Saving Simon (Tarnished Saints Series Book 5) (33 page)

“Let go of me, you swine.”

She tried to shake the man’s grip from her sleeve when one of his friends came up and grabbed her from behind. His hands snaked around her hips as he pulled her closer.

“Stop it!” she screamed, jumping away from him, but the men only laughed.

“Tryin’ ta play hard to get, whore? Well, how bout three on one? I think the French have a name for this game.”

Just then another filthy man with blackened teeth and rotten breath stepped in front of her and started to undo the tie on his hose. Her heart beat furiously and her eyes opened wide, and once again the other two men decided to grab her by the wrists, not enabling her to move. She knew now she was wrong in allowing Dugald to leave her side in a place like this. If only she had her sapphire dagger that her mother had given her as a child. If so, she could protect herself the way her sister Ruby had done, by killing a man in self-defense. She hadn’t even her regular dagger or eating knife at her waist, as she’d changed in such a hurry, she’d forgotten them back in the stable at Rye.

The door swung open at that moment and a group of boisterous, noisy knights entered, cheering and shouting and sounding very drunk.

“Go on in, Sirs,” said the bouncer. “No charge fer the nobility, as always.”

“We beat those damned French at Poitiers,” one called out, handing the bouncer a handful of coins anyway. The man greedily shoved them into a pouch at his side without bothering to bounce them on his board.

“Ground them into the dust, we did,” shouted another knight to the crowd. “You should have seen it, as we were drastically outnumbered, and still managed to come out victorious in the end.”

“Let’s hear it for the longbow,” shouted an archer who’d entered with them, his hand raised in the air with a longbow held high for all to see. The crowd cheered and shouted their praises.

“Hold on,” said another, raising his hand to silence the crowd and regain their attention. “The best part is that the Black Prince captured their king and his son and is holding them for ransom. King John the Good is not faring so good any more, I should say.”

That sent everyone in the room into a joyous frenzy, and they whistled and shouted. Much back-slapping and playful shoving followed as the knights congratulated each other. Several of them tossed coins atop a table and emptied their pouches to display jewelry - some of the great bounty they’d plundered when they’d defeated their enemy across the channel.

A tall, dark, handsome knight wearing a torn and dirtied tunic beyond recognition over a covering of chain mail, stopped just inside the doorway. He was one of the victorious warriors who’d just helped win the battle at Poitiers for King Edward III. He looked weary, yet still held an air of importance about him. He had a mustache and beard and long black hair that lifted with the autumn breeze as his blue eyes swept the room and settled upon her. He was a very handsome man indeed.

She pulled once more against the hold of the men detaining her, trying to free herself and make it to the stable. “Let me go,” she shouted.

“Release her,” ordered the dark knight standing in the doorway. It was only two words, but words that had her captors obeying. The men took their filthy hands off of her and went back to their prospective whores who awaited them in every corner.

She looked up to her mysterious savior, their eyes interlocking, and she smiled and nodded slightly to show her thanks.

“Welcome back, milord.” The innkeeper rushed to the door with a tankard of ale in his hand. He handed it to the knight and half bowed before him. “We thought ye been killed campaigning in France. Ye’ve been gone a long time and we all thought –”

“Well I’m back now, so stop with the idle chatter. I want a room and a whore for the night. Do you have what I need?”

“Aye, milord. The room at the top of the stairs is free,” said the innkeeper with a nod of his head toward the stairway. “And ye know yer always apt ta pick any of m’girls that ye take a fancy to.”

His eyes scanned the room and Sapphire just stood and stared, mesmerized by his domineering presence. He was rugged and handsome. Exciting in a raw sort of way. Yet he held a regal air of nobility. He was a warrior and a protector of her country. He was a brave man who risked his life for others and was well respected. And he also just protected her from her attackers. Why couldn't she be married to someone like this instead of what she’d gotten?

He walked over to her, several whores rushing up to try to gain his attention in the process. He ignored them, his eyes still fastened upon her. Sapphire felt a flush of heat surge through her body when she realized he was staring at her. She lowered her gaze and looked to the ground.

He stopped right in front of her, and she had no chance to even think of what to do, as he reached up, and with a flip of his hand he pulled the hood from her head, causing her long brown hair to spill forth in the process. She gasped and her hand flew to her hood to try to once again mask her identity, but he grabbed her wrist and looked her in the eye.

“I’ll take her,” he said in a low voice, still holding on to her. The whores grumbled their disappointment and hurried over to the other men who’d just returned from war. The knight started for the stairs, pulling her along with him before she could even react.

“I’m not available, my lord,” she told him, using her free hand to pick up the end of her cloak so she wouldn’t trip, moving so quickly through the crowd.

“I pay twice as much as anyone here,” he said without even looking back at her. He made his way up the stairs with her in tow, his tankard of ale gripped tightly in his other hand.