Page 71 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Wait.” Geoffrey slid down from the destrier. He took the basket.

The girl looked bewildered. “Cook ordered me to deliver two meals to the garden. Did you not request it, milord?”

Geoffrey patted the maidservant’s arm. “I will take the food. Lead my horse to the stable.”

The gate squeaked as it swung open, but the laughter did not cease. He headed down the path, foliage hissing against his boots with each stride. A few more steps and he spied Mildred’s broad back turned to him.

He slowed. Where was the lady?

His gaze fell to the grass, and he drew a sharp breath. She sat on a broken stone, grinning like a reckless child, her bliaut raised to her knees. Her pale ankles and calves were bared to the sunlight. What curvaceous legs. Desire hurtled through his blood with the speed of an attacking hawk.

His boot hit a half-buried rock, and Elizabeth glanced up and saw him. With a startled cry, she jumped to her feet and brushed shredded leaves from her bliaut.

He cloaked his lust with biting words. “Merriment? Have I not given you two enough work?”

Mildred greeted him with a huff. “You must have seen our progress as you walked, milord—the mounds of weeds and cleared section of path.”

“You have done fair work.” As he expected, indignation gleamed in Elizabeth’s eyes. He strode forward and presented her with the basket. “When you have eaten, I expect your toil to continue.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Or what, milord?”

He scowled. “You would be wise not to tax my patience any further. You would not like the consequences.”

She snatched the basket from his hand and set it on the ground. “An empty threat.”

Her boldness surprised him. Desire surged again, hotter than before. “Must I remind you of last evening when you tried my fortitude? This time, I shall ensure that you never forget my warnings.”

Her glare could have blasted the feathers off a strutting cockerel. “You do not frighten me, and I will never allow you to humiliate me in that manner ever again.”

With lazy fingers, he plucked a leaf from her hair. “How will you stop me?”

She flushed and jerked away. “I am not such a fool as to tell you.”

“Nay, but a fool to challenge me when you know I will win.” Moisture shone on her lips. He longed to kiss her. To appease his fury with her sweet, virgin essence. The most irrational of cravings, to make her his. “Do you doubt my words?”

“Only a fool relishes his victory before he has won,” she shot back with a slight tremor in her voice.

He leaned closer. Her eyes widened, and he smiled. “You are the fool. You are but a tiny sparrow, spitting seeds at a hawk who could snare you in his talons and make a meal of you whenever he wishes.”

“A hawk?” She snorted. “Nay, you are the ugly wasp, who likes to announce his importance to all around him with his obnoxious buzz. The noise soon becomes tiresome. So much so, in fact, ’tis only a matter of days before he finds himself well and truly swatted.”

“Swatted?” He grinned. “Ah, damsel, then you had best beware my stinger.” He watched her face, fascinated by the emotion in her eyes as she pondered his bawdy words, and then understood them.

Her hand fluttered to her throat. Before he could dive in again, Mildred elbowed in between them and nudged Elizabeth behind her.

The matron wagged a dirty finger in his face. “You will cease this crude banter.”

“Crude banter?” he repeated in a bland tone.

“Do not pretend to misunderstand me.”

He caught Elizabeth peering past the protection of Mildred’s plump shoulder, and laughed. “You need not fear for her virtue. She is not appealing covered with dirt, sweat, and twigs.”

Elizabeth gasped.

Mildred’s gaze narrowed. “I warn you, de Lanceau. You had best keep your stinger where it belongs—in your hose.”

He smiled, turned, and sauntered back toward the gate.