Regret, hot and instant, stung him. He heard his own words ringing in his ears even as he tried to deny to himself that he would ever say such things to a lady’s face. Then came the thought, she is not a lady. Then, but she is. And reason piled upon regret and loathing until there was naught but confusion in his head.

She flinched at his words, and a flush crept up her face. Her jaw clenched noticeably, a tightening of muscles that made her look fierce and even more uncomely. Never had he been so unsure of another person, or of himself. He thought she might reach for her sword and run him through. He could envision it, knew exactly how she would move to cut him down, and he made no move to step aside.

But she did not move, did not speak. She did nothing but look down at her feet. A great gawking woman, awkward and clumsy to look at. No hint of her grace showed as when she wielded a sword, only thick shoulders on a body too tall for a woman. He began to question, with some wonder, if her flush was more embarrassment than anger.

How they would laugh at her, the good lords and ladies of Edward’s court.

“Do we cross their path again, knave’s greed may not spare us, nor fortune.” He could not quite manage a conciliatory tone, not being in the habit of humility, but she did not seem to expect apology. That reminded him, better than his own words had, that he was the villain.

“Pray, lord, that your flight does not lead us to them again,” she countered coldly. “My men await us, safe escort through these bandit-ruled wilds, but my lord of Morency prefers to travel alone.”

He remained where he was in his carefully careless pose, while she went down on one knee, tightening the loose leathern cords that held her boots in place. Her mail chinked softly as she moved, instead of the harsh assault of sound he was used to from such a maneuver.

“We have run away from my men, and not to them. Will be another day or more of pushing hard through these woods before we rejoin them, now we have run so deep among the trees.” She jerked hard on the laces. “Be assured they will find us, do we not find them soon, or haps more bandits will set upon us. Will my lord come peaceful with us at last?”

It was true that it was safer with her than alone, in this place. There was no knowing the dangers he might come upon. Stay with her, or fight her off and run. The sword fairly hummed beneath his fingers, and he imagined lifting it again, lunging into the fight. But not with her. Never with her, never again.

“Where did you learn to fight?”