The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(143)
“Give Satan my regards,” he bellowed and thrust his enemy down, down from the wall, down into the darkness.
Still, Reuben stood there. The flames spread over him, from his hands to his arms, from his arms to his torso. He began to turn, to writhe and wriggle while he laughed among the flames. When he turned to look at her, Ayla screamed and stumbled back. His legs weren't clad in armor anymore. They weren't even his legs. They were the shaggy legs of a goat, with mangy fur and cloven hoofs.
Reuben opened his mouth to smile—and then jumped at her, hands aflame!
With an ear-piercing scream, Ayla jerked up. She blinked. Suddenly, the darkness was gone. She was back in the castle keep, in her own bedchamber. Reuben was nowhere to be seen, with or without animalistic legs.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she murmured, beating the bed-cover with one slender, ivory fist. “It's inexcusable to let my imagination get that out of hand! Get a grip, Ayla! Of course he isn't…of course he hasn't got anything to do with the De—”
She hesitated. Were her fears really that silly? Shuddering, she thought back to the moment when Reuben had put his hand into the fire without flinching. Something unearthly had happened then, she was sure of it. No creature on God's earth could stand that kind of pain. That left only two possibilities, only two other realms: Heaven, and…Hell.
No. Reuben could not be a creature from the nether regions, could he? The problem was that, if he wasn't, the only explanation left to her was that he was some kind of angel. And that, taking all he had said and done into account, was even harder to believe.
“Get a grip!” she repeated. “Why start worrying now? Why start having nightmares now? You’ve known there’s something wrong with him for ages, haven’t you? You’ve known he’s different from other men!”
Ah, yes, said a nasty little voice in her head. But before, there was the siege, wasn’t there? There was enemy army outside the gates, stopping him from leaving. Now, nothing is keeping him here—except you. You want him to stay. And you’re afraid of that.
“Nonsense!” Ayla muttered. “He’s never lifted a finger against me! Why should I be afraid of having him here?”
You’re not afraid of having him here. You’re afraid of having him. Of him having you.
“Nonsense!”
Oh, you want it all right—but you fear it, too. Because you don’t know what he is, and you don’t know what will happen.
“Shut up!” Ayla ordered her inner voice and slapped the bed again, silencing all thoughts. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she looked around the room. Well, at least her silly nightmare hadn't disturbed anybody but herself. Now that the siege was over and the outer castle safe from bombardment, many of the servants had returned to their quarters there, and her chambers were once again hers alone.
A knock came from the door. A moment later, Dilli entered, with a cheerful smile on her face.
“I thought I would bring you your breakfast in bed today, Milady,” she announced. “Bread, now that we're off rations, and with a bit of the second cook’s excellent goat cheese.”
Ayla clutched her stomach. “Um…thank you very much, Dilli, but I think I'll stick to the bread. Could you take the goat cheese away, please? You can have it, if you want.”
“Are you all right, Milady?” Breakfast forgotten, Dilli put the tray aside and knelt beside her Mistress. “Is it all catching up with you now? You have exerted yourself too much lately. The siege must have taken a dreadful toll on you. How do you feel? Should I bring you a cup of herbal wine?”
Ayla smiled warmly at her maid and friend. “No, thank you. I'm perfectly fine. I've had a nightmare, that's all.”
“Oh, my poor lady.” Ayla could feel herself being encircled by warm, comforting arms. Not the same kind of comfort she received from Reuben, but still more than welcome. For a moment, she relaxed and let herself drift in the warmth. “What was it about? Maybe it'll help if you tell me.”
“I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you,” Ayla sighed. “It's very…private.”
She could feel Dilli stroke her hair.
“It's got to do with him, hasn't it?”
A chuckle bubbled up in Ayla's chest. “You say that like he's a dead warthog or something.”
“No. I'm not afraid of dead warthogs, Milady. I am afraid of him. I saw him walking around with three arrows in his back. That's not natural, it isn't!”
Only with a lot of effort could Ayla suppress a shiver. “You're probably right about that, Dilli. It isn't.”
“But you aren't going to send him on his way, are you, Milady?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can't, Dilli. I love him.”
She felt the maid smile.
“Yes, Milady. I kind of noticed that.”
Grinning, Ayla pushed her maid away and raised an admonishing finger. “Now, don't be flippant with me, you serf! I'm still your mistress, you know. I could have you put in the stocks.”
Dilli looked down, but Ayla knew she was also grinning and only trying to hide it. “No you couldn't, Milady. If I was in the stocks, who would you go telling your heartaches to? Burchard? I'm sure he'd be more than pleased to listen.”