She tried to catch herself, and in doing so wrenched her ankle in the effort to find her footing. She tumbled down the last part of the spiral staircase, and likely would have landed in a painful heap at the base had someone not caught her.

“Christ! Are you all right?”

She was so startled to feel the man’s hands on her, it took a moment for her to process his words . . . and his face.

But when she did . . .

God in heaven! A heart that she thought incapable of catching did just that. If she still believed in handsome knights riding to the rescue, this man would have personified her fantasy. Dark golden-blond hair shimmered in the flickering light. Piercing blue eyes that were so crystal and clear they seemed to sparkle in the darkness. A finely featured face that might have been boyish were it not for the slightly skewed once-broken nose and the dark shadow of stubble shaped into a quarter-inch beard. Tall and broad shouldered, he had the lean solid build of a man who lifted a sword for a living. He’d caught her as if she weighed nothing, and the hands holding her were big and strong.

But even were he not wearing chain mail and surcoat, she would have known he was a knight. He looked like he should be riding on a white charger with his sword held high in the air ready to vanquish dragons and rescue fair maidens, which given their current position was appropriate.

Suddenly aware that he’d caught her in a way that might be construed as intimate—and the feel of her breasts crushed against the solid steel wall of his chest certainly felt that—she blushed (for real!) and tried to regain her composure as she pushed back to extract herself from his hold.

“I’m fine,” she said unevenly, sounding more like a starry-eyed maid than she’d ever sounded in her life. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have troubled—”

She stopped suddenly, crying out in pain as she stepped back and put weight on her twisted ankle. She might have stumbled again had he not still been holding her arm.

“Careful,” he said gently, steadying her on the stair above him. “You’re hurt.”

He had a very nice voice. Deep, soft, and soothing. There was something kind and almost gallant about it.

Good gracious, she really was getting carried away with the knight fantasy, wasn’t she? A long time ago she’d believed in the stories of handsome men in shining armor who not only espoused knightly ideals but also lived them. Now she knew differently; experience had cured her of all her illusions. Men like that only existed in faerie tales. With every lecherous look and dishonorable suggestion by the “knights” around her, they proved it to her. Honor, nobility, and respect didn’t mean a thing when lust was involved. Men—even knights—only wanted one thing.