Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

“I didn’t ask you to think, Lucas,” she snapped. “I asked you to do.” She could feel him hesitate and she gritted her teeth impatiently. “Very well, I will go on myself.”

She dropped her hand from his shoulder and without allowing herself time to consider the wisdom of her actions, she moved to step round where she judged the rude man to be standing. She misjudged this by a good couple of inches and ran straight into him instead and at that moment, she had an almost overwhelming desire to stamp her feet with sheer frustration.

“If you would just go away, then…” She was stopped by the squeal that escaped her as her world shifted.

The knight had easily picked her up and gently threw her over one shoulder. Lucas’s eyes went totally round at the sight of Lady Imogen being carried like a sack of washing. It took a few seconds for him to collect his scattered wits enough to drop the food basket and scurry after the spluttering lady and the amused knight.

Gareth placed her carefully down near the fire in the main hall, then stepped back. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and intently considered the outraged woman in front of him.

“So, may I have your name?” he asked quietly, his deep voice rumbling impressively through the hall.

“You dolt, I’m Lady Imogen Beaumont, owner of this damn, blasted Keep.” She stepped forward to just in front of where she had heard his voice coming from, waving her finger wildly. “And you had better grab hold of anything on your person that you might value, because by the time I’m through with you, you will end up being just so many pounds of useless meat for the dogs.”

He couldn’t quite prevent the small smile that toyed with his lips.

It was just too delicious. So this was Robert’s bride. This was Lady Deformed.

Robert hadn’t married a gargoyle but a termagant instead, Gareth realized with relish. He smiled with anticipation at the fun that would soon follow as his friend tried to keep control of his life now that this woman had stormed into it.

“I’m sorry for any offence, my lady, but I was just following my orders.”

“Your orders were to waylay defenseless woman and children and then manhandle them? How bravely my Keep is to be protected,” she sneered.

“No, my orders were to monitor the Keep and its occupants and to maintain security till Sir Robert returned. The ‘manhandling’ I consider just a momentary inspiration, or perhaps even a personal pleasure.”

“A personal pleasure!” she exploded, spots of red flagging her cheek. “You have the impertinence to touch my person at all, then you have the audacity to call it personal pleasure? A momentary inspiration in the line of duty?”

“No, my lady, it had nothing to do with my duty,” he said precisely. “Manhandling beautiful women such as yourself is no duty, more one of life’s little rewards.”

Imogen glared at him dangerously. “Are you daring to flirt with me?” she asked slowly.

Gareth considered this for a moment. “Yes, my lady, I believe I am,” he said with a beatific smile. It was the kind of smile that had landed many a woman’s heart at his feet. She simply tossed her head and placed her hands on her hips.

“And what would your precious Sir Robert have to say if he found out that you openly confessed to flirting with his new bride?”

“I would hope, my lady, that I’d have the good sense not to mention it to him,” Gareth said with all seriousness.

Imogen’s sudden laughter was as spontaneous as it was unexpected.

The silliness of his answer seemed to instantly evaporate all of her anger. To Gareth, her carefree laughter appeared a little like a rainbow after a storm.

“I like that. It has a certain vestige of dishonest honesty,” she said, the laughter still bubbling up inside her. “I would like to know the name of one so skilled in survival.”

“Sir Gareth de Hugues, your husband’s second-in-command.” He remembered to bow correctly but his mind was becoming muddled by a dawning admiration. He had heard rumors about Lady Deformed and it was those rumors that could be blamed for his unusually slow-witted inability to identify this small, beautiful sprite as the Lady herself. This woman could be thought of as deformed only if exquisite beauty was considered a deformity first.

Robert had been frustratingly tight-lipped about his new bride and after a fortnight of conspicuous absence, Gareth had come to expect the worst. Any woman who was too ugly to come and eat with the rest of the household, Gareth had concluded, was in a very bad way indeed.

However, instead of a repulsive gargoyle, Lady Imogen was a small, delicate woman who possessed the kind of beauty that wasn’t the least diminished by the fact that she was dressed a little like a vagrant. The body he had felt draped over his shoulder had been a very tempting one indeed. He hadn’t been only flirting when he said he’d enjoyed the manhandling.

Mere flirting had stopped altogether, however, when she had laughed.

With that joyous laughter she went from being a pretty little baggage to being the most beautiful woman Gareth had ever seen. It had taken his breath away and, for the first time in his life, Gareth found himself envying Robert.

And how the man had managed to fritter away a fortnight pottering around the Keep when this woman waited for him was entirely beyond Gareth’s comprehension. The man must be using dung for brains!

If he ever had such a wife, and Gareth prayed silently that one day he would, then he would spend every day, no, every moment of every day, basking in the radiance of her smile. He’d devote his life to being her jester just to hear the music of her laugher. And to think he had always admired Robert’s intelligence!

Not anymore. It would take many acts of raw cunning on Robert’s part to make up