by Byrne, Julia
She looked up into Beaudene’s grim face and said the first thing that came to her mind.
“Why were you in the stable at that hour?”
He withdrew his hand and shoved the rope back out of sight. “To collect these,” he said, indicating his packs. “When I crossed the bailey I saw someone outside the stable and wondered at it. If I’d known ’twas Rouget I would have moved faster.”
Nell mulled that over. “Well, you were in time. ’Tis all that matters.”
“I commend your equanimity, lady.”
“I don’t believe in gnashing my teeth over something that’s done with and past,” she retorted, detecting sarcasm. “At least… Will trouble follow you for killing that man? You said he knew about the stallion. He must have been told…”
She let the words trail off. Even with the evidence of the cut rope, ’twas hard to admit aloud that her own family had conspired to injure or kill her because she wouldn’t fall in with their plans.
Beaudene shrugged. “There’ll be no hue and cry over Rouget’s death. The man was gaining a reputation. He was a good soldier when I knew him, but, of late, whenever he was around, people who were an inconvenience to someone conveniently turned up dead. I doubt your uncle will confess to admitting such a man to his castle. He’ll probably spin the same tale of attempted thievery that you were anxious to believe.”
“But won’t they know? I mean, won’t they know that we know? Uh…”
Beaudene laughed and leaned over to smack Rufus on the rump. He nudged Samson into a fast trot at the same time. “Don’t tie your tongue in a knot, princess. I know what you mean. But whatever your uncle suspects we know, he or your cousin will come after us. ’Tis the only way they can cover their backs. I warrant they’ve already put it about that you’ve been kidnapped, or, more likely, run off with me.”
“Run off with you? For love of the saints! I only met you last night!”
“So?” His eyes were suddenly narrowed and glittering, his mouth grim. “Was every gallant you were cozying up to at that banquet a lifelong acquaintance?”
The question was flung at her so abruptly, his amusement gone so swiftly, Nell had no time to marshal any defense. Shaken, dismayed at how badly she wanted to defend herself, she could only let the storm break over her head.
“Of course they were not. Nor did it seem to matter to you. Hell’s teeth! I even heard wagers running as to how long ’twould take a man to get you or Lady Margaret alone in a dim corner, or whether that was the night fortune would smile on one of them because you might feel like a change of lover!”
And with that, Samson bounded forward under the sudden command of a booted foot.
They didn’t speak again for several miles. Nell stared stonily ahead and told herself she didn’t care that Beaudene thought ill of her. She didn’t want to explain. She didn’t want to protest that he was wrong, that she had pretended to be like her dissolute family in order to protect herself, that she had let him carry her off last night because the strain of juggling men and lies and pretense, while clinging desperately to her own truth, had brought her almost to breaking-point. He would never believe her.
Besides, she had deliberately fostered his low opinion of her. ’Twas supposed to be her protection. Wasn’t it?
Nell shook her head. The problem was becoming too complicated to solve on an empty stomach. In truth, hunger was probably the cause of the hollow feeling gripping her insides since Beaudene had called her princess again and flung those disgusting wagers in her face as if she’d entered wholeheartedly into the business.
An angry protest rose in her throat. She tried to stifle it, but Beaudene glanced around, his gaze hard.
“Don’t fall back any further, princess. We need to put a few more miles behind us before we stop to rest the horses.”
“I wasn’t aware that I was lagging,” she said through clenched teeth. “But far be it from me to gainsay one who, I have no doubt, can travel for days without rest or sustenance other than a few hurried mouthfuls of water.”
“Stop complaining,” he ordered mildly. “I have no intention of starving you. You’d probably swoon and we’d be forever having to stop to let you recover.”
“Oh, a thousand pardons, my lord. I need food occasionally. How truly heedless. The shame of it! How will I ever hold up my head again?”
Rafe’s lips twitched. The little shrew possessed the trick of disarming him with humor when he least expected it. And, for some reason that had nothing to do with physical desire, he was letting her get away with it.
He reined Samson back until Nell came alongside, then slowed to a walk. “I’ll strike a bargain with you, lady. I won’t mention your past again, if you put a guard on that saucy tongue.”
Nell hesitated. Beaudene had spoken in a half-jesting tone, but he was proposing a truce of sorts. ’Twould be madness to refuse and spend the next few days snapping and snarling at each other. She craved peace not arguments, and he had the power to make their journey easy or difficult for her. Yet she was dithering like a fool because their bargain would be based on a lie.
“Of course, if you think that feat beyond your capabilities—”
“I accept,” she interrupted quickly. Then, unable to resist the amused smile playing about his mouth, added, “What would you do if I refused?”
His smile was suddenly very wicked and very male. “Put your tongue to better use, princess, what else?”
Nell promptly blushed a brilliant rosy hue, and the only reason she saw the puzzled frown in Beaudene’s eyes when she did so was because she was struggling to keep her gaze away from his mouth. The image evoked by his words was far too vivid for comfort. She could almost feel the brush of his lips against hers.
“Could our bargain include you ceasing to call me princess?” she managed.
“But you are like a princess,” he said softly. “Beautiful, proud, willful—recklessly so at times.” The aside was tacked on somewhat dryly. “Of course, you also want your own way, have never learnt to follow orders without argument, and complain about minor inconveniences, but—”
“Don’t get carried away here,” she muttered. For one insane moment she’d thought Beaudene was praising her. Hunger must be making her light-headed. Willfulness was not exactly a praiseworthy quality and she couldn’t possibly look beautiful after last night’s adventures.
She blushed when she remembered the way her lips had tingled at the imagined pressure of his mouth. As if he would want to kiss someone who looked as if she’d been dragged behind her horse and rolled in the mud. Besides, she didn’t want him to kiss her.
She didn’t!
Fortunately, a diversion presented itself. They emerged from the forest into a sunlit green vista. At their back and curving to the right the trees stood dark and mysterious, but ahead and to their left lay undulating hills and meadows, covered as far as the eye could see with a carpet of long grass that rippled in the breeze, swaying and springing back like the waves of an emerald sea.
The stream that had followed them through the forest, sometimes glimpsed, sometimes hidden, meandered lazily across the land to spill into a small pond before disappearing around a slight incline. Beside the pond, the branches of a solitary oak hung low over the water as though gazing at its own reflection.
“Oh! I know this place!” she cried as memory stirred within her.
Beaudene reined in. His gaze, narrowed and intent, surveyed the scene as if he was inspecting every blade of grass. His dark brows were drawn together but Nell was too excited to pay much heed to the warning sign.
“We stopped here to eat on our way to my aunt’s house ten years ago, and one of the servants allowed me to paddle in the stream. Why, that means—” She turned a delighted face to him. “The road to Wells is a mere mile or so to the west, beyond those trees.”
“That doesn’t concern us,” Beaudene answered absently, his gaze still on the land in front of them.
She took hold of her cour
age with both hands. “Well, I didn’t mention this before because we left in something of a hurry, but…I need to stop at Wells before I go on to Hadleigh.”
That got his attention. “You need to stop at Wells before you go on to Hadleigh?”
He didn’t sound receptive to the idea. In fact, he sounded downright incredulous.
Nell met his gaze with a determined look. “I wish to visit my mother’s tomb. ’Tis in the graveyard beside the cathedral.”
There was a long silence. When Beaudene finally spoke his voice was as cold and hard as water gliding over stone. “Have you forgotten, lady, that several of your male relatives are probably galloping after us right this minute? This is not the time for a detour so you can say a few sentimental prayers over your mother’s grave.”
“But I need—”
“The only thing you need to do is obey my orders. Something you seem to have a great deal of trouble with.”
“But I promised—”
“We are not going to Wells. Is that clear enough for you?”
“You don’t un—”
“Quiet!”
The furiously whispered command was accompanied by a bone-crushing grip on her wrist. Startled into silence, she saw that Beaudene was very still, his gaze searching the forest behind them.
“What is it?” she breathed.
“We’ve been followed for the past mile or so.”
“Followed?” she squeaked. “Why didn’t you say something? Why are we chatting here instead of fleeing for our lives?”
“Because whoever is pacing us is mounted and I don’t know how fresh his horse is, whereas yours is tired and can be outrun. So far, our shadow seems merely curious, but if we take off as if the devil was at our heels he might be tempted to find out why. Our best defense is to act as if we’re not worth robbing.”
His rapier-sharp gaze flicked her up and down. “You look the part, thank the saints.”
Nell wasn’t sure whether or not she’d just been insulted. She knew she wasn’t looking her best, but Beaudene could do with a bath and some clean clothes himself.
Then an idea occurred to her that rendered insults and outrage irrelevant. She looked away, afraid her face might betray her.
“’Tis as well we have to cross these open fields for a while,” he said. He released her wrist and nudged the horses forward again. “Outlaws prefer the shelter of the forest. But stay close, lady.”
Outlaws! For a second Nell quailed at what she was about to do. Then she reminded herself that she was bound by a promise to her mother made ten years ago. A promise that came before any consideration for a bodyguard of recent acquaintance who wouldn’t even listen to her.
Beaudene could look after himself, and if he objected to being left behind to cope with outlaws, mayhap ’twould teach him to be less obdurate about side-trips to Wells.
She cast a quick glance to her right, trying to estimate the distance she would have to gallop before she was out of sight. Light and shadow chased each other across the grassy hills as clouds drifted past the face of the sun and she shivered slightly. It had best be now, before she lost her nerve.
Not giving herself time for doubts, Nell wheeled her horse to the right and clapped her heels to his flanks. Rufus leapt forward as if he had just left his stable, his strides lengthening into a headlong gallop within the first few paces. A fleeting prayer of thanks for Beaudene’s insistence that she ride astride flashed through her mind and was gone.
Behind her, she heard him curse and start in pursuit, then there was nothing but her racing heart, echoing the pounding of Rufus’s hooves against the ground, and a litany of scarcely coherent thoughts.
Let him be wrong. Let him be wrong that whoever followed us will give chase. Keep him—
The prayer for Beaudene’s safety was never finished. At the edge of the forest, directly in her path, two hooded figures rose from the grass, blood-curdling yells issuing from their throats, longbows drawn and ready to fire.
Nell cried out and hauled on the reins so sharply that Rufus reared and nearly went over backward. Before she could turn him to flee back the way she’d come, the figures rushed forward until they were mere yards away. Both arrows were aimed, unwavering, at her heart.
Terrified, she turned to look for Beaudene. A flash of darkness streaked past her. Snorting and skidding back on his hocks, Samson was pulled around in a sliding halt that put him between her and danger.
But the action was only a temporary measure. Their shadow was indeed giving chase. As Beaudene reached for her bridle to pull Rufus closer, another man reined his horse in beside them.
“A chivalrous gesture, my lord,” the rider drawled, in a surprisingly cultured voice. His dark gaze went to Beaudene’s scar and lingered. “But do not try anything else heroic. We have no wish to kill your lady. At least, not unless our leader orders it.” He laughed softly.
Beaudene didn’t even glance at the man. His amber gaze was fixed on Nell’s face with such ferocity she would have fled from him as well, given the choice.
“Are you now content?” he snarled.
CHAPTER TEN
Nell huddled on a corner of the wide, blanket-covered pallet that, apart from a crudely-fashioned table, was the only piece of furniture in the hut where she and Beaudene were being held, and tried to defend her actions. ’Twas no easy task when her bodyguard was prowling around their quarters like a caged wolf.
“’Twould have happened like that anyway,” she said. “No matter which direction we’d taken.”
“It damn well would not have happened like that,” he grated. “There was only one man lying in wait in the direction we were supposed to be going. Man!” He snorted. “More like a boy. We could have ridden straight over him.”
She glared at his back. “Only to be shot by the others.”
“A toothless old man and a girl?”
“They knew what they were doing.”
“And they had a deal of assistance from you, didn’t they, princess.” He swung around to slice at her with the knife-edged anger in his eyes.
“Don’t call me that!” She leapt to her feet. “You’re blaming me for everything and if you don’t stop I’ll—”
“You’ll do nothing!” As quick as a hawk striking, Beaudene took one stride toward her, wrapped a powerful hand around her arm and pushed her back onto the pallet. He towered over her, big and menacing. “You will sit there, lady, and you will keep quiet while I try to fathom what is going on here.”
She set her lips in a mutinous line but stayed silent.
Apparently satisfied that she was going to let him think, Beaudene stalked over to the doorway and stared out. By the grim set of his profile his thoughts were not pleasant.
Beyond the doorway a boy was sitting propped against another rough dwelling, watching them. A small crossbow lay across his knees, an arrow nocked.
Nell looked away, feeling slightly sick.
The open door and one small window were the only sources of light and air in the hut, but, with Beaudene filling the doorway, very little of either was admitted. Not that it mattered. ’Twas fear that was causing her breath to hitch. Fear that kept her stomach knotted with tension. She should be feeling guilty for leading them into an ambush, but despite Beaudene’s anger at her recklessness, the frightening thought that their capture had been a little too easy kept resounding in her mind.
She cast a glance at him from the protection of her shadowy corner. Against the light he looked huge, his shoulders and back broad and hard with muscle, tapering to lean hips and long, powerful legs.
How had an old man, a girl, a boy younger than herself, and a cripple, managed to disarm him?
Of course, he hadn’t known precisely who or what their captors were until ’twas too late, Nell reminded herself.
A belated pang of guilt stabbed through her as she realized that Beaudene’s first thought was to protect her. And his anger at their predicament seemed genuine enough.
But as her tense muscles began to relax, she caught sight of his packs just inside the door and doubt pulled her nerves taut again. Their horses were tethered somewhere, and Beaudene’s sword and dagger taken, but everything else was intact. They hadn’t been searched for money or jewels.
Something was very wrong.
“We could try to escape,” she suggested, even as dread wrapped icy fingers around her throat. She didn’t even know where they were, let alone which direction they should take.
He shot her a quick, lowering glance, then jerked his head toward the boy watching them. “Do you expect me to kill our watchdog? He’s a child.”
Another aeon of silence dragged past.
“Why do you suppose they haven’t robbed us?” she asked, unable to bear the sound of her heartbeat any longer. “’Tis almost as if we’re…guests.”
“You’d better pray that is truer than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Just an idea. If I’m wrong we’re in a lot of trouble, thanks—”
“To me,” she finished for him. When he turned to face her she wished she’d stayed silent.
“Enlighten me,” he said far too softly. “How far did you think you would get alone?”
The tightly coiled tension in Nell snapped without warning. “All the way to Wells!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “And, what’s more, I still intend—”
Her words were cut off when Beaudene strode forward, wrapped his hands around her arms, yanked her against him, and brought his mouth down on hers.
It was anger, pure and simple. She could only stand there while the storm raged around her, her mouth crushed beneath the force of his, her senses stunned. She couldn’t even feel. Her body was numb with shock.
When he lifted his head, only the relentless grip he kept on her arms prevented her from dropping straight to the floor.
“Do you know how close you came to being killed today? Do you?” His words battered at her senses just as his kiss had done. “God damn it to the pit, Nell, if you ever—”
“But I promised!” The desperate cry came from her heart. “You don’t understand.”
