Synclair sat in front of her, more real than she believed possible. His stallion was a full head taller than her mare, and he angled his head to look down upon her. Unlike the men surrounding the earl of Hertford, Synclair was wearing only sturdy wool garments. There wasn’t a bauble or length of trim anywhere on him, just the gold knights’ chain secured to the shoulders of his doublet which allowed the chain to drape across the wide expanse of his chest.
He looked more fetching to her eyes than any other man. Something flickered in his eyes, a hint of pleasure at knowing that she enjoyed looking at him.
“The raptor isn’t afraid of the world, even when it should be. Once it gains its freedom, it will take a strong bond to bring it back to the man who held it.”
He wasn’t talking about a hawk. The knight’s blue eyes were hard as winter ice and aimed directly at her.
“Rather insightful of the raptor; fear is for children.”
“Or women who are forced to endure guardians that lack honor.”
Justina gasped again. This time her mare danced in a circle, feeling her rider’s upset. Synclair’s lips twitched, hinting at a grin that never truly showed on his face, but there was an unmistakable flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He used a short pull on his reins to guide his stallion closer to her mare, sidestepping over to neatly push her away from the main body of the hunting party. Surprise held her in its grasp. Her heart accelerated and her thoughts whirled too fast to reign in. Synclair took advantage of that, cutting his stallion ever closer to her mare. Her horse retreated, until Justina pulled up on the reins to insist that the animal stay in place.
The action didn’t gain her the security she sought, instead Synclair urged his stallion closer, and unlike her mare, the animal seemed accustomed to being pressed against another horse. She felt Synclair invading her space and leaned away out of instinct.
“Enough, sir. Have done.”
“I think not, Lady, I have only begun. It is time you and I stand steady and see what happens when we are not being pulled apart by the rest of the world.”
“I disagree.”
She leaned farther away, too far to maintain her balance atop the mare.
The knight’s hand snaked out as fast as a lightning strike to grip her skirt. He grabbed a huge hand full of the cartridge-pleated material, holding her in place when her own movement would have carried her over the side of the mare.
“What are you doing at court?”
She couldn’t deal with him back at court when she was forced to remain, too. Something flashed in his eyes, a warning that cut through her like a knife. Her breath became lodged in her throat.
“Following you, Justina.”
He spoke her name in a rough voice before stretching out his arm and allowing her body to slide down the side of the saddle. Even as shock held her in its grasp, she was amazed at the amount of strength in his body. He controlled her descent to the ground, lifting one leg up and over her mare so that he sat for a brief moment on top of the animal before he followed her to the ground. He might have simply released her skirt and dismounted from his own horse but he refused to allow her to drop so carelessly. His solid strength supported her all the way to the ground, while he followed her. It happened in a moment but her mind was frozen in shock, making every action slower and more noticeable.
“Did you doubt that I would follow you?” He made a low sound that communicated how frustrated he was. The tone of it made her tremble, an instant response that she neither considered nor controlled. It simply happened, just as heat began burning a path along her arms and up her neck, before it reached her face to set her cheeks on fire. Words failed her, her thoughts centering on the blush staining her face.
To think that she might still be capable of blushing ... Such an innocent action felt misplaced but it also sent a tingle of excitement through her heart.
Synclair lifted a hand and gently stroked her face before she shook off her astonishment. “How could you doubt that I would follow, Justina? I spoke my intentions clearly to you at Amber Hill.”
“Your intentions?” She stepped away from him, not because his touch offended her, but to escape the sheer enjoyment of having his skin against her own. “You locked me in a chamber.”
“Only for a week, and then you were given the freedom of the castle. Considering the peril you allowed Bridget to run into when you showed her the way out of Amber Hill, a week was a small penance. But it was by Lord Ryppon’s order and one designed for your protection. Your guardian is unfit. He sent you to deceive us and send Bridget into the night where she might have been harmed. Keeping you in the castle was to prevent you from returning to a guardian who has no conscience about how he uses you.” His voice was edged with hard command, but instead of striking her as arrogant, Synclair seemed worthy of the tone. His eyes sliced into hers. “You were the one who kept to your chamber after that, Lady. It was no simple task to meet you outside it.”
And yet he had managed it far too often for her faltering self-discipline. Each time he’d managed to intercept her had chiseled away at her resolve to push him away. Now, with his eyes on her again, she could feel every hole in the walls around her heart.
“I had to sequester myself because you lacked the sense to stay away from me.” He was too large and too tempting. Justina stepped away from him, needing distance to regain her composure. There were solid reasons why she could not allow him to pursue her; she simply couldn’t think of any of them at the moment.
“If either of us lacks sense, Lady, it is you.” Synclair didn’t follow her. The knight swallowed further words before they crossed his lips, frustration darkening his face. He gripped his wide belt and drew in a deep breath.
“Your guardian is unjust, Justina.”
“That is not uncommon nor does it change the fact that he is my guardian.”
He took a step toward her. “That does not excuse him.” Fury edged his words, noble fire that stole the breath from her lungs. All of her reasons for refusing him flew back into her mind. Her knees nearly buckled beneath the weight.
Justina clasped her hands together, making herself steady and poised for the rejection she must give him.
Synclair didn’t give her the chance. He closed the gap between them, his hand cupping her chin and holding it.
“Do not waste yet more of your breath.” There was a hard warning glittering in his eyes and his tone was as sharp as steel.
“I must. You cannot champion me.”
“I assure you, Justina, I can.”
She drew in a deep breath, frustration biting into her. Trust the man to take her words as an insult.
“It is not a matter of your ability; I am not a good match for you.”
The fingers clasping her chin tightened to the point of discomfort but he stiffened and forced his grip to relax before true pain needled her. He lifted his hand away and she pulled in a deep breath, determined to cut him with her next words and send him away before he was smeared with the stains of her sins. She couldn’t bear that idea, and it tormented her unmercifully.
“That
