The Last Champion by Deborah Hale

Author:Deborah Hale [Hale, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Knights and knighthood, General, Romance, Great Britain, Historical, Fiction, Middle Ages
ISBN: 9780373293032
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Dominie’s vassals had learned to fight, Armand acknowledged, leaning on the handle of his scythe and wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm. Now he must keep his part of their compact, by pitching in with the field work. With St. Barnabas Day past and the weather favorable, the folk of Harwood and Wakeland were busy making hay.

To Armand’s mind, the vassals had the better part of the bargain. Learning to wield a weapon was not half the labor of plying a sharp, curved blade through thick swaths of green hay.

“A drink?” offered a familiar woman’s voice from behind him.

He turned toward Dominie. “You must have read my mind, lass.”

“It is not difficult to guess that when a man rests at his work on a hot day, he may be ready for some refreshment.”

She lofted a teasing smile in his direction as she poured a generous measure of ale from a clay pitcher into a cup, then handed it to him. If he hadn’t know better, he might have called her smile flirtatious. But that was nonsense, surely.

“The sun has baked you good and brown.” Dominie’s husky voice bubbled with laughter as she ran her finger down Armand’s bare back from his shoulder to his waist.

A great mouthful of ale spewed out of his mouth in a fine spray.

Dominie paid no heed to his reaction, but went on bantering as if nothing had happened. “Remember when we fell in the brook coming from Breckland? You were white as a fish’s belly then.”

A beguiling memory took shape in Armand’s mind, of Dominie as she had emerged from the brook with her clothes held over her head. That and the unexpectedly intimate touch of her fingertip against his hot, bare skin roused him to a painful pitch.

“Blue as the sky, more like,” he muttered.

“Aye, that, too.” Dominie gave a deep, delicious chuckle as though they were sharing some private lovers’ jest. “’Tis a wonder we ever warmed up after that.”

Not such a wonder. Armand would have defied any man to hold Dominie in his arms for a night without kindling a fire in his flesh.

The memory of it heated him almost as much as the hay cutting had. He took a long, thirsty swig of his ale, then handed the mug back to Dominie.

“Thank you for the drink. Now I had better get back to work before your vassals accuse me of shirking my duties.”

All traces of mischievous merriment left her face. Her eyes gleamed with the lost admiration of their younger years. “There is nary a soul on these estates who does not know how hard you have labored these past weeks on our behalf. I marvel at all you have accomplished.”

“I promised I would do my best for you.”

That was what it had been, he suddenly realized. For her. Showing her, in a hundred small, practical ways, how much he regretted what his decision five years ago had cost her. Diverting the forbidden feelings that had begun to surge in his heart into more prudent channels.

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