Beguiled By The Forbidden Knight. Elisabeth Hobbes

her you were accosted by a naked man—Breton or Norman—as you were fishing dressed only in your shift and see what difference it would make. The outcome would be the same for you, I imagine.’

      They watched each other, eyes locked in challenge. They were standing closer than they had been in the river. Much closer. He could smell the slight scent of lavender, which made him want to bury his face in the soft spot behind her ear to see if she was the source of it. The room seemed to grow hotter as the intensity of her gaze held him fast.

      ‘What would happen to you if I told the prioress?’ Gui asked. ‘You really didn’t want me to admit to having met you, did you? I think you weren’t supposed to be there.’

      It was not a threat, but her eyelids flickered. Long and pale, her lashes framed those almost colourless eyes of watery blue. He remembered how he had considered she might be a simpleton when he first saw her, but her eyes blazed with a fierce intelligence that made him draw a sharp breath. She licked her lips nervously. They were wide and soft, made for kissing. He’d bedded women since coming to England, but he never kissed them, too conscious of his scarred lip. He wanted to kiss this sprite more than he’d wanted anything for a long time. Perhaps he should do it and risk the consequences. Let Gilbert return and find his bride for himself.

      ‘If you kiss me now, I won’t tell anyone how we met,’ he said daringly.

      ‘Why would I do that?’

      Gui was pleased to note it was surprise rather than disgust that sang in her voice.

      ‘So you can say you kissed a dweorgar and lived to tell the tale.’

      She covered her mouth to hide a smile, then quick as lightning lifted on to her tiptoes, put her hands on his shoulders and pecked at his cheek. He turned his head and their lips met. It did not last more than a couple of heartbeats, but their mouths melded together, her warm lips moving in unison with Gui’s and slightly parting with an eagerness that hinted at the promise of what she could offer. He sighed with longing when she broke away.

      ‘I have to go.’ She ducked past Gui and headed for the door. Gui followed, reluctant to see her leave, and rested his hand on the frame, barring her way.

      ‘Will you tell me your name before you leave?’ he asked.

      ‘And risk getting into trouble?’

      Gui reached for her hand and held it, not tight enough to hurt, but firmly so that he commanded her full attention. He rested his thumb on the inside of her wrist. Without his glove on would he feel her pulse racing beneath the skin?

      ‘Let me go!’

      ‘I won’t tell anyone you did. I’m good at keeping secrets.’

      She looked down at his hand holding her captive. With a sudden jerk of her whole body she twisted her arm, pulling away from him. She stepped back. He held on, stepping with her as she went backwards so that they were just as close. They might have been dancing rather than arguing. Slowly he uncurled his fingers far enough for the girl to slip her hand free. She stalked to the door, pausing as she got there to turn back.

      ‘That is the last time you’ll touch me. If you try it again, it will go badly for you.’

      Gui inclined his head in a graceful bow as the girl hurled herself out of the cell, slamming the door behind her.

      It was probably for the best. As much as he craved a further, deeper taste of those lips, tempting a novice into his bed would see him damned for certain.

      It was only as Gui settled on to the straw mattress in the wooden pallet that it occurred to him the girl herself was the age of the woman he was searching for. He fell into a troubled sleep, hoping fervently she was not the one.

      * * *

      Aelfhild pressed her forehead and palms against the wall beside the door. Her second encounter with the strange man had been just as unsettling as the first and her heart pounded with the intensity of an army marching through her body. Her wrist tingled where his fingers had touched her, though it had not been painful at the time. The memory of his hand on hers caused her chest to tighten as though the breath was being squeezed from her ribcage. The sensation was disturbing, as much for the lack of distress it had caused her as the act itself.

      She glanced to the high window, seeing light flicker as the occupant paced around the room obscuring the lamp. She half-expected him to follow and continue to wheedle information out of her about the identity of his bride. A small part of her hoped he would follow and demand another kiss, despite her insistence he should not do so. Relief fought with disappointment. Before either could win she stepped hastily away from the door, determined not to be found lingering.