Lady Danger (The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch, Book 1) by Glynnis Campbell, Sarah McKerrigan Page A

nonchalantly, “happen to glimpse the banner of that army?”
    “‘Twas too distant.”
    He nodded.  “Mm.”
    “Why?”
    He scratched his chin.  “I climbed the parapets to take a look.  Something about the colors seemed...vaguely familiar.”  He exchanged a curious look with Pagan.
    But Deirdre had no patience for Colin’s musings.  There would be time to discover exactly who the knights were later, after the keep was secure.
    Between Colin and the hearth, she spotted an idle maidservant.  “You!  Fetch Lady Helena!  She’s in her chamber.  Tell her—“
    ”Nay!” Colin cried.  “Nay.  I’ll...I’ll do it.  I’m certain the maid has more important duties.  Besides,” he said, clasping his hands together with a clap, “‘twill make me feel useful.”
    “Then tell her ‘tis urgent,” she bade him.  “Tell her the men-at-arms await her orders.”
    Colin gaped.  “ She commands the men-at-arms?”
    Deirdre let out an agitated sigh.  “Are you going to help or not?”
    Without a word, Colin sketched an elaborate bow and started across the great hall.
    “Wait!” she yelled.  “Where are you going?  Her chamber is not that way.”
    He looked confused for a moment, then stuttered, “I...I’m just going to the cellar to...to fetch her breakfast.  Can’t command men-at-arms on an empty stomach.”
    She frowned, then returned her attention to Pagan.  He was gazing at her strangely now, as if he weighed her worth or divined her future.
    “Your archers,” he said, “they’re experienced?  They won’t fire prematurely?”
    “Nay,” she assured him smugly.  “They’ll only fire at my command.”  To her satisfaction, this time he didn’t argue the point.

    Pagan hoped she was right.  After all, it would be unfortunate if one of her Rivenloch archers shot one of his Cameliard knights.
    He supposed he should enlighten her, tell her that Colin had recognized the approaching army as Pagan’s own knights.  But it would be useful to know, and he was curious to see, how well she commanded the keep and how organized Rivenloch’s defenses were.  Of course, if it had been a real assault, he never would have let her take charge.  He would have sent her or dragged her, if need be, to join the rest of the women and children of Rivenloch in the innermost chambers of the keep for safety.
    He wondered what Colin planned to do about Helena.  Surely he didn’t mean to release the shrew.  And yet, if it was true that she was Deirdre's second in command...
    He turned to observe the mass of people scrambling to and fro across the great hall.  Each seemed to know his purpose, and none was panicking.  But in the middle of the orderly chaos, the Lord of Rivenloch stood dazed, as if he were set adrift in the sea of clansmen.
    Turning back to Deirdre, Pagan said, “Your father is confused.  Go to him.  Make certain he’s safe.  I’ll gather the men-at-arms while Colin is fetching your sister.”
    She bristled at his tone of command.  It was clear the willful wench craved the upper hand.  He couldn’t decide if that trait was aggravating or entertaining.  His thoughts strayed to the marriage bed they’d share this night, and he wondered if she’d insist upon the upper hand there, too.  It was an intriguing possibility.
    Deirdre’s frown melted as she observed her father, and Pagan glimpsed the weight of responsibility settle upon her shoulders.  No doubt it was burdensome, caring for a feeble parent.  Pagan didn’t know.  His parents had died suddenly of the murrain years ago.  “Very well,” she conceded.  “Do so.”
    He watched as she made her way to the lord, guiding him with loving care up the steps to his chamber.  She was an enigma, this new bride of his, as rough as a tavern wench one moment, as gentle as a nun the next.
    Pagan squared his shoulders and headed toward the armory, where the knights would be donning chain mail and taking up sword and pike, bow