Page 19 of Rogue Knight
Eude’s friends laughed and shouted for Geoff to remove Emma’s cloak. “Let us see the prize you have there!”
Without taking his eyes from Emma, Geoff said, “I saw her first, Eude.”
“You could share,” came the lazy retort.
In her eyes, Geoff saw both fear and determination. She would not shy from murder, but with the knights’ attention drawn to her, she knew she was in grievous danger. Conversations broke off as men at the tables paused to observe the confrontation.
Into the silence, he said in a commanding voice, “I never share.”
The mercenary rose, a few of his companions with him. Geoff reached for Emma, pulling her against his chest. She was slender and her resistance fleeting against his knight’s strength. “If you would be spared their lust, do not fight me,” he whispered.
He claimed her mouth as an act of possession, a demonstration to the assembled knights that she was his. But when their lips touched, it was he who was claimed. Her mouth was soft and inviting, the taste of her as sweet as summer wine. The attraction he had felt for her before now surged in his veins. Urging her lips open, his tongue found the warmth within. She responded. In the honey of her kiss, his rising passion was echoed in his loins. Alone in their own world, the kiss continued.
Hearing the jeers behind him, he broke the embrace, though it cost him to do so. Breathing heavily, he stared into her beautiful blue-green eyes.
She shifted her passion-filled gaze to the floor.
Turning to the knights, who had slowed their approach, he announced, “As you see, the lady is mine, I have claimed her.”
“Leave off, Eude,” urged one of the man’s friends. “’Tis Sir Geoffroi you challenge, a favorite of the king. He is the right arm of the Red Wolf and his sword is just as deadly.”
At his words, Eude and his companions lost interest in their mission and returned to their table.
“There are plenty of wenches in the city,” Eude blustered.
At Geoff’s side, Emma stiffened.
He waited until he was certain the other knights would not pursue them, then escorted her to his chamber, his arm tight around her shoulder.
Once inside his chamber, he dropped his arm, walked to the table near the brazier and poured her a goblet of wine. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.
With unsteady hands, she took it and drank, her chest rising and falling with apparent emotion. She had been more nervous than he had initially thought. Mayhap more afraid. Or was she also moved by the kiss they had shared?
No matter the cause, her presence worried him. Such a beautiful woman should not be out alone, much less in a castle full of men with too few whores to share. He took in her clothing, that of a servant and ill fitting. “What could you have been thinking to come to the castle? And how did you gain admittance?”
Holding the goblet between her hands, she stepped to the brazier as if seeking its heat. “I came as a servant. The guards gave me a bit of trouble but apparently the need for serving wenches is great. I answered their questions and they admitted me.”
His brows drew together at the ridiculous notion. “No one would see you as a servant, even in those clothes.”
“Your guards are not so discerning as you,” she said dismissively. “And mayhap not so sober.”
“Where is that great beast that usually follows at your heels?”
“I left him at home. I feared he might be speared by one of your French swords.”
“And so he might have been. As might you.” It concerned him that she had been so foolish. “Why did you come?”
“To seek your help in saving the life of a man taken prisoner. But when I saw the knight called Eude, I could think of nothing else but to kill him for what he has done.” When he raised his brows, she explained, “He raped my friend, Inga, the daughter of Feigr, the sword-maker. When her father tried to protect her, Eude’s companions beat him and took him prisoner. I assumed they brought him here. I would free him and see Eude dead.”
“And your life would be lost in the process had you been successful with the mercenary.”
“My anger has cooled but only just,” she said, setting down the goblet and turning to pace. “The man deserves to die!”
“Aye, likely he does. I would not put rape past him. I like him not.”
She paused in her pacing to gaze at him. “Inga was young, untouched,” she explained, her distress showing on her face. “Feigr’s only child and much loved.”
“What would you have me do?”
