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it a trophy of a battle contemplated, but never fought”
    Mesmerized by the frosty glitter of his eyes, Holly hesitated, sensing it was the last warning he would bestow upon her. A peculiar mixture of fear and anticipation quickened her breath as she briefly wondered what fate she might endure at his hands should she fail to heed it.
    His mask dropped, briefly, tantalizingly, showing her the indisputable truth. He wasn’t afraid of her. He was afraid of what he might do to her should she be fool enough to linger.
    Tearing her gaze away from his, she raced for the stairs without daring a single backward glance.
    Had she done so, she might have seen the knight sink down on the bench in the moonlight, his massive body folding in on itself as if to protect his heart from a blow that had already done mortal damage.
    “Men! Faithless, miserable wretches, the lot of them!” <
    Holly groaned in grudging satisfaction as she sank into the hot bath Elspeth had prepared for her. Steam wafted up from the myrrh-scented water, curk ing the tendrils of hair that had snaked loose from the heavy coil wound atop her head.
    Elspeth drew a rough sponge over her shoulders, the motion failing to soothe her as it should. “Ye shouldn’t have run off like that, my lady. Brother Nathanael almost called for the castle guard. Tisn’t safe to be rambling alone with all those men lurking about.”
    Remembering the naked desire she had glimpsed so briefly on the knight’s face, Holly snorted bitterly. “You speak the truth, Elspeth, for it seems one woman will do as well as any other in the dark.”
    She leaned her head back against the lip of the wooden tub while Elspeth sponged her breasts and belly. As her eyes drifted shut, she was besieged by an unbidden vision of the knight entangled in the pale, plump arms of his “lady.”
    “Lady indeed!” she muttered beneath her breath. “Probably a castle doxy. Or one of the serving wenches.”
    “Eh? Did ye speak, child?”
    “No,” she snapped without opening her eyes, then mumbled, “Probably has a wife tucked away somewhere as well. Rutting boar.” Her eyes popped open. “Bear.”
    Elspeth cast her mistress’s sullen face a puzzled look. The girl had flown into the chamber a short while ago as if pursued by some wild beast, eyes sparkling and cheeks riotous with color. Ignoring her attendants’ cooed questions and breathless protests, she had herded them frotn the room, even daring to slam the door in her tutor’s livid face. The ladies had prudently retired, but Brother Nathanael still hovered outside the bolted door, his pacing punctuated by sharp knocks and imperious demands for entry.
    Elspeth hummed beneath her breath as she wrung out the sponge. In truth, the nurse much preferred this grumbling virago to the pale, subdued ghost of her mistress who had haunted the castle since learning of the tournament that was to take place on the morrow.
    Her bewilderment returned when Holly snatched the sponge from her hands and began to scrub at her lips.
    Sensing Elspeth’s scrutiny, Holly sheepishly lowered the sponge, knowing her efforts were in vain. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the knight’s taste still lingered. It was as if his kiss had invaded not only her mouth, but her soul as well. She wanted nothing so much as to throw her hands over her face and burst into tears.
    She had been on the verge of surrendering to her father’s machinations, but her encounter with the knight had reminded her of one thing. She must fight for her freedom. She would never become the docile ornament of a tyrant like Eugene, or worse yet, the chattel of some man who would leave her languishing by the hearth while he trysted with his doxy in a moonlit garden.
    The chamber door came under the assault of a persistent fist “I insist that you let me in, Holly. I’ve yet to prepare you for your song on the morrow. This childish sulking ill becomes you.” The last was punctuated by a frustrated kick to