A Knight's Vow Part 27

He fought frustration. Bits and pieces of half-formed pictures moved around in a head that ached almostbeyond endurance. He tried to hold them there, but they were as fleeting as the small flashes of light thatcame through the hole in his door. Think. Why was he here? A face flashed in his memory. A shy smile.Green eyes.

But the harder he tried, the more facts escaped him. He looked down at his clothes: a linen s.h.i.+rt, jerkin and hose. Worn. Even coa.r.s.e. Unfamiliar for some reason. He was used to something else. He knew it.

Merde, but his head hurt. And he was thirsty. Ever so thirsty. Where was he, and why?

The door creaked open, and someone entered. A woman holding a basket. For a moment his heart seemed to skip, then returned to normal as he saw more of a well-endowed young woman. The door closed behind her.

"My lady asked me to tend you," she said, placing her bur-den on the floor. She was young and buxom.

She wore no cap, and her flame-colored hair was tied back by a ribbon.

"Do I... know you?"

She looked at him curiously. "No. I am Lady Lynet's maid."

"Lady Lynet?" He knew from her face he should know who she meant. But the name carried no familiarity.

She was already busy. She had brought a pitcher of water and a cup. She poured water into the cup and offered some to him. He drank thirstily.

When he'd slaked his thirst, he handed it back to her. "My thanks," he said.

Her eyes were curious in the dim light. "My lady wants to know how you fare."

"I do... not remember what happened.""You were struck on the head.""Why?"She colored. It was obvious even in a dim cell. "You remember nothing of my mistress?""Just... fleeting images. Does she have green eyes?"She smiled. "Aye, and she said you are a minstrel."A minstrel. He tried to think. That did not sound right.The young woman dipped a cloth into the water and wiped the blood from his head. Then placed a poultice against it. "My lady told me how to make this," she said. Then she hesitated and added, "They

are sending her away tomorrow." She blinked back a tear.

He knew suddenly it was because of him. Thoughts that had fluttered around began to come together.

But the name made no sense. "Mary?" he asked as the name suddenly popped into his head.

She looked confused. "My mistress is Lynet. She is the daughter of the Earl of Clenden."Clenden. The pieces started to come together. Not completely, but one at a time.He went back to what had been said. "She is leaving?" Who?"Aye. Her father is sending her to Holy Cross because she was found with you.""Mary?""Lady Lynet," she insisted again. "She would not let them slay you. She asked me to tell you she is sorry that you were injured."

All of a sudden, everything fell into place. The clothes he wore were not his. He was Duncan, Marquis of Worthington. And the forest maid...

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! Why had he not guessed before? He had known she was well spoken. And how many

servant girls could ride as she rode? His lady of the woods was a lady in fact as well as in conduct.

"Sent away?"

"Her father said she has disgraced the family. No man will accept her now."

"She did not defend herself?"

She shook her head. "One of the men invited here as a prospective husband found you together. I am

told she stood between you and a blade." She shuddered at the thought and tears came to her eyes.

"They tried to blame you but she would not let them. And now she is being sent to a convent."There was no other man. For a moment, joy flooded him even as he realized that they both had been atcross purposes.

It was daft and impossible and ironic. And now she was going to be sent to a convent, and he was locked in someone's blasted dungeon. No one would believe him. And he did not have time to send for Rhys. Well, he had made this mess, and it was up to him to solve it. With some help.

He also knew he had indeed found a woman who wanted him for himself. Someone brave enough to

sacrifice herself and her future for a humble minstrel.

The question was whether she would forgive him for his own masquerade. Hers made sense. Having found herself face-to-face with a stranger, she was protecting herself. His reason was far more devious.

"What is your name?" he asked. "And how long have you served your mistress?"

"Willa, and I have served her nearly all our lives."

He thought for a moment, then asked, "Is there a way to see your mistress before she goes?"

"She is locked in her room."

"It is important."

Her eyes met his. "I will do what I can."

"Some wine for the guards, mayhap?"

"My lady has already thought of that," she said, "but my lord has threatened their lives if she disappears."

"Is he so formidable?"

"Nay," she said. "He is usually the most kind of masters, but he is very angry. He had invited prospective

husbands for her this fortnight, and she had promised to make a selection. The one who... discovered

the two of you has already left. My lord believes she has ruined the family."

"Who were the prospective husbands?" he asked.

"The Earl of Kellum, Lord Manfield and Viscount Wickham," she said.

"Did she favor any?"

She shook her head, then her face colored again. "Only you, sir."

"Did she tell you that?"

"She did not have to."

His eyes met hers in the dim light. "Will you help us, Willa?"

He saw fear flicker across her face, then she straightened. She smiled, a slow smile that lit her face.

"Yes."

"Even at the risk of your own life?"

"My lady would die in a convent. She has so much... life."

"She does," he said, "and you will come with us."

"Come with you?"

"I would not take her away from such a loyal friend," he said.

"But you..."

"I have friends. I can take care of her. Of both of you," He knew that if he said more, she would thank him a madman and would refuse to help at all.

"I will try," she said.

The door opened with a clatter and Willa jumped away. A large, burly man entered. "You must go before the captain comes," he said.