Knight Moves by Cynthia Luhrs

Author:Cynthia Luhrs
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2015-12-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

James would not tolerate a shrewish tongue or disordered curls. And especially not eyes the color of emeralds. His gaze fell upon the ring lying on top of the desk. ’Twas a family ring. The large sapphire reminded him of her. Mysterious and full of hidden depth.

Flowers and vines carved into the band reminded him of her wanton curls. His finger had healed crookedly and the ring would no longer slide all the way down. He hoped in time it would fit again. James tried it on his right hand. It slipped over the knuckle, fitting perfectly. He laid it back on the desk with a thud. No—he would not wear it again until he was whole. His boot hit the wall, and James cursed. Mayhap he would never wear the ring again. Her face would likely haunt him for a very long time indeed.

The cheek of the lass. Melinda Merriweather had run off and gravely insulted him by stealing his favorite warhorse. She’d spent the previous night in her chamber. James had left her alone to her womanly thoughts but when he didn’t see her the next day, he inquired of the servants. No one had seen her. A small boy from the stables came forward.

“I’m awfully sorry, my lord.” The boy looked at the ground, kicking at the dirt. “Mistress Merriweather said you wanted her to take your horse for a ride. I knew you didn’t let anyone ride him, but she can be very fearsome.”

James rolled his eyes. He could imagine her standing there, hands on her hips, intimidating the boy into giving her what she wanted.

“The horse went willingly? He did not bite her?”

The boy nodded vigorously. “She gave him carrots. He liked them very much.”

James should have known she’d find a way to leave. He snorted. The bloody horse could be bought with a simple carrot. Melinda was a full day ahead of him. Several of the men rode with him as he set off on his second-best horse to find her. She was no doubt headed for Blackford. James would have to show his deformed face. Listen to William’s taunts. He scowled. Let him yap like a dog. James would take his head.

One of the men rode back to James. “My lord, ’tis passing strange—the tracks lead in the wrong direction.”

He could not keep the smile from his face. She was traveling north, not east. If Melinda continued, she would eventually arrive in Scotland. He could not imagine she meant to travel to the land of barbarians. The smile turned to a frown. Unless she were a spy and plotted to meet her master.

“We follow.” Was it too much to ask for a meek and quiet girl? One he could get with an heir and a spare, then leave her behind tending his home whilst he went back where he belonged, to battle.

What else was there? He craved the thrill of battle. The clanging of swords. If James was no longer a warrior, he was nothing.

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