Page 10 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

"Aye?" he said with patience he did not know he possessed.

"Will you please lower it the rest of the way. Carefully, please."

That cat was in the cage, eyeing him the way enemies size up each other.

He set the cage on the ground. She dropped the other end of the rope.

Was not long before she came hurrying around the corner, a basket slung on one arm, tying her mantle around her neck—that same white neck in which he'd foolishly thought to sometime soon bury his lips, the same neck he was now tempted to wring.

He stood next to her belongings. The pile was taller than he was. She looked from him to the stack, then back. She smiled. He crossed his arms again and glowered down at her. "Are you certain, my lady, that you have everything?"

She eyed the stack again and tapped a finger against her lips, then said distractedly, "Aye. I believe so."

"And how do you propose we take your things on a six-day journey?"

She gazed up at him, frowning. "You sound angry. I don't understand."

He waved his hand at the pile of sacks. "Look at this."

She did. "Are you concerned that I have forgotten something?"

"God's blood, woman! You could not possibly have forgotten anything!"

"Shhhh. You are shouting."

"I'm whispering! How the devil can I shout when I'm whispering?"

"I too would have wagered 'twas not possible, sir, but you are."

"There isn't a knight in the realm who wouldn't shout at this. I will not strap your things to my back and play the ass."

"Oh!" she said as if suddenly enlightened. "I understand what you are fretting over. Wait here." She spun and disappeared around the corner.

Fret? He did not fret. He took four very long breaths. One . . . Two . . .

When he reached seventy-three she came back around the corner with a rope trailing behind her. "You needn't play the ass," she whispered brightly. "I already have my own."

Rounding the corner was a tether of pack donkeys laden with willow cages and more bundles than a sultan's caravan.

She smiled up at him as sweetly as honey and placed the rope in his hand. "Now I have everything." She patted his arm and added, "You needn't fret so. I told you I had a plan."

He stared at the rope, then dropped it and walked up and down the line of pack animals. Somewhat dazed, he turned. "You have five rabbits, two ducks, and twenty-five cats?"

"Twenty-six." She scurried over and picked up the cage beneath the window, then held it high in the moonlight. She gave him the sweetest and brightest smile he had ever received. "You forgot Swithun."

A lone figure stood on the battlements of Ardenwood Castle, quietly watching through shrewd and narrowed eyes, as the caravan, bathed in moonlight, wended its way up the north road.

Leading the procession was the Baron Warbrooke. He had a huge bundle strapped to his horse, while Lady Linnet, perched atop a dappled palfrey, trotted along behind him. They were followed by a line, a very long line, of loaded pack animals.

After the caravan had disappeared over the rim of the hills, the earl of Arden turned away, and smiled.

Linnet rode along behind her escort, soaking up the bright June sunshine and the lush beauty of their surroundings. And she was humming. Humming, it seemed, kept the peace.

Her cats had never traveled and they had begun to loudly meow protests that continued until well into the morning hours. De Ros was not pleased, but he had ceased flinching at the noise a few hours before, after he had muttered something about the blessed silence of rabbits.

She had begun to hum, something she did often. He stopped abruptly and turned to watch her rather intensely. She had clamped her mouth shut, only to have him turn back around and gruffly command her to continue.

Now, sometime later, they rounded a bend in the road, where, in the distance, a stone bridge spanned a winding silver river that shimmered in the long rays of the late sun. One of the cats began to screech.