Richard used the hem of his tunic to wipe his brow, grateful for the cold air. The paltry swordplay of his new guardsmen left much to be desired as he worked his way through the lists until he was sweaty and his leg trembled.

“Again,” he called out to the men as he sat on the stone bench and leaned against the wall. One of the men went down, rolled across the lists, behind a wagon, and shrieked like a lass.

“Womanly weeping will not save you, lad. If this ’twas a real battle, you would have lost your head. Again,” Richard called out. The noise came again. ’Twas not a lad—’twas a lass. In mere moments, he was around the wagon to find his man standing over Mistress Chloe who was taking deep, gasping breaths.

“Damnation, man.” His fist met the man’s face. “You could have killed her.”

“I am truly sorry, my lord.” The man bowed his head, wiping the blood away. “Forgive me, lady.”

Richard offered her a hand, her skin soft as silk in his palm. Dust covered her from head to toe as he hauled her to her feet. She held up a finger and bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily. ’Twas a moment before she could speak.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going. My fault.” She waved the man away.

He squeaked and fled when Richard glared at him. While she panted, he studied her. The ribbon she’d used to tie back her hair had come undone, the curls blowing in the wind.

“Your ribbon.” He bent to fetch it before it blew away.

“I don’t want to lose it or my hair will look like the chickens have been nesting in it at night.”

The thought of a chicken sitting on her head made him smile. She tied her hair back as he watched, itching to wrap the curls around his fingers. Each one stuck out from her head in a different direction. He knew enough of women to know if he laughed, she would be most vexed.

Deep brown eyes met his, forcing Richard to stand his ground. He had removed his cloak to fight, leaving his visage exposed. To her credit, she did not scream nor run away.

He picked up his cloak from the bench and fastened it about her. “To keep you warm. ’Tis cold and you should not be out.”

Her nose and cheeks were pink as she pulled the cloak against her.

“Shall I show you Bainford?” He proffered his arm. After he had saved his sire, one of the courtiers had taken pity on him and given him lessons on how to be chivalrous—not that it did him any good, but ’twas a way to pass the time and not think about the pain.

“I’d like that.” She took his arm, her hand small and delicate.

“The lads repaired the garrison, the chapel, and the stables. They are most happy to work indoors and repair the towers.” He pointed to the Irishmen, a few singing while they went about their labors, going in and out of his home.

In the stables, she fed the horses a bit of carrot, smiled over the chickens, and stopped to pet every dog and cat they passed.

“Come up to the battlements. From there, you can see everything.”

He took hold of her hand as they climbed the stairs so she would not fall, her odd footwear making squeaking noises on the stone. Out on the roof, the wind blew, and he pulled the hood of his cloak up over her head to keep her warm. When he tucked a curl behind her ear, he noticed there was a tiny hole in each ear. He opened his mouth to ask, but she smiled at him, making him forget what he was going to say.

“It’s beautiful up here.” She turned around in a circle. “Which way is London?”

He turned her around and pointed. “To the east.” She smelled of dust and cold, and he’d never thought a woman smelled lovelier.

“And Falconburg?”

“To the north and west.” He turned her again.

“I thought I was good with directions, but since I’ve…been here, the truth is out.” She grinned. “I’m awful at directions.”

The weak sunlight hit her face, the tiny freckles across her nose he’d not noticed until now. Her skin was smooth, the color of honey, as if she had been outside every day letting the sun kiss her skin. The unmarked skin filled him with envy. And while she wasn’t what most men would call beautiful, he found her most comely—too lovely to ever want someone as ugly as he.

“How old are you?” She tilted her head up.

“A score and three.”

“You seem older. I guess because you’re responsible for all this.” She gestured to the courtyard and lands below.

“And you? How many years have you, Chloe?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“So old? Why are you not married with a household and babes of your own? Did you flee your husband? Are you a widow?”

She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him. “Did you just call me an old maid?” She poked him in the chest. “Listen to me. Where I come from, women choose when they want to get married, if ever. And no one tells them who they have to marry or if they have to have kids.” She paced the battlements, her cheeks a fetching shade of pink.

“Flee my husband,” she mumbled. “I do not have a husband, and no, I’m not a widow.” She sounded rather remarkably as he did when he was vexed. “You know, I know things are different now, but the way you asked me, it wasn’t very nice.”

A curl escaped and was blowing in the wind. Richard reached out and tucked it behind her ear. “I did not mean to offend. I am unused to company.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all huffy. It’s just my friend, Sara Beth, her mom thinks if you don’t have a husband by the time you finish college, you won’t ever find one.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“College?”

“I meant university.”

Now ’twas his turn to gape at her. “You go to university? A woman?” Richard could see her thinking. What was Mistress Chloe hiding? And why was she telling such tales?

She waved a hand around. “Never mind. I think I’m still a bit woozy from bumping my head. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Hrumph. He did not believe the little shrew for one moment. In time he would find out what she was hiding, and if she meant him or those under his protection at Bainford harm.

“You said you were traveling to Lancashire to visit relatives when you and your escort were assaulted and separated. Along with your belongings?”

“Yes. That is what I said.” Mistress Chloe suddenly found something in the sky that warranted her attention.

“And Lord and Lady Falconburg are expecting you?”

She fidgeted. “That’s correct.”

“The Red Knight would take my head if I do not see you well cared for. You will tell me about the ruffians.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them how kind you’ve been.” She looked into the courtyard. “Look, it’s Moo.”

“Moo? I see no cattle.” Had the lass gone daft?

“No, Moo is a kitten.” She touched his arm, then pointed.

He followed her direction to see the wee beast.

“Look. He’s stalking the chicken.”

The wee cat was indeed. Then the hen turned and scared the animal, who ran for the safety of the stables.

Mistress Chloe’s laugh filled the air.

“The ruffians, mistress?”

She sighed. “Somehow, a man— I think he was a noble by the way he was dressed. You should have seen his sleeves—they were this wide.” She opened her arms.

“Aye. I have seen such garments. ’Tis not practical to fight wearing such a tunic.”

“No kidding. It’s how I got away. He had climbed into my bed—”

“What?” he roared. “This man defiled you?”

“Oh my gosh, lower your voice.” She hunched down as a few of the men looked up at them. “No. He did not. Though I think he planned to.” She touched the stone walls, not meeting his gaze. “That’s how I got away. I yanked on his sleeves, and when he fell off the bed, I kicked him and ran.” She looked at the ground. “I think it was my fault. I went to use the…garderobe in the night and must have forgotten to bolt the door. That’s how he got into my room. Then I was chased again in the woods. I got lost, was chased again, and during that time, I hit my head, so some things are hard to remember.”

“Such as losing your escort and forgetting what year it is?”

“Exactly.” She smiled at him. “It’s getting awfully cold up here. We should go inside. Do you think it will snow today?”

“Come. I will see you settled in front of the fire with a cup of wine.” He knew she did not wish to talk of what had happened to her. The woman had been running with men chasing her. She was scared, but she was not telling him everything.

Richard had grown up with other children like him and learned to survive by his wits and his fists. Mistress Chloe was up to no good, and he was going to discover why she was really at Bainford. If she meant to betray him, he would cast her out of the gates and leave her for the wolves to eat.