by Lara Temple
‘I’m afraid I outshine you there, sweetheart.’
She nudged him onto his back, tucking her bare leg between his, slipping her hand over his abdomen and under his waistband.
‘We shall see. I do so love a challenge... Especially a hard one.’
* * *
If you enjoyed this book, why not check
out this other great read by Lara Temple
The Return of the Disappearing Duke
And be sure to read her
The Sinful Sinclairs miniseries
The Earl’s Irresistible Challenge
The Rake’s Enticing Proposal
The Lord’s Inconvenient Vow
Keep reading for an excerpt from Her Banished Knight’s Redemption by Melissa Oliver.
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Her Banished Knight’s Redemption
by Melissa Oliver
Prologue
AD 1206—the remote outskirts of La Rochelle, Poitou region, Aquitaine. A region still part of the English Crown.
She was going to die today. Now, at this very moment...
Isabel opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. It was as if her voice had frozen, owing to the unspeakable horrors she had just witnessed. She wanted her mother to comfort her, soothe her and make this all go away, but that was not possible.
Mama was far away from here.
Her whole body shook violently as she lay on the ground, gawping at the bad man hovering over her. He had caught her easily as she had run away into these woods, trying to get away from the carnage that he, along with the other bandits, had inflicted. It had all come to this: staring death in the face. Isabel drew in a shaky breath and screwed her eyes shut, thinking that she had let her father down, through no fault of her own.
Oh, please, God in heaven, let it not hurt...please let it be over quickly, she said over and over again in her head like a prayer, as she wrapped her small hand around the pendant dangling from her neck.
But nothing happened. Instead, the man made strange, unexpected noises. Isabel slowly opened her eyes and saw the bad man swaying from side to side, his eyes rolling to the back of his head before he fell with a thud on to the ground. It was then that she saw him...a boy, several years older than her, eyes wide and holding the blade of a sword, the hilt pointing down. He must have surprised the bad man and struck him from behind using the heavy metal hilt. The boy had hit him well because the man was lying motionless.
‘Are you all right, miss?’ he said gently. ‘My name is Will Geraint and I’m here to help. He didn’t hurt you, did he?’
It was a nice voice, with so much warmth that she was instantly put at ease after what she had witnessed and almost endured.
Not that she knew whether the voice belonged to someone that she should readily trust. Isabel cautiously shook her head as the boy moved forward to help her on to her unsteady feet.
‘You’re safe now, but it’s best if you don’t look back there,’ he said, pointing towards the smouldering wagons, which were shrouded by an eerie silence. All the people she had been travelling with were now dead, as she would have been, if it had not been for this boy.
‘Do you know what happened here?’ He was watching her. ‘Who did this?’
He seemed to be about the same age as her eldest brother, twelve or possibly thirteen, and his eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen. They were kind eyes.
But she couldn’t answer. She dared not.
‘Was it an ambush?’
She nodded slowly, suddenly shaking uncontrollably.
‘Can you tell me your name?’
Again, she said nothing as she tried to compose herself.
He exhaled as he dragged his fingers through his matted hair. ‘Very well, but you can’t stay here. You’ll have to come with me and I will ask Sir Percy what is to be done with you.’
She stilled before taking a step back. She couldn’t go with him! Who was his lord? For all she knew he could be another enemy of her father’s.
As though he sensed her apprehension, he tried again, ‘Whoa, easy now. Sir Percy is a good man and he’ll help, I know he will. Besides, you really can’t stay here. It’s not safe.’
No, she really couldn’t stay in this place, with the carnage all around her, the repugnant smell of burning flesh. Oh, God, it was all too much. She turned and retched violently, emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground. The boy patted her gently on the shoulder.
‘I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing for you here any more, miss,’ he whispered. ‘Come, I’ll take you to safety.’
She hesitated for a moment before grabbing her satchel, which had fallen beside her, and tentatively took his outstretched hand. His lips curled into a friendly, placid smile. He nodded and led her through the woods to his horse, which had been tethered far away from it all. They mounted the huge animal, riding away from that horrible scene. She nestled against his shoulder, feeling a huge sense of relief as anxiety slowly drained from her body to be replaced with overwhelming exhaustion.
The drum of his beating heart and the pounding of hooves against the ground lulled her into a deep sleep, one that she did not wake from until much later.
* * *
It was dusk and Isabel was no longer on the back of a horse, but instead lying on a hard, lumpy pallet.
She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around the small crypt to see a fire crackling in the hearth. She rubbed her eyes, her vision adjusting to the darkness and it was then she saw him—the boy, Will. His back was to her as he stood at the doorway, leaning against a stone wall, talking to someone, but he turned, as if sensing she was no longer asleep. He took two big strides into the room and knelt beside the pallet.
‘I waited until you were awake to take my leave and wish you well before I go.’
No, please don’t leave me here!
She threw herself against him, clutching on to him as tears streamed down her face.
‘You must be brave, little maid, and stay here with Father Clement. He’ll take you to a convent nearby where you will be looked after and...’
Was she to be abandoned again? She thought she could trust the boy, she thought she was safe but, no...she had no one to rely on except for herself. She sobbed desperately as Will Geraint grimaced.
‘Come on, miss, I’m sure you will do well here.’
Isabel shook her head, unable to get the words out.
‘You could tell me your name?’ He raised a brow. ‘We could then find your kin and send a message so that they could come for you?’
She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it firmly. No, she couldn’t tell him her name. She had promised Papa not to tell anyone about who she was and where she was going, no matter what the circumstance. Father had made her swear on the holy bible.
Will Geraint’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, God, unless they were the ones who perished back there.’ He pulled his fingers through his hair, looking uneasily at her. ‘I’m so very sorry.’
They might not have been her blood relatives, but the people she had travelled with had all been part of her father’s household retinue, accompanying her to France, where they had met their grisly demise.
She shook her head again, wordlessly pleading with him as she tightened her grip on his arm.
‘I cannot take you with me, miss. Sir Percy only allowed a little time for me to bring you here,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘And anyway, I’m only a squire, but I am training hard to be soldier and, one day, God willing, a knight.’ He smiled at her. She stopped crying and sniffed as he untangled himself, pulling her up to her feet. ‘I must go, but promise me you’l
l be brave. As much as I will have to be.’
She nodded slowly as more tears dropped on her cheek. He brushed them away and sighed.
‘Have faith and courage, miss. One day you will overcome this. I know it. And don’t forget that you will always have a friend in me,’ he said, thumping his chest. ‘In William Geraint.’
Please don’t leave me here! she wanted to scream.
Isabel knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop Will Geraint from leaving her here, unless she informed him of who she was. Yet she had made a vow to her father and he would be so disappointed if she let him down again. She hated that she always seemed to disappoint him...
Papa had specifically told her not to trust anyone.
‘There are too many enemies circling around us. Trust no one. Do you hear me, girl?’
‘I do, Papa.’
‘Good, now don’t forget. A vow is a solemn promise. One that can never be broken.’
Her shoulder sagged in resignation. Yes, it seemed her destiny was to stay here, wherever that was. Anyway, her father would likely come looking for her and then she could go back home.
Oh, to be back home...
Isabel looked about the sparse, cold room. How everything had changed for her in a matter of days, in a matter of moments. The boy was probably right and she would be safe here, but before he left there was something she wanted to give him.
A symbol of her gratitude.
As he turned to leave, she quickly unfastened the leather cord from the back of her neck and allowed the heavy pendant to fall into her lap. She pulled the sleeve of his tunic a couple of times and dropped her silver and ruby pendant into his hand.
He shook his head. ‘You really don’t have to give me anything.’
No, but she liked giving things to people. And he did have kind eyes. Besides, it was dangerous to keep the two identical pendants together and, since she had found the other one in her satchel earlier, this one could be given away. She hoped her father would be proud that she had thought of it all by herself, but he was so difficult to please. She wrapped her small hand around Will’s and squeezed it, nodding in encouragement when he hesitated. He had to keep it. The pendant was her present and no one ever said no to a gift. Mama would say that it was bad manners.
Mama... Oh, Mama...
She gulped and sniffed, hoping she would not start crying again. Her brothers always used to get annoyed if she cried.
‘Very well, if you want me to have this,’ he said dangling the pendant from his hands, ‘then I will thank you and always treasure it. I must leave now. Good luck, little one.’
She kept her eyes fixed on the stone floor, but knew that the boy had quietly left the chamber. With no one now there, she covered her face with her hands and started to weep once more.
Copyright © 2021 by Maryam Oliver
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ISBN-13: 9781488071720
A Match for the Rebellious Earl
Copyright © 2021 by Ilana Treston
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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