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She tried to draw her hands from his large weapon-callused ones. My lord...

The Captive

She drew her knees up and clasped her arms around them, resting her chin on their tops. She felt the familiar leap of excitement, anticipation and wonder within her breast, and quickly tried to dismiss it. If she allowed him to see it she would be no different from anyone else to him, and therefore of no account.

A songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody. Then her attention was caught by an approaching rider, and she let fall the flowered braid from limp fingers.

No, my lord, she responded promptly, very solemn and

proper. Then she grinned again-

Sunlight glittered off the gold of his mount's trappings and painted the chestnut warhorse bright red. She heard the jingle of bit and bridle and the heavy snort of the big stallion. His rider, who had yet to see her, rode unconcernedly through the meadowlands.

She tried to draw her hands from his large weapon-callused ones. My lord...

His tawny-dark head was bent as he rode blue eyes on the shedding of his gloves. He wore black hunting leathers, she saw, and had thrown a thin green woolen mantle back from broad shoulders. A flash of green and gold glittering at his left shoulder caught her eye: the emerald cloak-brooch he favored. At his heavy belt was hung a massive two-handed broadsword.

I did not say you presented an unattractive sight, Alix. He grinned- More like a wood nymph, I would say.

Lousy slid down the muddy bank into the water again. His rider,

The animal reacted to her unexpected appearance with alacrity.

I did not think you would come, she said, pitching her voice to carry over the noisy horse.

His tawny-dark head was bent as he rode blue eyes on the shedding of his gloves. He wore black hunting leathers, she saw, and had thrown a thin green woolen mantle back from broad shoulders. A flash of green and gold glittering at his left shoulder caught her eye: the emerald cloak-brooch he favored. At his heavy belt was hung a massive two-handed broadsword.

Carillon, he said firmly. There are no titles between us.

equally startled, reined the animal in with a curse and shot a glare over his shoulder. When he saw her his face cleared.

No, my lord, she responded promptly, very solemn and

He plunged sideways, halfway out of die creek, men unceremonious

She tried to draw her hands from his large weapon-callused ones. My lord...

The Captive

equally startled, reined the animal in with a curse and shot a glare over his shoulder. When he saw her his face cleared.

A songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody. Then her attention was caught by an approaching rider, and she let fall the flowered braid from limp fingers.

She drew her knees up and clasped her arms around them, resting her chin on their tops. She felt the familiar leap of excitement, anticipation and wonder within her breast, and quickly tried to dismiss it. If she allowed him to see it she would be no different from anyone else to him, and therefore of no account.

His tawny-dark head was bent as he rode blue eyes on the shedding of his gloves. He wore black hunting leathers, she saw, and had thrown a thin green woolen mantle back from broad shoulders. A flash of green and gold glittering at his left shoulder caught her eye: the emerald cloak-brooch he favored. At his heavy belt was hung a massive two-handed broadsword.

A songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody. Then her attention was caught by an approaching rider, and she let fall the flowered braid from limp fingers.

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