Read The Damsel's Defiance for Free Online Page B

gold at the cuffs and around the slashed neck. The sleeves of his darker green surcoat reached only to his elbows, showing off the longer, more richly decorated sleeves of his tunic. His short, blue cloak billowed out from his strong, wide shoulders, lined with fox fur and fastened at the neck with a jewelled brooch.
    As the riders passed below, one of the horses whinniedsoftly, and her own horse nickered in reply, dropping its head down and pawing at the rustling leaves on the ground. Every muscle in Emmeline’s body clenched tight with awareness, with fear. She dared not move; maybe the men would not hear.
    But Talvas was already pulling on the reins, lifting himself easily in the saddle, twisting sinuously around with his hand on his sword hilt, trying to locate the sound. Guillame drew his sword with a silken hiss.
    ‘Who goes there?’ Talvas shouted roughly. The low timbre of his clear voice echoed in the valley. ‘Show yourselves or we’ll root you out!’
    Perspiration gathered in her palms: she had no wish to be pursued like hunting quarry. She knew they would outrun her within moments. ‘’Tis I, Emmeline de Lonnieres.’ Her voice emerged as a pathetic squeak, and she cursed herself for it. She began to climb down, slipping and sliding through the dense vegetation. Talvas flipped an irritated glance back at his squire, who raised his shaggy blond eyebrows.
    ‘The woman on the quayside,’ Guillame murmured, sheathing his sword and dismounting.
    ‘Don’t remind me,’ Talvas grimaced as he followed the maid’s descent with a resigned air. Trust his luck to tangle with this harridan once again! But as she burst out on to the track, her horse pushing up behind her, threatening to topple her over, he had to work hard not to laugh out loud. Brambles clung to the delicate cloth of her veil, the thin wool of her cloak; brambles, no doubt, that had caused the nasty-looking scratch on the bloom of her rounded cheek. Her forehead appeared to have some sort of dark-grey grit embedded in it.
    ‘And where are the others?’ Talvas demanded, crossing his arms across the pommel and leaning forward.
    ‘The others?’ She frowned, her huge green eyes perplexed. Against the richness of the men’s garb, her grey worsted bliaut appeared shabby, yet it had been the best of her meagre collection of garments when she had dressed that morning. Her underdress, of dark brown, was of slighter better quality, but only the tight sleeves were visible, emerging from the long, drooping sleeves of the bliaut.
    Talvas’s eyes lit with blue fire. ‘Don’t tangle with me, mistress!’ he chastised her. ‘Where is your escort?’
    ‘I don’t have one.’ Emmeline shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. The cold mud of the track began to seep through her thin leather soles.
    Talvas raised his eyes heavenward. ‘She doesn’t have one,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Now why don’t I find that hard to believe?’
    Emmeline caught the high level of condemnation in his tone. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she replied, defensively.
    ‘Then why were you hiding up there?’ His booted foot in the shining metal stirrup was on a level with her shoulder as he bent down suddenly, tugging at a bramble caught in her linen veil. She bit her lip slightly, trying to resist the urge to back away, to run. His fingers brushed against her cheek, cool and determined. Flushing under his touch, she refused to meet his eyes, letting out a tiny sigh of relief when he suddenly threw the bramble into the river. ‘Answer me, mistress,’ he demanded softly.
    ‘You could have been friend or foe.’ She concentrated on the scuffed toe of his leather boot.
    ‘Exactly.’ Talvas slapped the reins from side to side as his horse grew restless. ‘Have you any idea of the dangers in travelling alone? God in Heaven, woman, even I am sensible enough to take an escort!’ He nodded briefly at Guillame to demonstrate his point.
    ‘I can take care of