The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(27)

But Eleanor just looked at her with big, black, soulful eyes and cocked her head, as if to ask, “What's the harm?”

Ayla put her hands on her hips. “You're shameless, you know? You could do a lot better!”

Eleanor's eyes became even more soulful, and she nudged Ayla softly with her nose. For a few moments, Ayla managed to keep up her outraged expression—then she burst out laughing. Her first, honest, clear laugh in a good long time.

“Oh, you!” She ruffled her mare’s mane with both hands. “You're crazy, do you know that? All right, all right, you can keep him—for now! But behave yourself, or I will have to engage a chaperon for you, understand?”

Eleanor just started nibbling on her sleeve again.

~~*~~*

The reunion with her friend had been wonderful. Once she had left the stable and Eleanor's soothing presence, however, Ayla's mirth soon ceased, and her troubles started crashing down on her again.

The siege.

The impending famine.

And most of all, Reuben.

Exhausted from the night's anxiety, she sat down on a bale of hay outside the stables and watched the sun rise over the castle walls. It was big, and pink, and looked disturbingly romantic to Ayla's eye.

Yesterday, everything had been so simple. Yesterday, she had known, with every fiber of her being, that Reuben was a villain, a cur, a thief, and a traitor, that he had never loved her, and she should avoid him like the plague. Yesterday, her heart had been broken, but at least the world had been simple. Yesterday, she had known her duty and not feared the impending doom of the enemy army, for it would bring an end to her pain.

Yesterday was over.

Today, the sweetly smelling, yet potentially poisonous flower of hope blossomed in Ayla's heart. Reuben hadn't fled and abandoned her as she had feared. Instead, he had gone out and brought back her beloved mare, had sneaked into the enemy camp to wrench Eleanor from the evil clutches of the Margrave von Falkenstein, and had risked his life in the process, the silly idiot!

He had to have some feelings for her, didn't he? Some tiny morsel of affection?

Ayla was overwhelmed by the response this possibility evoked in her. Her heart, which she had believed to have died days ago, started fluttering, her cheeks flushed, and random thoughts of her and Reuben—disconnected images she wasn't brave enough to examine too closely—flashed through her mind.

Never would she have thought that she still had such feelings for him. How could she? He had lied to her, betrayed her, stolen from her!

He had also saved her people's lives, risked his life to atone for his theft, and…and he had told her that he loved her.

Could it be true? Could it really, possibly, be true after all?

Well, there was one way to find out, wasn't there?

Steeling herself and wiping the moisture from her eyes that had begun to gather there, Ayla got up from the bale of hay and strode across the courtyard towards the entrance of the keep. Wherever she passed, she heard whispers of people discussing the adventure of the strange merchant, Reuben, and, more importantly, her words to him.

Sir Knight. Climb down from your horse, Sir Knight.

She should not have called him that. But really, it had been pretty obvious: a giant of a man in devilish crimson armor, riding like a master and bearing a sword at his hip so big it would make most poleaxes go green with envy—what else could he be but a knight?

The talk was everywhere. The talk of a possible new ally, right in their midst. And, as Ayla knew perfectly well, it was only a matter of time before Isenbard got to hear of this merchant, Reuben, riding around in red armor, and he would draw conclusions. Thank the Lord she hadn’t allowed the old knight to lay his hands on a sword yet. She had to think of some excuse to explain Reuben's little adventure before Isenbard found out who he really was and decided to decapitate Reuben at the next opportunity.

Ayla could feel the questioning, eager eyes of the villagers and guards on her everywhere she went. But she had not the time to answer their silent questions now. Reaching the door to the keep, she stepped inside and started to climb the steps to the first floor. The steps to Reuben's room.

Soon, she was up the steps. And then she started down the corridor, and soon that lay behind her, too. And then she stood before the large oak door and felt fear, hope, and anxiety all mixed in a tumultuous thunderstorm raging through her.

Slowly, she raised her hand and knocked.





Horseplay and Evil Plans

“Go to hell!” a familiar voice shouted from inside. “Didn't you hear me the last time?”

Ayla swallowed. Well, that was what one called a good, warm welcome.

“It's me,” she said softly through the door.

Silence.

“Do you still want me to go to hell?” she asked. “I must admit, I don't know the way.”

Silence again. Then: “No. Come in.”

Carefully, she opened the door and stepped inside. Reuben was sitting on his bedstead, leaning against the wall, his hands behind his head, looking at her without saying a word. There was no expression on his face, but Ayla noticed his scimitar-scar was slightly twitching.

He wasn't wearing the red armor anymore. It was stacked in orderly piles on the table and on the chest in the corner. But he was still wearing a mail shirt, and the giant sword at his hip could not be overlooked.