Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture by Ruth A. Casie Page B

well. He glimpsed a spark of curiosity and maybe even a hint of attraction but shock held him immobile at his acute sense of loss when he realized there was no glimmer of recognition.
    “Excuse me. I’m covered with charcoal and grit.” She wiped her hands on a rag she grabbed off the table. “Pleased to meet you.”
    “As am I. George has told me much about you.” He gave her a well-practiced nod touched with a devilish smirk. He remembered how she played at being annoyed when he would flash the same smile at her. He didn’t miss her quick intake of breath.
    “Do I know you? Perhaps at one of George’s parties? I can’t help but feel we’ve met.” Her brows wrinkled in concentration.
    He let out a breath he didn’t know he held. “No, not in this lifetime, I assure you.” Perhaps there was hope after all.
    “Excuse me, Arik. I need to discuss something privately with George.”
    Arik nodded and stepped toward the table.
    She was hesitant to turn away. She noted how Arik’s body moved with an easy, commanding grace and she hadn’t missed how his massive shoulders filled the light shirt he wore. His fitted pants—no, breeches , she corrected herself—emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips.
    His presence filled the room. He was handsome. His blue-green eyes mesmerizing but there was something else. She couldn’t place it other than a need to be close to him.
    More than close—in his arms.
    For months she’d been detached and uncomfortable. So why now, with this knight—yes that’s what he was, she was certain—did she all at once feel…at ease? A knight? How’d that pop into her head? But he wore it like a skin that was part of him. The reenactment must be getting to her. She turned to George and tugged him away.
    “Who exactly is he? And what’s he wearing? Is he auditioning for one of the reenactment roles?” She took another appraising glance at Arik. A shiver of excitement ran through her. “He looks like he stepped out of a romance novel.”
    “His home is in the north. He lives a rustic life and doesn’t visit here often, a recluse of sorts. But you’ve given me an idea.” He glanced past her at Arik.
    “There’s something about him.” They hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen or so words and she was hungry for him. This was so not her. Intelligence and character drew her interest. She never let the physical drive her attraction, so why now? Why him? She stopped trying to figure it out and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I can’t describe it. I’m certain I know him.” She saw him handling the document.
    “Hey! Don’t touch that,” she barked, pointing to the parchment in his hand. Rebeka charged across the room but his stare stopped her in her tracks. He was a man who was not to be crossed. Her hesitation lasted one, maybe two heartbeats before she marched to the table. She didn’t intimidate easily. With her hand outstretched she requested the document. “This document is rare, hundreds of years old. You can’t just pick it up.”
    “Rebeka…” The trace of panic in George’s voice stopped her cold.
    “No, Hughes, she’s right.” Ignoring her hand, he placed the document back on the table. He’d handled the same document yesterday when he’d wrapped it in oilcloth and stored it away.
    “Thank you. They’re hard enough to translate. The last thing I need is someone destroying them.” The last six months had been difficult but this, the shock of being nothing to her, stabbed at his heart.
    “Excuse me, Ms. Rebeka.” They all turned toward the voice at the door.
    “Yes, Charles?” Rebeka said. From his formal appearance and reverent tone, he assumed the man was the steward.
    “Breakfast is served. Mr. George, your office is on the line.”
    “Ah, at last. I hope they’ve found the manor papers.” George turned to the steward. “I’ll take the call in the estate office.” He took a step toward the door but hesitated, his hand