Knight's Prize by Sarah McKerrigan Page A

"my love."
    Reassured,
Helena and Deirdre and everyone else returned to their supper, blissfully
unaware that while they made merry around her, Rand was secretly waging war
upon Miriel's senses.
    'Twas
when he slipped his hand beneath her tresses and began stroking her gently at
the base of her skull, sending tingles of pleasure shivering along her spine,
that she knew she was in trouble.
    Through
weighted lids, she spied Sung Li at one of the lower tables. He was scowling at
her. She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts. Her xiansheng had
once told her that the wise warrior knew when to retreat.
    Perchance
now was the time. If she removed herself physically from Rand's presence,
mayhap she could gather her wits again.
    "I...I'm
going to check on the mead," she said, her voice more ragged than she expected.
    "Hurry
back," he replied with a wink.
    ************************************
    Rand
had to admit he was rather enjoying this game of cat and mouse. Miriel was a
wickedly clever lass, but she'd cornered herself into a far more intimate
relationship with him than she'd intended. Which didn't trouble Rand in the
least, though it apparently set Miriel's teeth on edge.
    He
leaned back to watch her walk away from the table. She strode briskly, as if
fleeing a snarling dog, her hips twitching, her skirts snapping behind her like
a red sail. He grinned. A mischievous, quick-witted imp she might be, but the
lovely lass with the feminine curves was no skulking outlaw. He'd been a fool
to imagine it.
    Meanwhile,
he needed to find out who the real villain was. Since Miriel had excused
herself, 'twas a good opportunity to make conversation with some of
Rivenloch's guests.
    Unfortunately,
no matter how skilled Rand was at eliciting information, he quickly discovered
one could get no blood from a stone.
    He
listened halfheartedly while one of the Lachanburn men retold his encounter
with The Shadow.
    "...
black as coal... fleet as a fox... leaving a wake as chilling as the North
Sea..."
    Another
Lachanburn lad volunteered, "No bigger than a child."
    And
a third chimed in, "But the cleverest acrobat you've ever seen."
    Rand
nodded. He was getting nowhere. They all told the same tale. Mayhap he'd have
more luck with the women.
    The
ladies of Mochrie were delighted to make his acquaintance, forsooth so visibly
delighted that Miriel's sisters began firing accusatory glares Rand's way.
Deirdre and Helena might not deem him a suitable suitor for their little
sister, but they certainly didn't approve of his flirting with other maids
while he claimed to be courting Miriel.
    He
flashed them a sheepish smile. He could hardly be blamed for the Mochries'
friendliness. 'Twas not his fault if women were enchanted by his dimples.
    "The
Shadow?" one of the Mochrie maids asked, fluttering her lashes.
"I've not seen him with my own eyes. But I've heard—"
    "He's
not of this world," another lass intoned mysteriously, laying a hand upon
Rand's sleeve.
    The
first maid nodded in accord.
    The
woman beside her shivered. "He must be terribly dangerous."
    "Terribly,"
agreed a fourth maid, pressing her hand against her breast. "I'd be so
frightened to meet him in the wood."
    "Indeed,"
said the first. "We're only gentle maids after all." She bit her lip
in a helpless gesture.
    The
second woman slipped her fingers along Rand's sleeve, as if measuring the muscle
beneath. "I wager you'd not be frightened, Sir Rand."
    The
others cooed in agreement, and Rand's smile became taut as he felt the knot of
adoring females close about him.
    From
the corner of his eye, he spied rescue. Miriel was emerging from the cellar.
Eager to extricate himself from the bevy of clucking admirers, he waved his
hand toward her in greeting.
    She
glanced up, but when she saw him in the midst of the fawning Mochrie maids, her
eyes narrowed, and she turned up her nose, ignoring him completely to visit
with other guests.
    The
naughty imp! Surely she could see he was trapped. One of the Mochrie