Once a Bride by Shari Anton

toward the stables. We gave chase. Somehow he landed in the dung heap. I think Roland brought him straight in here because he did not know what else to do with him. By your leave, milady, I shall see if our monk owns a spare robe and sandals.”
    Eloise had to admit the vision a bit humorous, and considered Brother Walter’s current plight only what he deserved.
    The cleansing of Brother Walter took several buckets of water, the first few used to dislodge most of the muck from his robe. He stood stoic through the dousing, and turned red at the order to disrobe. Roland firmly cut short a meek attempt to object.
    Eloise averted her gaze when the monk obeyed, catching a mere glimpse of his wet small clothes. Not so for the others in the crowd who gathered around to witness the unusual bath. More than one of the servant girls giggled. Eloise supposed she should have ordered the girls away, but the monk had brought this on himself.
    “Have a sniff, Lady Eloise. Does he still offend?”
    Roland’s command brought forth more giggles and snickers from the crowd. Thank the Fates Marcus had found the monk’s spare robe.
    Eloise took pity on the monk and resisted the urge to actually sniff. “He no longer reeks. He may enter the hall.”
    “My lady,” Brother Walter said softly. “I would prefer the solitude of the chapel that I might pray—”
    Roland grabbed him by the hood of his robe. “Into the hall with you, good monk. Now that I have you I am loathe to let you out of my sight. Besides, I am eager to hear your reasons for hiding.”
    So was Eloise, even though she feared she wasn’t going to like whatever the monk had to say.
    With his meal consumed and a fresh ale in hand, Roland plopped down on the bench across the trestle table from Marcus and Simon. He couldn’t think of a more pleasant way to wile away the time before Kenworth returned than in the company of the knights.
    Besides, they provided a diversion from the lady who proved far too distracting.
    All the while he searched for Brother Walter, he’d mused over his encounter with Eloise last eve.
    Tossing the water at her had seemed an efficient way of dousing the flames on both the parchment in her hand and the rush mat beneath her feet. Unfortunately it also wetted her nightrail, turning the thin white linen into a sheer veil over her breasts. That her nipples were a dusky rose was more than he needed to know.
    He wasn’t particularly proud of himself for picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. It was a barbaric display of manners for a knight. Still, he’d known of no other way to swiftly separate Eloise from the parchment she sat on.
    The memory of her warm, supple weight draped over him in such intimate fashion kept him awake most of the night. The scent of her lingered in his nostrils. Worse, neither would the memory fade of Eloise sprawled on the bed, expectant of a kiss, or more.
    He’d come far too close to fulfilling her expectation.
    She’d been as aware of him as he of her. She’d gone very still, perhaps also confused by the inexplicable attraction between a man and woman who couldn’t abide each other.
    Eloise fascinated him.
    As she did now. She was vexed, and the blame lay clearly at Brother Walter’s sandalless feet. The monk wasn’t talking. He’d told her he couldn’t tell anyone anything until after speaking with Sir John.
    Roland didn’t much care. He’d completed his assigned task by finding the monk for Kenworth, who seemed to think the cleric could provide information regarding Sir John’s treason. The monk’s refusal to answer any of Eloise’s questions, however, irritated the lady to within a gnat’s breath of a fit of pique.
    Eloise on the verge of eruption was a glorious sight to behold. She moved about the hall seeing to the cleaning up after the noon meal with the efficiency of a commander of troops. No commander of troops, however, moved with such a beguiling sway of hips.
    And every time she passed the