A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

tree behind him as if to distance himself from the temptation she offered. “Forgive me, m’lady,” he uttered, horrified at his audacity.
    She stood, pressing her fingers to her lips, gazing at him.
    He clenched his teeth and looked away. “Grace...” That was when he noticed the blanket on the ground. He looked up at her. She had come to give him the blanket. The simple gesture warmed his heart until he remembered he had greeted her with violence, almost cutting her neck. “You should stay on your side of the camp.”
    “You are not a danger to me.”
    He looked at her in disbelief. “I put a sword to your neck.”
    “You would not have harmed me.” Her tone was confident.
    Much more confident than he felt. He had seen so much blood, in the wars, in the death of the archbishop, at the hands of others, by his own hand. It was instinct for him to protect himself with a weapon. But he never wanted to raise a blade to her. “I don’t want to. That’s why you should stay on your side of the camp.”
    She dropped her chin as if in confusion.
    He stepped toward her. “Grace. I promised to see you safely to your father. I intend to honor that vow.”
    She lifted her large eyes to him. They reflected the moon in their depths. And William knew he was in trouble. How could he resist her? Such beauty. Such innocence. But he had to. She did not want to marry him. And he had given his word to help her escape the betrothal. She was right. No woman in her right mind would want to be wife to him.
    “You kissed me.”
    He gritted his teeth and looked down. What could he tell her? He would have to hurt her so she kept her distance from him. He would have to lie to her to keep them apart. “I thought you were someone else.”
    It worked. Her face fell; hurt shone in her vulnerable eyes before she turned away. Without a word, she moved back to her spot beneath the tree opposite of his. She lay down, keeping her back to him.
    Guilt assailed William, but he knew this was better for them both. He would not be tempted to kiss her again. And she would not be tempted to be near him. Part of him was very sad at this prospect, but he knew it was the right decision. He turned and lay down, tucking his hands beneath his head to stare at the stars through the leaves of the tree. He reached down and pulled the blanket over his legs. Regret and remorse kept him from sleep. The only thing he managed to think of was a cottage and Grace to come home to.

    ‘I thought you were someone else.’ The words haunted Grace. Humiliation burned her cheeks. Hurt pierced her heart with a stinging sensation. She could barely look at William. Why? Why should it matter to her? She didn’t want to marry him anyway! And yet, she could not stop thinking about his kiss. The urgent, desperate feel of his lips moving over hers. It was so unexpected, so... warm.
    As they packed up the camp and she folded the blanket he had slept beneath, she wondered if he kissed her again would it be tender?
    It didn’t matter. He would never kiss her again and she should not want him to. She opened one of the bags to put the blanket inside. The golden cross tumbled out. She gasped, afraid William would be angry with her for going through his items again. She glanced over her shoulder at him across the camp. He was saddling Hellfire, tightening a cinch strap. Grace picked up the cross to put it back in the bag, but then she paused, staring down at the face. The face had been carved with such emotion, such heartbreak. The blank eyes gazed skyward, the mouth open as if crying out. She felt such anguish. She wondered if that was why William kept it. To remind him of his duty. Her thumb swept down the cross...and caught on a chip in its surface. It hadn’t been there before, she was certain. She wondered briefly how it had gotten there, but quickly put the cross back into the bag and closed it, lest William catch her with it again. She picked up the bag and noticed a tear in the