He wore a mask. It was also black and though tailored to the shape of his face, it didn’t have features, giving him an eerie, otherworldly visage. It was more like a solid shield of onyx. Dark eyes with an inner brightness stared at her, and as he came closer, she realized the mask also had a cutout for his mouth.
She gritted her teeth and raised her dagger. “One step closer, and I will cut you from navel to nose. I swear to The Three.”
He froze.
As her vision adjusted to the dimness, she peered at his eyes. Though she searched for the same cruelty as was in the bandit’s leader’s gaze, she didn’t find it.
He slowly raised his hands palm out before dropping to one knee in front of her. He bowed his head after pushing back his hood, revealing straight black hair that brushed his shoulders.
She blinked. She’d grown up around knights and realized he moved as one.
Who was he?
“I am at your service, my lady,” he said, his deep voice low and calm. “I swear to The Three, I mean you no harm. One of my friends spotted you with the bandits, and I knew we needed to rescue you. We have been after the bandits since they started terrorizing this forest months ago. We cannot stay here long. I need to get back to my friends, and we need to retreat. Unfortunately, we don’t have the means to take them on and win.”
Grace swallowed, wanting to believe him with everything inside her. But her life depended on trusting the right person.
“Take off your mask and let me see your face.”
He flinched.
She frowned.
“Forgive me, my lady. I… cannot. My face is damaged you see, and it wouldn’t be proper for a lady of your standing to see it.”
His words thickened as if emotion was clogging his throat. Sir Alexander—may he rest safely in the bosoms of The Three—had sounded like that when he’d spoken about his two sons. Barely more than lads, they’d died in a war years ago. He’d also take on a solemn, choking tone when he’d mention his own time fighting enemies as a younger man.
Grief and bad memories. His sorrow touched her, and she let her hand drop.
Movement and hurried footsteps had her squinting over his shoulder. She gasped when three bandits rushed them, startling the stallion into a whinny.
“Watch—”
The man in black rose to his feet, and in one fluid motion, spun and unsheathed his sword. Without hesitation, he engaged the bandits, acting as a shield. Her shield. His skill with a sword was enviable, as was his fearlessness as axes sliced down at him. He was quick on his feet and bold in his moves. Entranced by his prowess, Grace momentarily forgot her predicament and remembered the times she’d watched Isaac on the training fields with his knights.
“You bloody devil!” One bandit yelled before taking a slice to the chest.
“Masked coward!”
The masked man said nothing as he fought with the fury of ten men.
As one bandit went down with a grunt, bleeding out, another slipped past Samuel and leapt toward her. “Noble bitch. Better you die now. You’re not worth the trouble.”
He raised his axe.
She screamed and raised her knife.
Gleaming steel erupted from the bandit’s chest, blood spraying, a few drops landing on her face. Then the masked man yanked out his sword and tossed the bandit away like refuse.
Shocked, Grace stared past him and noticed the third bandit was already twitching on the ground, groaning as he died. The skirmish hadn’t lasted very long, the brutes not standing a chance against someone with training.
Panting, the masked man wiped his sword on his cloak before sheathing it. He glanced at their surroundings before kneeling once more at her feet. She dropped her hand again and swallowed hard, shaken by what she’d witnessed. The man’s eyes had changed during the battle, a raw battle fury she’d seen in many a knight. But now they returned to their compassionate, concerned gleam.
She cleared her throat. “What is your name?”
“Samuel,” he said, still panting.
Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked, dashing them away. She couldn’t fall apart yet. She must be strong. Despite what she’d been through and witnessed, she needed to keep her composure. They were still in danger.
“Samuel. Please don’t betray me.”
His eyes widened. “No. My lady, I won’t. I pledge myself to your service, and I will not leave your side until you are home safe.”
She had no reason not to believe his words. Her lips trembled as she nodded.
“I am Lady Grace of Glaston. It is a p-pleasure to meet you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears returned and swallowed her sob.
Samuel’s movements were quiet as he stepped to her side. Gentle arms slipped around her back and under her legs. In one swift movement, he lifted her securely in his arms.
Grace gasped and her eyes widened. She grabbed his shoulders and their gazes met.
“Don’t! You’ll hurt yourself.”
He blinked at her and tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“I’m not… um, dainty.”
He blinked again and swept his gaze over her. She wasn’t repulsed this time. Instead, warmth bloomed in her stomach.
When he met her eyes again, his own held a glint that set her heart racing. “You’re perfect, my lady. And it is an honor to have you in my arms.”
