“I forgot to have the boy relay something to my brother.”
He didn’t trust the woman, but he did know from Royce that her brother was cruel. Thomas closed the door without saying any more.
†††
Fog surrounded Brithwin’s mind. Where was she that steady bouncing pummeled her? Every muscle in her body screamed out. She pried her eyes open. Forest trees, bushes, and ground moved beneath her. It all came back—going to meet Royce; the attackers; trying to flee; falling from the horse. She closed her eyes. She did not know these men. Whoever they were, they intended no good will toward her.
Clarice. Did they have her, too?
She must ensure they continued to believe her unconscious. At least until she could decide what to do. She listened for the lilt of a female voice among the low rumble of men’s conversations ahead and horses’ hooves crunching on leaves beneath. No sounds came from behind her. With luck they pulled up the rear. Perhaps being in back would work to her advantage. The knife Royce had given her, she carried tied to her calf.
If she could reach her knife, she could wound her captor, push him from the horse, turn the beast around, and flee. It was her only hope. Her chances of success were not good against a band of men, but she would not go with them willingly. Not knowing their destination, she had better act soon—she may never have another chance.
Planning her escape, she remained slumped sidesaddle in front of her captor with her hands dangling beside her legs. His arm clamped around her, keeping her from tumbling to the ground.
Slowly, she slid her hand to her leg and the concealed knife. The weapon pulled out effortlessly. Hiding it in the folds of her gown, she took a deep breath. Her heart thundered so violently, her ears pulsed with the sound. She tightened her grip on the knife. Thomas said her self-preservation had kept her alive all these years. She would use it now, for she was not a simpering female who would surrender in the face of danger—especially not when happiness was almost within her grasp.
Royce was a good man and she carried his babe in her womb, and a strong, fierce love grew within her daily for them both. She had the father she’d always wanted in Pater, who loved her. She would not let these brigands take away those things without a fight.
Lifting her body to an upright position, she slid the knife along her leg, keeping it hidden in the fold of her gown.
“You are awake.” He loosened his grip around her waist.
“Where do you take me?” She would not turn and look at him. It was best not to see the face of the man she would stab.
“No crying or swooning?”
She straightened her back. “I asked you a question. I would like an answer.”
He laughed. “Very well. I take you to Rosen Craig.”
She headed to Royce’s family castle. His men must have rescued her while she lay unconscious. “Is Royce coming there also?”
“I suspect he will show shortly.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed. “How did you find me?”
He leaned forward and she could smell his foul breath. “Clarice brought you to us.”
“She did? Then why do we go to Rosen Craig?”
“Where else would we go?” He whispered in her ear.
“Back to Hawkwood.”
He harrumphed. “I do not wish an early death—for me anyway.”
She turned to look at him. “Who are you?”
“Why, milady, I thought you knew. I am Edmond,” he grinned at her, “at your service.”
She gasped when his name rolled off his lips. He had taken Pater. A foreboding shiver crept up her spine. Now he took her to lure Royce into a trap.
Fire surged through her body. She jerked the knife from beneath her gown and plunged it into his thigh. He grunted, and before he could move, she wrenched the knife out and thrust it into his arm.
Knowing she had but one chance to escape, she shoved her hands against his chest. He didn’t budge. Her stomach lurched—she had underestimated his strength. A murderous look shone from his eyes. He raised his hand and brought it crashing on to the side of her head. Arrows of pain dug into her senses. The knife fell from her hand. A second blow landed. She could taste blood, and then blackness crept in.
Chapter 28
Two days of hard riding and searching turned up nothing. Royce had covered every trail and road, spoken to anyone in a field he passed by, and no one had seen any sign of Pater. Had Edmond sent them on a false trail? Royce began to believe that was the truth of things, and he and his men had lost valuable time because of it. With no other leads, they pressed onward.
If only there was a way around telling Brithwin. The news would crush her. She often kept a facade of bravery, but he saw through it. Sometimes he wished he didn’t. But this time was different. When she’d discovered Pater had been taken, the sadness, anxiety, and fear he’d witnessed in her tore at his heart. He wanted to wrap her tightly in his arms and comfort her. She had faced so much of late.
Royce would do anything to take away the pain she tried to hide. Anything but tell her how he felt. If he could simply harden his heart to her—but it was too late for that. He loved her. He would give his life for Brithwin, yet he couldn’t tell her. The sorrow she now faced lay on his shoulders. The risk to her was too great, and he could not bear it if the same fate fell upon her as had fallen upon his family. No, he could never tell her how he felt. It was something he would take to his grave to keep her safe. By denying himself, perhaps he could appease an angry God.
Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over at Jarren riding beside him, watching him.
Jarren raised his brows. “You look deep in thought.”
“There is much to think about. You have said nothing to me, but I know you, Jarren. You have come to the same conclusion I have.”
“Ah, you mean they have led us on a merry chase?”
Royce nodded his head. “They are gone now to wherever they had planned to go. And we have no way of knowing where.”
Jarren stood in his stirrups and stretched. “Methinks you are right.”
“It is time to put our heads together.” Royce met his gaze. “And catch Edmond at his own game.”
Jarren dropped back in his saddle. “How is it you think to catch him when we do not know where he is?”
“I do not know…yet.” He shrugged. “But I will find him, and we will flush him out.”
Royce and his friend again fell silent. They continued their ride until the sun lowered in the sky.
“’Tis getting late, Royce. We would do well to find a place to spend the night.”
“We passed a stream in these woods our first time through here. ’Tis not far.” He looked up at the sky. “Looks like fair weather.”
“And I am thankful.”
When they reached the stream, the men watered their horses and set up camp. Royce yanked out a handful of grass and rubbed down Shadowmere.
Jarren had finished assigning the watches for the night and walked over. “It’s meager provisions we have left, and ’tis too late to hunt.”
Royce tossed down the grass and sat on a fallen log. “We will be home on the morrow. What we have will get us by.”
When they had finished eating the hard meat and stale bread, Royce made his bed near a tree where the grass was soft. The dew had fallen, leaving his clothes damp. Lacing his hands behind his head, he listened to the low murmur of the men. An owl hooted in a nearby tree, and the crickets chirped their evening songs. In the distance, the haunting sound of a wolf reached his ears. The flames from the fire danced and flickered to the night breeze that brought the acrid smoke to his nostrils. He closed his eyes. He needed sleep tonight.
Royce woke long before the sun rose with such an urgency to return that he awakened the men and hurried on to Hawkwood. The weather continued in their favor, and just as the sun peeked over the horizon, they entered the gates.
“We’ve made good time.” Royce glanced over as Jarren pulled up beside him.
“Aye, I just wish we returned with good news.”
Royce nudged his horse into a canter, Jarren’s words sobering him. The news would be hard for Brithwin.
As he entered the bailey, utter chaos surrounded him. The men looked ready to do battle. The turmoil affected even Shadowmere, who danced nervously, pawing the ground.
“’Tis all right.” Royce patted his neck.
“Thank God, you are here.” Dark shadows circled beneath Thomas’s eyes.
“What is amiss? It looks as if we are ready to meet the enemy.”
“Come into the castle where it is quiet, and we can talk.” Thomas walked away without waiting.
Royce dismounted and threw the reins to a knight. Hurrying up the steps and into the hall, he found Thomas pacing.
“Why the uproar?”
Worry lines etched Thomas’s brow. He stood tense, his hands balled into fists. “Milady’s been kidnapped.”
“What!” Royce bellowed. “Who has her?” He knew the answer to that. “How and when did they get to her?”
Royce approached Thomas like a lion to its prey.
Thomas stood his ground. “She was taken yesterday. We do not know who, but we know from where.”
Royce pinned Thomas against the wall, nose to nose. “She has been gone for a day and you are just going out to find her? What kind of knight are you?” He drove his fist into Thomas’s jaw with a sickening, satisfying thud.
Thomas shoved him away and wiped the blood from his mouth. “Clarice and my lady left around the noon hour. When we realized they were not inside the castle walls, we went looking for them. We found Clarice, but they had separated the women, and when we went into the woods in search of milady, we could see nothing. We returned to Hawkwood so we could leave this morning before sunrise.”
Royce spun around and slammed his fist into the table sending a heavy thud through the room. He shook his aching fist. “It was Edmond, and it is me he wants. He gets to me through Brithwin.” He grabbed a goblet from the table and flung it against the wall. Wood splintered and the liquid drained down. Servants scurried to clean up the mess. “We must go now. I will make Edmond pay for what he has done.”
Returning to his men, he cleared his throat and stood. “If any have not yet heard, the Lady of Rosen Craig has been taken. We depart now to bring my lady home.”
They had not traveled far when Royce put up his hand to stop the men. A horse and rider barreled across the field toward them. The rider appeared young, a boy perhaps. He continued to observe the rider as he drew near and recognized Lucas.
The boy pulled on the reins, and the lathered horse skidded to a stop.
What was Lucas doing on a horse? He didn’t have time to deal with the boy, but he did need to stop him from ruining a good animal. “You trying to kill that horse, boy?”
“Nay, milord.” He gasped for air. “They took milady.”
“We are looking for her now.” Royce nudged his horse to move forward.
“But milord”—Lucas gasped again—“I know where they took her.”
Royce pulled on Shadowmere’s reins to stop him. The horse danced to the side in protest. “How do you know where she is?”
“I heard ‘em talkin’.” Lucas’s hand shook as he wiped the sweat off his face. “I was in the woods when they took her. I saw ’em.”
“Why did you not give this information yesternight?” He was beginning to think the boy told a tale.
“I thought she were dead when she fell off her horse, but she woke up.” Lucas’s voice trembled. “When they took milady, I followed them.”
Royce groaned. She may be hurt, and what of the babe? A fall could cause her to lose it, and she could die herself. “Where did they take her?”
“To Rosen Craig.”
Rosen Craig. They must have overpowered Lyndle, and now they held the castle. Royce took in the young lad’s weary appearance and sought to gain control over the bolts of fire shooting through his body. “Did the man have a scar on his face?”
Lucas’s eyes got big. “How did you know?”
“He is an old foe. Can you tell me anything else?”
Lucas shook his head.
“You go on to Hawkwood.” Royce slapped Lucas on the leg. “You have done well. Just be sure to see to your mount before you see to your own needs.”
Royce turned to go, but another rider barreled toward them. Skirts billowed back from the sidesaddle. He groaned. Clarice. What was the woman about? He waited for her to reach them, anxious to get on his way but wondering if she had news.
“Lord Rosen Craig, I am glad I caught you.” Clarice smiled as if all were well.
“What are you doing out of the Hawkwood gates?” Royce fought to keep from raising his voice.
“I am going with you.”
Royce turned to Patrick. “Take the boy and Clarice back to Hawkwood.”
“Nay!” Her response came out in a high-pitched scream. “I am not going back there.”
“I do not have time for this, Clarice. We know not what we go into. It could very well put you in danger. You will go back to the castle with the boy and Patrick.”
Her face reddened. “Nay! I can make my own decisions.”
Royce lashed back at her. “When you chose to stay at my demesne, you became my responsibility.”
Still on her horse, Clarice leaned over and grabbed his arm. “What of my lady? If she is hurt, I can help her. I am good with healing.”
Thomas raised his brows. “Does not a castle as large as Rosen Craig have a healer?”
“Lyndle did say Rosen Craig’s healer left when my family died.” Royce weighed the complication of bringing her against needing her skills.
Thomas leaned over and spoke for Royce’s ears only. “It would not hurt, my lord. She can be kept away until we know what is what.”
Royce shifted in his saddle. “Patrick, she is your responsibility. If she cannot keep the pace, stay with her. Lucas, return to Hawkwood, and have a care with the horse.”
Turning his attention to Jarren and Thomas, he lowered his voice. “I expect Pater is also held there. I am thinking Edmond has kidnapped Pater to use as a bribe for Rosen Craig.”
Thomas frowned. “What is this you speak?”
Royce glanced around him then locked his eyes on Thomas. “I know the truth of Pater. Let us hope Edmond does not and he only took him to draw me there. He wishes to take my life. With Rosen Craig already in his possession, when he approaches the king, he would simply need King Richard’s blessing for the transfer of ownership. Who knows what lies he would tell our king to acquire this castle.”
“The king would never give Edmond Rosen Craig,” Jarren argued.
“Edmond may have found a way to use Pater to his advantage, one that would please the king.”
Thomas frowned. “Why take Brithwin, then?”
“Edmond wants me dead. If he succeeds in that and marries her, he gives the king more reason to agree to his plan. I imagine he is covering every area he possibly can.” He gestured for the men to move out. “Remember, men, our enemy does not fight fair. Expect an ambush along the way.”
†††
The horses were lathered and tired. They couldn’t push them any farther. They needed rest. Royce rode to a small stream to water his animal. He dismounted and motioned for Jarren and Thomas to follow.
Royce leaned against a tree and folded his arms. “Rosen Craig is less than an hour’s ride.”
Thomas looked him in the eye. “What do you plan?”
Royce glanced at the two men. “I know the place they will choose to ambush us.”
Jarren pulled out his dagger, sliced a piece of cheese he had pulled from a bag, and popped the morsel in his mouth. “’Twould be safest if you stayed here while we took care of things.”
Royce let out his breath in disgust. “You insult me. Think you I would let you go without me?”
Jarren sliced another piece from the wedge. “Nay, but I do
not wish you to take unnecessary chances.”
“I will rescue my wife.”
Jarren grunted. “That is my concern—that you will worry for your wife and not yourself.”
Brithwin flashed through Royce’s mind’s eye—the last eve they had spent together as husband and wife, her unbound hair flowing to her waist, and the warmth of her soft skin against his hands.
He shook his head. Distractions at a time like this could get him killed and his men with him.
†††
Royce held up his hand before they came to the spot he felt sure the ambush would take place. “Be alert. We enter the devil’s den.”
His men answered in nods. The sky was clear, allowing the moon to shine a dim light on their path. If he hadn’t expected the attack they would be easy targets in the calmness of the night. The faint smell of smoke wafted through the air as a breeze ruffled the leaves. Edmond was foolish to have built a fire. In the distant a wolf howled. Frogs chirped, sending out a mating call from a nearby creek. A horse nickered. Chain mail clinked and leather creaked as the men moved restlessly in their saddles, waiting on an assault. Royce flexed his hand inside the smooth leather glove as he gripped the hilt of his sword. Heavy breathing filled the air as each man awaited his fate.
A horse kicked a stone and it was as if it had been a call to battle. Branches snapped and men filled the opening before them. Metal struck metal, resounding through the encroaching darkness. The occasional thud from the broadside of a sword hitting chainmail echoed in their midst. Shouts of battle and cries of the wounded rent the air.
He searched through the melee, his gaze stopping on Edmond. This would be the night that settled all—one of them would not return home.
He dug his spurs into his destrier’s flanks, and with a roar, charged toward Edmond. Shadowmere dug up the ground between them. The sounds around him faded except for steady hooves beating against the ground. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
They collided with a crash of swords that jolted his body. Edmond thrust and Royce parried, their blades connecting with equal force. For every swing and thrust of Royce’s sword, Edmond parried and swung back. The battle, begun long ago, raged on between them.
Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1) Page 27
