A Warrior's Lady. Margaret Moore

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      “We are inclined to believe you, Lady Anne,” Henry announced.

      Anne let out a sigh, and she realized Sir Reece had done the same. She glanced at him then, but he was still staring stoically ahead, apparently as intently ignoring her as she had been ignoring him.

      “However,” the king continued, “it is clear that there was some just cause for anger on the part of the Delasaines.”

      Sir Reece stiffened, but he did not speak. That silence seemed worse than if he had started shouting. It was like being in the presence of a great force of water held back by a decrepit wooden dam.

      “We believe you to be an honorable knight, Sir Reece, and as such, you are duty-bound to behave in an exemplary manner,” King Henry said. “This was not an example of the chivalrous behavior we expect from one of the knights of our court and especially a son of Sir Urien Fitzroy. It was improper of you to approach Lady Anne when she was alone.

      “On the other hand, it seems that the lady’s relatives reacted with far more violence than the original situation warranted.”

      The king rose to his feet, looking less like a young man and more like the sovereign of England. “Mistakes have been made. Enmity between two noble houses has been created. A charge has been leveled that will stain the reputation of both of you. However, I perceive a means to bring about a reconciliation and prevent further animosity.

      “Lady Anne, Sir Reece, you must marry.”