Page 26 of My Warrior
“You seem to forget, Cambria—my sword is at your throat. I’d be only too happy to continue reminding you of that fact.”
She wished he would stop calling her by name. It was having the most disturbing effect on her.
Without warning, he unwrapped his coverlet and let it drop to the floor.
Appalled at his immodesty, she quickly ducked her head away. What a brash knave he was. No doubt he’d gotten that long scar on his thigh from some hotheaded brawl.
“In any event,” he continued, ignoring her discomfiture and donning his chausses, “you’ll have the bed to yourself. I’ll be away for a few days. It seems there is still a band of renegade Scots roaming the countryside, intent on taking on the entire English army.” He shook his head. “Your people’s pride will be their undoing.”
She lifted her chin defiantly at the sardonic edge in his voice and fixed her eyes on the wall. “It’s their pride that has kept them alive.”
To her surprise, he nodded in agreement. “Perhaps,” he said pensively, ‘But there are times when pride can be blinding. Your Scots have become fanatics, and fanatics are dangerous, particularly to themselves.”
She couldn’t think of one suitable argument, so she avoided his gaze. As he dressed, she smoothed the material of her own gown, combed her disheveled hair with her fingers, and primly perched on the edge of the bed.
“You must unchain me,” she decided abruptly when he was decent, or at least as decent as he was ever going to be.
“Must I?” He blinked.
“You’ve said you carry the only shackle key,” she began, innocently enough.
“Aye.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Should you by chance be killed by that band of Scots on your little escapade, who will free me…so that I may dance on your grave?”
He stared at her in silence a long moment. Then a wry smile curved his lips. “Lady Cambria, your tongue is as poisonous as a viper’s.”
She had no reply that wouldn’t merely reinforce his opinion, so she busied herself studying the armor laid out on the pallet. She frowned, scrutinizing a flaw in the mail. The hauberk had obviously weathered many a battle. Its finish was dull, and several of the iron rings were dented from blows of a sword.
“The links along the ribs need repair,” she mumbled, forgetting for the moment that he was the enemy and simply stating the information out of habit.
He looked up, not at the mail, but at her.
She pointed to the place. “Your mail…there’s damage there, a gap.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but paid little heed to her words. “Tell me, how did a lady come to learn of arms and swordplay?”
“My…father taught me.” The word was still hard to say. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
“Why?”
“Because I am the Gavin.”
“You’re a woman.”
“I can wield a sword,” she replied proudly.
“You do have a certain agility and speed,” he admitted, pulling a padded gambeson over his head, “but you lack strength, and you’ve no grasp of chivalry. You cannot continue attacking unarmed opponents. Did your father not teach you that?”
She felt her face grow hot. “I know the rules of chivalry.”
“Ah, so you chose to ignore them.”
She deftly changed the subject. “You must remove the shackle before you go.”
He pulled on soft leather boots and paused in thought. “You expect me to believe I can trust you to stay here?”
“You dare ask me that afteryoubetrayed my father’s trust?”
