The Knight's Fugitive Lady. Meriel Fuller

       ‘For God’s sake, lean against me,’ he growled in her ear. ‘I’m going to drop you at this rate.’

      She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in, to relax against him, every nerve-ending in her body fighting him, refusing to acknowledge the tantalising closeness of his touch. The muscles along her spine strained with the effort. She sighed with relief as he threw her up onto his horse, then tensed once more as he jumped up behind her.

      ‘Fighting me will merely slow us down,’ Lussac pointed out slowly. ‘Do you really want those … whoever they are … to catch up with you?’

      Who did she prefer? she wondered. The soldiers hired by her father and uncle at great expense to bring her back home, or this knight at her back, handsome and dangerous, whose very nearness spiked her body into ever-increasing spirals of desire? With Lussac behind her, solid thighs cradling the soft roundness of her hips, his arms pressed heavily against her shoulders, Katerina questioned whether she was in even greater danger than she had been before.

       AUTHOR NOTE

      My story of Lussac and Katerina was inspired by the tales of travelling entertainers who toured the country in Medieval times. I wanted to capture those long, glittering evenings by candlelight, the audience gasping in delight at the daring feats of the acrobats, or roaring with laughter at the jesters’ antics.

      With her amazing skills, Katerina unwittingly becomes the person everyone desires to see, despite her wanting to hide from a past that threatens to catch up with her every day.

      For the history buffs among you, the invasion of Queen Isabella of England in 1326 on the Suffolk shores provides the historical context and brings our hero, Lussac, to England. Fed up with the constant philandering and mismanagement of the country by her husband the King, Isabella raises an army to overthrow him. She succeeds in a world controlled by men, where women are very much regarded as second-class citizens—no mean feat!

      I hope the Queen’s bravery and strength of character are reflected in my heroine, Katerina, who has to fight, with Lussac’s help, against her own impossible situation. And I hope you enjoy the story!

      MERIEL FULLER lives in a quiet corner of rural Devon, England, with her husband and two children. Her early career was in advertising, with a bit of creative writing on the side. Now, with a family to look after, writing has become her passion … A keen interest in literature, the arts and history, particularly the early medieval period, makes writing historical novels a pleasure. The Devon countryside, a landscape rich in medieval sites, holds many clues to the past and has made her research a special treat.

       Previous novels by the same author:

      CONQUEST BRIDE

      THE DAMSEL’S DEFIANCE

      THE WARRIOR’S PRINCESS BRIDE

      CAPTURED BY THE WARRIOR

      HER BATTLE-SCARRED KNIGHT

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      The Knight’s

      Fugitive Lady

      Meriel Fuller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To my children, Fin and Verity.

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

      Chapter One

      East coast England—September 1326

      ‘Success?’ Waleran called up, softly, inching forwards on his stomach.

      From the top of the slope, Katerina smiled down at her friend, mouth curving generously in her pale, heart-shaped face, and held up her heavy satchel. ‘Success,’ she answered, tucking her catapult back into the bag. She moved down through the trees, the drab colours of her boy’s clothes blending in with the surrounding vegetation, loose, flapping garments that camouflaged her true sex. Her stomach growled at the prospect of eating roast rabbit for breakfast; the last time she had eaten meat had been three days ago. Since then, they had been ekeing out the last dusty contents of a sack of oats, watered down and cooked to make a sloppy gruel. John would be pleased with them; the rabbit was fat enough to feed at least half the circus troupe.

      ‘Come,