Once a Bride Read Free

Such an opportunity does not come often.”
    Wary of the earl’s tone, Roland sought to make his position clear. “I have no personal quarrel with Sir John other than his treachery toward our beloved sovereign.”
    “Ah, but personal quarrels are the most satisfying to settle.” Kenworth abruptly rose. “If we are to sample Lelleford’s hospitality this eve, we must be off. Ready the men.”
    Roland shook off the bad memories and traces of guilt as he followed the other knights out of the tent, their exit a signal to all to break camp. He headed for the horses—his particular assignment on this journey—to ensure them properly cared for. Not a hard job due to the efficiency of squires who knew their knights’ horses were their most highly prized possessions. Even now the squires and grooms scrambled for saddles, including Timothy, Roland’s own squire.
    Odd that, to have a young man at his beck and call, doing those tasks Roland had always done for himself until recently.
    So much had happened in the two months since Hugh’s death.
    Soon after the ill-fated wedding, Roland had gone to the Scottish wars with Sir Damian, the knight with whom he’d fostered for most of his life, and who he afterward served as a trusted squire. All had changed in the flash of a sword. He’d been in the wrong place at the right time on Halidon Hill, guarding a king’s back when it was most needed.
    A year older than the two and twenty king of England and a bit taller and broader in the shoulder, Roland had earned King Edward’s admiration for his prowess on the battlefield and his timely intervention between the king and a Scot’s claymore.
    Rewards followed. During his few weeks in the king’s service, he’d been dubbed a knight, been granted several horses right out of the king’s own stable, received all the weapons and armor necessary for the rank, and taken Timothy as his squire. Now all he required was an income rich enough to support his new rank and gifts.
    Which was why, Roland was sure, King Edward set him to this task. Kings could be extremely generous to those who served them well.
    Roland planned to begin his upward rise by faithfully following royal orders, even if the damn earl of Kenworth took it into his head to cause mischief—or worse.
    The earl’s tent tumbled to the ground. Soon tent, poles, furniture, and foodstuffs were being loaded into the baggage carts. Knights and men-at-arms prepared to take their places in line.
    Swiftly, Roland completed his final inspection of bridles, bits, and straps. When sure neither the knights nor the earl would lose his seat from a squire’s carelessness, he approached his own horse and squire.
    “All is ready, Timothy?”
    With a toothy grin, the tow headed lad of ten and six bowed at the waist. “Aye, Sir Roland. You can tug all you wish and not find a loose or misfit piece anywhere. ’Twould not do for the knight in charge of the horses to fall off his own, now, would it?”
    Roland couldn’t withhold a smile. “Impudent imp. What news?”
    Timothy furtively peered around Roland’s huge black stallion to locate the earl’s squire.
    “There is something afoot,” the lad said just above a whisper. “Gregory knows, but he is not saying, just smiling like he hoards a secret. Could be the rest of us are wrong, and I dislike speaking ill of my fellow squire, but …”
    “Then speak no more. Speculation does us no good.”
    “My apology, milord, for falling short of my task.”
    Roland grasped the squire’s spindly shoulder, still amazed a lad so slight, though tall for his age, could heft a saddle to such a great height as a stallion’s back.
    “You did not fall short, Timothy. You cannot inform me of those things you do not know. Keep a sharp eye and ear. ’Tis all I ask.”
    With his chin set in determination, the squire nodded, then bowed off to see to his own mount.
    Roland swung up into the saddle and nudged the stallion forward. Near where the line