The little girl pointed to a trodden path in the forest.
Nessa stormed down the path, her fists clenched, her back straight.
“Nessa!” Luke called, but the little girl grabbed his hand.
“Will you get my cat back?”
Luke patted her head and raced after Nessa. He caught her wrist. “Stay behind me. We don’t know how many there are or what kind of weapons they have.”
Nessa acquiesced with an unconvincing nod, her gaze focused on the path.
Men that picked on children were desperate and unpredictable. Luke had no coin to offer for the cat. Although, perhaps a good blow to the head would do. Who eats a child’s cat? A small clearing came into view. A man with long, brown scraggly hair sat on the ground, holding a screeching black and white cat pinned to the forest floor in one hand and arranging sticks for a fire with the other. Luke scanned the clearing. It appeared he was alone, but Luke couldn’t be certain.
A whimper from his side caused him to look down and see the little girl with tears in her eyes. He glanced at Nessa who swept the child into her arms, holding her tight and trying to turn her away from the sight.
When Luke glanced back, the man was rising, the cat held by the scruff of its neck. He moved toward them, a dagger in his hand. “Who’s there?”
Surprise was out of the question. Luke put his armor down and stepped through the bushes to confront the man. “That cat doesn’t belong to you.”
“I found it,” the man said, narrowing his small eyes. His face was round and his clothing was ragged, dirty, and covered with holes.
“I didn’t ask where you got it. Give it to me and I will let you go on your way without incident.”
The man looked Luke over slowly, assessing. He knew he was no match for a man with a sword. He scratched his chin. “I’ll sell it to ya.”
“You can’t sell what doesn’t belong to you.”
“Then I’ll give ya half when I’m done cooking it.”
Distaste curled Luke’s lip. “This isn’t up for negotiation. Give me the cat and you can go.”
“You’re hurting her!” the child shouted from behind Luke.
The man’s gaze swung to the girl and Nessa. Understanding dawned on his face. He hauled the cat up before him like a shield. “I’ll kill it before I give it up. I’ll rip its head off.”
The little girl screamed. The cat hissed.
Luke drew his sword. He stared hard at the desperate, starving man. “You might kill the cat, but that will be the last thing you ever do.” He twisted his sword in his hand. “Is your life worth that of a cat?” Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw the rising sun reflect off his blade onto the trees behind the man and an idea came to him.
“I can run faster than you,” the man snarled. “I can --”
He wasn’t going to give the cat up. Luke’s muscles tensed, preparing. He twisted his hand and the sun reflected off his blade into the man’s eyes.
The man winced and put up his hand to block the sudden blindness.
Luke raced forward. As he neared, the man lifted his dagger. Luke drew his sword back, smashing the handle into the man’s head.
The man fell, releasing the cat. The terrified animal landed on its feet and dashed into the woods. With a cry, the little girl chased after it.
Luke stood over the fallen man. Nessa joined him.
The man shook his head, trying to clear it. Blood dripped from a cut at his hairline.
“You should have let the cat go,” Luke advised.
The man crawled back, holding up his hands. He had dropped the dagger somewhere on the ground. “Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. Don’t.”
Luke shook his head. He would never kill a defenseless man. He took Nessa’s hand. “Let’s go.” He turned to leave, but stopped. Ernest Wood, one of the knights Luke had taken with him to find Nessa, stood before him. “God’s blood!” Luke exclaimed. “Wood! Where have you been? How did you escape the fight with Urien’s men?”
Ernest scratched at his cheek where a scar ran from his hairline to his jaw. “I fought the best I could, but couldn’t save them.”
Luke stepped toward him, but Nessa caught his arm.
“He was speaking to Urien in the camp. I remember him,” Nessa proclaimed.
Tingles raced along Luke’s neck as he looked back at Ernest. There was not a mark on his body from the fighting. He had been speaking to Urien. Traitor! Luke raised his sword before him, snarling, “Betrayer! That’s how Urien’s men were able to overpower us! It was a trap. A trap you set up!”
Chapter Seven
Luke raised his sword and pulled Nessa behind him. He should have known all the commotion would attract attention. But he had never expected this.
The man on the ground laughed. “Is a cat worth your life?” He cackled.
Luke circled away from the man on the ground. He tried to keep both men away from Nessa and in front of him where he could see them.
Ernest’s sword glinted in the rising light. He circled to their right, keeping his distance from Luke’s blade.
The man on the ground continued his insane laugh until Ernest lifted his blade and plunged it into his stomach.
Nessa gasped in horror.
The man gurgled and Ernest pulled his sword from his stomach. He turned to face Luke. “I didn’t want your blood to be the only one on my blade, Brackley.”
Luke attacked, swinging his blade from side to side and then thrusting. Ernest blocked his blows and then parlayed with his own set of swings. Luke ducked one of the swings and kicked Ernest back, away from Nessa. His biggest concern was that some of Urien’s men would show up to aid him. He had to end this. Now. Luke moved after Ernest, thrusting. Ernest swung, knocking the strike aside. Clangs rang out through the forest. The red of the sun’s rising rays washed the clearing in crimson.
Luke swung left, but quickly changed up his blow and came in from the right. His sword connected with Ernest’s shoulder. Ernest stumbled back. He put a hand to his shoulder and his fingers came away bloodied. He grimaced and rushed Luke, attacking with mad swings and arcs. Luke was hard pressed to fend him off. He whirled away from one of Ernest’s quick jabs, but it caught his side. Luke felt the striking sting as the blade sliced his skin. He quickly stepped away, but his foot caught on something and he fell, heavily.
“Luke!” Nessa’s cry pierced the air.
Ernest stood over him for a moment. Like a hungry tiger, he looked down at his prey, relishing the moment. He lifted his sword for the final blow.
There came a strange thunk. Ernest paused, his sword raised over his head. Then, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed forward, toppling like a felled tree.
Luke rolled to his side to avoid Ernest as he crashed to the ground. Confused, Luke could only stare. Then, his gaze shifted to see Nessa standing where Ernest had just been, a large rock in her hand. She tossed the rock aside and rushed to Luke’s side, dropping to her knees. “Are you all right?”
Luke stared at her parted lips, the angled confusion of her brow. She had saved him. His awe slowly turned to anger and he pushed himself to a sitting position. She shouldn’t have had to save him. He should be the one impaling Ernest. It was his duty. Instead, he had to be saved by a woman. Self-disgust filled him. A sharp pain cut through his thoughts and he touched the spot it originated from on his side to find a cut marred with moisture in his gambeson. He looked at his fingers. Red. Blood.
“Luke,” Nessa gasped.
“I’m fine,” Luke insisted. The amount of blood soaking his gambeson said otherwise. He had to get her somewhere safe so he could see to his wound. He held his hand against his side and stood up. The forest shifted, and he wobbled.
Nessa steadied him with a hand to his arm. “Sit down, Luke,” she commanded.
He had no other choice and sat heavily. His head was spinning. The wound was worse than he thought.
“I’ll go for help.” Nessa turned away.
; “No!” Luke caught her hand. He didn’t want her in the forest alone. Not with Urien’s men out there. “Just let me rest a moment.”
Nessa knelt beside him.
Her beautiful blue eyes glinted with concern. Beautiful? When had her eyes become so large and so deep blue?
“Lay down. Let me see the wound.”
Luke shook his head. “Not here. We must get out of this clearing. If more of his men...” Luke knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t stand without the world tilting. Even now, the sky looked to be on its side. It was a moment later that he realized he was laying down, his cheek pressed into the dirt and leaves.
Nessa was lifting his gambeson to peer at his cut. Luke managed to shift his hand. His fingers and palm were covered with blood. This wasn’t good. His hand shook as he stared and he clenched it. He couldn’t even save a woman. He never could. His mother had died because he was weak. What would his father think? What would Lord Tristan think? He couldn’t save his daughter. His one duty, the protection of Lord Tristan’s daughters.
A sharp bright stab of white hot pain dotted his vision. Nessa was speaking. He heard the soft, gentle tone and wanted to close his eyes and dream of her.
“Luke!”
His eyes opened wide.
She took his bloodied hand and put it against his side. “Press down.”
Yes. Press down. He did what he could. Nessa disappeared from his view. He wanted to call out to her, to warn her not to leave his side. But then, he chuckled. What good was he? What good had he ever been? His own father had called him worthless and had shipped him off to a lesser lord for squiring.
She reappeared in a moment, shoving his hand aside and putting something on the cut. It stung, but did little to make Luke’s mind clear.
Still, he was glad she was back. He could feel her moving around beside him, tending his wound. He should tell her to run, but that wouldn’t be good. Not alone in the forest. He closed his eyes and thought of how he had come upon her, running away. “You never needed rescuing.” She didn’t respond and he opened his eyes to see if she were still there. To his surprise, she was laying on the ground, facing him. Her eyelashes were clumped together and streaks of wet ran from her eyes to the ground, as if she were crying. He couldn’t stand to see her crying. “Nessa.”
“It’s pretty bad, Luke. I’m not a physician.”
Luke chuckled and closed his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll save you.” And then, darkness engulfed him.
Nessa stared at him. The rising sun bathed the smooth lines of his face in a red kiss. She didn’t know what to do. She had gathered some yarrow and placed it on the wound, but it was bleeding heavily. She kept a hand pressed against it, in the hopes of holding the blood in his body. She didn’t know what to do. She was going to lose him. Her heart squeezed tight. A lump rose in her throat and she blinked back tears. Mel was going to be so angry with her! But more than that, she would never see the way his thick, black hair curled at the back of his neck. Or when he smiled, the way his eyes lit up. No. She wiped at her eyes with determination. She would not sit by and watch him die. Not when he was the only one who had come to rescue her.
She sat up.
A noise sounded from the forest. Nessa stiffened. Was it one of Urien’s men? She climbed to her feet, looking for some weapon she could fight the intruder off with. Her gaze happened on Luke’s sword lying on the forest floor. She quickly picked up the handle. It was heavy and she could barely lift it; the tip dragged in the dirt.
The leaves of a nearby bush shifted and rustled. Nessa tensed. Suddenly, the little girl burst forward, holding the black and white cat in her arms. “I found her!”
The sword had been too heavy for Nessa to lift, but upon seeing the girl, her shoulders sagged with relief and a small sob escaped her lips. Nessa released the sword and rushed to the girl. She grabbed her shoulders. “My friend has been hurt.” The girl’s gaze shifted to Luke. “Do you know anyone who can help?”
The cat squirmed in her hands.
Nessa squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “Please,” she begged, desperate.
The girl scowled and then nodded. “I’ll bring my Papa back.”
For a moment, Nessa couldn’t release her. Hope, despair, disbelief all welled inside of her. “Will he help?”
The little girl nodded her head so enthusiastically that a strand of her brown hair fell into her eyes. When Nessa released her, she backed away.
“I’ll be back,” the girl promised.
Nessa watched the child race off through the woods, holding the cat in her arms. If the cat escaped her hold, the child would forget Luke and run after the animal. Nessa wasn’t certain the little girl would return. She had no other option. She put all her trust in a child. And if the girl didn’t come back, Luke would die.
Chapter Eight
A gentle, familiar neigh of a horse sounded in Luke’s mind, cutting through the darkness. Something tickled his ear. He lifted his arm to brush at it, but as soon as he did a sharp stabbing pain tore through his side. He groaned and opened his eyes.
It was dark. It took him a moment to recognize the sweet aroma surrounding him as hay. He brushed his ear and found a piece of hay tickling it. He was lying in hay! He also smelled the wretched scent of horse manure. Moonlight was shining in through the planks around the room he was in, giving him enough light to see he was in a barn. He strained his neck, looking around. He was covered with a tattered blanket, tucked into the corner of a stall, the entrance of the stall at his head. The other side of the stall was dark, but he managed to see a portion of a dress.
“Nessa?” he called. His voice was hoarse and he had to try again. “Nessa.”
The dress shifted and a small foot emerged from the folds. A black and white cat strolled out of the darkness where the dress was and stretched. It cast him an uninterested glance and casually walked out of the stall. Luke pushed his arm out carefully and touched Nessa’s foot. “Nessa.”
“Luke!” Nessa lunged forward, emerging from the darkness. Her blonde hair was in a wild disarray of hay and tangles. The side of her face was patterned with the straw she had been laying on. “Are you okay?” Her voice sounded panicked, breathless. Concerned.
A warmth blossomed in his chest. It was more concern than anyone had ever shown him. “Yes. Where are we?”
“The little girl who lost the cat, Jenny. Her father is a farmer. They’ve been taking care of us.”
Luke realized his sword and armor were gone. He was covered by a blanket and wore only breeches. “Where is my sword?”
“With your armor. Here.” Nessa pointed to the darkness. “I’ve hidden them beneath some hay. Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Nessa began to rise. “I can --”
Luke grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
God’s blood! Grimacing, he pushed himself up.
“No,” Nessa protested. “Please, rest. You lost a lot of blood.” Her voice hitched.
Luke paused at the anguish in her tone.
“I thought... I thought you wouldn’t wake up.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I couldn’t...” She shook her head.
Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, reacting to the tremor in her voice. It must be because he was thirsty that his throat suddenly went dry. “I’m all right.”
“No. You need to rest.” She put a warm hand on his chest to push him back.
He realized he was still holding her arm...and he didn’t want to let go. What the devil was this madness? He released her. But she didn’t pull her hand away from his chest.
“Please, Luke.”
How could he resist her request? He lay back down.
She disappeared into the shadows only to reemerge with a flask. She handed it to him. “Ale.”
He opened the flask and drank deeply. His mind was racing. How had they gotten here? What if the farmer or the little girl told others? For a moment, he allo
wed the delicious taste of the ale to quench his dry throat. Finally, when he drank his full, he lowered the flask and ran a hand across his mouth. His gaze swept the barn.
Nessa sighed softly. “We’re safe here.”
Luke looked at her. Was that what she needed to believe? “We shouldn’t stay.”
“We couldn’t travel. There was nowhere else to go. I wasn’t going to leave you.”
His gaze swept her face. Sincere. Beautiful. Desperate. He clenched his lips. He couldn’t save Nessa any more than he could his own mother. Weak. Worthless. “I didn’t need to be saved.”
“You were bleeding to death! I had to do something!”
“So, you trusted strangers?”
Tears entered her eyes, shimmering in the moonlight. Yet there was a determination and righteousness in the set of her jaw. “I was going to ask Urien’s men for help, but couldn’t find them.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Jenny and her father offered help and I took it. If you think that was wrong, so be it. But it saved your life.”
Saved his life. Disgust filled him. He was supposed to be a great knight, but apparently the only thing he was capable of saving was a child’s cat. Not Nessa. Not his mother. He looked away from her. He hadn’t thought of his mother in a very long time. The only similarity between Nessa and his mother was that he couldn’t save either one. He heard his mother’s cries in his mind and pushed them aside. She had been alone. Nessa had been alone and scared, too. Nessa was not his mother; she didn’t need rescuing. He looked at her again. She hadn’t curled up in a ball and died as other noble women would have done. She was strong, and bright. He’d always thought she was intelligent. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, insult her. “You did good, Nessa. I didn’t mean to imply anything else.”
Nessa nodded, but looked down, shielding those large eyes from him. When she glanced at him again, a wall had been erected. She had closed him off. He’d never seen her do that before. Others, yes. But not Nessa. “I had to keep you safe for Mel.”
A strange silence settled in the barn. If Luke didn’t know better, he would have sworn the animals had gasped. Mel. Yes, Mel. His intended bride. Her sister. Of course, she was doing all this for her. Not for him. Not for herself. Luke was surprised at the disappointment settling in his stomach like a heavy rock.
The Bravest of Them All Page 5
