"No!"

The word was out of Ayla's mouth before she realized it. It had been spoken with such force that it made Waldar, Burchard and every other man in the room jump. Only Reuben didn't seem inclined to view it as a binding order—if there even was such a thing for him.

"It's the only way," he told her. His eyes were on her, smoldering. "I'll have the trebuchet smashed to bits and will be back in the castle in no time. Trust me."

"I said no, Reuben! And that is final! You're not throwing away your life on a suicide mission!"

"You're right." Tugging a dagger out of some hidden place on his body, he grinned at her and began to clean his fingernails in an infuriatingly leisurely manner. "I'm not. I'm going to kill a lot of enemy soldiers and save all our lives. Quite heroic of me, don't you think?"

Mary Mother of God, how can anyone be so infuriatingly arrogant?

Did he really think he was a match for the entire army of the Margrave? Ayla looked at him, at his six foot seven inches of muscle incased in steel, his burning grey eyes and the curved scar on his forehead that seem to mark him as danger incarnate. Yes, of course he thought that. She had a hard time not thinking it herself! But that didn't mean she was going to let him do this!

"You," she told him, putting emphasis on every single word, "are not going."

Reuben just flashed her another devilish grin, and nodded to Theoderich.

"You there! Squire!"

"Yes, Milord! Here I am, Milord!" The young man, startled out of his awed reverence of his master's presence, stood straight.

"Make yourself useful for a change. Run down to the stable and saddle my horse. Try to do it without him biting your head off. I need him tonight and don't want him having stomach aches."

"Yes, Milord. As you wish, Milord!"

"Cancel that order, squire!" Ayla commanded, her cheeks reddening. "Sir Reuben will not need his horse tonight. He'll stay in the castle."

Theoderich, half turned towards the door already, hesitated and glanced back at his master and mistress.

Ayla was glowering at Reuben. The red knight was still smiling, but it was a smile you could cut steel with now. Neither of them was looking at Theoderich. They were too busy staring at each other.

"You heard me," Reuben told his squire. "Saddle Satan. Now!"

The squire blanched. "I would never dare approach the evil one, Milord!"

"I'm talking about my horse, you little blockhead! It's called Satan."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now go and saddle him if you don't want to feel my belt on your scrawny little ass!"

"Y-yes, Milord."

"Don't move an inch, squire!" Ayla commanded, seething. How dare Reuben counter her commands? Admittedly, the boy was his squire and supposed to answer to him, but Reuben was her knight and supposed to answer to her!

And has he ever done so before?

"Um..." Theoderich hesitated, and Ayla could almost see the struggle in his eyes, between disobeying his liege lady, and disobeying a musclebound war-machine who could beat him black and blue if he wanted to. It was a close thing.

"Saddle my horse." Reuben's voice as deceptively calm now, like a snake in the grass, lying in wait for prey.

"Don't!" Ayla said, not breaking her eye-contact with Reuben. "Don't even think about it!"

Before the boy could decide to follow either order, or collapse on the spot from the pressure, Sir Waldar stood up. He looked from Ayla to Reuben with a practiced eye, and clapped his hands. "All right. I think this room is a little too crowded. Everyone but our esteemed liege lady and Sir Reuben—out! Now."

"Out? N-now? But... the war council isn't over yet," Sir Rudolphus protested. "We still haven't decided what we're going to do in regard to—"

Sir Waldar grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards the exit.

"Our liege lady and her commander in chief need to conduct another kind of war council. A private one, and probably far too dangerous for the likes of you and me."

"Dangerous? I don't quite underst—"

The door closed on Sir Rudolphus's protests.

Now, only Burchard and the squire remained in the room with Ayla and the man she'd like to have chained up in the dungeon next to Sir Gregor and Sir Blasius just at that moment. Burchard rose with a grunt, and motioned the young squire over.

"Come, lad. I'll help you saddle the horse."

"Burchard—" Ayla began, but he interrupted her.

"We'll just saddle the beast, Milady. It'll be up to him—or you—whether he actually leaves on it. If you would excuse us..."

Grabbing the startled Theoderich by the arm, Burchard opened the door and shoved the squire out into the corridor. He was about to follow, but then hesitated, turning his head back for a moment.

"Don't kill anybody," he growled, an unmistakable warning in his voice.

"Don't worry," Reuben said, not taking his eyes from Ayla. "I won't. Not just yet."

"I wasn't talking to you." Burchard threw Ayla a glance that made her face heat even more. Then he stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut Ayla realized that she was in trouble. Deep trouble. For the first time in a long time, she and Reuben were totally alone together. The energy between them started to crackle in the air. She didn't know what it was, only knew that it felt sweet, forbidden and terrible.

Reuben's gaze, which she thought already had been as fiery as the pits of hell, intensified tenfold.

"Don't even start!" Ayla hissed. "Don't even try to be angry, or try to shout at me, or whatever you have in mind. You are not going to throw away your life on this suicide mission, and you will never ever again countermand my orders! Do we understand each other?"

Reuben didn't say a word. He just kept staring at her, the fire in his eyes spreading until it seemed to her it was reflecting in the red shimmer of his armor. It was only then that she realized he wasn't looking at her with anger, or defiance. Oh no. The heat that emanated from him was of a very different kind.

"No." Raising a hand as if to word off an evil demon she started to wag her finger. "No, don't even think about it! We're having a serious argument here, about a life and death matter."

Unfortunately, evil demons usually aren't deterred by wagging fingers, and neither was Reuben. He took a step forward, smiling his most devastating smile directly from hell.

"Ayla..."

His voice sent a shiver down Ayla's back—a very different kind of shiver from the ones she had felt there before. This was not a shiver of fear. It was a shiver of anticipation, and yes, pleasure, damn him!

"No, Reuben! Don't! You can't simply distract me from your almost certain death by... by..."

"By what, Milady?" he asked, his grin flashing evilly.

Thank god the remnants of the windowsill are between us, she thought, feeling her breathing quicken. If he were any closer to me...

"You... you know what I am talking about!"

"Do I? Why don't you just spell it out for me?"

Ayla felt color rush to her cheeks again. What is the matter with me? I'm not supposed to be thinking about... that. I am supposed to be thinking about strategy, and war, and the safety of my people, and... and what was the next thing again?

Reuben took another step forward. This was as far as he could go. He had reached the edge of what was left of the windowsill: two feet of jagged stone sticking out of the wall at an awkward angle. Ayla sent another prayer up to the heavens for that piece of stone that separated her from Reuben. She couldn't have him touch her right now. She just couldn't.

As if reading her thoughts, Reuben glanced down at the stone remnants. Then he slowly looked up at Ayla without raising his head. Him looking at her like that, his head lowered, beant forward, like a ram about to charge, made Ayla freeze in place. It was the single most devious sight she had ever seen. Once more, Reuben smiled, diabolically. And then he moved! So fast she didn't quite know how it happened he had leaped over the jagged remains of the windowsill and had grabbed her, shoving her backwards until she was pressed into an embrasure, unable to escape his hold, or his lips.

*~*~**~*~*

Later, Ayla would never be entirely sure how day had suddenly turned into night, and how it had suddenly been decided that Reuben was indeed going to the Margrave's camp. Had she given her consent? Somehow, she couldn't remember doing so.

Granted, she thought, blushing to herself, she might have uttered "Yes! Oh, yes!" a few times while she and Reuben were sequestered in his room, but she was pretty sure that hadn't been in answer to any request for a military mission! No, she had been referring to very different matters. And she had protested just as often, when things were becoming too wonderful and sinful for her conscience to bear.

But Reuben was very good at persuation.

Now she had to watch while soldiers hurried about in the courtyard's gathering darkness, carrying out the orders of Sir Reuben the red robber knight, who was about to risk his life for her.

"My size, I said, you weather-bitten lout!" Reuben hurled the bundle of black clothes a peasant had just handed him back at the man. "And without any bloody holes in it!"

"B-but Sir Reuben..." Apprehensively, the peasant looked the knight up and down. "It is rather difficult to find clothes for someone of your... impressive stature among the bodies."

Taking a step closer, Reuben bent over the man until their faces were only inches apart.

"Did I ask how difficult it was?"

"N-no, Sir."

"I just told you to do it, didn't I?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good."

"But about the bloody holes..." The peasant swallowed. "I'm getting the clothes off dead people on a battlefield. H-how am I supposed to find clean clothes without holes, Sir?"

Reuben leaned forward some more, until his nose was almost touching the poor peasant's, who quailed under his stare.

"Find clothes. Wash them. Then mend the holes."

"M-mend?"

"Yes! Now!"

"Master Martin?" Dilli stepped out from the background, from where she had been watching the scene. "I'm a fair hand with needle and thread. Perhaps I could mend the clothes, if you found some the right size."

The peasant sagged with relief. "Would you, Miss? Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Don't mention it. Come along."

She bustled the trembling peasant off, and, over her shoulder, threw Reuben a glare.

Ayla stepped up to Reuben then, unable to keep away from him for any longer. She was painfully aware that all too soon, they might be separated forever.

"I think your maid still doesn't like me," Reuben observed, looking after Dilli with a crooked smile on his face.

"I wonder why that is, with you being so kind and charming to everyone."

Reuben snorted. "You need to be firm with people if you want to be a good commander, Milady. That is the only way they will respect you."

"There's a difference between being firm with people, Reuben, and scaring the hell out of them."

"Really? I've never noticed."

"I can believe that."

They were silent for a few minutes, standing side by side. Ayla simply enjoyed being close to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body, smelling the wild and manly smell that always seemed to emanate from him. Soon enough those things would be taken away from her, maybe forever.

A smith's apprentice hurried past them, carrying several arrow-shafts in his hand.

"Hooks!" Reuben shouted after him. "Don't forget the hooks, or I'll wring your scrawny neck!"

Throwing a panicky look behind him, the apprentice raced off.

"More of your mysterious preparations?" Ayla asked.

"Yes."

"Which you aren't going to tell me about, are you?"

"No."

She bristled. "Don't you think as the lady of this castle I've got a right to know what you are planning to do to protect my lands and my people?"

He waved a hand. "Technically, yes. But I'm not going to tell you anyway."

"And why not, pray?"

"Because it's insanely dangerous and I don't want you to worry."

Ayla scowled. "Thank you very much. That is so considerate."

Reuben grinned, and it was that mischievous grin that made love sparkle in his gray eyes. "You're welcome."

Turning towards him, she threw her arms around him and held him to her. The shadows shielded them from the sight of others, but for once she would not have minded being seen embracing him. This was no embrace of lust. It was an embrace of love as pure as it could be.

"Isn't there anything I could say or do to persuade you to stay?" Ayla begged, her arms around him feeling not nearly strong enough to hold him there.

"Well..." Reuben began, his gaze travelling to the neckline of her dress and all that lay below. His eyes sparkled in an appreciative way Ayla had begun to recognize.

"Apart from that," she interrupted him, hurriedly, color rushing to her cheeks.

Reuben's gaze travelled even lower, to an area on a lady's body where no decent man would dream of fixing his eyes.

"And not that, either!" Ayla added, quickly. "Especially not that!"

"You don't even know what I was going to suggest, Milady."

"Did it have something to do with finding a private room for the two of us?"

"Well, as it happens, yes."

"I thought as much."

Reuben looked at her with an expression of wounded innocence that would have broken Ayla's heart—if she hadn't known him well enough by now to know that it was a hundred per cent fake.

"You wound me, Milady," he sighed, placing his hand over his heart. "You're breaking my heart!"

Ayla felt her own heart give a painful twinge. Darn him! He was about as sincere and innocent as a devil who'd been kicked out of hell for bad behavior, but still... Those gray eyes of his burned their way into her very soul.

"You wouldn't make this little sacrifice to keep me safe at your side?" His voice was rough, demanding, and yet velvety at the same time. A voice capable of convincing you of anything. "Even with my very life at stake?"

Ayla felt her body quiver. Oh, what the heck! Why not just do it? His arms encircled her, and they felt so wonderful. His hard chest pressing into her made her blood boil! She wanted to be closer still, with nothing to separate the two of them. And if she did it, if she succumbed, he would stay... He would be safe, with her...

"Trust me," he growled into her ear. "It's a very small sacrifice. And the reward..." Drawing her closer towards him, he thrust his pelvis towards her and Ayla felt something hard that wasn't, she was quite sure, a part of his armor. "The Reward is very great."

The blood drained from Ayla's face. Mary mother of God! What had she been about to do?

"N-no!"

Reuben's look changed. Where a moment ago, he had looked devilishly seductive, he now looked slightly hurt.

"It really is, you know," he assured her, his tone slightly miffed. "I can show you, if you want to—"

"No! That's not what I mean!" she interrupted him hurriedly. The color returned to her face in a rush of red. Quickly, she looked around to see if anyone was in hearing distance. It didn't look like it, and everyone was too busy to listen anyway, but she lowered her voice in any case, just in case God or a few of his angels were keeping a wary ear on her. "Don't you dare show me... that! I didn't mean what you thought I meant! I meant to say I cannot do what you want. I can't let you fall into the sin of lust."

"And what if I want to fall into the sin of lust?" he enquired, his eyes scorching. His hands slid up her sides suggestively. "I'm sure with you, I'd have a very soft, pleasurable landing."

Ayla scrambled for an answer. But most of her religious education had focused on how not to sin. Nobody had ever mentioned what to do if you actually wanted to sin. Besides, Reuben's hands on her were rather distracting...

"Th-then that's very bad," she finally mumbled, unable to turn from his fiery gaze. "And you should repent as soon as possible."

"Repent of wanting you, Milady?" He smirked. "Never."

"Sir Reuben?"

The guard's voice made Ayla jump. She tried to stumble back, to wriggle out of Reuben's arms, to do anything to make it not quite so obvious she was being touched by a man in a way no proper maiden should let herself be touched. But Reuben's grip around her was like a vice of iron. Part of her was actually glad for that. She didn't want to be parted from him a second sooner than she had to. Still, she felt embarrassment burn in her as Reuben turned towards the man who had spoken, holding her still firmly in his muscular arms.

"Yes?" he said, and there was more threat in that single word than in a hundred Imperial declarations of war.

The guard paled, and made a point of not looking at Ayla.

"Um... the smith sent me to tell you that the arrows have been modified according to your wishes, Sir."

"I see. Now piss off."

Reuben turned his face back to Ayla again, and her heart lurched at seeing how the glare on his face melted away, turning into something deeper, and more intimate.

The guard cleared his throat. Slowly, Reuben turned back, the glare back in full force.

"What part of 'piss off' was too complicated for you to understand?"

"None, Sir! I understand completely, Sir. I only wished to add that I was also sent to tell you that your horse is saddled, and the garments you wished for are prepared. Everything is ready, Sir."

"Is that so?"

Pain shot through Ayla as she felt Reuben's stance change subtly. He was suddenly more erect, more tense—not the sweet, if sinful man of a moment ago but a war machine, ready for battle. His arms loosened and let her go, and Ayla felt as if her very soul had been torn from her. Agonized, she watched him step back, his eyes growing hard and dangerous.

"Please," she whispered. "Please don't go."

His eyes remained hard.

"I have to."

"What if I..." she began, then hesitant, hovering on the edge of blurting out the offer that, a moment ago, she had rejected with vehemence.

A hint of a smile played around the corners of Reuben's mouth. He seemed to read what was in her mind in her eyes.

"Not even then, Milady."

"But you said... You said you would stay if I... You... you were toying with me?" she gasped, outraged.

"Oh no. I really wanted to get you on your back. I just would have gone afterwards anyway."

Ayla felt anger surge up inside her—and love. And desperation. And more love, a lot of love. By the apostles, how was it possible to feel such a mix of emotions for a single man? "You..." she seethed, "you are..."

"A soulless bastard with the empathic capacity of a dung-beetle?" Reuben suggested.

"No! Even dung-beetles have a sense of decency!"

"Probably."

"Do be careful, will you?" she pleaded, her eyes saying I love you. She didn't know if her heart was strong enough to say it out loud right now, when she might never see him again.

"You mean I'm not supposed to try and kill the Margrave's entire army all on my own?" he asked, his eyes saying I love you too. Or at least she hoped so.

"Be serious Reuben," she implored him, her voice small.

He gave her his most evil, frightening devil's grin. "Who says I'm joking?"

The soft noises of a horse's hooves came out of the darkness. Theoderich approached, leading Satan by the reins.

Ayla wanted so much to rush forward, to hug Reuben one last time, to kiss him, to hold him in unbreakable chains. But he just turned and marched towards his infernal horse. Swinging himself into the saddle, he whirled Satan around until he was facing the gatehouse, the stallion's hooves plowing the air.

"Open the gates!" he called.

The creek of the portcullis lifting was like the noise of a coffin lid to Ayla, burying all her hopes and dreams.

"Follow me!" Reuben called to a group of men who had assembled around the courtyard, all grim-faced, mounted on horses and armed with bows. Then he turned his horse and gave him the spurs. "Hüa, Satan! To war and victory!"

Burning red like a witches' pyre in the darkness, he shot forward on Satan's back and passed underneath the archway out into the night.

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Greetings!

No time for an author's note today! Have to try to figure out details about the Storm & Silence publishing ;-)

Farewell

Sir Rob