Ilisa overslept the next morn, no doubt a result of her sleepless night. This time she couldn’t blame it on avoiding the nightmare. Nay. The blame lay squarely on her shoulders.

She’d gone over and over what she’d said to Braden, determining her misstep and imagining ways to apologize. None of the latter seemed sufficient.

If her words had only angered him, she could’ve withstood that. But they’d hurt him. The shuttered expression that descended over his face told her so. She knew him to be a man of honor. Of kindness. Yet she’d accused him of serving as a murderer, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The voice in her head wouldn’t allow her to forget that he was an English knight. She need only close her eyes to remember what that meant, of what he was capable.

If he’d been under King Edward’s command during the siege, would he have done as ordered and killed women and children like the other English knights?

The question kept her from apologizing the previous night as they’d eaten their simple supper of fish and onions. Both Braden and Alec had been quiet. She certainly hadn’t had anything to say.

This morn she needed to speak with Alec and explain her feelings on the matter. She knew he and Sophia had spoken of him continuing to train as a squire on more than one occasion. But Sophia was gone now, and it was up to Ilisa to guide Alec, at least until William returned.

If William returned.

Sophia had tried every means she could think of to gain William’s release, but they hadn’t had any word of him for over a month. He was at an English holding but might as well be across the sea for as much chance as they had of helping to free him or get word to him.

His wife, Eleanor, had left Berwick to stay with relatives over a fortnight ago. Whether she had returned to their empty cottage in Berwick, wondering what had become of them, Ilisa didn’t know. William and Eleanor’s young son, now six years of age, had been taken to a holding in England to serve as a page, a hole in their hearts that couldn’t be healed until his return. Her family was spread far and wide with the exception of her and Alec. The thought was depressing, to say the least.

With a heavy sigh, she finger-combed her hair then plaited the long tresses into a tight braid and bound it with a piece of ribbon. She rinsed her face and donned a fresh kirtle over her chemise since she had the cottage to herself for the moment.

She set aside the thoughts of Eleanor and William to deal with Braden and Alec. Drawing a deep breath and hoping inspiration would strike, she opened the door, only to find the clearing empty. Worry filled her. Braden hadn’t ventured farther than the edge of the meadow before. He had a long road of recovery before him. Pushing himself would do no good.

Her thoughts drifted to the odd way he’d pressed his hand against his injury, eyes closed, a focused—almost fierce—expression upon his face. Even more odd had been the guilty look he bore when she’d questioned him as if he had been doing something to which he didn’t want to admit.

She had no idea what to make of it.

Sighing with frustration, she returned to the cottage to bake more bread. She needed to find a way to replace the supplies of Hilda’s they’d used, though that would be difficult as she had no money nor could she go into Berwick to buy anything if she did.

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve considered mentioning her concern to Braden. But until she found a way to make amends for her harsh words, asking for his opinion would have to wait.

With the dough resting and the baking stone heating in the fire, she tidied the small space, including the bed where Braden slept. As she pounded the bolster with her fist to spread any lumps, his scent reached her. A mixture of forest and earth that brought to mind a walk in the woods and tightened something deep within her. Just when she thought her attraction to the knight was well in hand, a simple thing like his scent tipped her off balance.

Admonishing herself, she returned the bolster to its place and turned away, only to have her gaze catch on the sword standing in the corner, the pearly white stone in its pommel glinting dully in the dim light. She drew near to take a closer look. Not that she knew much of swords, but this one seemed particularly fine.

Reaching out with a tentative hand, she touched the stone, wondering of its significance. Did it mean something or was it only decorative? She traced a finger down the center of the wide blade, amazed to think a man could swing it to and fro with ease.

Unbidden, images of a man doing just that with terrifying results flashed through her mind. With a gasp, she jerked back her hand.

“What is it?” Braden’s deep voice startled her, and she lost her balance, landing on her bottom before the sword.

Cheeks flooding with heat, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

He reached down to draw her to her feet, his body far too close once she stood. The heat of him seeped into her, chasing away the chill that had come with the awful image.

“’Tis obviously something.” He glanced at his sword as though hoping to find an answer there.

“Your sword,” she whispered. “’Tis very large.”

He frowned, obviously puzzled by her comment. “No larger than most.”

Another image appeared in her thoughts, the knight raising his blade as he reached for the screaming child. She shook her head and closed her eyes—anything to avoid reliving the memory.

“Ilisa?” Braden’s finger trailed along her cheek, proving the perfect distraction as her disturbing thoughts fell away, and she opened her eyes. “Tell me.”

She leaned into his touch, unwilling to talk about it, wishing he’d do something else to distract her from the horrible memories. He opened his hand, his palm cupping her face, warm and welcome, even with the calluses. She reached up to wrap her fingers around his wide wrist, wanting to keep him there. As she lifted her gaze to meet his, she found his brown eyes full of warmth and gentleness.

It amazed her that she could use those words to describe a man like Braden. Yet she held no doubt that those qualities applied to him in many ways, which made her even more sorry for her harsh words of the previous day.

His expression offered concern and patience, tempting her to tell him what she’d never told anyone. Mayhap if she shared even a small part of her experience, he’d better understand her worries.

“When I look at the sword,” she closed her eyes once again as memories took over, “I see it raised in vengeance, blood dripping from the blade, as it takes a child’s life.”

He pulled his hand from her grasp, sending a rush of hurt through her. She opened her stinging eyes, prepared to step away. But when he drew her into his strong embrace, the hurt was forgotten. “Ilisa.”

Something about the way he said her name allowed tears to fill her eyes. Unable to resist, she leaned against him, moving so close that her body pressed against his from her head to toe. She found the sensation incredibly comforting, as she’d never been held thusly. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so safe.

“I’m so sorry about what you witnessed. What you endured.” His hands ran down her back then slowly up again.

What had felt comforting shifted into something more. Far more. He leaned his head against the top of hers, the sweet gesture catching her breath. When he eased back, she looked at him, wondering if he felt any part of what she did.

His gaze held hers for a long moment before dropping to her lips.

Her stomach dipped as a wave of longing coursed through her. Aye. She wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her.

An answering heat flickered across his face, suggesting he wasn’t immune to what was happening between them either.

Whatever it might be. In truth, she had no idea.

Then he leaned closer and paused, causing her to hold her breath as that longing twisted sharply. At last, he pressed his lips to hers. Sparks ignited in her belly at the contact. His lips were firm and sure against hers, and the sparks flickered into flames.

“Ilisa?” Alec’s voice from outside cut through the mist that filled her mind.

Braden pulled back to stare at her, his expression telling her little. “I’ll see what he wants.”

She nodded, appreciating his thoughtfulness to give her a moment to pull herself together. Only once Braden had stepped out did she realize he hadn’t seemed to need time to gather his wits. Did that mean he wasn’t as affected by their kiss as she’d been?

Her lips twisted at the thought.

Never mind, she told herself. It didn’t matter how he felt. She needed to control her reaction to the man. No good would come of allowing herself to be attracted to him. Not when he represented so many things she feared.

She returned to her work, ready to finish her bread—anything to put Braden from her mind. After dividing the dough into ten small balls, she flattened them into thin circles with her hands. The first day she’d attempted this, the dough hadn’t been in circles or any recognizable shape. But she was becoming better at it, and several were nearly perfect.

They only took a short time to cook on the stone. She’d improved at determining when to flip them as well. Soon, she had piled them on a platter, sliced some hard cheese, and called Alec and Braden to break their fast.

Both were unusually quiet. While she wanted to speak with each of them, she preferred to do so individually as she didn’t care for Braden to hear what she said to Alec or Alec to hear what she told Braden. She avoided eye contact with Braden, wishing only to forget their kiss.

Alec and Braden ate quickly, mumbled words of appreciation to her, then headed for the door.

“Alec, may I speak with you a moment?” she asked her brother.

He appeared less than pleased but did as she asked. Thankfully, Braden seemed to understand and stepped outside.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured by Sir Braden to do anything you don’t wish to do.” She paused until at last Alec met her eyes.

“Are you forbidding me from helping him to train?”

She bit her lip, wanting dearly to say aye. The idea of her brother becoming a knight, of being called upon to do what the knights had done during the siege, caused a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. “Nay. Nor do you have to aid him if you don’t wish to.”

But she knew her brother didn’t appreciate being told what to do. If she forbade him, he’d want to do it all the more. But his resentment of orders might also be what helped her cause. Training to become a squire meant following orders without question. She couldn’t imagine Alec doing that.

“Would you like to discuss it?” she asked. Alec could be difficult to read. Sophia had been much better at it. Ilisa didn’t have Sophia’s patience, but she dearly wanted to know what her brother was thinking.

“Nay.” He lifted one shoulder. “Can I go now?”

“Of course.” With a shake of her head as he left, she sighed. “Men.”

She tidied the table from their meal then glanced around, deciding there was nothing more she could do inside. Well aware she’d been procrastinating, she went out, hoping to find Braden to apologize for her words of the previous day. If only she’d managed to do that instead of kissing him.

Alec chopped wood again, something she would need to help with as well if they were to chop more than they used. “Have you seen Sir Braden?” she asked.

“He went to get water.” Alec pointed to the empty spot near the door where they normally kept the bucket.

Annoyed not to have the chance to say her apology and be done with it now that she’d decided to do so, she turned to the garden to do more weeding. Then she restocked the wood inside. After completing a few more chores, she went back outside, surprised Braden hadn’t returned. The creek wasn’t that far away.

“Any sign of him?” she asked Alec

He shook his head.

She stacked the wood he’d chopped into a neat pile alongside the cottage but soon turned to stare across the meadow, her concern growing. Had something happened? Had Braden fallen? Injured himself?

“Why don’t you go see how he fares if you’re so worried?” Alec suggested.

“I believe I will. He should’ve returned by now.”

She strode across the meadow into the trees toward the creek, hurrying as all sorts of terrible thoughts came to mind. If he’d hurt himself, she’d give him the sharp side of her tongue. How many times had she told him to take care? To not press himself too far? But did he listen to her? Nay.

Muttering to herself about the stubbornness of the male population, she neared the creek, searching for his prone form crumpled on the ground.

Only to come to a halt at the sight before her.

Braden stood with his back to her, thigh deep in the cold water. Naked. Completely naked. He’d even removed the binding covering his wound. He splashed himself, and it finally dawned on her that he was bathing. Naked.

His broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips. His bare buttocks were firm with muscle and pale, suggesting they rarely saw the light of day. His heavily muscled thighs matched the rest of him. He was a sight to behold.

She swallowed hard, aware she should turn away but unable to do so.

The man was perfectly formed. Though he protested how weak and out of shape he was, the evidence said otherwise. As he bent and moved, shifting this way and that, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippled, riveting her gaze.

“Damn me,” she muttered under her breath, her mouth suddenly dry. He had a marvelous body. But she realized she felt more than a simple appreciation for the beautiful sight.

Her heart pounded. Her breath quickened. She longed to run her hands along his form and feel those muscles move under her hands. To think that body had been pressed against hers a short time ago. Well... She didn’t dare dwell on the thought overlong.

How he could stand to remain in the frigid water was beyond her. Spring run-off filled the creek. Placing her hands in it for any length of time made her bones ache. Yet he withstood it as though it were nothing.

Suddenly, as though feeling the weight of her gaze, he turned to face her. The sight caused her to gasp then avert her gaze, her face hot.

“My apologies, Sir Braden,” she called out from behind her hands. “You were gone so long I feared something was amiss.”

“’Tis nice to know you were concerned.” Was that amusement that laced his tone? How could he not be as embarrassed as she?

She backed up and turned away, taking great care not to look. Then again, the sight was burned into her mind. She didn’t think she’d soon forget it. “I’m pleased to know you’re well.” Was he ever well. “I’ll leave you to your...bath.”

He didn’t answer, not that she expected him to. She strode into the woods in the opposite direction of the cottage, determined to walk until she had her emotions under control. It would no doubt be a very long walk.