Duncan stood by and watched his father speak with the girl. His anger by this time subsided and he listened quietly.
So her name was Tara Michaels he mused.
She turned to look at him when his father pointed to him and Aidan. For a moment their eyes clashed, before moving away to look at Aidan. She observed everything around her and looked troubled. Her voice was low by the time she spoke again with his father and by the look on his face it was something of concern.
It was an odd question but, all the same everything about her was odd. She whispered and in return with a worried look his father answered. With a scowl he looked at his brother and Aidan's stare held the same look.
"T'is the year of our Lord 1245," his father answered.
Something was not right he noticed, an alarming sensation washed over him as he watched her closely. As if the date triggered something in her, she stepped back slowly from his father.
As she began to sway Duncan in a heart beat was by her side when she slumped to the ground before them.
With an oath he scooped her up, and belted out orders in a stern voice for Moira to ready a chamber for her.
He cradled her in his arms following Moira as she walked quickly up the stairs.
Entering the chamber he placed her on the large bed and stepped back to let Moira attend to her.
Turning to Aidan, he gave him a silent stare, a mixture of anger and concern he could not explain. He turned to look at Moira and the other servants attending to Tara before he turned on his heal and bolted out the door.
He flew down the steps taking them two at a time and in no time he was out through the courtyard walking to the stables.
The stable boy shakily stepped back as Duncan mounted his steed with a stern glare, spun his horse around and rode out in a dash.
He took the horse on a fierce gallop on the country side towards the chapel.
He needed to see for himself if she says what is true that she was in the company of her friends.
It angered him that his brother and father would worry themselves with her. She was a spy he was sure of it. Nothing could explain her way of dress or the way she spoke. Mayhap she was brought here by one of his enemies to gain information about his stronghold.
Anything they can use to get beyond his walls to bring his keep down and him to his knees.
He rode around the outskirts of the forest. Looking in all directions to see if he could notice anything but, there was nothing he fumed.
The clever wench was lying and he will get down to the bottom of her deceit and unmask what ever she is hiding.
He pulled his steed around to return to the keep. A little calmed from his anger, in slow trots he let his mind wonder.
Although her motives for being here are questionable and he suspects she is a spy, he can't shake the feelings that overcame him when he saw her for the first time.
The way her attire fit her, her hair, her alluring scent quickened his heart and hardened his loins. Those eyes that held his for a brief second of marvel was what started it all. She was working his senses and her bewitching beauty mesmerized him and he needed to keep her at arms length.
Why was he feeling this way?
YOU ARE READING
Misplaced Angel (Slowly Editing)Historical Fiction
A fierce Knight... Known for his victorious battles on the field by day and his prowess by night, Lord Duncan of Chaswick, fierce Knight and Warrior had no idea how much his life would change. Standing before him in his chapel the most alluring, s...