lavender light chased the gray shadows at the eastern horizon. ’Twould be another day without peace, without rest, watching his back for treachery and the road ahead for danger.
    The lot of a knight was a hard one, but Malcolm was harder.
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    â€œCaradoc!” Elin dropped to her knees before the bound man, neighbor and friend to her father. “I do not believe my eyes. What have you done? Challenged the king’s knights and lost?”
    He colored from the collar of his hauberk to the roots of his dark hair. “Aye. Your father—”
    â€œYou are in league with my father?” she yelped, lowering her voice so it would not carry to the watchful knight keeping guard. That Giles, he looked untrustworthy, far more threatening than poor spying Hugh had ever been.
    â€œNay, I am no traitor. I would never turn against the king. I came for you.”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œMy future bride.” Triumph glittered in his cold eyes.
    â€œâ€™Tis news to me.” She fought to sound