A Knight in Central Park(97)

Alexandra smiled, then shrugged Susan’s words off with a wave of her hand.

“’Tis the same look, I swear.”

Garrett took his bowl of stew and tore a stale piece of bread from the last of the loaves. “Women,” he muttered. “They see what they want to see.”

“You think Sir Joe does not love our sister?” Susan asked.

“If he did, would he leave?”

Alexandra felt her chest tighten. The smell of the stew was setting her stomach to churning, and so she took her share of bread and nibbled on that whilst Susan took care of Rebecca.

“Perhaps Rebecca and I should feign a terrible illness,” Susan said. “Sir Joe would never leave us sick and dying.”

“I would not put it past him,” Garrett said between bites.

Surprise showed on Susan’s face. “I thought you had grown to like him?”

Garrett snorted. “I say you have been drinking too much goat’s milk, for I have no idea what would cause you to suggest such an absurd notion as that.”

Susan clicked her tongue. “Sebastiano told me how you may very well have saved Sir Joe’s life. He said that you set yourself at much risk by jumping before a man with a dagger aimed and ready. You could have been killed. Nobody in their right mind would nearly give up their life for a man they did not much like.”

“I only helped him because I owed him for aiding us in getting away from those men who dared call me a thief. And speaking of thieves, I would not listen to everything your dear Sebastiano says. He is the very reason I was taken by those burly boars to begin with.”

Susan nearly dropped her bowl. “Alexandra. Are you not going to reprimand him for speaking so rudely?”

“Stop bickering, both of you. Sebastiano is a fine young man,” Alexandra said to Garrett, “and if he had not drunk from the wrong cup, he would have come after us himself.”

Susan looked at Garrett and lifted her chin with a “hrmmf“.

Sir Joe came through the brush, looking more refreshed, but tired just the same. His hair was damp and judging by his swiftness in returning to camp, Alexandra figured he must be famished.

He looked at each of them.

Nobody said a word.

The distant cry of a lone wolf filled the silence.

Sir Joe helped himself to a bowl of stew and took a seat on one of the sheepskins. He took a bite, looked around the campsite as he chewed. He took another bite and then peered up at the tallness of one of the oaks. Then he glanced at Susan. She quickly averted her gaze. He took another bite and chewed as he focused his attention toward Garrett who looked to his boots.

“Why is everyone looking at me as if I have the plague?”

“Nobody is looking at you that way,” Alexandra assured him. “We have been admiring the trees and the nice weather is all.”

“’Tis the truth,” Susan cut in. “Just before you came back from your washing, we were talking of storms and how quickly they come and go. One moment they are here and the next moment they are not. Like the rain,” Susan rambled on. “You never know when it is going to strike. You pray for it day in and day out and then it finally comes and saves your crops. And then...”

Sir Joe rolled his eyes. “And then it disappears and leaves you all wet and alone, is that it?” He set his bowl to the side. “For four days now you have all treated me as if I’m the bad guy. I’m the good guy,” he said, stabbing his chest with his finger. “I’m the hero. The Chosen One, and I did what I promised I would do. The King of England dubbed me a knight for God’s sake. But for a week now you have all made me feel like pond scum, acting as if I’ve done something wrong. I’m done explaining myself. I’m not like my father. I’m not abandoning anyone by leaving. You are not my kids!” he said, an arm flinging upward. “You are not my wife!” he said to Alexandra. “And this is not my home.”

All was quiet.

“I’m going to bed. I suggest you all do the same since we’ll be heading out before sunrise.” He grabbed his allotted blankets and headed for the far end of the campsite. Every time a wolf cried out, Rebecca shivered.

“Rebecca,” he said, causing all to look her way. “If those wolves are scaring you, just bring your babies and your blankets closer to me. I’ll protect you.”





Something scratchy rubbed at the very tip of Joe’s nose, making it itch. His blankets felt heavy and cumbersome. He could hardly move. He opened his eyes, sure that he was tied and bound, his arms trapped to his sides.