The Knight's Scarred Maiden. Nicole Locke

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The Knight's Scarred Maiden - Nicole Locke Mills & Boon Historical

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the cakes. You’re the one who made it all?’

      She nodded.

      ‘It was good. Very good.’ He continued towards the door. When he reached it he said in a tone that was firm, but apologetic, ‘I won’t be here tomorrow. We’re leaving early.’

      She couldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t be here when Rudd returned, but she wasn’t surprised.

      As if reading her thoughts, he added, ‘There’s nowhere else you could go, no one else you could stay with?’

      ‘My family died a long time ago.’

      Though he’d never gazed overtly at her before, he did so now as his eyes roamed from her face down to her scarred and battered hand. His lips thinned as if stopping words from escaping before he said, ‘You should rest now.’

      She was tired and intended to rest. She needed it. She could no more stop Rudd than she could the fire, but she would survive both. She was only realizing how it could be done.

      ‘Rhain,’ she said through the tightening in her throat.

      He stopped, looked over his shoulder.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said.

      She’d surprised him; his eyes lit and she saw something restless beneath his steady gaze, then he opened the door. She heard Nicholas’s words, a sound of amusement and Rhain’s low rebuke before he shut the door behind him and all was silent.

      But it wouldn’t be for long. Before she released the breath she’d been holding, she knew what she had to do.

       Chapter Five

      Rhain heard the tethered horses and the jingle of tackle through the morning’s drizzling air. His men’s voices were low and unusually somber. There would be a storm today. He hated riding in the rain and it would be worse if the wind kicked up.

      When he rounded the corner he saw his men who were no doubt wondering why they rode today. Before London, he never would have travelled on days like this. In inclement weather, many a wealthy and powerful family was forced to wait for their arrival. He wasn’t soft, but wise. He valued his men, their safety and health, they were in turn valued by their patrons. It was a simple game of appearance.

      Now, he couldn’t take such a luxury as waiting out the weather. It was early, but already the village was wakening and many were loitering in the streets, watching them in curiosity. They had garnered enough attention in this tiny village.

      He tried not to look over his shoulder at the inn behind him; he tried not to think of the woman he was leaving behind, and as his stomach growled he tried not to think of the best cakes he had ever tasted in his life wasting in the kitchens.

      ‘You readied my horse?’ he said, as he patted the horse’s neck.

      ‘You slept in late.’ Nicholas shrugged.

      ‘You were there; you know why.’

      He and Nicholas hadn’t slept but an hour or two. He left Helissent’s home with a purse full of coin. It was considerably lighter after he and Nicholas knocked from door to door. Waking families, telling them what had occurred, paying them to protect Helissent should it come to it.

      A troubled night and one where he had little faith in people. They should have already helped her before some stranger paid them to.

      ‘Yes, but I didn’t sleep late and miss all the excitement,’ Nicholas said.

      His thoughts plagued by a certain woman, who smelled of cakes, he couldn’t fall asleep as Nicholas had. ‘Excitement?’

      ‘He means me,’ a voice behind him said. A female voice.

      Rhain spun around. Standing next to his men, wearing most likely all the clothing she had, plus the tattered blanket he’d spread over her, stood Helissent.

      ‘What is she doing here?’ he said.

      Nicholas arched his brow. ‘You gave her your tunic. I know how you like to care for stray dogs. This wasn’t also part of your plan?’

      ‘You know the plan and adding another isn’t part of it.’ Rhain waved his hand in her direction. ‘Especially not a woman.’ He didn’t care what Helissent heard, but he kept his voice low. His men didn’t need to hear his argument. ‘What did you tell the men?’

      Nicholas unclenched his fingers around the bridle. ‘I didn’t tell the men anything. They came to their own conclusions.’

      Rhain looked to his men, who were no longer talking, but avidly looking at the proceedings. There was no amusement on his behalf or annoyance that a woman was in their midst. They were simply openly glaring at him. What conclusions had they come to?

      Nicholas gave a saluting smirk before he walked the horse to the men and said a few words. Rhain swore he heard laughter, but his focus was on the woman staring levelly at him.

      He still couldn’t comprehend the color of her eyes, even in daylight, but he understood the emotion behind them.

      If she was stubborn, he would break her. If she was afraid, he’d keep it that way. He had precious little time left. He’d spent too much in the inn eating her food and too much time in her home, kneeling on her bed last night.

      Last night... He’d slept in because he hadn’t been able to sleep until exhaustion took him. Until he’d been able to stop his wandering thoughts of a scarred barmaid who’d stared with wide eyes at him in the flickering candlelight. Who’d sat stoically as he tended her. As his body shook with rage at what those men had done. Then he’d felt her back and he’d wanted to gather her to him, weep and rage some more.

      His lack of sleep would deter him enough for the day if he didn’t have distractions, which the woman who stood in front of him most definitely was. If for no other reason she extracted emotions from him he had no intention of feeling.

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘I brought you the cakes.’ She pointed to a sack at her feet. A large sack that matched the one next to it.

      ‘I was going to leave them in the kitchen,’ he said.

      ‘I know,’ she said.

      He knew she knew. He could see in her eyes, and the tight bracketing around her mouth, she wasn’t happy that he’d left the cakes.

      ‘I only thought—’

      ‘I told you to keep the cakes.’

      She opened her clutched hand, revealing the coins he gave her. ‘Then I’ll have to give you back the money.’

      ‘I told you to keep the money.’

      ‘But I won’t.’

      An honest barmaid. A stubborn one, but a battle on the cakes wasn’t one he wanted to win. He shrugged. ‘So I’ll take your cakes. You keep the money. You’ll

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