A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series by Laurel O'Donnell Read Free Book Online Page B

it was not true; he had wanted to shake her into seeing he had not hurt Curtis, that it had been Curtis’s own foolish, dishonorable actions. But in his experience, people believed what they wanted to believe no matter what one did or said.
    He looked down the overgrown road and wondered how long it would be before her father’s men came for Lady Grace.
    Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned to find Grace carrying a pile of wood from the cottage. She placed it outside the building and turned to enter again. “What are you doing?” he called, approaching her.
    She lifted her chin and dusted off her skirt. “I am cleaning my new home.”
    She was stubborn. He forced down his smile. She had put her golden curls up, at the back of her head and somehow that accented the soft lines of her face and jaw. She had long lashes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She moved to turn away and he called softly, “Grace. I will not force you to return. But your father’s men will. I would say you have only a day before they arrive.”
    She turned to him, a troubled frown on her brow. “I have no desire to return.”
    “I don’t think that matters to your father.”
    She glanced back at the cottage. “Let them come,” she said in an unconvincing defiant voice. “I will never return.” She turned to enter the cottage.
    “Do you need help?”
    She froze and stood that way for a moment. Then, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “You would help me?”
    A curl of golden hair hung over her cheek and her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight; a sheen of sweat made her brow glisten. Lord, she was beautiful! “It is my duty as a knight.”
    Confusion shone in her eyes as her gaze moved over him. She nodded. “You have a shovel,” she stated. “You can start clearing the garden.”
    He watched her disappear into the cottage. For a moment, he debated what the use of clearing a garden she would never get to tend was. He sighed softly. It didn’t matter. It would give him something to do. He removed his tunic and picked up the shovel.

    William finished when the sun was just past noon. He wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed his work. The weeds were gone, having been pulled and heaped into a pile. The ground had been turned over and prepared for the crop. If there was any. He couldn’t imagine where Lady Grace was going to get seed. It wasn’t a very big garden. If this was what the Mortain family had been paying a tithe on, it was amazing they hadn’t starved.
    “It looks good. The land looks fresh and ready for the seeds.”
    He didn’t turn to know she stood just behind him. He nodded.
    She handed him a flask.
    He was pleased to see she had been drinking. She probably got it from Mortain’s steed. He had seen her come out to the horse once during the day. He took it and drank deeply. It was not the best ale, but he was thirsty and it didn’t matter. He handed it back to her and noticed the dark rings beneath her eyes. “You should not overwork yourself. It’s been a long week for you.”
    She looked at him with those large, blue eyes.
    Even with the dark rings shadowing her eyes, his heart missed a beat. Strange. Her hair was unkempt with fly-away strands blowing gently in the wind; half of it had fallen from the tie she had put it up with. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her dress was a mess. One sleeve was ripped from the elbow to the wrist and the front of the blue gown was smeared with mud. He was stunned that through all of that he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was fitting she wanted nothing to do with him. More penance, he thought, and looked at the garden again. “What were you going to plant?”
    She laughed softly, a chuckle that sounded strangled. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I guess the idea was better than the reality.”
    “As so happens with many things,” William agreed. He put the shovel over his shoulder and walked to the side of the cottage.