She let out a laugh, descending from the tree. “End your life? You, sir, were merely in the way of my arrow. I would have brought down that buck if you had not scared it away with your loud traipsing through the trees. Now my family will be forced to go hungry for yet another day. So I thank you… you and your overly loud mates.” She jumped the remaining distance to the ground then dusted the tree litter from her ill-fitting boy’s hose. She rose to her full height, nearly measuring up to the man standing in front of her.
He didn’t wear the King’s Guard uniform as the others in his party did, but donned loose riding breeches paired with well-constructed boots and a matching doublet with the finest detailing she’d ever seen. Deep greens and rich blues intermingled in various swirls and frills amongst the soft, blackened leather. Only the finest threads for the finest of men. He was the one she needed to kill.
And she’d missed.
Cate clenched her jaw, unwilling to reveal the panic seeping to the surface of her bold façade. The nobleman was handsome, she’d give him that, but his eyes concerned her. Between the deeply furrowed brow and the way his glances jetted about her body, she knew he judged her just as she did him.
“Hunting is not permitted on this side of the forest.”
He was testing her.
“Forgive me, as I do not believe the deer would heed the King’s boundaries. Since my hunting has ended, I must be returning home, as my father expects me soon. Good day, gentlemen.” She gave a slight courteous bow before turning on her heels intending to disappear back into the trees. No sooner had she stepped from the road when the familiar voice of one of her men echoed on the wind.
“Hold.”
Cate paused, her eyes drifting to the small dagger tucked securely in her boot.
“What is your name?”
She turned toward the man and cracked a smile. “Catherine, my lord.” She bowed slightly, assuming from his fine clothing he was of noble birth. She mustn’t forget formalities.
“Take care, Catherine. There is danger afoot in this wood. You should not stray so far from your village.”
“Thank you, my lord, for the kind words. I assure you I will heed your advice.” A stray lock of dark hair whipped across her face with the breeze. Tucking it behind her ear, she locked eyes with the nobleman.
“Cate!” Her name flittered about, broken by the swirling of leaves and branches above.
She winced at the familiarity her name brought to the men before her. Damn you, Wallace, for having such concern as to track me down. She opened her mouth to speak but decided fleeing would be the best course of action. The true identity of outlaw made known, she bolted for the shelter of the forest.
Orders were shouted behind her, and horses pounded the earth, but she dared not look away from the path before her. Heavy breaths burst from her lungs as she sprinted through the trees, ducking under low lying branches and leaping over moss-covered boulders. She forged deeper into the thick cover, making it ever harder for her pursuer to follow on horseback.
Perhaps they sought the bounty on her head but would abandon the chase when faced with the difficulties of the forest — a place she knew well. She’d instantly regretted her decision to release the guard with the tax collector’s head the moment she had revealed her name. But what was done was done, and now she must clean up her mess.
If this chase were to happen, she wasn’t about to make it easy. Several options blurred through her thoughts while she sought shelter — returning to camp for help, standing her ground to fight, and sticking to her original plan of taking to the canopy and pelting her enemy with arrows all had their advantages. Cate chose the latter.
The wood was her friend, her confidant, and she must utilize her strengths. She had a knack for a true aim, if only she focused on her target. From a young age, her father knew she’d inherited his skills with a bow, and he had trained her well. She needed to draw on those skills now. If she guessed correctly, Wallace and the rest of her men wouldn’t be far behind the guards. If she could elude her enemy long enough, she might just gain the upper hand.
Concealing herself as best she could between several closely spaced tree trunks, Cate drew an arrow and waited for the fight to come to her. Taking in a deep breath, she held the air in her lungs a moment before slowly releasing it though pursed lips. They were here.
The man she assumed to be a noble — the handsome one — spoke. He seemed calm and collected and not at all phased by her gallant romp through the forest. A tricky situation, indeed. She almost didn’t have the heart to end him.
Almost.
“Cate Archer! You are hereby under arrest by the order of his Majesty the King for rebellion and treason against the Crown. You must surrender and come with us!”
With her back pressed up against the trunk of a wide tree, she knew not what else to do but laugh. These men must take her for a fool. “Unfortunately, I must decline your invitation, my lord!”
“There is no choice in the matter, Cate.”
“There is always a choice. One only needs to make the correct judgment!” She closed her eyes, waiting for the flecks of shadow to leave her vision. She grew weary from the exertion. Fighting these men to the death would be less painful than the starvation she was surely faced with. Slinking to the bracken below, Cate kept the noble’s attention diverted. “Indulge me, my lord. I gave you my name, but I have yet to learn yours.”
Extending her arm the length of her side, Cate fumbled for the dagger tucked inside of her boot. Finding it, she withdrew it and clutched it to her chest. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. She had never stabbed a man before in such close quarters, and the thought left her stomach twisted in tight knots.
“We needn’t bother with names.”
Cate rose up to rest on her elbows, and shuffled to her left for a better view. “Oh, come now,” she toyed. “Play nice. ’Tis only fare I know the name of the man I aim to deprive of life.”
The man chuckled. The deep rumble echoed through the trees. “You seem very sure about that, Cate. How do you plan on carrying out this plan of yours, seeing as there are six of us, and one of you?”
“You seem very sure of yourself, my lord,” she quipped. “My men have you surrounded!”
“On the contrary…” The voice, deep and guttural, now growled from behind.
The nobleman.
Warm palms suddenly gripped her about the waist, flipping her to her back in one fluid revolution. As he held her, she couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. They were enthralling, like sparkling labyrinths of color. They reflected green but also a calming ocean blue. Dashes of amber speckled his irises, and for some unknown reason, they looked as though they had seen a lifetime he wanted to forget.
How she had missed his stealthy approach, she didn’t know. He had drawn her attentions elsewhere, and she had lost her focus. Perhaps it was the way he tried so very hard to hide the hint of a faint Irish lilt when he addressed her. Maybe it was the way the breeze blew the stray strands of tawny hair over his eyes and it didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Whatever the answer might be, he’d fooled her into thinking she had the upper hand.
Cate inhaled sharply, swinging her fist toward his head. Pommel met skull. The blow, although weak, was startling enough to send the man to his backside in surprise. She scrambled to her feet and snatched her bow and quiver only to then bolt in the direction she hoped her men would be. “Farewell, my lord!” she called out, flashing a grin at the unsuspecting sap. “May we never meet again!”
A shrill squawk fluttered throughout the air, sending Cate’s heart afloat. She returned Wallace’s bird call then turned in the direction from which the sound had originated. Pain coursed through her with each propulsion forward. Sweat lingered on her brow and she wiped it with the back of her palm, not willing to slow her pace. Her men were within sight now, just above a small ridge.
The earth reverberated beneath her feet with every footfall, but still she pressed forwar
d.
“Cate!” Wallace called to her above the drone of the forest chatter. Pulling a sword from his side he flung it through the air in Cate’s direction. The sun glistened along the blade, splintering the light in a disarray of fragments as it arced through a clearing before plunging into the soft earth within sprinting distance of her. “Faster!”
They were closing in on her. Sinking to her knees, she snatched the hilt of the sword before falling to her back in a roll, narrowly missing the massive beast barreling by her. One more moment would have left her pummeled to death. The guard chasing her on horseback had nearly grabbed her from behind — too close.
Now armed and her men nearby, she stood a better chance of defeating the persistent guards. “Wallace, tell Colin to take up his bow and aim for the riders!” she called out, taking charge of the precarious situation she found herself in. A guard on horseback with sword drawn steadily closed the gap between himself and Cate. She readied her own blade, prepared to fight.
“The Captain wants her alive!” another shouted at her soon-to-be attacker.
Instead of swinging his sword at her as Cate presumed he would, the guard threw himself from the saddle, heaving his massive frame atop her. Now pinned to the ground, she had no choice but to defend herself.
Wriggling beneath the man, Cate struggled to reaffirm her grip on the sword. In a twisted struggle of limbs, fists, and grunts, she fought to keep the man’s hands from her weapon. Searing pain shot across the curve of her rib cage, and she cried out with a shocking yelp. The blade was far too near her heart. She clawed at the man’s eyes in a desperate attempt to gain leverage in the battle for her life. With no knowledge of the severity of the injury, she needed to be free of this man, and quickly. With her thumbs, she dug at his eyes.
Her attacker roared out, reflexively releasing his grip on Cate just long enough for her to ram her knee into his groin. When he curled into a blubbering ball, she seized the moment, taking up her sword and rising to tower over him. Grasping it with both hands wrapped around the hilt, she aimed the blade over the guard’s neck. Cate thrust the steel downward to deliver the death blow.
But before the blow could be fully rendered, Cate found herself being launched over her intended target and landing flat on her back, unable to draw in a full breath. Be it from the unexpected wallop or the massive man kneeling on her chest pinning her to the ground, Cate was unable to move as she struggled to inhale. Those piercing green eyes, wild with anticipation, swallowed her whole in their luminous depths. She fought against his grip, her greatest effort no match for his casual hold on her shoulders. Her side burned with every forced breath. A flicker of panic rooted itself in her mind. Was the wound fatal? Cate couldn’t tell, not with the beast hovering over her, ready to strike at even the slightest of movements.
“Do you yield?”
The unnamed nobleman’s visual grasp on her left her feeling paralyzed.
A spark of trepidation ignited in her chest. She could not lay defeated — she must fight. Conjuring every curse she could muster, Cate spat and hissed at him like a cornered cat, hoping the ruse would drown out the terrifyingly erratic beating of her heart. She writhed beneath him, kicking and twisting, attempting to roll and gain control — to no avail. She cried out against his silent restraint, arching her back in a rebellious tirade. Hot tears seeped beneath closed lids, and she resisted the womanly urge to wipe them from existence. Willing herself to stay strong and keep what little resistance she had left, she opened her eyes to face her captor.
Her concentration wavered between the captivating creature holding her and the sight of her men still engaged in clashing swords and fist fights — neither side winning or losing the endless battle. Colin, seemingly out of arrows, sprinted through the trees, weaponless. She followed him with her eyes. There, in a clearing, stood Wallace, surrounded.
Wallace was going to die.
A scream hitched in her throat. Cate attempted to reach for him, as if she could somehow reach the attackers from her own perilous position. “No!” Sobs escaped her lips, contorting her body in unnatural spasms. “God, no, please!” She turned to her aggressor. “I yield! Tell them to stop, I beg you! Spare his life, and you can have mine.”
The nobleman paused at her request, but ultimately ordered his men to hold and retreat. “Harrison, put them in shackles.”
“My lord.” She addressed him with only the safety of her men her concern. “You have what you want. They are of no use to you. Let them be on their way, and I will go with you willingly. Allow them to return to their families. I’m the one you want, not old men and young boys with nothing but dulled weapons to defend themselves.”
Her captor tugged Cate to her feet. “You are in no position to make demands.”
“What would their deaths accomplish? It is I with a price on her head, is it not?”
“You know of it, then?”
“Of course I know of it,” she scoffed. “Word spreads quickly among us rebels. ’Tis only a shame I cannot claim it for myself at the present. It would fill many bellies this night.”
“Lord Banebridge.” A guard approached, handing over a set of iron shackles.
“Ah, so he does have a name.” Cate took a step back. “Do we have an accord, My Lord Banebridge? Or shall I run? I feel I have a few hundred more sprints left in me.”
A frown graced the nobleman’s unshaven face. He took a step forward, the shackles open and outstretched. “It is time, Cate Archer.”
She shuffled as the guardsmen herded her men closer. “Release my men.”
“Cate…” Wallace, who had always been like a close uncle, would try to talk sense into her. Of course, he would object to her plans.
She shushed him. “Wallace, it is because of my own doing you are here now, so please let me make it right. I will be fine, just place your trust in me this one last time.” She held out her wrists.
With a nod from Lord Banebridge, the guards backed away from her men, who dispersed into the trees with haste. The sad song of a dunnock drifted to her ears, and Cate blinked to keep tears from welling in her eyes. “Tell me,” she said to Banebridge, as the shackles were tightened around the indents of her wrists. “How much is the bounty now?”
“Ten pounds sterling.” Banebridge tightened the locks, checking their steadfastness.
“Is that all?” The amount surprised her. Eleven dead, and with the count growing higher with each passing day, she hoped the bounty would have been higher. Her people needed it.
“I do not work for a bounty.”
“I gather that.” Cate tested the strength of the short chain connecting the shackles. “So, where do we travel? To the Tower or straight to the hangman?”
Taking her by the arm, Lord Banebridge led her to his men. “We go to London. The Captain of the Guard requested you be delivered… alive.”
He made the alive bit seem as though it were a nuisance.
A horse was tacked for Cate, and she was promptly set on it, and her shackled wrists bound to the saddle. Cate counted those around her. Her previous tally had left her with six guardsmen, as to be expected. Now she counted only four. “Lord Banebridge, you seem to be missing two of your men.” She needn’t ask of their whereabouts… she knew they were on the heels of her men. She hoped Wallace and the others would lose them in the cover of the wood. She could only wonder just how deep she had led them into Bedgebury forest.
Banebridge didn’t take her bait; rather, he mounted his horse and gathered the reins. He pulled taught the rope securing Cate’s horse to his.
This Lord Banebridge would be her toughest challenge yet. She surmised he wouldn’t be straying from his orders. Her men were going to need time and help to gain her freedom.
With more men, she would be rid of this imbecile before sunrise.
CHAPTER THREE
Owen Grey, Viscount of Banebridge, pondered the task at hand — bringing a rebel leader to justice — and thought woefully of his neglected estates in
Northern England. He also seriously considered investing in an expertly crafted hooded cloak to muffle the deliberate prattle of the spirited woman riding alongside him.
She chattered on endlessly and with purpose. She spoke of her favorite cuts of meat and of how sweet a tansy cake would taste upon her tongue, if only she had the means of purchasing one. She feigned a long sigh, and went on about how her village had been robbed of its winter shares of coin and of how no one would be able to survive the winter to make the peppermint cream she dreamt about at night come the spring.
She laughed at her own silly jokes, poked fun of him and his men, more prudently of the waist size of a certain few. She asked him about personal details, like how much he was paid to hunt down the scum of England and how he felt about taking orders from a child King. Somehow he’d let slip his title of Viscount, and she’d promptly used it as fodder for even more insults. If he’d thought to pack a gag, Cate Archer would be the first one he would use it on, without hesitation.
She finally quieted when he blatantly set out to ignore her. The forest chatter seemed to fall flat alongside them as they traveled the dirt road, and he blamed it on Cate’s distraction, which he took for one small attempt to delay their travel. Owen assumed she planned on her men intercepting and challenging him for rescue — the fleeting deer and flutter of birds certainly kept him on alert. Cate Archer was a smart woman. He had realized it as soon as they had come face to face. He’d seen the fire and determination in her eyes. She was no fool, and he couldn’t allow himself to take her for one. Cate knew the ways of weaponry and of fighting men. He would be the fool in thinking she didn’t have a plan whirling around in that head of hers.
Owen and his small party of guards had ridden for several hours, and his scouting men had yet to return with news of the rebel whereabouts. Cate had done a wonderful job of leading them into the heart of Bedgebury, where most men dared not travel. Stories of spirits and vile creatures had reached his ears when he was but a young lad. It made sense for the outlaws of the land to find solace in it. Its protection was free, and plentiful.
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