Her Knight by Royal Command

Chapter 1

He had her cornered.

She shrank against a boulder on the river’s edge, disheveled, barefoot, and wide-eyed with shock. Caught like a rabbit in a snare. She had not expected that, he could tell.

It had taken him no time at all, once he picked up her trail. But then, ‘twas hardly a challenge to pit himself against a child. Absurd. Had she seen fourteen, fifteen summers?

Edward Rowley, Earl of Ravensworth, had earned his place among England’s foremost magnates, and she, a wisp of a girl, thought to hide from him?

Childish and even gawky, he thought, caught up in events too weighty for her.

Her dark hair, barely contained, flew about her urchin face with its large blue eyes.

He would have smiled, but he smelled treachery. The girl, he knew in his bones, was implicated in the theft. He just didn’t know how—not yet.

His expression had everything of the hunter in it, and nothing of mirth. Let her be in no doubt as to the seriousness of the matter. The danger of such a letter falling into the wrong hands had consequences for Prince Henry. Slander could be as lethal a weapon as a sword.

The Forest pressed in on all three sides. Glumfell, it was named. Well-suited. It had an evil feel to it. Here, the shadows lay thick and sinister. Yet the girl feared him, not the trees. Obviously not a stranger here then, he concluded. Twice she glanced at the River Brun. Assessing her chances?

Fortunately for him, its galloping waters formed the fourth and final barrier against her escape. Spring had released its turbulent waters, and not even a strong swimmer could risk it. That left her no chance, other than to make a dash for it.

Highly unlikely, he assured himself.

Edward looked down the length of his patrician nose and regarded her impassively. She was young, slight, but had the bearing of a countess. The attire of a serving wench did not hide her identity.

“What, I wonder, are you doing in these grim woods, alone and yet green as April grass? Does your father know that you run wild like this?”

She said nothing, but edged toward her horse, grazing a few yards away.

Edward dismounted and pulled off his gauntlets. He positioned himself between her and her horse. Did she think him stupid? He wasn’t going to allow her to escape him so easily.

“It seems you can give no good accounting of yourself, girl,” he taunted as he advanced another step. “Unsurprising. Where I come from, no well-born girl, such as yourself, would be seen disporting herself in a place without supervision. Perhaps it is the custom in backwaters such as this?”

She colored, lifting her chin in defiance. “It is frowned upon even in this backwater,” she said. “You are unchivalrous to say such things.”

Edward gazed in astonishment. The gall, to answer him so.

“Unchivalrous? What do you know of such things?”

“I know Sir du Lac would never be so rude and… or so threatening.”

“Oho, Lancelot, is it? And what would that gallant knight say about your lack of meekness, not to mention your lack of shoes, answer me that?”

She did not, but instead looked him directly in the eye.

He only just managed to conceal a chuckle at her audacity. He’d deliberately provoked her, yet she had not fallen into maidenly pieces as he’d expected.

For him, this was something new. An unarmed waif of a thing verbally contesting with him, a knight twice her size and with several times her guile. Well, well. Grown men would never have given him such an answer. Hell, her simpering father wouldn’t have.

“Just so,” he said and folded his arms. “Now, we’ll begin again. I ask a question, you answer, are we clear? What are you doing here?” his voice hardened. “Speak,” he barked, allowing a little of his temper to show.

His mission pressed him, or else he would have liked nothing more than the enjoyment of sparring with her a while. But he must meet up with the prince, and the hour grew late.

“I did not know I was answerable to you, sir knight,” she said eventually. “When my father instructs me, I will naturally obey.”

“Cocky, I will say that.” Edward inched closer. “Or ill-mannered. Let me give you a word of advice. ‘Tis unwise for the mouse to dally with the cat.”

This last was said with a scowl so fierce he could see her shiver.

Still, she lifted her prideful head. “I did not take you for a mouse, sir knight.”

Edward heard himself grunt. She was quick, he would give her that, the impudent minx had just reversed his own metaphor—cast him as the mouse. Perhaps, though, she should learn the difference between silly and stupid.

“Do you provoke me, mam’selle?” he said in an icy voice. He got a pleasing response for she went white, and her dark blue eyes lost some of their defiance.

“So then, as I am in haste,” he continued, “let me tell you how I see things, Elizabeth Keeling.” He saw her eyes grow wide.

“No, do not start so. I am well aware of who you are. It is your conduct I am trying to decipher. Still nothing to say?” he asked silkily, stalking her openly now as he positioned himself to pounce.

He could hear her shallow breath. He’d managed to unnerve her, now that his intentions were obvious. Good, she should be scared.

Edward closed in and, like a lightning strike, his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, holding it in a vice. His brow hardened with annoyance.

“Your lack of response leads me to come to my own conclusions. Would you care to hear them? No? Too bad. I would wager that whatever it is you do here, it is connected to the stolen missive belonging to Prince Henry. Stolen from your house by one of your householders. A grave violation of the laws of hospitality, quite apart from bearing the trappings of disloyalty. Prince Henry, in case it slipped your mind, is your guest, invited to Keelington Court. For the hunting. Not for the thieving.”

As he spoke, he brought her closer, all but lifting her off the ground with his grip on her one wrist. He bent to get a good look at her expression.

She had, he thought, been suitably cowed. He continued: “Do you play with dangerous things, do you meddle in plots? I warn you, you’re out of your reckoning, Elizabeth Keeling. Or is it, Lily? I thought I heard you called by that name?”

His weighty words, delivered through clenched teeth, made her legs buckle.

He felt her sag and instantly put out his other arm to steady her.

“Speak. Tell me, why are you play-acting the unruly ruffian? Where are the others of your playmates? What is your business here? Speak, I command it.”

“I… I nothing. I’m doing nothing,” she said, trying to pull her wrist free. Might as well sail for the moon. He gripped her like a steel manacle. “Unhand me,” she said, subdued now, fearful.

Edward studied her. He saw the powerlessness, the wariness, but also the plea in her eyes. Silent she might be, but her eyes asked for mercy.

Hellfire! Pity it is that so lively a wit would soon be trammeled by the discipline that awaited her.

He had to admit that discipline was warranted. And yet, he felt a pang of regret for what she would inevitably become in a season or two: the meek mouse she had accused him of being.

She recalled to him the spirit of a wild creature, driven to flee the dullness of captivity.

He gave his mind an impatient shake. For the present, he had to return to the prince. The time allotted was passing swiftly.

“I do not know what part you played in this scheme, but I intend to discover it.”

She jerked against his grip once again. This time, he let her go. Surprised because she had not expected that, she fell back, unable to stop herself from tumbling to the ground. With a clink and a clatter, a pair of heavy horseshoes spilled from the pouch she carried.

Edward stared at them. At once, the pieces of the puzzle snapped together in his mind’s eye. He had been examining hoofprints but a short while ago.

Prince Henry and his companions had come across the horses’ marks at a fork in the forest road.

They had been chasing the letter thief, or so they had thought.

The hoof marks had sent the prince and his three companions off in an easterly direction.

But Edward had peeled off to inspect the other way, just in case.

‘Twas a simple maneuver that they followed as a matter of course, to ensure no prey escaped them.

Nor had any, he was prepared to wager. He rather thought it likely that the letter thief remained at Keelington Court and had never left. The forest and the hoof prints were merely decoys, planted to put them off the track.

Unless he was very mistaken, Edward rather thought the entire chase had been vain. This bedraggled imp could be thanked for that.

There she lay, frozen at his feet, the guilt of her complicity spilled out onto the forest floor. Iron horseshoes caked in mud that resembled the same mud at the fork.

“You do play with treason,” he said, his voice gruff with astonishment.

She remained silent.

He was really angry now. He hauled her up off the ground, half-dragging, half-carrying her to his horse.

“So, now we know,” he said, his jaw tight as he made ready to mount, “You have deliberately deceived your father’s royal guest, among other questionable deeds. Time to pay the piper.”

The girl’s guilt-ridden shoulders sagged a bit. He could see her wince as each barb slammed home.

His eyes slashed across her, his contempt eloquent. “Mercifully, it is not for me to discipline you. You will be punished. And soundly, it is to be hoped. But that dubious honor goes to your father—unless Prince Henry forgets all charity and truly names it treason.”

His words hung in the air, gloomy like the trailing growths on the ancient trees around them. Hauling her up before him on his mount, he snatched up her horse’s bridle and, with a tap, began to ride.