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Bria was so unprepared for his statement that she could not hide the affirmation written all over her face.

Harry shook his head in disapproval.

“I had to do something!” Bria objected in a low voice. “I was hoping Knowles wasn’t as bad as I was hearing.”

“He’s worse,” the merchant whispered.

Bria’s eyes shifted to the merchant as he presented her a piece of red satin.

“I’ll never grace his lands again,” the merchant continued. “His tax collectors stopped my wagon yesterday, demanding payment for my passage through their lands.”

Bria perused the short man. His black hair was creeping away from his forehead; his eyes were lined with age. He had to look up to meet her gaze.

“Now, I consider myself a very fair man, as my prices are testament.” He indicated the fabrics on the cart with a generous wave of his hand.

Bria didn’t move. “Go on.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I was ready to give my fair amount. It’s not unheard of for a lord to tax a poor merchant. After all, we’re only trying to make a living. We work as hard as any man –”

“About the tax collectors,” Bria reminded him.

“Of course. Sheriff Kenric and his men stopped me on the road and demanded payment. But what he asked was three times anything I have ever heard of! It was an outrageous amount. He might as well have stolen my entire wagon of fabrics. I usually have three or four times as much cloth. But alas, this is all I have. Sheriff Kenric took the rest as payment.”

Bria glanced at her grandfather. What Lord Knowles was doing to the people of his lands, as well as those visiting, was preposterous. Anger surged through her so fiercely that she clenched her fist around the red satin fabric.

“M’lady, please,” the merchant said gently. “The few goods I have left are quite delicate.”

Bria immediately dropped the red satin and mumbled an apology. She moved on to the next piece of fabric and her breath caught in her throat. It was a rich, luxurious black velvet. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch the fabric, which caught the light of the sun and seemed to absorb it. It was beautiful -- perfect! “Grandfather, don’t you think this is what the –” She stopped suddenly, feeling foolish about speaking of her imaginary hero in front of the merchant. “Never mind.” Though she didn’t say it, this fabric was exactly what the Midnight Shadow would wear.

Bria stroked the material lovingly, sensing something powerful in its color.

A hand seized her wrist and she glanced up into her grandfather’s intense blue eyes. “Bria,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, confused at his intensity.

“Don’t do anything rash,” he pleaded.

Bria shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.” But even as she said the words, her gaze traveled to the black velvet. Exactly what the Midnight Shadow would wear.

“Have you decided upon some fabric?” the merchant wondered.

Bria lifted her gaze to the merchant, a reply on her lips, but over the merchant’s shoulder through the inner gatehouse, she spotted a tall man with hair as black as the witching hour moving past the opening. Was it the man she’d seen in the courtyard the previous night? She dropped the black velvet back onto the cart. She wanted to have a few words with the man for arriving at such a rude late hour. “Excuse me,” she muttered and moved quickly toward the gatehouse.

“Bria!” her grandfather called after her.

She raced after the dark-haired stranger, feeling the need to explain to him why it wasn’t good manners to arrive so late and, in doing so, discourage him from seeking her hand. She agilely dodged the other merchants in the outer ward.

She skidded to a halt just inside the inner ward, looking first left, then right. The courtyard was packed with peasants and knights come to see what the merchants were selling.

Bria exhaled sharply, thinking she’d lost him. But then the man revealed himself, rising from a bent position. He was tall, Bria realized, a good head above the tallest man in the crowd.

That did not dissuade her from her mission. Bria followed him as he continued into the inner ward toward the keep, skirting the crowd. She kept her gaze on him so as not to lose sight of him, though it would have been difficult to do so. As he moved through the ward, Bria noticed his confident gait, as if he were used to getting what he wanted. Well, she thought, this was one woman who would sorely disappoint him.

She followed, studying his back. His shoulders were broad. He was probably a warrior.

Bria almost slammed into a woman carrying a basket of eggs, but she dodged to the left and moved around her.

The man paused to speak with another man, a peasant by the looks of his brown tunic and breeches frayed around the ankles. Bria tried to see the visitor’s face when he glanced back toward the open gatehouse, but he turned away from her to the peasant, giving her only a teasing glimpse of his tanned skin. Then he continued into the keep.