The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(28)

Ayla remembered that sword. Remembered it at her neck. Cold. Hard. Threatening to cut.

She shivered, but then collected herself and cleared her throat.

“I…um…came to see how you were.”

“Fine, thank you,” he said with a slight smile. “Your maid has just informed me that all of us are going to starve to death in about six weeks, but other than that, I'm feeling fabulous.”

Ayla couldn't help it—her own lips twitched in response.

“You have everything you need?” she persisted. “Food? Clothing? A game to pass the time…”

“…and still six guards in front of the door?” he completed the sentence, motioning towards the corridor from where she had entered, and smirking again. “Yes, I have everything I need. You have been most generous, Milady.”

Ayla couldn't believe it. She blushed! She actually blushed! This villain had betrayed her and stolen from her, and he was making her blush because she had the gall to have him guarded?

“The guards aren't here to protect me from you,” she snapped. “They're here to protect you from Sir Isenbard, in case he finds out who you really are! You kind of gave away the game with your impressive entrance into the castle. Any minute now, he might come storming down the corridor with a sword in his hand, screaming for the head of the red robber knight on a platter!”

“I can take care of myself,” Reuben grunted.

“I'm perfectly well aware of that! But if he does find out who you are, I don't want you to decapitate him, or him to hurt y—”

She stopped abruptly, realizing how she was about to betray herself.

I don’t want him to hurt you. That was the sort of thing you only said to somebody you really cared about.

Reuben's face softened.

“No,” he said. “I wouldn't want that to happen, either.”

There was a pause. Neither of them, it appeared, really knew what to say next. Ayla knew a million things she might have wished to say, but none of them would have been wise, and some would be downright improper. In spite of all the feelings raging inside her, this man was still a traitor and a thief.

“So,” he asked in a casual tone of voice, obviously wanting to steer the conversation to less troubled waters. “Anything interesting happen in the castle lately? A filly born? A load of bread baked? A chambermaid deflowered?”

“Reuben!”

“Ah,” he said with a wise nod. “I knew it. What's her name?”

If Ayla had been blushing before, it was nothing to how she blushed now. She felt as if, had she looked in a mirror, she surely would have mistaken her head for an overgrown beet.

“Nothing much has happened,” she murmured, “apart from me trying to figure out a way for us all to survive.”

“Oh, come on. There must be something more interesting than that.”

Ayla hesitated. Should she tell him? God alone knew what he would make out of that piece of information. It was best kept hidden, probably.

But Reuben had seen the hesitation in her eyes and demanded, “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just…”

“Tell me.”

“Well…” She sighed and said grudgingly, “Eleanor and that black monster stallion of yours seem to be getting along fairly well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do they, now?”

“Yes, they do. Is he one of the Margrave's animals?”

Reuben shook his head. “No, he's mine. I've had him for years. The mercenaries—those sons of mongrel bitches—took him from me when they shot me in the back and left me for dead in the forest. I must say, I was not very pleased about it. So, he and Eleanor like each other, hmm? They have been getting…closer?” He grinned at her lasciviously. “Maybe it's a sign.”

Ayla scowled. “A sign of Eleanor's bad taste for male horses?”

Reuben’s grin widened. “I didn't mean it quite like that.”

“I'm sure you didn't. What's his name, anyway?”

This time, it was he who hesitated. “Whose name, Milady?”

“Your stallion's.” It felt to Ayla as if he were deliberately delaying the answer. He looked like a little boy caught with his finger in the honey pot. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “His name is…Satan.”

Ayla's mouth dropped open in horror. “You named your horse Satan?”

“Umm…yes. I did.”

“That is blasphemous!”

“It's descriptive of his temperament. It is a very apt name, I assure you.”

She gave him her best penetrating glare. “For your horse? I have no doubt.”

There was silence again. Finally, Reuben asked, “Will you make sure he's looked after? He's been a loyal friend to me for years. Just about the only one I’ve ever had.”

The comment cut right through Ayla's anger and confusion and touched something deep in her heart. She swallowed, and for the first time, the thought struck her: how had he become what he was? She had never given it a thought before. Before, he had just been Reuben, the merchant. Now he was Sir Reuben, the robber knight, and she asked herself how a man like him, young, noble and undoubtedly skilled at wielding a blade, could have gone down this dark road. He could have become a king's commander! Even if no nobleman would take him on, he could still have made a fortune as a tournament fighter. She had seen the destruction he had wrought with his blade—he would have carried away the prize at many a tourney. Why turn criminal?