A lady’s need for protection a knight’s chance for redemption. Exiled Knight William Geraint answers only to himself. Yet, a mission to reunite lost heiress Lady Isabel de Clancey with her family is Will’s chance to finally atone for the torment of his past. With every rushed mile, their intense attraction becomes dangerously thrilling. He swore to protect Isabel not seduce her, but their desire for each other could threaten the redemption he’s worked so hard to achieve…
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Instinct made Will lean back and sink into the shadows,
clasping the hilt of his dagger underneath the wooden table as he watched the
man scan the room. His beady eyes settled near the area where Will was sat and
he gave a decisive nod before walking over.
Who the hell was he? And, more importantly, what did he
want?
Will tightened his grip around the hilt as the man flung his
feathered hat on the table and sat opposite him, his eyes studying Will
closely. There was something about the man’s presumptuous manner that he
didn’t particularly like.
‘Mind if I sit here?’ The stranger spoke French, but Will
realised instantly that he was English. A fellow countryman—a courtier, no
less. His senses were further alerted to the man’s every movement, aware that
he might not be here alone, might have any number of accomplices waiting
somewhere outside.
The fact the older Englishman had come to this godforsaken
tavern in a remote part of France made it obvious he had meant to seek Will
out, especially since the tavern wasn’t particularly busy and he could have sat
anywhere else.
Will ascertained the various ways he could leave expeditiously
without using the front entrance and without the man being able to follow him
in any capacity.
He shrugged without betraying any of his internal
calculations. ‘I don’t care where you sit, stranger, as long as you don’t
disturb me.’
‘That is not my intention. However, I was told that I would
find a man here whose talents with a sword were—and still are—legendary,’ he
said, brushing non-existent dirt off his shoulder. ‘A man whose reputation
precedes him, even if he does seem to prefer living in such obscure places, as
he has these past two years.’
‘There is no man of that description. Not here.’
‘No? What if I could give this man a chest full of silver
and a pardon so he could return home to England?’
Hell’s teeth!
Will had to tread carefully here. He had been living in
France as a mercenary, a sword for hire, in the shadow of exile for the past
few years. The truth, however, was that since King John’s death he had worked
tirelessly for England’s new regent and Lord Protector, William Marshal,
gathering important information for the Crown under the guise of being a
disgraced man. A disgraced rogue knight. Not that many knew. Not that this man
knew.
‘And what would you want with such a man? If one were to
exist.’
‘I’d need him to find something—rather, someone. Urgently.’
Will smirked dismissively. ‘I cannot think of who you would
mean. You have the wrong place.’
‘No, I don’t think so. I have been making a lot of enquiries,
both here and in England and I’m certain I am in the right place, talking to
the right person. You are Sir William Geraint,’ the man said as his lips curled
into a sneer.
Will tightened his grip on his dagger and spoke in a low
voice. ‘If I were you, stranger, I’d leave and go back the way you came. That
is, if you want to hang on to your life.’
‘Peace, Sir William, peace.’ The man held out his hands,
palms facing outwards, and swallowed. ‘You have not been at court and so have
not been privy to the whispers and rumours about how you, along with the knight
you squired for, Sir Percival of Halsted, saved a young girl’s life more than
ten years ago.’
‘What of it? It was our duty and not of any consequence.’
Except for the lasting memories of the young girl, of
course…
Will had often thought of the frightened little girl with
unusual eyes whom he had once helped rescue when he was still a young lad
himself. He had wondered from time to time since that fateful day what had happened
to the girl. He remembered her looking so desolate, so hopelessly alone and so
reluctant to stay in that cold, foreboding place. He’d felt sorry for her and
hoped the intervening years had treated her kindly.
Although the incident had been harrowing, Will had been
commended and rewarded by Sir Percy for his perceptive quick thinking in the
situation. It had led to a time when life seemed like an endless adventure,
full of possibilities.
Not like the shadowy, dark world he inhabited now.
Will dragged the leather cord out from under his tunic and
absently wrapped his fingers around the silver and ruby pendant that dangled
from his neck. A pendant the little girl had gifted him and which he had always
worn since.
The other man’s eyes narrowed and he murmured something
under his breath, no doubt recognising the jewel. Damn, that was short-sighted
of Will, but he could hardly hide it now.
The man pressed his lips into a thin line before speaking
again. ‘Neither of you ever knew the girl’s identity—not that I’m surprised.
Her family were out of favour with King John and never came to court. With Sir
Percival having only just returned from the Holy Land, my mistress has only now
learnt of this girl’s existence, when she had been presumed dead all this
time.’
‘And who are you and who is your mistress?’
‘Eustace Rolleston at your service, Sir William.’ He
inclined his head. ‘And my mistress is Lady Adela de Clancey.’
‘So, Eustace Rolleston, let me comprehend this. You want to
commission me to find a girl, who is, if she is still alive, a fully-grown
woman?’ He smirked, shaking his head. ‘Apologies, but you have the wrong man
for this.’
‘Oh, I have the right man. Sir Percy confirmed it as much
but his memory is hazy now and he cannot remember anything about the incident
other than your gallant rescue of the girl somewhere outside of La Rochelle.’
The fact that the old knight Will had once served had told
this man the barest of information about the incident, however hazy his
memory, sent darts of warning through him. Sir Percy was sending him a message
of caution regarding the man sat opposite him.
Will narrowed his eyes. ‘No, I don’t believe you understand,
stranger. I am hired for many reasons, but finding lost people is outside my
remit, especially when I have no idea where they may be.’ He leaned forward.
‘And no amount of silver would tempt me to stray from that.’
That was not strictly true, but Will wanted to ascertain
how far he could bargain, how large that chest of silver was…and how desperate
this man’s cause.
Melissa Oliver is from south-west
London where she writes historical romance novels. She lives with her lovely
husband and three daughters, who share her passion for decrepit, old castles,
grand palaces and all things historical. She is the winner of The Romantic
Novelists' Association's Joan Hessayon Award for new writers in 2020 for her
debut, The Rebel Heiress and the Knight. When she's not writing she loves to
travel, paint and visit museums & art galleries.
Connect with Melissa Oliver on Twitter
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