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

a wry smile, considering that the position itself was entirely self-appointed.

It had happened in Robert’s first battle as a knight when he had been forcefully removed from his horse. He was hacking his way to a certain doom when he had heard a yell from the skies. Matthew had jumped from a nearby tree and cut down the man who had been about to fatally attack Robert from the rear. For the rest of the bloodbath they had fought back-to-back till their retreat had been called.

When they were safe, Robert had tried, clumsily, to thank the man for his timely intervention. Matthew had just looked him in the eye and said, “God may look after the stupid, but obviously he’s handed you over to me for a little closer attention.”

And so Matthew had become his squire and had stayed with him ever since. Robert couldn’t help but view the association as something of a mixed blessing. While he knew that there was no more loyal and trustworthy squire to be found in all of England, that sometimes couldn’t make up for the fact that more often than not Matthew treated Robert as a wayward, slightly backward son. Time had taught Robert when to listen to the old man and when not to. As Matthew didn’t do anything he didn’t want to, Robert felt he could safely ignore his complaining now as an exercise in contrary-mindedness only.

Besides, he had far more important things to dwell on right at this moment.

Absentmindedly he reached down and ran a hand over Dagger’s graying mane. He had worried how the old stallion would withstand such a long journey over indifferent roads in the middle of winter, but all in all he was holding up very well. Still, Robert would be pleased to see journey’s end even if just for his old friend’s sake.

Journey’s end—Robert knew he should be looking forward to it. After all, it was the fulfillment of all his dreams, his reward for years of hard labor. If only it was all that simple, he thought, and let out a disgusted sigh.

It had seemed simple enough when he had been making his plans. All he had wanted was land, something that the changing fortunes of war couldn’t take away from him. He may have come into this world with nothing, but he would be damned before he left it the same way.

Well, he had that land now, but to claim it, he had to marry Lady Imogen. Robert clenched his teeth as he tried to quash the anger that rose every time he recalled how the king and his lover had manipulated him. Now that the deal had been struck there was nothing to be done about it. He would be married by sunset tomorrow and the very land beneath Dagger’s hooves would be his.

The winter snows lay over everything like a blanket and the trees were bare of leaves. It was a spectacle of seasonal desolation, but strangely Robert could feel his soul expanding as he took it all in. The closer they got to their destination, the more entranced he had become with this alien world.

Indeed, everything would be perfect if only Matthew would stop moaning and see the beauty that surrounded him. But Robert knew there was no more chance of that than there was of Dagger taking flight.

The old man sat slumped in his saddle, burying himself deeply into the enormous pile of furs he had procured from one of the towns they had passed. It left visible only his wizened hands, blue with cold, and his condemning eyes. From a distance, he looked like a heap of rags that had been dumped randomly on a horse.

If only he would be as silent as a pile of rags, Robert thought wistfully. However, the old man showed no sign of stopping his steady stream of spleen.

“So tell me, Boy, why did you drag me up here?”

Robert sighed loudly. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. Only the will of the Almighty himself might be able to drag your sorry bag of bones anywhere against your will, and I actually doubt even He can do that.”

“But you have to admit that this land seems to be worthless for anything save for the breeding of surly peasants.”

Robert ran a hand through his black hair, his heavy brows drawn together thoughtfully. “They do seem to be getting a little less friendly the further north we go, don’t they?”

“That is an understatement.” Matthew snorted, trying to bury himself farther into the furs. “I thought Lady Deformed was to be your punishment for irritating the king with your excellence, but now having met some of the locals, I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t call her that. She is Lady Imogen Beaumont.” Robert’s voice was hard and cold and Matthew looked over at him inquiringly. Robert turned his concentration back to the road.

“She ain’t no Beaumont. Not yet,” Matthew said gently. “And why so defensive, Boy? You haven’t even met the lady, much less given her your name.”

“It matters not why. She is to be my wife and her honor is now mine.” Robert refused to meet the old man’s eye. Matthew’s brow was raised questioningly and Robert couldn’t even begin to answer the unasked question when he didn’t understand it himself. After all, he’d never been one of those mindless fools who would willingly die in the name of honor. He’d always been too cynically attached to life to worry about such things, managing to brush aside all of the small slights he’d ever encountered.

And yet suddenly, here he was not only prepared to defend his nonexistent honor, he was also attaching that honor to Lady Deformed, a woman he didn’t even know. Even Robert could see that it was irrational, and was relieved that for once, Matthew wisely allowed the silence to claim his skepticism. The only sound to be heard was the crunch of the horses’ hooves through the crisp snow and Robert gritted his teeth, irritated