Page 5 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

He set the tankard on the table and let his gaze rove slowly from her face to her toes, where he paused, took another drink of ale as if time were his alone, then just as slowly he looked upward, stopping with interest every so often. He paused and looked away, staring at his tankard as he said almost too casually, "I see no coin."

Her knees were quivering and air felt tight in her chest. What in the name of God in Heaven was she doing here? She took a deep breath and pulled a sack of gold from inside her cloak, wishing it were prayer beads, and held it up.

She smiled. He didn't. She raised her chin a notch. With a dramatic flair she tossed the gold toward the table.

The bag hit the tabletop just as she'd planned. Then she watched in horror as the bag kept going, and slid right off the edge.

It landed squarely in his lap.

Her mouth dropped open and for a horrified instant she just stared at it. With a mental groan, she closed her eyes. A heartbeat later she opened them.

He was staring pointedly at the bag. When he looked up, there was a flicker of amusement on his face.

There was sudden male laughter in the room. Someone behind her shouted. "Now we know what sword the lady wishes to buy, de Ros!"

"Not merely a sword, but his powerful sword!" another voice shouted.

Her face flushed hot and she fervently wished the earth would just open up and swallow her. She spun around and took a step to leave, her humiliation complete.

But again he was quicker.

His hand shot out and grasped a handful of her cloak.

She couldn't move. She couldn't run. She tried to pull free.

Slowly he drew her back toward him. She grabbed at the ties under her chin and jerked them loose. Her cloak fell away.

Run! Run!

But there was no place to run.

There was nothing before her but a wall of grinning male faces and huge bodies. She shoved at the crowd, her tears of humiliation changed into tears of fear and they fell as quickly as her heart pounded.

She could sense the mercenary standing behind her before his shadow blocked the spill of weak candlelight from the swinging lantern above her. His hands closed over her shoulders and he spun her around. She tried to wiggle free. But even in a blood rush of fear her strength was puny compared to his. She took a deep, quivering breath and looked up at him through a mist of frightened tears. She expected to see savagery in his expression, to see cruelty from a man so greatly feared.

But cruelty was not what she saw. She saw some odd emotion. Just as quickly that emotion disappeared and he looked away, although his hands still gripped her so tightly she couldn't move.

He turned to the crowd then pulled her flush against him with one powerful arm clamped across her collarbone.

She cried still harder, silent tears that wouldn't let her catch a full breath.

"Leave off!" His shout filled the room and the jeers and laughter died suddenly. With his free hand he tossed her bag of gold at the barkeep. "Keep the ale flowing all night, till every man has drunk his fill."

A cheer erupted as loud as a battle cry and the men shifted and charged to the tavern bar. She tried to swallow but was struck with fear.

His mouth moved near her ear. "I won't harm you, my lady," he whispered. "Calm yourself." He turned around and released her, but didn't move away, his body providing a shield.

Linnet bit her lip and stared at the toes of her boots. He bent down and retrieved her fallen cloak. He did not give it to her, but instead laid it over one arm. She waited, still frightened, still crying.

Can you not look at me?"

She shook her head, knowing what she'd see if she looked up at him.

"I said I would not harm you," he added quietly.

"Perhaps you won't harm me. But neither will you help me."

He reached out and tilted her chin up with a scarred knuckle. "I've just spent your gold on a few hogsheads of ale." He shrugged and added, "So I seems, my lady, that you've already bought your protection."