A Knight’s Dark Eyes
The thundering of a hundred horses echoed through the cobwebbed windows of the abandoned church. The Norman Knights of Gaillard were coming for her.
Rheda stepped further back into the shadows and gripped the leather hilt of her father’s broadsword, its worn material giving her little comfort. If her father were alive, he would tell her not to fret. No cowardly Norman could best a Saxon, especially a Haynsworth.
However, her father did not meet the likes of Sir Ivon Paxton. The handsome Norman would hunt her until the end of the earth. Until he had her trapped in his strong arms…and on trail for murder.
Heavy footsteps sounded near the door…