Knave's Honour

Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author Margaret Moore

‘The story is fresh, fun, fast-paced, engaging, and passionate, with an added touch of adventure.’

—The Romance Readers Connection on THE NOTORIOUS KNIGHT

‘… filled with fast-paced dialogue and historical details that add depth and authenticity to the story. Readers will be well entertained.’

—RT Book Reviews on MY LORD’S DESIRE

‘Readers continue to ask for “Moore.” Her latest book is a sparkling, dynamic tale of two lonely hearts who find each other despite their pasts and the evil forces surrounding them.’

—RT Book Reviews on HERS TO DESIRE

‘Colourful and compelling details of life in the Middle Ages abound.’

—Publishers Weekly on HERS TO COMMAND

‘A lively adventure with enough tension and romance to keep me turning pages.’—International bestselling author Roberta Gellis on HERS TO COMMAND

‘This captivating adventure of thirteenth-century Scotland kept me enthralled from beginning to end. It’s a keeper!’

—Romance Junkies on BRIDE OF LOCHBARR

‘Margaret Moore is a master storyteller who has the uncanny ability to develop new twists on old themes.’

—Affaire de Coeur

‘When it comes to excellence in historical romance books, no one provides the audience with more than the award-winning Ms Moore.’

—Under the Covers

She’d had no idea a kiss could make her wish that he’d pick her up and carry her somewhere, anywhere, where they could be alone …

Overwhelmed by desire, she ran her hands up Finn’s back, pressing her body against his. She recalled how he’d saved her from Lindall and those others. How kind he’d been to Keldra and Garreth, and how marvellous he looked …

Someone cleared a throat, and she abruptly remembered where she was, and that she had a part to play, too, as Finn did—and this kiss must be no more than a part of their ruse.

Award-winning author MARGARET MOORE began her career at the age of eight, when she and a friend concocted stories featuring a lovely damsel and a handsome, misunderstood thief nicknamed ‘The Red Sheik’. Unknowingly pursuing her destiny, Margaret graduated with distinction from the University of Toronto, Canada. She has been a Leading Wren in the Royal Canadian Naval Reserve, an award-winning public speaker, a member of an archery team, and a student of fencing and ballroom dancing. She has also worked for every major department store chain in Canada.

Margaret lives in Toronto, Ontario, with her husband of over twenty-five years. Her two children have grown up understanding that it’s part of their mother’s job to discuss non-existent people and their problems. When not writing, Margaret updates her blog and website at www.margaretmoore.com

KNAVE’S HONOUR

Margaret Moore

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With many thanks to Karen Solem and Donna Warren for their calm guidance and sage advice.

The Midlands, 1204

“I FEARED I’D GO MAD if I had to sit in that wagon another moment,” Lady Elizabeth of Averette declared as she lifted the skirts of her blue woolen traveling gown and delicately picked her way toward the mossy bank of the swift-moving stream.

“Don’t you think we ought to stay with the men?” her maidservant asked, anxiously glancing back toward the escort of mail-clad soldiers who had dismounted nearby.

As such men were wont to do, they joked and cursed among themselves while they led their horses to drink or let them eat the plentiful grass by the side of the road. Some of them took out heels of bread from their packs or downed a sip of ale. The leader of the cortege, Iain Mac Kendren, did neither. He stood with feet planted and arms akimbo as if he were a statue, only his turning head giving any hint that he was alive and keeping watch.

“Last night I heard the innkeeper talking about a thief who sets upon travelers hereabouts,” Keldra said, breathless with a fearful excitement. “A huge fellow, fierce and terrible!”

Lizette, as she was known to her sisters and the people of Averette, gave Keldra a sympathetic smile. Keldra was only fifteen, and not used to travel. It was no wonder every tale of every thief, no matter how bizarre or exaggerated, frightened her. “According to a serving wench, he’s a very handsome thief. She also says he won’t rob a woman if she’ll give him a kiss, which sounds like something out of a minstrel’s song to me. Whatever this thief may be like, though, we have fifty men to guard us, and Iain Mac Kendren, too, so I’m sure we’ll be quite safe.”

“I hope so!” Keldra whispered, as if she feared the thief might be listening.

Smiling and very glad to be out of the stuffy confines of the wagon, Lizette removed her silver coronet and silken veil, then crouched down on the bank of the stream. “As long as he takes a kiss instead of my clothes or jewelry, I might even enjoy meeting this thief.”

“Oh, my lady, you wouldn’t!” Keldra exclaimed, scandalized—which showed how little she really knew her mistress.