The Knight Read Free Page B

breath returned, he said, “Of course, I came. You know I can’t stay away from you.”
    The pink bloom of her cheeks rose with delight, his words obviously pleasing her. “But it’s dangerous. The English are looking for you. If they see you—”
    “They won’t see me,” he said flatly, and then smiled. “Not until I want them to.”
    Though his voice brokered no argument, he knew he had not completely allayed her fears when her fist came up to her mouth. For as long as he could remember, she’d nibbled on her thumbnail when she was worried. But since she hated the “vile habit,” he took care not to point it out.
    She gazed up at him, her big blue eyes wide with worry. “Are you planning something, James?”
    He cocked a brow. She knew very well that he was. “As long as Clifford keeps filling my hall with Englishmen, I’ll keep emptying it.”
    Joanna knew better than to dispute his claim of ownership of Douglas Castle. All the hatred he’d once borne the English king who’d killed his father had been transferred to the man Edward had given his father’s land to: Sir Robert Clifford, the English baron and trusted military commander of both the dead King Edward and his son, Edward II. Twice James had destroyed Clifford’s garrison, and twice Clifford had replenished it with more men. The last time Clifford had come to the castle himself to see to its fortification.
    This time James intended to take back Douglas Castle for good. He’d rather see his family stronghold razed to the ground than have it occupied by thirty English whoresons. Too bad Clifford wasn’t here now. James would see the English devil straight to hell. If Boyd didn’t do it for him first. If there was anyone who hated the Lord of Clifford more than James, it was Robbie Boyd.
    She eyed him warily. “What are you going to do?”
    What he’d done twice before: use guile and cunning to trick the enemy and then destroy them. “Empty the larder,” he said with a hard smile.
    She paled and her eyes flew to his. “You swore nothing like that would ever happen again. You said—”
    “I know what I said,” he snapped. It wasn’t her place to draw lines in the sand about what was acceptable or unacceptable in warfare. Hell, Wallace was said to have made a belt out of the skin of Sir Hugh de Cressingham, the hated English commander whom he’d defeated at Stirling Bridge. But the horrified way she’d looked at him after that “Douglas Larder” episode, as if she didn’t know him…
    It had pricked his conscience, damn it. He would have promised her anything not to have her look at him like that, and that scared him. He couldn’t let anyone—even Joanna—interfere with his plans. He would take back his father’s lands from the English, restore his patrimony, and see the house of Douglas raised to dizzying heights. He didn’t care how much English blood needed to be spilled to do so. “I will show your Englishmen mercy, unless they give me cause otherwise.”
    She heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. They fear you enough.”
    It wouldn’t be enough until every English soldier fled Scotland in terror. His eyes narrowed, the spark of something dangerous taking hold. “Why do you care so much about them, anyway?”
    She gazed up at him quizzically. “It’s not the English I care about, it’s you.”
    “So there is no truth to the rumor I heard that the captain of the guard has been finding excuses to stop by Hazelside?”
    The heat that flooded her cheeks made him see red.
    “I was ill one morning,” she explained. “Sir John witnessed it; he was only being kind.”
    James looked down at the beautiful face tilted toward his and felt a flash of anger so intense and irrational it stole his breath. Jo was his, damn it. His. If “Sir John” de Wilton—the commander of the English garrison—were standing before him right now, he would be a dead man. “Don’t be naive, Jo. The Englishman wants you. What man could look at