An Oath Broken Read Free Page B

haunted him.
    Blast her. Why should he care about the quiet sadness that lurked in her eyes, a hurt that beckoned him when her wary manner foreshadowed a journey filled with naught but irritation? He didna need her problems added to his enormous pile. And let him nae forget that she was betrothed. The image of her mouth inches from his own on the turret steps lingered. A dull pounding began at his temples. And he thought only his sister Elizabet had a penchant for disrupting his sanity? He scoured the blackened nooks along the castle walls sure fairies lurked there and had addled his brain.
    With a scowl, he tugged his hood over his head and strode across the courtyard. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked, but each step lingered on memories of the sorrow he’d glimpsed on Lady Sarra’s face.
    With an oath, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his broadsword. This was why he’d ridden to Rancourt Castle, to wield his blade for gold, nae fall victim to another’s plight.
    Giric grimaced at the cloud-filled sky. As if Lady Sarra would ever seek him out for guidance? There was a thought to make a beggar laugh. He was a fool to contemplate earning even a token of her trust. Three days had passed and he stood at odds with the woman he had sworn to protect.
    What had possessed him to touch her, much less challenge her? He desperately needed the gold this task would bring. As she’d threatened, she could have ordered her guard to cast him into the dungeon for his brazen act. A nightmare he’d sworn to never again endure.
    The tap of his boots upon stone echoed as he ascended the steps to the wall walk. At the top, he nodded to a guard on his left then strolled along the snow-dusted path. Shafts of moonlight plunged through the crenellations like jagged teeth. As he walked through the play of light, beyond the castle walls, rolling fields gave way to a dense stand of trees. A thin layer of fog wove through the forest like a silken strand, lingered over the moon-bleached snow.
    Though held by the English, the rough landscape of this northern stronghold mirrored that of his home along the border.
    The grate of a window opening echoed from the tower ahead. Giric looked up to find the woman currently causing turmoil in his life lean into view.
    Framed in the squared stone, her long golden hair fluttering around her, Lady Sarra leaned out the window and stared into the night.
    He halted. On a silent curse, he waited for her to detect him, skewer him with a scowl of distrust, then slam the window as she withdrew. Her wariness he could handle, but nae this guileless maiden, still wearing the sad expression that lured him to care.
    He stepped closer. His leather boots scraped to a stop on a patch of ice covered with snow.
    She didna look down.
    Then he realized he stood in the shadows, and with his movements muffled by the rush of wind, she was unaware of his presence.
    A second passed, then another.
    Giric damned himself for his indecision. He should walk into the light and make himself known, or leave. Struck by the pain in her expression, though, he could only stare.
    As he watched, his chest grew tight and his every nerve came on alert.
    Shaken by the feelings she inspired, he turned and walked away.
     
    Two days later dark clouds churned overhead and spewed thick flakes of snow as Giric checked the straps of the saddle for the third time since they’d finished preparations to leave. A horse to his right pawed the ground, and he empathized with the steed’s restlessness.
    The bells of Prime tolled.
    “Saint’s breath, where is she?” Giric growled.
    Colyne shrugged. “’Twould seem the lady will be here at her discretion.”
    Discretion? Blasted stubborn. He glanced toward the keep, already layered by several inches of freshly fallen snow.
    Lady Sarra failed to appear.
    At least she had finally decided to depart. Giric rubbed his hands together for warmth. “I told her we must leave at first light. After last