Once a Knight by Christina Dodd

nothing else, during his stay he’d get Alisoun to laugh aloud and free her servants from this senseless bondage.
    With a caution he thought reserved for wild boars, Philippa removed the baby from his grasp. “I’ll change her wrapping clothes.” But she still looked him over. “You are Sir David of Radcliffe, aren’t you?”
    He stood still and tried to appear unthreatening. “Aye.”
    â€œThe legendary mercenary?”
    Some people, on hearing his name and knowing his reputation, thought he must be constantly savage and brutal. Apparently this woman was one of them. Gently, he said, “I am a mercenary, but the legend is perhaps exaggerated.”
    â€œIt had better not be,” she snapped, then paled and stepped back. She looked as if she wanted to run and her breath came in little gasps. The baby, sensing hermother’s agitation, squirmed and squalled, and Philippa patted her rhythmically, her instinct to comfort smothered by wariness. “We need you to be everything the legend claims. We need you to protect my lady Alisoun. If anything should happen to her—”
    â€œPhilippa!” Alisoun’s voice sliced across her maid’s warning. “Go change the baby, then get back to your duties.”
    Swinging around, Philippa stared at Alisoun with open mouth. Then she said, “Aye, my lady.” Hampered by the baby, she bobbed an awkward curtsy. “I was just—”
    â€œI don’t care.” Alisoun pointed her finger in Philippa’s face. “Keep…your…place. You have no business speaking to Sir David, especially not in such a familiar way.”
    Alisoun didn’t sound angry, but Philippa paled. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she caught Alisoun’s outstretched hand. “I know. I’m just stupid, but I fear for you. I should—”
    â€œThe only thing you should do is tend to your duties here.” Alisoun pushed at Philippa. “Go now.”
    Philippa rushed away, looking like an abused puppy, and David found himself disliking Alisoun again. Philippa seemed to be all woman, mother to her child first and to the world after, and something had crushed her spirit. He narrowed his gaze on Alisoun. Aye, he wanted to teach Alisoun many lessons.
    In a voice as bitter as gall, Sir Walter said, “Philippa proves there’s good reason to beat a woman.”
    Instinctively protesting, David began, “Jesú, man, that’s harsh.”
    Then Alisoun caught his attention. Her face and figure remained absolutely still. She might have been encased in ice. Slowly, her head swung toward SirWalter like a door on a rusty hinge, and something about her made Sir Walter step back. In a voice of command, she said, “Do not ever let me hear you say such a thing again.”
    â€œIf you would just listen to me—”
    â€œI do not choose to follow your advice.” Sir Walter tried to speak, but Alisoun lifted her hand. “I do not wish to hear it again.”
    A pox on all this secrecy! David felt the undercurrents tugging at him. Had Sir Walter beat Philippa? Had he beat his wife? Did he have a wife?
    David’s gaze narrowed on the disturbed knight. Was Sir Walter the reason Alisoun had not married? Did he occupy her bed, and had they had a lovers’ quarrel? David had told her he wouldn’t interfere between man and wife, but if she’d taken Sir Walter to her bed, he’d interfere. He’d abandon his half-made plans to court her and abduct her instead. Sir Walter would have no chance against David.
    â€œDid you hear me, Sir Walter?”
    Her chilly voice broke David’s musings, and he dismissed the daydreams. He believed only what he saw and heard and touched.
    â€œI beg your pardon, my lady.” Sir Walter bowed, giving every indication of sincere contrition.
    But was he sincerely contrite about saying such an asinine thing, or contrite about infuriating his liege?