A Knight to Remember by Maryse Dawson Page A

look on the humble zip the same ever again. Assuming she ever saw one again.
    Once dressed and fussed over by Annie, she made her way to the Great Hall where she found King Edward and Sir Stephen supping at the high table.
    The king smiled pleasantly when she seated herself next to him. "Good morrow, milady. Art thou looking forward to the hunt?"
    "Yes, Sire, although my riding skills leave a lot to be desired," Jenny replied, reaching for a piece of bread. "But I shall do my best to keep up."
    "With spirit like that, Jenny, thee will fare well."
    Jenny responded to his jovial mood with a wide grin, deciding that perhaps a ride out would do her good. She suddenly realised Stephen was looking at her, his hawk eyes watching her every move. She refrained from poking out her tongue at him – just! When he'd said he wanted her on her best behaviour, he hadn't been joking. Was that how it was going to be all day?
    Cutting a wedge of cheese, she spoke to King Edward. "Will Marguerite be joining us on the hunt?"
    "Aye, although she is not one for rising early. If she doth dally much longer, I will hath to send someone to fetch her."
    As if on cue, Marguerite sailed into the hall, her nose in the air. Jenny pursed her lips.
    "Ah, there thou art, Marguerite!" exclaimed King Edward. "Come and break thy fast. I wish to leave shortly and thou, milady, art late."
    Marguerite smiled sweetly. "Oh, my pardon, Sire."
    She sat beside Stephen and he poured a goblet of watered-down wine for her before passing her some bread.
    "I trust thee slept well, milady?" Stephen asked politely.
    "Nay, milord, I did not. My dreams were filled with terrible visions." She clutched his arm suddenly. "Visions of thee dying, milord, whilst astride thy destrier. Mayhap, it is a premonition!"
    Stephen gave a wry smile. "Calm thyself, Marguerite. 'Twas just a nightmare. Push these thoughts from thy mind and enjoy the day's hunt. 'Twill be a good one today; the stag are aplenty."
    "Nay, milord. Methinks thee should stay home and I will remain at thy side to keep thee company."
    Jenny ground her teeth. Would Marguerite stop at nothing to get Stephen? She spoke quickly. "Don't be silly, Marguerite. King Edward will be with us and Sir Stephen will be perfectly safe. It was only a bad dream, don't be so dramatic!"
    "Dramatic! I am realistic. He could die."
    "So could we all. I suggest you stay here as you're so worried. We don't need you with us."
    "Jenny!" Stephen's voice was full of reproach.
    "What?"
    "Do not be rude!"
    "I wasn't! I was just saying..."
    "Desist!"
    Jenny knew when she was beaten and huffed aloud.
    King Edward laughed, a low rumble deep from his belly. "'Twould seem we will hath our hands full with these two ladies this day. What say thee, Stephen?"
    "Aye, Sire. I am in agreement."
    King Edward stood up. "Come, let us make haste or the stags will depart and we will hath nowt to sup on this eve!"
    Whilst Marguerite walked ahead with King Edward, Stephen pulled Jenny to one side. "Remember to behave, Jenny. I do not wish to punish thee again."
    "Why don't you punish her...she's the problem, not me!" she hissed.
    "Marguerite is a ward of the king. No one can punish her – she is under his protection. Thee, however, art not!"
    Jenny's bottom lip thrust out as she looked back at him. "That's not fair!"
    "Whether it is fair or not, thee will abide by my words." His eyes were dark and his jaw set. He meant business and Jenny knew that if she had any sense, she'd obey him. But could she bite her tongue when it came to Marguerite?
    The outing was exhilarating to Jenny. She'd never been on an actual hunt, and even though her horse riding skills were poor, she managed to hang onto the saddle and gallop alongside the other hunters when they sped after their quarry.
    The king himself shot an arrow straight through a stag, at which point Jenny looked away. It was all very well eating meat, but she wasn't so sure she could watch the animal's demise.
    "'Twill not