The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(137)

“You have my sympathies,” Ayla offered. “I'll take him out for a ride later. You can sneak off for a mug of ale.”

The guards sighed in contentment.

“Heaven's gifts are plentiful,” the left one remarked.

“And varying in quality,” the other guard reminded him. “Don't forget he'll be coming back.”

“That's right.” The left guard made a face. “I'd better learn to stand with a board tucked into my tunic.”

“This fellow, Reuben,” the other guard wanted to know of Ayla, “will he be moving along soon, now that the siege is over? Or will he be staying longer?”

Ayla blushed. “I think so. At least, I hope so. Much longer.”

The left guard, who seemed to be the quicker of the two, must have picked up on the dreamy, far-off look in her eyes. His eyes widened.

“Milady! You aren't going to…with him?”

“If he wants me.”

The two guards looked at each other.

“And we thought we had something to complain about,” the left one said. The right one nodded, and then bowed to Ayla again.

“May God have mercy on you, Milady.”





To Ride Over Ashes and Meadows

On their first ride out of Luntberg, Ayla discovered that the valley wasn't nearly as idyllic as it had seemed from the window of her castle chamber. Where once the village had stood, only piles of ash and blackened pieces of half-burned timber remained.

Ayla had to struggle hard to keep the tears back at the sight. Many times, she had ridden or walked through the village as a child. She knew everything as well as her own castle. There, the carpenter's shop was supposed to be; there, the smithy. There were only ruins. Even the little village church had not escaped the godless mercenaries: it was burned to the ground.

“We will rebuild,” she said, her voice quivering only slightly. “We will rebuild everything, just as it was.”

“Yes. We will.” Reuben, sitting beside her on the black stallion with its infernal name he still refused to change, took her hand and squeezed it gently. The burnt village didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. On one level, that was reassuring. On another, it was slightly frightening.

Lots of things about him were slightly frightening. Ayla bit her lip. She would have to start asking someday.

“You have seen fighting and destruction like this before, haven't you?”

To her surprise, he laughed lightly. “Would I have taken command of your liegemen if I hadn't, Milady?”

“No, I suppose not.” Once again, she hesitated. “What did you see? One feud? Two? Fights against bandits?”

She dared not look at him. It was the first time she had really asked questions about his past. They were just the first trickle of a flood of questions she had for him. She wanted to know everything about him! Where did he come from? What about his family? How did he lose them? How did he become like he was?

But she was still too afraid to ask that.

“Oh yes, I saw feuds and raiders.” Reuben's voice was devoid of any amusement now. His eyes were burning with gray fire. “Fought them, too, more than once or twice. More than a dozen or a hundred times, in fact. And wars, crusades, countless battles, sieges of cities and castles ten times the size of yours, long marches under the desert sun, and cold dungeons miles under the ground. I have seen more men die than I have seen alive. I have seen a lot of things, Ayla, many of which I'd rather not remember.”

A shiver ran down Ayla's back. She had gotten her answer, and it only stirred up more questions in her.

“You were in a crusade?” She whispered, awed. “Did you win back the holy city?”

“Ha!” He wagged a finger at her, suddenly grinning again. “I said that I saw a crusade, not that I fought in it on the side of the Christians.”

Her mouth popped open.

“You didn't…you couldn't have…”

“The Saracens are very nice people,” he said with a perfectly faked innocent look on his face. “Besides, they pay really well.”

He was jesting! He had to be! Of that, Ayla was absolutely sure. Well, almost. Not even Reuben would betray his faith and fight on the side of the enemy, would he?

The same Reuben that rode through the forest, cheerfully robbing helpless maidens?

The same Reuben that swore by the devil instead of God?

The same Reuben that put his hand into flame without flinching?

Yes, he would.

Ayla decided she had had enough truth for one day. It was time to change the subject. “I think,” she said pointedly, “we should start rebuilding efforts there.” And she pointed to the church. Glaring meaningfully at Reuben, she added, “I think we're going to need it, don't you?”

He didn't reply. He had bent over the saddle to pick something from the ground. When he resurfaced, he held a little daisy in his hand that had grown on one of the heaps of ash.

“There, you see?” he said, holding out the flower to her. “Rebuilding efforts have already begun.”

She took the tiny thing from him, stroking the petals with her fingertips. Suddenly, her throat was too tight for words. How could this be the same man who ripped his enemies to bloody shreds and traveled the land looting and pillaging?