At His Command-Historical Romance Version Read Free

sent to a major castle. Your plans have been postponed by an expedition not worthy of your many talents.”
    “We go where needed, whether or not the surroundings are ideal,” he replied.
    The woman lifted her head and sat up straight. She looked over her shoulder, the weariness on her face striking a chord of sympathy within him.
    “The entrance is around the corner,” she said.
    Three sheep trotting around the corner, thick wool bouncing, drew her attention. The trio stopped directly in front of Merlin.
    Amice burst into laughter, sparking joy within him. “They must’ve heard my voice. Hello, Isabella! Hello, Eleanor. Hello, Edward,” she cooed, greeting each in turn.
    She slid to the ground before Nicholas could help her, leaving a dirty stripe on Merlin’s coat. The woman continued to talk to the sheep, who gathered around her eagerly.
    Either she was Lady Amice or the shepherdess. Soon he would have answers. He couldn’t conceal a grin at the sight of the mud-encrusted woman surrounded by three cavorting sheep.
    She was even lovelier when she smiled.
    Amice led them into the castle through a high, arched door on the left side of the keep. “My thanks for returning me to my home, Sir Nicholas. Now tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
    “When you’re warm and dry.” He brought important news, which deserved the right time for the telling. He ignored the frown marring her smooth skin and looked up. “Impressive. Whoever built this keep recognized the defensive potential of a narrow, steep staircase.”
    “William de Albini began building Castle Rising in 1138….” She glared at him. “Stop trying to distract me. The minute I’ve changed garments, I expect answers.”
    They walked into a vaulted vestibule with an arcade of shuttered windows. A door to the left led into the great hall.
    Several servants sat on benches, conversing as though they had nothing better to do. One, a young woman with flaming red hair that couldn’t quite be contained by her simple headdress, caught sight of them and scurried over, her wide, freckled face breaking into a smile.
    “My Lady Amice, thank goodness you are home! We didn’t know what to do, we awaited word—” The young woman recoiled and backed away. “Oh, it’s him. AAAAAH!”
    Harry Winfield stood in the doorway, no longer restrained by Nicholas’s men.
    “Ginelle,” Amice said. “All is well. We are safe. These men rescued me.”
    Ginelle paused mid-flight, clearly uncertain. She relaxed when Martin and Thomas the Tall each grabbed one of Winfield’s arms. He struggled briefly, his futile attempt to break free ending in a seething stare at his captors.
    “When Harry found you gone, he went wild,” Ginelle accused, excitement flushing her fair skin. “He threw everything he could get his hands on, plates, chairs. He dragged me across the floor, shouting for me to tell him where you were and…then he ran out after you. I was so afraid.”
    Nicholas had his proof. The woman he’d rescued was Amice. He’d force rare words of apology from his lips. “Lady Amice, I beg forgiveness for doubting your word.”
    She nodded her head in gracious acceptance. “I trust it won’t happen again. And that shortly you’ll explain your presence here.” She turned to the others. “This is Sir Nicholas Grey. His men have Harry well in hand.”
    A short, wrinkled man with flowing gray hair hurried into the hall. “You’re safe, you’re back!” He dropped to his knees. “Forgive us, Lady Amice. Harry’s men watched us night and day to keep us from sending for help.”
    “Harry’s actions hurt us all, Cyril.” She turned to Nicholas. “Cyril Hodges is my steward. Ginelle is my maid.”
    The way Ginelle, Cyril and the others looked to her and at her told him they respected Lady Amice. He admired her confidence.
    “How did you get away from Harry?” Ginelle asked. “He had you locked up so tight, we feared for your life.”
    Curiosity made Nicholas