The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(131)

Reuben blinked. The expression of surprise on his face was slowly replaced by one of outraged disbelief.

“You didn't…you didn't just…”

“What?” Brimming with joy, Ayla batted her lashes at him. “Might I have misinterpreted your meaning, Sir Knight? However could that have happened? What else could you possibly have been referring to?”

Reuben closed his mouth.

And opened it again.

And closed it again.

Finally, he shook his head. His eyes were burning with grey fire. As Ayla bent to grab one of the unconscious men on the battlements by the shoulder, he reluctantly followed her example and gripped his ankles.

“I'll get you back for this,” he growled. “Just you wait! Nobody has bested me yet!”

Ayla felt a delicious shiver run down her spine.

“There's a first time for everything, isn't there?” she whispered.

“Not for this! Just you wait, Milady. Just you wait…”





Inflamed Buttocks and Fiery Threats

The morning after the battle, the sun rose in a glorious halo of red and gold. It was a beautiful morning—or, at least, so the maid told Reuben when she burst into his room at the crack of dawn, a serving plate with breakfast in her hands. Reuben, who had been up all night carrying and bandaging people, was not inclined to agree and expressed his opinion to the contrary by throwing one of his boots at her. Luckily, his eyelids were still glued shut, and he missed by a wide margin. Even in his befuddled morning state, Reuben was enough himself to suspect Ayla might not like him giving one of her maidservants a black eye.

Once he had pried his eyes open, his outlook on life improved significantly. He found that the maid hadn't dropped the serving plate with his breakfast but had placed it on the table before she ran.

What a clever girl! Maybe I’ll be so generous as to not throw a boot at her the next time she comes in.

Hauling himself out of bed, he grabbed the bowl off the serving plate and began to stuff bread and sausage into his mouth with both hands. When he was finished, he licked his fingers and treasured the last remnants of the salty taste of the sausage. Being a knight who had lost his title and honor really had some advantages—such as not having to care about table manners.

But…if he stayed at the castle, he would have to pretend otherwise, at least in public, wouldn't he? He scowled. That was a heavy sacrifice. But for Ayla, he would make it.

Oh well. He could always work his bad mood off on somebody else. Delighted by that idea, he left his room and strode down into the courtyard.

“Let’s see what my minions are up to,” he murmured to himself, a devilish smile curving his lips.

There was no guard at the inner gate, just as he had suspected. Stepping into the Killing Fields, which now truly deserved their name, considering the blood spattered all over the ground, he saw that there was no guard at the outer gate either. Having seen all he needed to see, he made his way directly to the soldiers' barracks.

Silently, he let the door glide open and regarded the peacefully snoring soldiers. Doubtless, they had earned a day in bed. It would be only humane to let them sleep. In fact, it would be quite diabolical to disturb them. Reuben’s smile widened. He had forgotten how much fun being a commander could be.

He took a deep breath.

“To your feet, you idle misbegotten sons of maggots!” he roared in his best battlefield voice. “The sun is shining golden! The early bird catches the worm! And, if you won't be the early bird, you'll be the worm, and believe me, you won't want me to catch you! Up! Up, I say, and if you're not up in ten seconds, I'll do more than say it. To your feet! Are you soldiers or snorers? To your feet this instance or I'll light a bonfire under your bastard buttocks! Chop, chop!”

One of the soldiers raised a lazy eye. Maybe he expected it to be Sir Waldar or Captain Linhart or some of his other familiar commanders. When he saw who it was that stood in the door, his other eye flew open. He rammed his elbow into his bunk neighbor and sprang to his feet. The bunk neighbor rolled over and groaned, “What is it, Ka—”

Then he spotted Reuben.

He was so quickly on his feet that Reuben was surprised his toes didn't catch fire. In two or three minutes, all the remaining fifty-five soldiers of Luntberg had stumbled out of the barracks and were arrayed before Reuben in a more or less straight line.

“Listen up,” he bellowed, his voice easily carrying over the wall and towards the keep. “Past commanders may have tolerated your sloppy ways, but I will not! I don't care if you fought in a battle all night! I wouldn't care if you fought in battle three nights in a row! You never know when the next attack will come, when the next enemy will spring out of the shadow!”

To illustrate the point, he sprang forward, grabbed a soldier by the throat, and shook him until he had turned blue in the face. Thinking that he had probably gotten his point across, he let go, and the soldier collapsed into a crumpled heap on the ground, coughing.

Raising his hands to point at four wide-eyed guards, he called, “You and you! Guard the inner gate. You and you, guard the outer gate. If anybody wishes to leave, tell them the castle is under lockdown till the surrounding land has been scoured and found to be clear of mercenaries!”

“Um…nobody could leave anyway,” a timid voice dared to venture. “I mean, since the portcullis is down and the rope is cut.”