Marcus’s gaze swept over her soft, determined features. He nodded. He bent and picked up a branch. What to write? He wanted to write “‘I love you.’” But he wasn’t certain how she would react. He could pick words that were difficult to figure out or words that were simple. He hesitated, staring at the stick. There was still an assassin out there looking for the book. It would be dangerous for Sage to come into the town with him.
He wrote on the ground, read the words, and then nodded.
The sky is blue.
Sage gazed down at the words for a long moment.
Marcus tossed the stick aside and waited.
“The,” Sage proclaimed, reading the word.
Marcus knew she knew that word.
Her lips moved as she sounded the second word out. “Sky.”
He nodded.
“Is,” she read. “The sky is.”
She could read. He was right. He couldn’t help the feelings of pride and admiration swelling in his chest.
Her lips formed the word as she sounded the last one out.
It was simple. Logical. All she had to do was read the first three letters, and she would know the word. She would wait here for him. Relief swept over him. At least, he wouldn’t have to worry about her. He could concentrate on getting rid of the book.
She grimaced, her lips silently creating the sounds. “Bl-E?” she said. “Bleh?” She shook her head and turned to face him. “I can’t read it. I don’t know what it says.”
Shocked, Marcus gaped at her. He was positive she knew the word. He closed his mouth. “You know what that word is.”
“No,” she insisted.
But he saw the mischief in her eyes. “Sage,” he pleaded. “I’m doing this for your safety.”
“And I want to come for yours,” she insisted. “Your cousin doesn’t know about me. I can watch your back!”
“But the assassin does,” Marcus said firmly. “It will be all I can do to keep myself safe. I don’t want to be distracted by you.”
Sage looked torn.
Marcus stepped up to her and cupped her face in his hands. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back, and we can discuss finding your family.”
Sage glanced down. “I didn’t decode the book,” she said softly.
“It doesn’t matter,” Marcus admitted. “My treasure is right here.” He slowly lowered his lips to hers, relishing the feel of her kiss, her tongue, her skin.
When he pulled back, she said, “I could have done it. I know it. If I had one more day, I’m certain I could have decoded the book.”
“I have no doubt you could do it if you had the time. It’s a complicated process.”
“I can pick locks. I can open doors. But this...this was the biggest challenge of my life. I wish I could finish it.”
“I do, too,” he confessed and meant it. He stepped away from her, bending to pick up the book. He looked at it for a moment. “You did your best. Perchance it was not meant for us to know what is inside.”
Sage scoffed. “Every secret is meant to be discovered.”
“Either way…” He moved to place the book in one of the bags hanging from his horse.
“Wait!” Sage cried. She took the book from his hands and opened it to the last page, where the parchment pages were tucked away. She removed those and handed the book back to him. “I’m not letting your cousin get anything we’ve worked on.”
Marcus nodded and continued to put the book into the saddlebag.
Sage folded the parchment and slipped it into her boot. Then, she watched him for a moment and lifted her chin. She walked to her horse, putting the saddle on.
“What are you doing?” Marcus asked.
“I’m not waiting here,” she insisted.
“Sage,” Marcus growled.
“I’ll accompany you to the edge of town, but I won’t go in. I’ll wait outside.” She paused, tightening the buckles of the saddle before looking around at the forest. “I’m not staying here alone.”
Marcus glanced at the trees and the bushes. Perhaps that was a wise choice. He wasn’t certain that the last assassin wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby. Or that there weren’t others looking for them. And he didn’t want to put Sage at any risk. He sighed softly and nodded.
As they approached Les Labadous, Marcus heard the shouts of the merchants down the road. He had visited long ago with Guillume. It was a peaceful town nestled amongst trees. Many traders stopped there on their way to the village of Rennes le Chateau and the citadel. It was here Guillume had promised to meet him when he got the book. Marcus couldn’t help feeling disappointed in himself. He had meant to decode the book, and they were close, he could feel it. But he hadn’t done it.
There were people all around, traveling in and out of the town. An assassin would not attempt anything out in the open.
Marcus looked over his shoulder at Sage. She glanced around at the surrounding grassy field. He watched her for a moment. The sun shone down on her shoulders. The ends of her short brown locks were beginning to curl. His heart ached. He drew his horse to a halt.
Sage’s horse stopped, and she shifted to him.
“We’re here,” Marcus announced.
She scanned the road toward the town. “Can I wait at the inn to get some ale?”
Marcus patted one of the saddlebags. “If you’re thirsty, we have ale.”
She swiveled her gaze to the town again. Worry creased her brow. “I think I should go with you.”
“Sage,” Marcus warned in a low voice. “There’s no reason for you to come with me. I will give the book to Guillume and meet you back here. Nothing will happen.”
She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Her horse danced beneath her anxiously.
Marcus urged his horse beside hers. “It will be well. You’ll see.” With a spur, he drove his horse down the road. “I will be back.”
He rode forward, casting one last look back at her. She sat on her horse, watching him with apprehension beneath the leaves of a tree. He half waved.
She didn’t move.
He quickly looked ahead. He didn’t like leaving her. But this would all be over as soon as he rid himself of this book. The faster, the better. Then he could return to her. He cantered his horse into the town.
As he entered, merchants called out to the patrons.
“A candle that will last a fortnight!” a woman, with dark hair and a stained apron, exclaimed from her position behind a small stand.
“The sweetest bread you’ve ever tasted!” a fat man, with crumbs in his dark beard, proclaimed from the doorway of a shop.
The well-trodden dirt street was crowded. Farmers strolled past him, carrying baskets of vegetables. A child dodged through the legs of people, chasing a duck. A woman shouted a name from the doorway of a wattle and daub house.
Marcus scanned the road and houses lining it. He didn’t see any sign of guards or assassins or Templar knights. He had been watchful ever since they left the cave, searching for the last assassin.
Now, he recalled how he and Guillume used to play knights in the field beside the inn, the inn where he was now heading to meet his cousin. When they were children, Guillume had to be the one to find the treasure. Once, Guillume wouldn’t play with him for days after Marcus had defeated him in mock battle.
Guillume always had to win.
Prickles danced up Marcus’s arms even though the sun was warm. His instincts had told him not to tell Guillume about Rose. And he had followed those instincts without really knowing why. Unease spread through him. He rode through the throng of villagers and merchants, scanning the surrounding area.
The sounds of the merchants faded, and the street emptied of people as he rode down the street. He past cottages and farms. He was approaching the outskirts of the town. Marcus saw the inn in the distance. A one-story wooden structure. The Dragon’s Den.
He examined the area as he approached, looking for anything unusual. Anxiety tightened the muscles in his back. Marcus cur
sed silently. What was he worried about? Nothing was going to happen. He was going to give the book to Guillume, get his payment, and leave. That was it. But why were his fists clenched around the reins? Why was he tense with warning? It must be because Sage had put thoughts in his mind—thoughts about Guillume hiring men to kill him. It had tainted his thoughts about his cousin.
He continued to the inn. But his mind wandered back to Sage, waiting patiently for him outside the town. And then, he realized his mistake. The Sage he knew would never wait patiently for anything. He shifted in the saddle to look over his shoulder, half-expecting to find her on the road behind him.
The road was empty.
He considered returning to make sure she was safe but then decided otherwise. He had to finish his task. Once he was no longer in possession of the book, it would be over, and they would be free and safe from the assassin.
He led his horse around the back of the inn. As soon as he turned the corner, he saw a white horse tied to a tree’s branch in the back. He glanced at the stable across the yard from the inn. It had a roof to shelter the animals, but the side was open. There were horses in the stables, but he would never be able to tell if they belonged to an assassin or other patrons in the inn.
He brought his horse to a tree next to the white horse and dismounted. He wrapped the reins around a branch, scanning the area for others. Guillume must be inside waiting. His gaze lingered on the stables. There were plenty of dark spaces for an assassin to hide in. His stare centered on the stables. Unease crawled up his spine. Something didn’t feel quite right.
He reached into one of the saddlebags and pulled out the book. He cast another glance at the stables. Trepidation filled him, yet he resolvedly walked toward the inn door.
As he approached, the door suddenly flung open.
Marcus pulled back, his hand instinctively going to the pommel of his sword, his body tensing. A man with dark bowl-cut hair stepped from the inn. His mustache drooped over his pointed beard. Marcus relaxed.
“Guillume,” he whispered.
Chapter 22
Sage watched until Marcus disappeared into the crowd of people. She waited until she could no longer see him, and then she waited for one moment more. She took a deep, determined breath and spurred her horse into a slow walk. She wasn’t going to sit outside and wait until he returned. She had to be there in case he needed her. In case something went wrong. She hoped nothing did. But, as her father always said, it never hurt to have a second plan.
Once inside, she was engulfed in a sea of merchants and farmers moving about their daily business. She didn’t like the crowd and quickly veered off to a side street, steering her steed around the cottages to the empty fields behind them. Many fields had already been harvested.
She knew Marcus was heading to the inn on the outskirts of the town. She rode on slowly. The farther she went, the more cautious she became. She saw farmers working in the field as she passed. One stopped to look at her as he wiped his brow.
She rode closer to him. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where the inn is?”
The farmer pointed east and closer to the main road.
Sage nodded her thanks. “Be careful. You don’t want your skin to blister from the sun.”
He grunted. “And you be careful. There’s an empty barn down there.” He indicated the direction she was traveling. “It’s haunted.”
Sage grinned and urged her horse on. She didn’t believe in ghosts. But she did believe a barn said to be haunted would make a perfect hiding place for an assassin. She looked for the structure as she rode, scanning the fields and forest edge.
As she continued riding, she heard a distant name called. She looked toward the voice. A woman stood in one of the fields, yelling to a farmer. Birds chirped from the forest.
Sage moved around the fields, careful not to let her horse trample what little crops remained. She urged the horse into a canter. She felt a growing urgency to find Marcus.
She saw the barn to her left. It appeared to be a dilapidated wooden structure. Maybe it was once used to house animals, or as a place to store crops. Part of the roof was collapsed, and weeds grew wild around it. She wished she had time to search it, but she wanted to make sure Marcus was safe.
She continued by toward the direction the farmer had directed until she saw the inn.
“Marcus,” Guillume greeted. “Where have you been? You are late.”
“Assassins attacked me,” Marcus replied. He was happy to see Guillume. Relief swept through him. No more assassins. No more book. He held his hand out to greet his cousin. “Good to see you, cousin.”
Guillume’s eyes swept Marcus, lingering hungrily on the book for a moment, and then he clasped his arm warmly. “Apparently, the assassins were not too good.”
Marcus lifted his chin. “Or I’ve improved.”
Guillume chuckled. “Against four assassins? I don’t think you are that skilled.” He stepped into the yard, placing an arm about Marcus’s shoulders.
Anxiety shot through Marcus. How had Guillume known there were four assassins?
Two men exited the inn, walking past them toward the stables.
Marcus turned to watch them cross the yard.
“I see you have acquired the book,” Guillume said, drawing Marcus’s attention. “Well done.”
“It’s in code,” Marcus explained. “What is in the book?”
Guillume shrugged. “I won’t know until it is decoded.”
Marcus scowled. “Then why send me after it? How did you know it was important?”
Guillume slapped Marcus on the shoulder. “You always had too many questions for your own good. It is better you do not know.” He held his hand out palm up for the book. “Just know that it is important.”
Marcus looked at his cousin’s open hand and gave him the book without hesitation.
Guillume’s fingers wrapped around the leather cover, and he stroked it victoriously.
Marcus glanced at the stables to see two others had joined the two men who had passed them. Where had these men come from? Were they hiding in the stables as he had presumed?
“Marcus,” Guillume said, opening the book and perusing the pages. “I am grateful you found this. When I received word you had found it, my joy was unequaled.”
“We are family, Guill. Of course, I would do this for you. Did you doubt me?”
“I didn’t think you would be successful.”
The remark wounded Marcus. He had risked his life for that book.
Guillume stared at him for a long moment. “When I was tasked with finding this book, I debated giving the responsibility to you.”
Marcus felt a twinge of hurt burn through his chest but then realized that Guillume always spoke to him like this, in a degrading way. Always making himself seem better than Marcus.
“But in the end, I decided you were the perfect one. No real friends. No family ties. No connections.” Guillume took a step away from him. “And yes, you are technically family. But sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the good of all.”
Marcus frowned. What was he talking about? He didn’t like the way Guillume spoke. “We are more than just family. We are friends.”
The four men moved toward Marcus across the yard.
“Friends?” Guillume asked, his eyebrows raising. “We have never been friends.”
Stunned, Marcus gaped at him. “We went to school together. We trained together. We were inseparable.”
“Inseparable? Lord! What I wouldn’t have done to get rid of you. I was tolerant of you because you are family. You are weak and unambitious. But you served your purpose.”
Purpose? Dread spread through Marcus. “What purpose?”
Guillume held the book up in front of him. “This purpose.”
Disbelief washed through Marcus. Guillume had used him to get the book. He had played on his loyalty and blood ties. Marcus had defended him from everyone’s accusations.
And he had been wrong.
<
br /> Now everything was clear to him. “You sent the assassins.”
Guillume tilted his head in sympathy. “Imagine my surprise when you defeated them.” He glanced at the four men approaching. “But you will not escape trained soldiers.”
“Why? Why are you doing this? I gave you what you wanted. You have the book.”
“There are others looking for this book, and no one can know that I have it. There can be no witnesses,” Guillume answered coldly. “Not even family.”
Marcus’s teeth clenched. Betrayed. Deceived by the one person he thought he could count on. By his family. Over a damned book that he couldn’t even decipher. He stumbled back.
Movement near the side of the inn caught his attention. He saw Sage peering around the corner of the inn. Although he saw her from where he stood, the soldiers closing in could not. Sage! What was she doing here?
Desperation flooded through Marcus. She would be hurt. He would not sacrifice her. He shook his head slightly, signaling her to stay back.
Her hand went to her sword.
No, no, no! She was going to fight. His insides tightened with fear and anxiety. He couldn’t risk her life. Not again.
Guillume reached for his weapon.
Marcus glanced at him. He still held that damned black book tightly. The only thing important to Guillume—more important than his own family.
Anger surged through Marcus, and he rushed toward Guillume, grasping the book. He ripped it free of Guillume’s startled hold and launched it into the air toward Sage, yelling, “Run!”
Chapter 23
The treasured book flew end over end through the air.
Guillume’s gaze followed the path of Marcus’s toss.
The soldiers watched the book sail above their heads.
Sage caught the book. Marcus’s shout rang in her ears. Run! Her chest squeezed, and agony clawed at her as she shook her head to deny his request. Everyone was looking at her.
For a moment, no one moved. Marcus all but shook with intensity as he stared at her in despair. Then he moved, surging toward her. The soldiers caught his arms before he could take more than a step, restraining him.
Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades Page 14
