Page 17 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

"Isabelle's husband brought her silks and scents from the East, and delicious comfits and a posy. He was very romantic."

Romantic. Something William was surely not. He could not spout pretty words and he'd been told his singing voice sounded like the rusted chains of a drawbridge. He said nothing, just set the tent aside and walked toward the trees.

"Where are you going?"

"We should get some sleep."

She followed, rushing to keep up with his longer strides. "But what shall we use for shelter?"

"The trees are our shelter." He shook out a blanket with a snap, dropped it, and stretched out on the ground, crossing his boots at the ankle.

She stood nearby, hugging two pillows and looking at the sky as if she expected it to fall on her at any time. "But what if it rains?"

"It is not going to rain." He locked his hands behind his head.

"Oh." She sat down next to him and began to arrange a bed. "You sound certain."

"I am certain."

“If you are certain,” she said with a shrug, then proceeded to lay every blanket stop her pillow pallet and lastly topped it off with the feather coverlet.

He'd sweat to death under all that, he thought.

She finally crawled underneath the covers. After a minute of peaceful silence, she asked, "William?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you like some of these pillows?"

"No."

"I have plenty."

He grunted.

"Perhaps only one? On which to rest your head?"

He turned over and looked at her. She was holding out a pillow. He took it, stuffed it under his head, and closed his eyes.

She shifted around for a few more minutes, then finally lay down.

He resisted the urge to applaud.

"William?"

"Aye?"

"I have more blankets too."

"I'm fine."

"You'll freeze with only one blanket. And you did fall into the river. It must have been icy. You could become ill, especially sleeping on the ground."

"I've slept more often on the ground in the past few years than in a bed." He turned over and looked at her. He felt suddenly very foolish. "You have never slept anywhere but in a bed, have you?"

"I slept in a hammock once. ‘Twas quite interesting. Took me four attempts before I managed not to spill out of it. ‘Twas the only time I have ever bloodied my nose." She laughed at herself, then pulled the covers over and around her and huddled under them. With only her face showing she looked like a spring cabbage.

He called himself all kinds of an idiot. Again. He should have planned a place for her to stay. Somewhere warm and with some comforts for a lady, just as he should have planned for more elaborate food than meager meals of bread and cheese. He hadn't thought about what she would need. He had been too determined to get her alone. Too ready to be with her. Too desperate to think clearly.