In The King's Service. Margaret Moore

did you know who it was?” he inquired as he walked toward her.

      She squared her shoulders. “Your hair is very distinctive, in a savage sort of way. And everyone who has ever stayed here and attended chapel knows how that door creaks, and would take care to prevent it if they wanted to enter in secret.”

      He came to a halt a few feet away. “I have no need to be secretive. I was looking for my squire and saw you slip in here. I thought it might be a good time to apologize for any offense I’ve caused you.”

      He sounded absolutely, completely sincere. Yet he didn’t have to apologize at all, and she couldn’t think of any other knight who’d stoop to express regret to anyone, let alone her.

      “You didn’t know I was crippled,” she said. She decided she could be a little magnanimous, too. “I’m sorry if I upset a guest in my father’s house. In hindsight, it wasn’t the behavior of a lady.”

      “What say we begin anew, my lady?”

      She made her away around the simple wooden altar that bore a carved wooden crucifix until it was between them, like a defensive wall. “Very well, Sir Blaidd, I agree. We’ll forget my insolence at the gate and your request to dance, and begin again.”

      “Excellent!”

      He sounded as if he was truly pleased, which would mean he would have been disappointed if she’d refused. That was unexpected. And rather delightful.

      Perhaps she was making too much of his apology and enthusiastic tone. Maybe he simply wanted to avoid conflict of any kind while he was a guest of her father’s, which would be wise. “Now that we’ve come to an understanding, Sir Blaidd, you should leave. It isn’t seemly for us to be here alone together.”

      “I suppose not. But first, will you answer one question?”

      She didn’t see any harm in that, since she could always refuse when she heard what it was. She nodded in agreement.

      “Do you play the gatekeeper often, or was that a special welcome?”

      “No, not often.” She wasn’t going to admit that she’d watched the knight and his squire riding up to the gatehouse through a loophole after the sentry called out that someone was approaching. She wouldn’t confess that she’d turned to Dobbin and wryly said, “Here comes another one. Let me see if he’s as arrogant as the rest.”

      Dobbin had started to protest, but she’d given him a devilish grin and he’d thrown up his hands in surrender.

      Sir Blaidd bowed. “Then I’m honored I had at least that much to single me out from the vast horde who’ve come to see your sister.”

      “Yes, sir knight, you’re one of many.”

      “So you wanted to confront me and take my measure first, before your younger sister. I hope I passed muster, for no doubt your opinion means a great deal to Lady Laelia.”

      Becca crossed her arms. “I’m not the eldest. Laelia is.”

      “Forgive me,” he said, obviously taken aback. “She seems less…mature.”

      Becca didn’t know if she should take that as a compliment or not.

      “That explains the necessity of getting her married, though, so that you’ll be free to accept offers for your own hand.”

      She stared at him, dumbfounded. Nobody had ever suggested that she hadn’t married because of Laelia’s spinster state. “There have never been any offers for my hand.”

      “What, not a one?”

      He sounded genuinely shocked.

      She struggled to regain her usual self-possession and changed the subject. “You said you were looking for your squire.”

      “Yes. I want to make sure he’s not getting into any mischief.”

      An honest answer. “Are you expecting him to?”

      “I’m hoping he’s got more sense, but he’s young and high-spirited, and this is his first time away from the care of his parents or older brothers—his first taste of freedom, so to speak. Like many young men in such circumstances, he may be tempted to act without considering all the consequences.”

      “He’s not likely to steal anything, is he?”

      “Oh, no, he’d never do that.”

      “Then what…?” She fell silent as she considered the comely youth in the hall who’d been talking to the young and pretty Meg.

      Becca bit back a curse and started toward the door. “You’re right to be concerned, Sir Blaidd, for if there’s the slightest implication he’s been bothering any of the female servants, I’ll ask my father to order you both to leave at once. I’ve seen the trouble a handsome young nobleman can cause—”

      Sir Blaidd put his hand on her arm to halt her, his grip warm and strong and irresistible. “I don’t think you need be overly upset. Trev’s a good lad, and when I find him I’ll give him a stern warning about—”

      “What, you’ll order him not to seduce the maidservants?” she demanded skeptically.

      “That’s exactly what I mean,” he said firmly.

      She could well believe that would be enough to nip any such behavior in the bud. Nevertheless, the servants here were her responsibility and she would ensure they weren’t taken advantage of. “Be that as it may, that doesn’t mean he’ll obey your warning. He’s young and so’s Meg, and neither one of them may consider the consequences,” Becca said as she yanked open the door.

      She was about to step into the courtyard when she saw Meg exit the kitchen. Alone.

      Hopeful that the maid had enough sense to ignore whatever honeyed flattery a handsome young squire offered, Becca drew back into the chapel and peered out the door. As she watched Meg continue toward the maidservants’ quarters, Sir Blaidd came to stand behind her. Close behind her. His powerfully masculine body couldn’t be more than a few inches away from hers.

      “What is it?” he whispered, his hot breath stirring the wisps of hair on the back of her neck.

      “There’s Meg,” Becca murmured, nodding toward the girl and trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation of having a virile male so near her—and failing utterly.

      Without so much as a backward glance, Meg hurried up the outer steps toward the maidservants’ quarters and disappeared inside.

      Sir Blaidd’s sigh of relief echoed Becca’s feeling and seemed to come all the way up from his toes. “That’s the one he was talking to, I’m sure of it. He’s probably gone to bed already. It was a long day’s ride.”

      The words had no sooner left Sir Blaidd’s lips than the same door opened and his squire stepped into the courtyard. He hesitated, obviously looking for something.

      Or someone.

      The lad surveyed the courtyard for a few more moments, then, his shoulders slumped with disappointment, turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

      Sir Blaidd muttered something that sounded like a Welsh curse. “I’ll certainly be speaking to Trev about how I expect him to behave while we’re your father’s guests.”

      “Good,” Becca said, closing the door and facing him.

      “I give you my word as a knight of the realm that I’ll tell Trevelyan that if he doesn’t conduct himself honorably, I’ll send him home to his father in disgrace.”

      “That may not seem like much of a punishment to a boy that age,” she noted.

      “You don’t know his father. Have you heard of Sir Urien Fitzroy?”

      “Doesn’t he train men in the arts of war?”

      “Yes, he does. He trained me,