A Knight Most Wicked. Joanne Rock

through her veins hinted of a nervousness midway between fear and…anticipation?

      She swallowed the uncomfortable thought and attempted to study the knight without him seeing her in return—a feat that did not prove difficult, since the man seemed engrossed in conversation with another dressed in similarly dark garb.

      Foreigners.

      The realization surprised her, for she had not understood as much the first time she’d encountered him. Unlike most of the men in the great hall, his hair was long, just beyond his shoulders, and dark as a new moon night. His large frame cleared a path through the crowded room as celebrants scurried out of his way. Arabella could not see his face now, but she remembered those piercing gray eyes all too well.

      What was he doing here?

      As if suddenly sensing her scrutiny, he turned and met her stare.

      She held her breath, praying he would not ruin her already dubious reputation by revealing their encounter in the forest. Arabella knew now that most young gentlewomen did not wander about the woods by themselves. While she did not deny her untraditional heritage, neither did she wish to draw undue attention to herself as the granddaughter of a famed healer. Zaharia had urged her to remain on the fringes of the court.

      His eyes narrowed and her chest constricted in answer. He betrayed no sign that he knew her, but abruptly turned and headed in her direction.

      “Excuse me,” Arabella mumbled, uncertain of her next move as she hurried away from the approaching knight, away from being anyone’s center of attention.

      People peered at her strangely as she hastened through the crowd, searching for safety from him, from recognition as a wild child of the forest. Her mother had warned her that court life could be merciless in its judgment of anyone different.

      Reaching the back of the room, she turned to be sure he was gone. Unfortunately, he strode only a few steps behind her, yet he did not seem to see her at that precise moment.

      A short corridor led from the back of the hall toward a series of doors. Arabella tested one of the handles, checking that he did not see her, and entered the room.

      Safe.

      Closing the door softly, she perceived the outline of furnishings in a small chamber, a masculine domain with a sturdy horn pitcher and heavy bone cups atop a sideboard. Wondering how long she could hide from the festivities, she wandered about to see a small stack of leather-bound books and a high window of Bohemia’s famed colored glass. Her heartbeat had just returned to normal when a noise across the chamber caused her to jump.

      The latch lifted behind her.

      Chapter Two

      “Can this wait? Our host is calling us to sup, Tris.”

      Tristan shook his head and led Simon into the small study. The din of the hall had grown tiresome, with arrogant nobles working too hard to impress their English guests and beautiful women disappearing into thin air. One beautiful woman, anyhow. Tristan could not stand the company much longer—especially when the lone female to capture his interest this eve obviously wanted no part of him.

      Why had she looked familiar? He knew no one in this land. Yet she had escaped before he could speak to her.

      “No, it cannot wait.” He shut the door behind them, sealing out the minstrels’ music and the noise. “We need to discover the extent of the threat against the royal retinue before we leave Prague Castle. If the nobles or the princess are at risk in any way, the situation has my immediate attention.”

      Turning to take a seat on the wooden table in the center of the room, Tristan swore he caught a woman’s scent in the air. An odd thought in a dark haven that surely belonged to a man. A tapestry depicting a hunting party and a fleeing stag adorned the lone wall that did not contain stacks of books.

      “While we remain in Bohemia, is it not the king’s problem? Or the emperor’s?” Simon sank onto a small bench. “Surely Prague has knights to protect their people while we are on their soil.”

      “But apparently two noblewomen have disappeared in the last fortnight and the king has done naught to discover what happened to them. Aside from all the ways that is disturbing, do you know how many women we will have to protect on our journey back home?” Tristan needed Simon’s support in this, as their duty grew more demanding each day.

      Tristan might be in charge, but they were more kin than fellow knights. Mutual orphans left in the hands of an abusive guardian, they’d forged a friendship in shared pain. They’d deserted their guardian to join Edward the Black Prince’s army when they’d been scarcely old enough to swing a sword. That knight had found places for them, restored their sense of honor.

      For that, Tristan owed the royal family everything, even though Edward had been dead these last four years. His son, King Richard, was but a boy and his reign had encountered enough trouble that his counselors thought a wife was in order.

      “You really think this problem will follow us?” Simon steepled his fingers and leaned his chin onto the point.

      “I wish to be prepared for anything. Let us relate the incidents to the men and ask them to learn all they can about the missing women.”

      “Mayhap they merely ran off and left their husbands.” Simon leaned back onto the stone wall behind him and plucked up an empty inkwell.

      “Faithless though they might be, women rarely leave the security of respected court positions for lovers with little to offer them.” Tristan knew well the potential treachery of the fair sex.

      “Still, I will at least find out if that is why the Bohemian nobles are not searching more actively.”

      Musical feminine laughter floated through the closed door and Tristan wondered how he would manage the long journey back to England in a retinue where women far outnumbered men. He had seen women execute more cunning schemes of entrapment than he had ever witnessed on the battlefield. Long ago, he had been foolish enough to be lured in by a great beauty. The perfume had gone straight to his head.

      “Good. We will see our troop safely home with every last woman intact.” Tristan moved to the door, ready to rejoin the Bohemian court now that he’d given orders to heighten security. “I will not allow anyone’s disappearance to besmirch our standing in London.”

      “Aye.” Simon nodded, rising from his bench. “But what do you think of Prague after our long lament over having to make the journey? That the city is beautiful cannot be denied and the women have turned out in force to greet us. Have you seen anything that catches your eye?”

      “Not this time, friend.” He could hardly count the fleeing beauty, since he’d barely had time to glimpse her before she made a quick escape.

      The real woman who’d captured his thoughts of late was the waif from the forest he’d encountered the previous week. He’d made a halfhearted attempt to follow her that day, thinking mayhap she wanted him to.

      He could almost believe he’d dreamed the whole thing.

      Except…

      Reaching into the pouch at his waist, Tristan felt the small knife he’d found within the oak ring. The handle and blade were both short and flat. Smooth and well-worn, the knife appeared more primitive than a traditional dagger, but also more practical. Both handle and blade of this instrument were formed from one continuous piece of metal. Tristan felt certain this knife belonged to the woman. It suited her—smooth and perfectly formed, yet completely uncivilized.

      “Gone moral on me, Tristan?”

      “Nay. But I have the king’s orders to consider and a threat to his bride on the loose. No doubt I should stick to my duty. As should you, perhaps?”

      Simon laughed, his lighter perspective often a welcome counterpoint to Tristan’s darker view of the world. “Seducing one would bring no harm, or maybe two…”

      “Stick to the widows, friend,