There was little time to think of that now as they hurried through the keep, avoiding the watch and making their way to the stables. Many here were loyal to King Robert. They had no idea of the plot being executed under their noses. Others were newcomers, no doubt part of Lord Cramden’s ever-growing entourage, like the man who had dragged her to the dungeon. Strange men arrived daily, and Scarlett suspected they were loyal to the high minister. When the time came, they would surely take up arms against those who had pledged themselves to King Robert.
Scarlett had covered her head with a cap, stuffing her long red hair underneath it. She averted her face whenever they chanced upon people who might recognize her. To most, she hoped, it looked as if Roland were being accompanied by a young page. Perhaps they would not notice the girlish figure filling out the tunic and trousers.
Roland carried off their exit with both stealth and bravado. He avoided encounters with men-at-arms and boldly carried on with others as if he owned the castle and had every right to do as he pleased. It worked.
They exited the front door and crossed the courtyard, Roland watching this way and that for pursuit. Surely the alarm would be raised when Lord Cramden returned with his torturer and found an empty chamber.
She watched as Roland roused the groom and called for his horse. He also selected one for her, telling them that he was taking his page out for training. No one questioned him. Lackeys did not question the orders of a knight. The horses were brought forward and Roland helped Scarlett into the saddle. She winced and almost let out a yelp, but Roland looked sharply at her and shook his head. It wasn’t until they reached the front portcullis that Scarlett heard commotion behind them. A group of armed men poured into the courtyard.
“Stop them! He’s abducting the princess!” shouted their leader.
Roland wasted no time. He spurred his horse and whipped the flanks of Scarlett’s mount. Both animals surged toward the gate as it began to lower. They both cleared the spikes of the door by a hair and it slammed to the ground behind them. Then they were off, galloping through the town of Kingsgate in the moonlight, putting as much distance as they could between them and their pursuers.
Scarlett’s mount had been about to run away with her. Roland caught up to her after they had cleared the town and were some distance down the road. He grasped her reins.
“Which way?” he said.
“West,” said Scarlett. “We must go west, toward my village. That is where the convent of St. Agnes is, and that is where the antidote is.”
“Then let’s go,” said Roland. “They will come after us. We both know too much. Or they suspect we do. Just hang on. Your horse will follow mine. Are you ready?”
Scarlett nodded. Roland spurred his horse forward. Her mount surged after him with Scarlett clutching the reins and the saddle, hanging on as tightly as she could. It hurt to ride, but the hurt was easier to bear knowing that this knight was on her side. And she could not deny either the passionate nature or the intensity of the feelings that welled up inside her. He had flipped her across his knee and had given her a humiliating spanking. That much was true. No man had ever touched her like that. But he had also believed her, and he had rescued her from Lord Cramden. And he had made retrieving the antidote his mission as well as hers. She realized her attraction to this man was real and growing. But he was a knight, probably from a highborn family. What could he ever feel for her, a common orphan?
Chapter Eleven
It seemed to Scarlett as though they rode for hours. Finally Roland slowed the pace. “I think we are far enough ahead for now,” he said. “They would have to guess which direction we went.”
“But they might think I would head toward home,” said Scarlett.
“True enough,” said Roland. “But we must seek shelter nonetheless.”
By now dawn was peeking over the horizon. The road followed a stream, and Roland led the horses into the water and they walked until Scarlett was exhausted.
“We will stop here,” he said at last. They had come to a woodsman’s hut next to the stream. It was dilapidated and apparently abandoned. He helped her down off the horse and carried her inside.
The inside was better than the outside. It had a stone hearth, a rudimentary table, some tree stumps for chairs, and an elevated sleeping pallet. Roland had a wool blanket rolled up on his saddle. He unfurled it on the sleeping pallet.
“You’ve had a hard day, girl. Get warm under this.”
Scarlett did not have to be coaxed. She threw the blanket over herself and tried to burrow into it, but Roland shook his head, apparently not satisfied.
“Strip off those clothes. We are going to have to use each other’s body heat to get you warm.”
She blushed. “What? My clothes?”
“All of them,” said Roland.
Scarlett’s eyes went wide as she watched Roland take off his own clothing. His chest and shoulders were broad, his stomach flat. When he pulled his trousers off, she saw muscular legs and slim hips. Scarlett had never seen a man naked before, and the sight of Roland in nothing but a flimsy loincloth was sending shivers of a different sort up her spine. She gulped. The man was gorgeous. It almost made her forget how cold she felt. But nothing could prepare her for the feel of his hardened body as he slid in next to her under the blanket.
“Wha… what are you doing?” she said as he flipped her around so that he could spoon with her. She felt his strong arms envelop her, felt his body press itself against her backside, felt his breath on her neck. She was quite aware, as his midsection pushed up against her buttocks, that the only thing separating her sex from his penis was a thin layer of cloth.
“I’m getting you warm. Our body heat will warm each other. You have to trust me. I’ve seen men die because they could not get warm. The best thing for you to do is relax and sleep.”
Even in her exhausted state she could feel pangs of desire for the man who had rescued her and whose arms held her now. And he had been right. In the warmth of the cocoon he had made for her with his own body, she succumbed to the lure of sleep.
Hours later, she awoke. From the light it looked like midday. Her core was now well warmed, and she bathed languidly in the heat radiating from her protector’s body. Part of her wanted to stay this way forever and never move. But alert now, she became aware of his touch. Roland was half asleep and his hands moved across the front of her body, brushing the nipples of her breasts. He shifted slightly and she felt a length of hardness pushing into the split between the cheeks of her buttocks. An insistent pulse arose from somewhere deep inside her. A curious wetness seeped between her legs. She rubbed herself against him and a surge of pleasure shot through her. She realized she wanted this man. She wanted him now. The pulse was growing stronger. Her body throbbed with desire. Resolving to deny herself no longer, she twisted her body around until she was facing Roland. At that moment his eyes fluttered open.
“Are you…?” he started to say.
“Sh-h-h,” whispered Scarlett. She pressed her lips to his, lightly at first, then hard. Her mouth opened and her tongue flicked against his lips. When his mouth yielded in response, his tongue sought hers. Scarlett pressed her breasts against his chest. Roland reciprocated by tightening his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into an ever more intimate embrace. His hands thrilled her as they roved gently down the length of her body, touching here, caressing there. She winced as he squeezed her bottom. He felt her body react and he stroked her gently there.
“We’ll get some witch hazel for that,” he murmured.
“I don’t care,” said Scarlett. “I just want you. I want you inside me.”
Scarlett shifted so that she lay beneath him. She opened her legs. Roland took a hand away to make an adjustment to his clothing and she felt his hardness. She explored beneath the blanket with her hand and grasped his maleness, eliciting a low moan of pleasure from Roland. Hitching herself up, she guided it between her legs until the head was at the entrance to her woma
nly portal.
“Now. Now,” she whispered.
The man needed no further urging. With one hand beneath her, he pushed his hips forward. She felt the length of him sliding in and she threw her head back, marveling at the surge of intense pleasure she felt. He didn’t stop until he was inside her to the hilt. He began to grind his hips in tiny movements that generated a delicious friction and she moaned. Scarlett gave herself to him completely. He could do anything he wanted.
He withdrew partway, then thrust. Then again and again. It was slow at first, a sort of ecstatic torture for Scarlett, but in moments she was lost in a delirium of pleasure that flowed over her in waves, each one bigger than the last. The thrusts came faster and harder. Scarlett’s body reacted, moving to the rhythm he established. Soon they were locked in that ancient dance, their bodies slapping together in wild synchronization. His eyes found hers and he gazed into them intently as if trying to read her responses to his lovemaking. But Scarlett was gone. The things he was doing to her. While his erection created surges of pleasure, his fingers squeezed her nipples and he smothered her neck with kisses. Finally she could stand no more and something burst inside her. It rose then crested like the largest wave of all, breaking over her in an all-consuming, thundering crash of passion. She felt Roland’s pace quicken, too, until his body went stiff, every muscle straining as his hips jerked wildly and the warmth of his seed flooded her.
They lay side by side afterwards. Scarlett had never felt her body glowing before. But she was sure that it was. It glowed with an all-consuming liquid warmth. Roland turned his head and smiled at her.
“I don’t mind telling you that I wanted to do that from the first time I saw you.”
She smiled back lazily and teased him. “But the first thing you did was spank me. Have you forgotten that?”
“No. And when I gave you that spanking, which was richly deserved, it was all I could do to keep my hands off you.”
“You don’t have to restrain yourself ever again, sir knight.”
“I don’t intend to,” he said.
The second bout of lovemaking was slower, but no less intense, and left them both gasping for breath and satiated. She thought about that spanking while he stroked her sex again with that stout erection, and wondered if it had ignited her desire for him in some way. She recalled that, for some time after that incident, the warm glow in her bottom had seemed to provoke some lustful thoughts. Maybe someday he would do that to her again. She wasn’t at all sure that she would mind if he did.
Scarlett would like to have stayed snuggled under that blanket forever, but later that day they departed. Roland was adamant that they put distance between themselves and any pursuit by Lord Cramden. They headed west, toward the lands of the red countess. Scarlett hoped they weren’t heading into even greater danger, but that was where the antidote could be found.
Chapter Twelve
In Darkwood Forest
“After you’re done carrying water from the spring, Daphne needs help gathering firewood.”
Juliet bit back a sharp retort. She was being ordered about by Ota, an older woman who saw to it that the younger women did the chores. About one hundred people lived in the camp and everyone had assigned tasks. Meals were communal. The men hunted while the women kept camp. There was a lot to do. Besides the cleaning and mending, females were expected to tend crops growing in a tilled plot of open land. The crops grew in a meadow that the men had cleared to allow some sunlight to penetrate the dense growth.
And it was genuinely a dark forest. Gigantic trees grew hundreds of feet skyward, their branches creating a canopy that kept out most sunlight. The huge oaks had another function, too. They provided shelter. The men had built elaborate treehouses above the cold ground, away from potential predators. Rope bridges connected dwellings of various sizes in a network, making travel between them possible without ever touching the ground.
“There are wolves, bear, and wild boar in Darkwood,” the outlaw had told her on their first day in camp as he showed her his home. “You need to be aware of that at all times. Don’t stray from camp. We don’t want to have to hunt you down only to discover you’ve been eaten.” Then he looked at her sharply.
“Understand?”
She nodded.
“Say it.” He wanted to make sure.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Rules of camp are there for everyone’s protection.”
After that he turned and left, much to her consternation. Juliet wanted to convince him that she was indeed a princess of Westvale. Once that happened, surely he would return her to her father. Why wouldn’t he? He’d be amply rewarded. But she also recognized that Rand LaFlors was an outlaw. He answered to no one, king or commoner. From the way he had treated her, the fact that she might be royalty probably meant little to him.
And that, she realized, intrigued her more than anything else. All her life people had fawned over her. Servants, courtiers, knights, and knaves—they had all sought favor. She had been the center of her own universe. How things had changed. First her abduction, then her flight, now her rescue.
Well, it was sort of a rescue, she decided. The manhandling and that humiliating spanking at the old woman’s hut had infuriated her. At first, that is. But then she looked at her rescuer in a different light. It had to do with the way his hands had felt on her, the contact of their bodies. His strength, his resolve, his command of her. He made no effort to please her. Instead, he expected her obedience, something she had always demanded from everyone else. At night, alone, she found herself remembering that incident and thinking on it again and again.
When she did, a hot flush crept over her. A man had never laid hands on her like that. What would it be like, she wondered, to be held in his arms and loved in the way of a man and a woman? It would never happen at court. There were too many eyes and she was always watched. But out here in this wild place? With this wild man? Juliet realized these were dangerous thoughts, but she didn’t care.
Now it seemed he had no time for her, however. Worse, he required her to work, to do chores with the rest of them. It was demeaning and certainly beneath her station. Well, that would change when she proved who she was. The question was, how did she get his attention? He was constantly off, meeting with his lieutenants, hunting, raiding. Or whatever it was that outlaws did. Well, she would show him that it was not wise to ignore a princess.
* * *
The Village of Kern
“We went seeking help, but we were turned away.” The speaker, a reasonably prosperous citizen and owner of the mill in Kern, spoke to the figure who sat with his back to the wall, hidden in the shadows in a dark corner of the tavern.
“Yes, the king would not receive us,” said his companion, a farmer who tended a fair plot of land with his five hardy sons.
“That is most unusual,” said the man in the shadows. “King Robert is a good king. He usually hears the petitions of his subjects personally.”
“I tell you, we were abruptly turned away. Rudely, actually, by men-at-arms I’ve never seen before, and I have been to Greystone Castle on many occasions.” The miller huffed as if this were an affront to him personally.
“We lingered in the market, asking around, you know. Some said the king has been taken ill and his high minister has assumed command.”
The miller nodded, then added, “But the biggest rumor is that the princess has been abducted.”
At this, the man in the shadows leaned forward, suddenly very interested. “Abducted? By whom?”
“There is talk that she was abducted on an evening ride and an imposter who looks like her was inserted in her place. A stable boy has been telling this tale that the girl who returned on the princess’s horse was not the princess at all,” said the farmer. “She looked like her, but the girl did not know how to ride. That is what he is saying.”
“And that’s not all,” said the miller, keeping his voice low. “Several days ago there was an inciden
t. A knight was seen fleeing the castle with men-at-arms in pursuit. There was a lad with him. Some say it was the princess in a lad’s clothing.”
LaFlors leaned back. His head was spinning. The princess abducted? And an imposter in her place? If so, had the imposter fled? Or was she the real princess?
He had to think. He had made an uneasy truce with Robert Greystone years before. Destitute and forced into outlawry when his father’s lands had been seized by the Ieryn, Rand had settled in the Darkwood. Soon his talent for robbing rich travelers and melting away into the forest had put a price on his head. Tired of being hunted, he had engineered a meeting with King Robert under a flag of truce. Rand robbed selectively and his chosen victims were rich Ieryn merchants. So he had promised to spy on the movements of the Ieryn, and report to Robert what he saw and heard. This he had faithfully done for years. In exchange, Robert looked the other way.
After all, the Ieryn traders now mostly traded with the red countess. Sometimes the trade was in flesh, a foul trade that enraged LaFlors. It was she who wanted LaFlors’s head on a spike. Rand left the local people alone and, in fact, he had returned or hidden several of the village girls who had managed to flee Castle Bathen. So while the villagers spoke in hushed and fearful tones about the outlaw Rand LaFlors, many knew the truth, including these two. But they kept it to themselves.
His return to the Darkwood by the long and complicated route he usually took gave Rand time to think. This was troubling news. If King Robert was ill and his only daughter abducted, what did that mean? For some time now he had noticed the increased presence of Ieryn men on the roads bordering Darkwood Forest, especially going to and from Bathen Castle. For some time Rand had suspected a secret alliance between the red countess and Ieryn princes. And he knew something else. Morgaine was related by blood to Robert’s high minister, Tomas Cramden. Was Cramden a traitor? With Ieryn help, did Morgaine have enough force to seize the throne of Westvale? It was not impossible.
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