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He wriggled his eyebrows. “Hot,” he said. “Hot, dry, and dirty. And the fighting… brutal. Very, very brutal, but it was something that helped me grow as a warrior. It is not an experience that I would trade for anything, barbaric as it was.”

Maitland thought on a hot land that was dry. “That seems so strange to hear you speak on a land that is hot and dry,” she said. “Is it like that all year?”

“Very nearly.”

“No water at all?”

“It depends where you were. Sometimes there was water. Sometimes there was not.” He watched her face as she pondered such a place with awe. “The Mamluk warriors had a name for me.”

“What was it?”

“Dhiib aleasifa.”

He said it just the way the Mamluks did, such a foreign and beautiful tongue, but before Maitland could comment, someone nearby shouted in her ear.

“What does that mean?”

It was Artus, who had snuck over to their side of the table, unnoticed by either of them because they’d been so swept up in each other. As Maitland jumped at the sound of the child’s voice and rubbed the ear he’d yelled in, Thomas laughed softly.

“It means StormWolfe,” he said. “I create my own storms when I fight.”

Artus had been listening to most of the conversation, captivated by the English warrior. “Is it true?” he asked. “Are ye a witch, then?”

Thomas shook his head. “It is only a figure of speech,” he said. “It simply means I bring strength and chaos with me when I fight.”

Artus was chewing on a big piece of bread, open-mouthed. “Can I see ye fight?”

Thomas shrugged. “There are no battles around here, lad.”

“I think I know of one,” Maitland said thoughtfully.

“Tomorrow’s market also coincides with a fair and there will be games of skill for knights.

I saw some in town already when I was there.

I thought it would be fun to take the children so they could enjoy the festivities and, mayhap, you could come along and let the children see you fight in the contests. ”

Being a great competitor, Thomas was immediately interested. “What kind of games?”

Maitland lifted her shoulders. “I am not certain, but there were several knights in town already,” she said. “I also saw a posted bill that spoke of a large purse for the winner.”

Thomas scratched his head. “A large purse, you say?” he said. “I suppose I could win it for the charity. It would be enough money to keep you supplied for a very long time.”

Maitland grinned. “Then you will come with us and compete?”

Thomas looked between Maitland and Artus, who seemed very excited about the whole thing.

The thought of competing for a prize was thrilling enough, but the thought of competing so that Maitland could see him…

that was more appealing to him. It made him very proud to think of her cheering him on. But he was hesitant.

“I do not know,” he said. “I do not have any of my joust equipment with me. All I have is my sword and usual equipment, but nothing specialized that they use at contests.”

“Like what?” Artus demanded.

Thomas tried to explain. “It really depends on the contest,” he said. “Mass competitions will not allow me to use my broadsword, but I haven’t any clubs or blunt weapons with me. And if there is a joust, I will not be able to complete because I do not have any of my poles with me.”

Artus would not be dissuaded. “Do ye have yer shield?”

“Always.”

The boy threw up his hands. “’Tis all ye need. I can find ye a club in the yard.”

Thomas was genuinely hesitant because he knew these fairs and tournaments were followed by men who did that kind of thing for a living. They were well-equipped for the games and he simply wasn’t. But he realized, as he looked at Maitland and Artus, that he didn’t want to disappoint them.

Besides… it had been a very long time since he’d attended any manner of tournament. They didn’t get many of them in the wilds of the borders where he was, so he was thinking that, perhaps, he didn’t want to miss this one.

It might be fun.

“Very well,” he reluctantly agreed. “I will go, but I cannot promise I will be able to compete. Yet I will not go at all if you do not finish your supper. Lady Bowlin went through all the trouble to make it for you, so you will finish it.”

Artus grinned broadly, displaying his yellow teeth, as he ran back to the children eating around the table and announced that Thomas would be competing at the fair in Kelso and make them all rich.

That brought a round of cheers from the children, who leapt up in their blue tunics and began jumping around with glee.

Thomas and Maitland laughed as Tibelda tried to force them back to the table to finish, but it was a difficult fight.

The little waifs, who had so little to be excited about in their lives, were overwrought with joy.

Tibelda finally gave up and went to sit with Maitland and Thomas as the children danced around, ate their bread, and spoke of what they would do with the money Thomas won for them.

When it finally came time for bed, only a bellow from Thomas sent them scattering to their chambers like skittish rabbits, but it wasn’t out of fear.

It was out of excitement for what the next day would bring them.

When the children were finally in bed and the dishes were taken back to the kitchens by Tibelda, to be washed and used the next day, Thomas went out to take care of his horse, penning it with some grain and water, and returning to the tower with his saddlebags.

Truth be told, spending the night in the same building as Maitland after what had happened earlier in the day made him a little anxious.

They hadn’t spoken about it because they were both trying to process it, but their casual conversation at supper had been encouraging.

Maitland showed no signs of being awkward towards him.

Even so, Thomas knew, at some point, they would speak on what had happened.

For him, it had been a powerful experience, perhaps one of the most powerful experiences he’d ever had because he’d shared it with someone he was very quickly coming to care a great deal about.

But because he was coming to care for her, he was coming to think that he probably shouldn’t bed her again, at least not until they talked things out.

He didn’t want her to think he was only interested in having relations with her.

There was far more to it than that. For the first time since Tacey, Thomas was thinking about someone else and trying to be conscientious of her feelings.

Not that he’d bedded Tacey; he never had.

His feelings for her had been far more emotional and far less physical because of their circumstances at the time.

There was something in him that had connected with that lonely young woman.

But with Maitland, the physical pull was overwhelming and he didn’t want her to think that he was trying to disrespect her, or take advantage of her, in any way.

That was a new thought process for him.

Therefore, he spread his traveling cloak out on the warm stones in front of the hearth in the feasting chamber and using his saddlebags as a pillow, he lay back, listening to Maitland move around on the floor above, scolding children who were too excited to sleep.

Somehow, he drew comfort simply from hearing her voice.

He never knew such a thing was possible.

When Tibelda finally came back to the tower and bolted the entry door, Thomas remained awake as the woman went up the stairs and the voices above him grew quiet.

At some point, he drifted off to sleep, warmed by the fire, perhaps even a bit exhausted from the events of the day. For certainly, it had been eventful.

Perhaps even life changing.

When Maitland tiptoed downstairs less than an hour later, she found him snoring softly before the fire.

She’d only come to bid him a good sleep, but she ended up watching him sleep for a few minutes.

Leaving him with a gentle kiss to his forehead, she went upstairs and fell asleep, dreaming of dark-haired knights with big dimples.