Read Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] for Free Online Page B

explain that she had no idea Damon was going to make such a serious charge against him and that she had no part in it. She wanted to slip her hand behind his head and pull him down for a kiss.
    Somebody else was rubbing her hand vigorously. The king called for a servant to fetch water, and a voice with a Welsh accent ordered people to “stop your crowding and make room.”
    After an appropriate length of time and when the worst of the ensuing cacophony had ceased, she fluttered her eyelids as if returning to consciousness.
    “Take deep breaths, my lady,” Sir Reece brusquely ordered. “No need to rub so hard, Gervais.”
    She glanced down to see one of the young men who must be Sir Reece’s brother clutching her hand. He stopped rubbing and let it fall.
    “What happened?” she murmured, looking back up at Sir Reece.
    “You swooned.”
    Now he didn’t look or sound concerned for her health. If anything, his unusual eyes studied her as if he were a judge and she had been caught with stolen goods in her hands.
    “I am…better…now,” she whispered, telling herself that was not quite a lie. She did feel better—much better—when he held her in his arms. “It is the crowd, the questions.”
    She realized the king was hovering on the other side of Reece’s brother. Damon stood behind the king, his face settling into a familiar scowl.
    “Forgive me, sire,” she whispered.
    “I should have considered that it might be difficult for you and asked my questions without such an audience,” Henry said with an encouraging smile. “If you are up to it, my dear, we could retire to my solar to finish this conversation.”
    “I believe I can manage that, sire,” she murmured, pleased that her plan had worked.
    “Sir Gervais, Sir Blaidd, help her,” the king commanded.
    “Gladly, sire,” two deep voices said in unison. One pair of strong hands with dark hairs on the back of the fingers took hold of her right arm; another pair ofhands took hold of her left, and suddenly she was hoisted to her feet. Meanwhile, Sir Reece rose and straightened his plain dark tunic, wincing slightly.
    She had momentarily forgotten the wound in his side. How it must have hurt him to catch her, and yet his face had betrayed nothing of that pain, until this small sign.
    Damon and Benedict would have been whining and complaining for weeks, demanding to be waited on hand and foot, if such an injury had been done to them.
    “You two stay here with the others,” the king ordered. “I will escort Lady Anne, and you may lend your arm to your queen, Sir Reece. We need no one else.”
    Anne dearly wished she could see the look on her half brother’s face as the king himself led her from the hall.
    Well, she could imagine it, at any rate, and she had to fight hard to subdue a smug smirk that would have done credit to Damon himself.
    With Eleanor and Sir Reece following, Henry led her to a thick door behind a tapestry that opened into a smaller chamber much more comfortable than the hall. The room even sported a hearth in the wall, a very modern innovation, where a cheery fire crackled and blazed. Chairs covered with bright silk cushions stood near it, and on a finely carved table rested a silver carafe and goblets. Two servants waited there, standing as straight as sentries. Ornate tapestries ofunicorns and other fantastical beasts hung on the walls.
    With a sigh, the king sat near the hearth. Eleanor did likewise, in the thronelike chair beside the one her husband had taken.
    “Sit down, my dear,” Henry said to Anne, gesturing at a chair opposite, “before you swoon again. Thomson, some wine for the lady.”
    Anne perched on the edge of the chair and accepted the wine, noting that Sir Reece remained standing, his feet planted and his hands behind his back, as if he were on sentry duty, too.
    After a delicate sip, she handed the goblet back to the servant and made a tentative smile at the king. “I feel much better, sire. Thank you.”
    Henry