Page 64 of Propriety (le morte d’Guinevere #1)

Anger didn’t even begin to cover it.

Couldn’t even light a torch on the rage that he felt in his chest.

His stupid daughter, na?ve enough to let herself get kidnapped from right under the king’s nose.

And then… the things Camelot’s court was saying about her. They called his daughter a harlot.

A sinner.

Conspirator.

It was only by Arthur’s firm but gracious hand that the rumors had been squelched. Criers had been all over England since it had happened. His most trusted knight, his queen’s protector, mad with lust and envy.

Had taken their queen from underneath their nose in a moment of tournament triumph.

He mounted his horse with a furious swing, snapping the reins into motion. Several of his men travelled alongside of him as they set off.

Word was circling around Tamalide. A man and woman spotted on the road to Kineton, with a horse in tow. The man matched Lancelot ’s description perfectly. The woman, however, was the only stumbling block.

But if he could be the one to return his daughter to King Arthur, imagine the glory that would come with the prize ?

Not only was he the man that had provided the King with his wife, but he had managed to wrangle her back to Camelot, as well.

Even if he only managed to find this Lancelot character… perhaps he could find out what wicked and vile things this man had done to his daughter, and continue the arduous task of finding her.

Besides… He had no qualms about cutting down a deserter in the process.

There was only one inn in the small town of Kineton, and with a little… persuasion , the innkeeper was more than happy to inform him that a man matching the knight’s exact description had purchased a room last night for him and a girl.

After a second promise of gold-lined pockets, the keeper told him which room they purchased, and turned his back.

He almost saw red as he stomped up the stairs.

He heard laughter from behind the door where the innkeeper had sent him. Peals of giggles surrounded him, frozen before the door.

For a moment, he felt a twinge of sadness, maybe even guilt. If it was his daughter behind this door… He was here to tear her away from someone that filled her life with a boisterous laughter.

As quickly as the shame had taken over, he tamped it down. She was the queen, for god’s sake. She had a duty to the crown, just as he did.

Refusing to feel ashamed for following the teachings of the Lord, he knocked loudly on the door. Laughter turned to whispers that he couldn’t discern.

But no footsteps.

No lock unlatching or door hinge squeaking.

He knocked again, louder this time, the wooden door rattling in its frame.

The squeak of a mattress, and the padding of feet on wooden floor.

Finally.

But silence followed once more.

He was losing his patience .

The door rattled a third time with his knock.

“All right, all right.” He heard a voice answer from the other side, the quiet snick of a lock coming undone.

With another quick burst of laughter from the room, the door was pulled open.

It was a wonder that he didn’t drop dead at that moment.

His daughter, bare and in this knight’s bed .

Her cheeks flushed, her hair wild, bruises littering her throat.

And this man…

This arrogant knight, posture laced with swagger and pride.

There was no denying the nature of sin that occurred in this room. Fists clenching at either side, Leodogran drew in a long breath, trying to keep a level head. “I believe,” he forced out through clenched teeth. “You’ve abducted my daughter.”