He was wearing what appeared to be some sort of flexible chain mail over his chest that fell almost to his knees, he held a hunter’s bow in his left hand and had a quiver strapped across his chest, the arrows apparent behind his really broad shoulders. Underneath the armor he sported a pair of tight black leggings.

The man stepped closer, his gaze dipping to her necklace, then back to her face. “’Tis unseemly to be traveling this forest alone. Where are your men? Where are your traveling trunks?”

Good question, for which she didn’t have a good answer, until she touched her neckpiece. “Oh, yes, well, they are a beat or ten behind me. I was feeling a bit restless at the plodding pace of the wagon and sporting a need for a bit of privacy. But they should be catching up shortly. Shouldn’t they?” she asked the trees. The trees above shivered, and she took that as a yes. After all, Viviane wouldn’t have sent her to this place without more than one gown, would she? And of course it would seem unimaginable for a woman to be traveling alone.

“I’m honored that you feel safety in the forests of Camelot, Countess, but even here there is danger.”

The only danger she felt at the moment was her attraction to this man. To change the subject, fast, she said, “I’m afraid, sir, that I’m at a disadvantage. You appear to know of me, you appear to have had advance warning of my pending arrival, but I know naught of you.” Isabel felt a giggle bubble in her chest and was certain its source was Viviane’s. It suddenly occurred to her that she was speaking and understanding Old English just fine. What a really cool dream this was turning out to be.

“Having a fair idea of your impending arrival time, I’ve had my men watching out for your entourage so that you would have proper escort to Camelot. Imagine my concern when news was brought to me that you appeared to be alone. And that none of your men had ridden ahead to announce you. I worried dearly that some mishap had befallen your detail.”