Dragon's Knight. Catherine Archer

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      Chapter Two

      Aislynn paused before the door that led to the private chambers and peered back toward the high table. Aye, Jarrod Maxwell was indeed still there. He was not some figment of her imaginings, that strange and fascinating man who had come walking into their lives with that cool breath of wind. And yet he had managed to sit the whole of the meal without one word to her, talking with her father as if she did not even exist.

      She would certainly wish him at the far ends of the earth were it not for her certainty that he would find Christian. Even as she thought this, she could not forget the way he had looked at her mouth. She had felt a rush of something warm and womanly inside. It was something she had never felt when Gwyn looked at her. Not even when he had kissed her that once.

      Whatever was the matter with her?

      Though Jarrod Maxwell was quite undeniably the most interesting and handsome man she had ever seen in all of her life, she must stop this. She certainly had no reason to think the knight was interested in her. She must not allow herself to imagine some connection between them. Instead, she needed to be about the task of readying his accommodations.

      As her father had said, the knight should be shown the utmost honor and hospitality they could bestow upon him. Christian’s chamber was vacant at the moment and quite spacious. It should serve their guest quite well.

      Without further ado Aislynn went to the kitchens and charged her women with readying a bath. She then made her way to her brother’s chamber to prepare it for Jarrod Maxwell herself, determined to behave as the daughter of her father’s noble house. Yet, as she was spreading the clean linens on the bed, the bed Jarrod Maxwell would soon lie upon, she noted with alarm that her hands were trembling. Quickly, she told herself her trembling was only due to her excitement and hope that the knight might actually be able to help them find her brother.

      When she moved to place the soft white pillow upon the bed, she could not deny an unexplainable thrill at the vivid image of his dark head upon it. She took a deep breath and held the snowy pillow tightly to her breast.

      It was with a start of surprise that, at that very moment, she heard her father’s voice behind her in the open doorway. Along with it came the unmistakable deep tones of the man who was so much in her thoughts.

      She swung around to face them with a guilty start, dropping the pillow onto the floor.

      Her father motioned Jarrod Maxwell into the chamber as he addressed her. “Aislynn, my dear, Margaret informs me that Sir Jarrod is to have Christian’s room during his stay.”

      Aislynn nodded, not meeting her father’s gaze as, with a pounding heart, she bent to pick up the pillow and toss it upon the bed. Telling herself that the men could not have known her thoughts even if they had seen her hugging it, she replied quickly, “There is no point in his having less comfortable accommodation when it is vacant. Sir Jarrod will have some measure of privacy here.” As she motioned toward the large wooden tub, she realized that the knight’s name felt strange and at the same time welcome on her lips, which only disturbed her further.

      Hurriedly she went on evenly, determined to behave as if she welcomed this man no more than she would any other guest. “The women are heating water for a bath as we speak.”

      Jarrod Maxwell held up a hand, shaking his black head. “There is no need—”

      Her father interrupted him. “Nay, do not demure, sir knight. Allow us to thank you for your help by way of our hospitality.”

      The other man subsided, bowing, his stance tense, as if he were uncomfortable at being the object of their consideration.

      Aislynn found herself studying Jarrod Maxwell as he stood there with her father. This new awkwardness was a sharp contrast to the grace and power that seemed his accustomed demeanor. What a strange mixture of reticence and confidence he was. No wonder Christian held him in such high esteem.

      Again Aislynn felt an unmistakable stirring inside her. He raised a strong hand and raked it through the raven darkness of his hair while he listened to her father. At that very moment those black eyes found hers and she felt herself flush. He held her gaze for just one moment. “Lady Aislynn.”

      Quickly she looked away, moving to make sure the towel she had draped over the bench was not too close to the fire, though she already knew that it was not. Far from being pleased that he had acknowledged her, she was unaccountably flustered, her heart thumping in her breast.

      Deliberately Aislynn occupied herself with wandering about the room, putting away the few items her brother had left out. The two men’s conversation became no more than a soft murmur in the background, though the deep timbre of the knight’s voice kept her senses in a heightened state.

      So successful was she in distracting herself that she ceased to even attend their conversation until her father’s voice rose as he said, “What do you mean, the side of one of the pots has cracked?” Aislynn looked up to see that her father was addressing Margaret, the head woman at Bransbury, who stood at the entrance to the chamber with a perplexed frown creasing СКАЧАТЬ