Page 22 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

William glanced at the cages. "I certainly wish you had brought just rabbits."

"It is a dreadful lot of noise, isn't it? I'm terribly sorry. I feel so sorry for them." Dismas chose that moment to screech so loudly the sound rang through her teeth.

William cursed almost as loudly and stood, scowling.

She grabbed his leg. "Don't hurt him. Please. He's only frightened."

He gave her a puzzled look, then stiffened as if she besmirched his honor. "I do not kill animals," he said through a tight jaw. "Tempting though it may be this night." With that he stalked out of the shelter into the driving rain.

Linnet watched, stunned, as William brought the cages two at a time over to the shelter of the trees. He stacked them, one atop another in neat rows, then trudged back out into the rain to get the tent and drape it over the cages. She was stunned to move. This gruff and oft times angry man, a hardened warrior, was doing something she was certain no other man would do for her. He was giving comfort and protection to her pets.

He strode back through the rain and the mud to their shelter. He must have read her thoughts because he stopped suddenly, his expression as chagrined as if she had just seen him naked. Head down, he busied himself by retying the halter leads to the tree branches and adjusting the blankets which didn't need adjusting.

She bit back a smile, then walked over to him and gently touched his arm. "William?"

He stared down at her. His black hair was plastered to his head and neck. Rainwater dripped from his brows, nose, and chin and from his clothing, even from that earring.

"Thank you."

He looked away.

She just stood there.

He jerked the corner of the blanket tightly over the limb of a tree, then stopped and said gruffly, "I couldn't take the racket any longer."

"I understand." She gave his arm a pat and turned around. She could feel his stare, yet she walked back and sat down, repaying him by leaving him alone with his embarrassment. But she felt her heart beat a little faster and a small smile of satisfaction tickled the corners of her mouth. His actions told her more about him than all the bard's tales and servants' rumors ever could. Beneath his barbaric looks, beneath the gruff and hard mercenary edges he showed the rest of the world, was truly a kind and gallant man.

8

The road had turned to mud that was thick as oat porridge and slowed their progress. The pack mules balked and brayed when the mud became deep and the cats didn't like being jostled. William was on his own crusade, determined to rectify his past mistakes and reach the town of Wakefair by nightfall. Eventually the dirt road became rocky and drier, the mud only in ravines that dropped down from the highway.

They had been traveling for most of the day when the red knight appeared. Like the black knight he sat upon a heavy warhorse with plain trappings and both his shield and plume were red. The visor of his helm was already down, in challenging position. He had no lance, only a sword, and he was blocking the narrow road.

William turned in his saddle. "Ride back to the center of the caravan! And woman!"

"Aye?"

"Do as I say this time!" He drew his sword and turned back.

The red knight charged.

William spurred his mount forward.

Seconds later they met on the narrow section of highway, met with a clash of sword blades, the power of which sent a familiar ringing up William's sword arm. He fought hard, but the knight's warhorse was hands higher than his smaller mount. His arm was fast tiring for trying to outmaneuver.

The red knight sliced his sword downward. William kicked his foot out and knocked the knight from his horse. The man landed on the edge of the roadway. William leapt from his own mount, then smacked its hindquarter and sent it charging up the road. Sword raised, he rounded the man's warhorse. The red knight had managed to stand and move from the narrow shoulder that separated road from ravine. A muffled curse came from inside the man’s helm.

The knight raised his sword . . .

. . . And Linnet screamed.

William froze and turned. The knight knocked his sword from his hand. William whipped around, a vile curse on his tongue.

The knight was ready. His mailed foot shot out. With the force of a catapult, he kicked William square in the belly and he doubled over and saw stars. A second later he tumbled backward and down the ravine.

Jagged rocks jabbed his shoulders, his back, his legs. He grunted. Bracken and sharp roots scratched his face and neck. He curled into a tight ball to keep from catching a limb and breaking bones.

Down he fell, faster and farther. Down, over more sharp granite edges and rough thorny bushes. Down until a mud pit stopped him. He lay there, mud oozing around him, the world spinning, and more stars than Linnet could count shooting past his vision. He didn't move for the longest time. He took one breath, then another, very slowly.