Hers To Command. Margaret Moore

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      “Gladly, after you explain what you’re doing here,” the knight replied, no longer amiable or merry as he grabbed her wrist and forced her to drop her dagger. He let go of her as he kicked the dagger away, but continued to regard her sternly.

      Looking at him now, she could well believe he was a knight from a powerful family, and of some repute.

      “Is this some sort of trick?” he asked, raising a majestic brow and crossing his powerful arms. “Should I be expecting a visit from an irate father or brother insisting that I marry this lady? If so, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. I might have welcomed her into my bed, but I will never be forced to take a wife.”

      Giselle let out a little squeak of dismay. “Mathilde, tell him why we are here,” she pleaded, her face as red as a cardinal’s robe.

      “If we explain, will you let us go?” Mathilde asked warily.

      He inclined his head in agreement.

      “Then I will explain,” she replied.

      Determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, she planted her feet, looked him straight in the eye and said, “We require a knight, and we thought, since we heard you did not have much money, that you would—”

      “Do I look like a mercenary to you?” he interrupted, lowering his arms, his face flushing and his brown eyes glowering.

      “At the moment, you don’t look anything except half naked,” Mathilde replied, managing to sound much calmer than she felt. “Perhaps if you had some clothes on, I would better be able to judge.”

      He snorted a laugh. “Aren’t you the coolheaded one,” he remarked, leaning back against the door and once again crossing his arms. “So, you need a knight. For what, if not for pleasure?”

      Mathilde cringed at his reply, but gamely continued, still determined to get away from him as swiftly as she could. “To be at our side should our cousin come to the estate our father left us and try to take it from us.”

      “You seek a knight to fight this cousin over an estate?”

      “Not fight,” Giselle anxiously interposed from the corner.

      The knight regarded her with confusion. “Why do you need a man trained for battle, then, if not to fight?”

      “To impress him,” Mathilde said. “To show him that we are willing to defend our rights and that we are not without some means to do so.”

      “I am to be for show?” the Norman asked with a hint of indignation.

      “We hope to make Roald think twice about trying to steal our inheritance.”

      The knight tilted his head as he studied her. “Roald is an unusual name. Might I have met him at court?”

      Perhaps he had, Mathilde reflected, and if so, she would have to be careful. It could be this man was Roald’s friend, or as much as any man could be the friend of anyone so selfish as Roald. “Our cousin is Sir Roald de Sayres.”

      The Norman’s lip lifted with derision. “I thought that might be who you meant. You’re related to that blackguard?”

      “You know him?”

      “God help me, I do, and I hate the knave.”

      Sweeping the sheet behind him as a lady would the skirt of her gown, the knight strode to the table. He picked up the wineskin lying there and lifted it over his mouth, shaking out the last few drops.

      Mathilde glanced at Giselle. If this man truly hated Roald… “Why do you dislike him?”

      “As there is a lady present, I would rather not say,” the Norman replied as he tossed the empty wineskin back onto the table.

      A lady? What did he think she was? “I am Lady Mathilde of Ecclesford,” she declared, “and this is my sister, Lady Giselle.”

      The knight ran an incredulous gaze over her and her plain clothing. “You’re a lady? I took you for a servant.”

      “Well, I am not.”

      “Forgive me my mistake,” he replied, not very contritely, as his hand moved to his waist and the sheet wrapped around it.

      “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, turning away.

      “I want to hear more about your dilemma, so I think I should dress. Don’t you agree?”

      It would be much easier to talk to him if he were dressed, so she didn’t disagree. However, since there was no reason for them to be here while he put on his clothes and indeed, every reason they should not—she retrieved her dagger and started sidling toward the door. Unfortunately, Giselle was apparently fascinated by the corner at which she stared and before Mathilde could catch her eye, the knight declared, “There. Now I am presentable.”

      And so he was. He wore plain woolen breeches, a sleeveless leather tunic bound by a wide sword belt holding his scabbard and broadsword over a white shirt loosely tied at the neck. He’d put on a pair of boots that were certainly not new, although they were polished and well cared for.

      Without the distraction of his near nudity, Mathilde focused on his handsome face and intelligent brown eyes—when she should be thinking only of how, and if, this man could help them.

      Determined to do just that, she said, “We may be related to Roald, but I assure you, he is no dearer to us than he is to you, and not just because we dread what he may do. He has done great harm in the past, and we fear he will do more in the future. He has no honor, or kindness, or mercy.”

      “That sounds like the Roald I know,” the Norman agreed.

      “Our father died a short time ago,” she continued, a slight catch in her voice, for her grief was still raw. “In his will, he left Ecclesford to Giselle and me, the land to be divided equally between us, with a small sum of money for Roald.

      “However, there are still many who believe inheritance should follow the male line above all other concerns. Then Roald should be lord of Ecclesford, and I am certain he will argue so, and try to steal our inheritance away.”

      “And likely marry you off to form alliances to his advantage,” the knight added, proving that he knew about Roald’s greed and ambition. “So you want a knight to scare him off and stop him from making any such claim, is that it?”

      “Yes. We were told you are the brother of the lord of Dunkeathe in Scotland, and the boon companion of the lord of Tregellas of Cornwall. Is that true?”

      “I have that honor, yes,” the knight replied with a courteous bow, smiling in a way that made him look more handsome still. “As it happens, my lady, I have no particular calls upon my time at present and indeed, it would be my pleasure to thwart any plans of Roald de Sayres. Therefore, since it’s also my duty as a knight of the realm to help ladies in distress, I will gladly assist you. And of course, as I am an honorable knight, I would not expect to be paid.”

      “Then, Sir Knight—”

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