Velvet Song (Montgomery/Taggert 4)

Reluctantly, Alyx stood, rubbing her buttocks, limping a bit on her leg. When she reached Raine, he extended his arm, that large brown muscular arm, blood from shoulder to forearm, for her to clean. As she touched him with the warm cloth she realized how cold her hands were, how warm his skin—and how deep the cut. It did not set well with her that she had hurt anyone like this.

“The first time you’ve drawn blood?” Raine asked gently, his face near hers, his voice soft as he watched her.

She barely nodded, not wanting to meet his eyes as tears choked her throat and she remembered her life before two days ago.

“How did you hurt your leg?” he asked.

Blinking rapidly, refusing to cry, she glared at him. “By running from one of your kind,” she spat at him.

“Good lad.” He smiled and again those dimples appeared. “Don’t let anyone scare you. Keep your head high no matter what happens.”

She rinsed out the bloody cloth and started washing all of his arm.

“Should I tell you the duties of a squire?” he asked.

“Having never had your advantages of personal servants I am afraid I am at a loss as to what one should do for h—”—she had almost said “her”—“his master.”

A snort from Raine was his reply to her answer. “You are to clean my armor, care for my horses, help me personally in any way you can, and”—his eyes twinkled—“serve me my sweet cakes. Do you think you can do all that?”

“There’s no more?” she taunted.

“A true squire would learn the rudiments of training to be a knight, using a sword, a lance, that sort of thing, as well as write his lord’s letters and at times deliver important messages. I do not expect so much from you though since—”

Alyx cut him off. “Since I am not of your class and you do not think I have the brain to learn? My father was a lawyer and I can read and write better than most of your nobles, I’ll wager, and I can do it in Latin and French as well as English.”

Raine tested his arm for a moment, curling his hand into a fist, making his bicep bulge, all the while smiling slightly, not at all offended by her accusations. Finally, he looked back at her. “You’re still too small to do much heavy training,” he said, “and it has little to do with your birth status. As for reading and writing, you must be better than I am, for I do not read more than the names of my family. Good!” he said as he stood. “You have a delicate hand with a wound. Perhaps Rosamund can use your help.”

“Another of your women?” Alyx sneered, motioning her head toward the tent flap where Blanche had been.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, and before Alyx could sputter that she was jealous of no women, he added, “You’ll have your share of women yet, when you get your first beard and we put a little meat on you.” Cocking his head, looking at her, he said, “You’re pretty enough if you don’t get scarred on the battlefield. Women like pretty faces on their men.”

“Such as yours?” she snapped and could have bitten out her tongue.

“I do well enough,” he said, obviously highly amused. “Now I have some work for you to do. This armor needs cleaning and after that it must be polished to keep the rust off.” Quickly, he piled pieces of steel armor together, back and front together forming a large shell which held arm and leg coverings. The helmet went on top.

Confidently, arrogantly, Alyx held out her arms and in the next moment she staggered backward and would have fallen had not Raine caught her at the small of her back.

“It’s a mite heavy for a lad your size.”

“My size!” she gasped, trying to steady herself. “If you weren’t as large as a pair of oxen the armor need not be so big.”

“Your insolence is going to earn you some bruises, and I would advise you to show some proper respect for your leige lord.” Before she could make a reply, he fairly pushed her from the tent. “There’s a stream to the north,” he said, piling several cloths on her burden of mud-encrusted armor. “Wash it well then bring it back. And if I find one new dent in it I will add five dents to your hide. Is that clear, boy?”

Alyx could barely nod, as she was more concerned with staying upright under her burden, wondering how in the world she was going to walk, than making any smart retorts to Raine. Slowly, one step at a time, she started forward, her arms already aching, her neck craned sideways to see around the high pile of steel she carried. When her body hurt so badly there were tears in her eyes, she finally saw the stream. At its side she started to drop the armor to her feet, but remembering Raine’s threat, she braced her legs apart, squatted and carefully lowered all seventy pounds of it to the ground.

For a moment she sat there, her arms extended, wondering if they’d ever feel the same again. When feeling came back to them, and all the feeling was pain, she plunged her arms, shirt and all, into the cold clear water of the stream.

Several minutes later she glanced back at the pile of armor with a great sigh. So much for women’s drudgery. What was the difference between washing dishes and washing armor? With another sigh she picked up the cloths and began removing the crust of mud, sweat, rust and whatever else held the filth together.

An hour later she’d succeeded in taking the dirt off the armor and placing it on herself. Never had she sweat so much in her life, and every drop made the dirt cling to her skin. Removing her tunic, she used a clean cloth to wash most of the dirt from it and left it to dry on a rock while she washed her face and arms.

As she came up from washing and reached for a dry cloth, someone handed it to her. Quickly drying her face, she opened her eyes to see an astonishingly handsome man. Dark wavy hair framed a perfectly formed, high-cheekboned face. Hot, dark eyes blazed under long thick lashes. Alyx blinked twice to make sure this dark angel was real and, in her stunned silence, she did not see the sword pointed at her belly.

Chapter Four

WHO ARE YOU?” this man who was too perfect-looking to be real asked.

Alyx, unused to danger in her life, did not fully react to the sword, but what she did react to was the music in this man’s voice. She’d felt that Raine, with his deep voice, could sing if he tried, but she was sure this man did sing. “I am Raine’s new squire,” she said quietly, using her voice and all her many years of training to bring the voice from deep within her chest.