Page 22 of King’s Knight

Oh God, a wild boar in rut!

Heart pounding, Merewyn reached for Ceinder’s reins, but the normally calm pony rolled her eyes, showing the whites, and backed away, blowing and snorting.

With a guttural sound, the beast stepped from the brush, sniffing the air. Ceinder let out a high-pitched scream. The boar’s tiny eyes glittered as it snorted and pawed at the ground, agitated by the pony’s panicked dance.

The beast let out a fearful squeal sending chills up Merewyn’s spine. What should she do? Her arrows would not stop a charging boar. Afraid she might only madden the animal if she wounded it, she began to back away. The boar squealed again and charged.

Ceinder fled and Merewyn ran, terrified. She could never outrun the wild beast gaining on her.

Pounding hooves shook the ground. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Alex galloping into the clearing. He swung out of the saddle, landed running and flung his spear all in one powerful motion. The boar crashed to the ground and slid, plowing up the loam, before smashing into Merewyn, knocking her to the ground. One of its tusks pressed against her leg. The spear quivered, jutting up from the beast’s armpit where it pinned the boar’s heart.

Merewyn stared, open-mouthed, still shivering in fear. Part of her bow was beneath her, her quiver of arrows pressing into her back.

Without a word, Alex reached for her, pulling her free of the boar. Lifting her from the ground, he swept her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. “By the grace of God, you are safe.”

She clung to him and the hard strength of his body, her heart hammering in her chest. “You… you saved me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Did you not see the boar?”

“Nay!” she spit out. “I went to check on the deer and the boar was in the bush. He caught me unawares. How did you know to come back?”

“I was heading back to find you when your pony screamed. In these woods it could mean only wolves or boar.”

The sound of pounding hooves made her push away from Alex to stand apart, her arms wrapped around her leather jerkin. Her bow still lay on the ground but the quiver of arrows remained over her shoulder.

Into the clearing rode Alex’s father, Sir Geoffroi and Jamie followed by Rory and Guy.

Talisand’s lord gave the scene a studying perusal: the dead boar with the spear protruding from its wiry hide lying next to the deer with an arrow sticking from its body, Alex and Merewyn on either side, more intent on each other than on the beasts between them. With a concerned look, he asked, “You are both unharmed?”

“Aye,” said Alex. “A fortunate shot stopped the beast.”

“Fortunate?” scoffed Sir Geoffroi. “ ’Twas not mere luck, that. ’Twas more like miraculous.”

“You have rescued the fair damsel,” said Guy with a grin.

“It was a close thing,” said Alex, glancing at Merewyn and then looking away.

“If it had not been for Sir Alex,” she said to his father, “I would not be alive.”

* * *

Alex’s hand shook as he grabbed the pommel of his saddle and swung onto Azor’s back. The pounding in his chest was only beginning to subside, but a quick look at Merewyn assured him she was well.

What horror had gripped him when he’d ridden into the clearing to see the boar’s tusks mere feet from Merewyn’s slender body. He remembered little of what followed, certain he’d gone mad. Enraged, he had flung his spear at the beast. Surely God had been with him to enable him to pierce the beast’s heart as he had dropped from his horse in a blur.

He’d had close calls in battle and faced death more than once. But never had the life at risk been Merewyn’s. The pain he felt at the thought of losing her was like no other he had experienced. The moment he’d realized the boar was intent on taking her life, killing the beast was his only purpose.

During the ride back to Talisand, he pondered what the girl meant to him. Kissing her had told him he wanted her in his bed, but his feelings had gone well beyond lust for a beautiful woman. He could not abide the thought of any harm coming to her—or of another man having her. And he had no desire to take another woman to his bed though several made clear they were willing.

Rory and Guy had sought their pleasure and were quick to tell him of their conquests. When his companions noted his unusual abstinence, Alex had said nothing.

“Are you certain you are not ill?” asked Rory one morning when Alex ignored a village girl’s flirting at the practice yard.

“Do I appear ill?” he snapped back. Alex had just defeated Rory in their sparring, thus he expected the reply that followed.

Rory took in Alex’s appearance, which, except for the sweat on his forehead from their lively swordplay, conveyed his readiness to spar again. He was not even winded. “Nay, you do not seem ill.”

When Guy, who had been listening to their conversation, suggested the cause was Merewyn, Alex returned him a dark scowl. He would not allow her name to be bandied about.