A Knight's Vow Read Free Page A

was forced to look up into her eyes.
    Isabel stared back. "You know it is not enough that Bolton die—else I could easily have killed him before now. Humiliation is an important part of my plan. What better way to embarrass him than to make all realize that even a woman can best him?"
    " 'Even'? Are you claiming that men are superior to women?"
    "Cease your word games, William! You know full well that the honor of my family rests in what I do here. Do not question me about this again."
    He lifted his hands in surrender and bowed from the waist. "As you wish, my lady." He slowly straightened. "When do we move next?"
    "Not yet," she said, feeling her spirits come to life at just the thought of besting the earl. "We will let Bolton wonder how I'm spending the ridiculous amount of wealth he carried unguarded."
    "Hardly unguarded, my lady. The forest was full of his men. We barely escaped."
    "In a few more days we will strike at the heart of his empire, from within his own stronghold. He will feel violated."
    The boy sighed. "I hope you have a plan, because I surely don't."
    For once, a tight smile touched Isabel's lips.
    James sprawled in a chair before the hearth in the great hall, exhausted, frustrated, angry. His men had searched the forest for two long days, with not a sign of this woman who called herself the Black Angel.
    She suddenly appeared in his mind as vividly as if she swaggered before him. What drove a woman like her? And why was he thinking about her with other parts of his body besides his brain? She had been clothed like a man, she talked like a man, she seemed to light like a man. But that black doublet had swelled at her breast and hip, proclaiming her very much a woman. And now she was probably gone with her prize—his dowry.
    James flinched as the wound in his cheek pulled. He vividly remembered the sight of the bleeding scab as he'd peeled the bandage away. She'd given him a scar—on his face, of all places—and for that, she'd pay.
    He rested his chin on his hand and sighed. He knew the castle residents walked gingerly behind him. They were honest, simple folk. They looked to him as the man who shaped their futures, the man who could bring them prosperity or poverty. He could imagine what they were thinking, how their respect for him had lessened.
    It was bad enough that Lady Katherine Berkeley had fallen in love with his brother and refused to marry him. But now he had allowed a woman to best him, to take the money that would have restored the estates and their farms. James's stomach twisted until it burned. He almost wished he were a commoner. Every lecture from his parents and foster parents to be the perfect earl rang deafeningly in his ears. For once he was thankful they were dead. He could only imagine the look on his father's face.
    He thought of his brother, Reynold, enjoying the wife James was supposed to have, and his face heated with the anger of lost opportunities. His frustration continued to mount as the world he'd worked a lifetime to create slowly began to crack.
    Why ever had he left London? He would still have Katherine Berkeley's dowry money to spend as he pleased. But the life he had led since the broken betrothal had grown tiresome and depressing. He had spent months drinking, dancing, seducing, spending money, and trying to forget what had happened.
    By heaven, what was wrong with him? Nothing seemed to make him happy. There was an aching emptiness inside him, and he didn't know how to fill it. He had thought returning home would ease his frustration, but a barbarous dark woman with the body of a female Viking had ruined his peace of mind.
    James could not allow her to continue making a fool of him. He would find the Black Angel if he had to ride every path himself.
    Chapter 3
    That same evening, visitors stopped for lodging on their way from London to York. James cursed their presence—he was forced to entertain Baron George Huddleston and his wife and daughters, rather than