After the Storm (35 page)

"Gathering watercress." He grimaced as he stepped into the open. The fire was a welcome sight as it glowed and crackled. A pile of dark greens lying on a flat rock near the fire showed that she'd been busy playing gatherer to his hunter, but she was nowhere in sight. "Olivia?"

As he walked down to where the small campfire burned near the water's edge he saw that she was indeed not in camp. And she had been very, very busy. The body sprawled in the bushes testified to that. Sebastian knelt by the man and touched the jeweled hilt of the dagger buried in the stranger's chest. His dagger.

The one she'd carried since she'd been found by Rolf.

He stood, and turned slowly as his gaze took in many footprints and the signs of a struggle. She was gone. He'd only wanted to protect her, but she was gone.

He'd left her, just like he'd left her before, and she was gone.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Chapter 19

The sight of the dead man
didn't disturb him. It should have, but it didn't. He stared at the body for a long time without thinking, without moving, without even feeling. He was numb, blank. Empty. The fire burned down and the day wore on and Sebastian Bailey stood in a frozen stance over a corpse as the life he thought he'd regained proved to be as insubstantial as any other nightmare.

No, the nightmares had been easier to live with.

At some point he bent down and removed the knife from the man's chest. He spent a long, careful time cleaning it. Then he took a stone that was wrapped in a bit of oiled cloth out of his pouch and began to sharpen the blade. His actions were precise, automatic, and had very little to do with the logical, rational world of Sebastian Bailey. Anger built in him as he sharpened the dagger, it came up from the depths of his soul in a slow, dark wave and burned away every bit of civilized veneer he'd been so eager to resume. When he looked up a savage stared out of his eyes.

When he was done he was sure of one thing. His wife was right, he was as much Bastien of Bale as he was Olivia's wizard. And Bastien was very good at following a trail. Especially a trail as obvious as the one taken by his wife's kidnappers.

His wife's soon-to-be-late kidnappers, he thought as he ran through the swiftly moving water of the ford. He was going to get her back, and the men who had Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

taken her were going to die.

"Where am I?" Libby had learned that this was the first question people tended to ask after blacking out the hard way, back when she'd woken up in the Time Search medical facility with a good chunk of her memory missing. Now she knew exactly who she was, she even remembered how she'd gotten here. The hitting on the head part had resulted from one last attempt to escape after being dragged through the forest by her three captors. She supposed she'd been carried the rest of the way here. She just didn't know where here was. So she ignored her painfully throbbing head, sat up slowly and opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was that her hands were tied—no, manacled—in front of her. She tried to ignore this rather alarming development for the moment and took in her surroundings. She appeared to be in a wide-mouthed cave. A couple of torches burned in brackets hammered into the stone walls, but plenty of the light came in from the entrance. There were rolled-up sleeping pallets stored against one wall, along with baskets and bundles, and something large and lumpy covered by a threadbare tapestry against another wall. She was sitting on a pile of bracken covered with a deerhide blanket at the back of the shallow cave. There was a woman standing in front of her, looking at her with an expression of deep concern. The woman was attractive, though not young, with a great deal of gray hair in her thick red braids.

"I know you," Libby said. "You were with the outlaws that came to Lilydrake."

The woman nodded. "I thought you were Bastien's wife."

The worried looking woman smiled, and she became beautiful. "I'm Berthild,"

she said. "Sikes's wife." She laughed softly. "Though I'm told this Bastien lad is the handsomest man in the forest, I'm content enough with my own man." She patted Libby on the head. "I served your mother once, when she was chatelaine at Passfair."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Libby smiled at the woman. "She's mentioned you often. She's always been very concerned that you were taken by outlaws and never found."

"It's worked out well enough, my lady," Berthild said as she looked behind her.

Libby looked up when Berthild glanced back toward the entrance of the cave. A broad-shouldered man filled the entrance. He looked like a Saxon recruiting poster, all blond braids and beard and blue eyes. He came up to Berthild and put his arm around her shoulders. There were fine lines around those cold, blue eyes and a bit of softness around his waist, but he was handsome and dangerous despite his age.

"Sikes?" Libby asked.

"That's me, my lady." He gestured around the cave.

She knew that he was called Old Sikes by the other bandits of Blean Forest, but the term was misleading. "How do you like your fine quarters?"

Libby was tempted to tell him that the place wasn't much worse than the first apartment she and Bas had shared, but she didn't suppose he'd appreciate the humor. "I've had worse." she said instead.

He smiled, but his eyes didn't. "That's a lie, my fine, well-fed aristocrat."

"Well, close."

"How are you feeling?" Berthild asked her.

"She's not here to be pampered, woman."

"I'll not have her ill treated." Berthild was not in the least intimidated by the formidable outlaw. "She's my lady's child."

Sikes scowled. "She was Bastien's prisoner, and now she's mine to ransom as I choose."

"Which is no reason to be impolite." his wife countered. She smiled at Libby.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"Thank you." Libby smiled at the helplessly annoyed look on Sikes's face at his wife words.

His annoyance deepened as he looked back at her. "You and Bastien have been chased all over the forest by the Normans these last few days. You'll not be going anywhere while I hold you captive. No Normans will be coming to your rescue."

She tried not to show any emotion at the sound of her husband's name. The less these people knew the better. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked instead of asking if Sebastian was all right.

"I got tired of waiting for that young fool to bring you to me. No doubt the delay was so he could make merry with you in private."

"Sikes!" Berthild's fair cheeks reddened. "How can you think Lady Jehane's daughter would be a wanton?"

Sikes let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Bastien's a man, isn't he? Of course he's bedded the girl." He squeezed his wife's shoulders. "What was the first thing I did when I kidnapped you?"

Berthild's blush deepened, then she giggled. The kidnapping had obviously worked out to their mutual benefit.

Where was Bas? Libby wondered desperately as she watched the couple exchange a quick kiss. She prayed the men who'd captured her hadn't attacked him as well. She prayed even harder that he hadn't been injured. Or killed. No, she wouldn't let herself consider the outlaws having killed him. She hoped he was on the way here to have a long talk with the older outlaw about letting her go. Actually, she would prefer if he'd march in and bust some heads, but he would think that diplomacy was the better part of valor. And he'd be right.

With that in mind she carefully and slowly made her way to her feet. "Bring me Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

to you? Why? I thought Bastien sent his people to you for protection."

"His womenfolk are welcome, but his men are too loyal to be of any use to me.

You're the one who's useful to me. Your ransom will make me rich enough to take Berthild and leave the forest forever."

So, he wanted to take the little woman and retire from the brigand business.

Libby had an image of Sikes settling down in a condo in Florida. Yeah, right next door to Don Corleone and Jabba the Hutt.

"I'll bring you some food and ale," Berthild told her and bustled out of the cave.

"There's a man willing to pay a high price for the Lady of Lilydrake," Sikes went on after his wife left.

The manacles were heavy and tight. They were going to chafe her skin badly if she tried moving too much in them. She held her hands out toward Sikes. "It's going to take a while for my father to pay any ransom, so maybe we could dispense with these."

"You killed one of my men."

True. She wished she could say she was sorry, but she'd been terrified and at the end of her endurance when she'd been attacked. The man had grabbed her from behind and she'd reacted on instinct. The only honest answer she could give was,

"I didn't mean to kill him." She held her hands out again. There were only about five inches of thick, rust-crusted chain between her wrists. "Please."

"While I do like hearing you beg, I don't think those cuffs are coming off."

"I wasn't begging, I was asking nicely," she said before she realized that it wasn't Sikes who had spoken, and that the language hadn't been Saxon. Or Norman French,

The man who walked into the cave to stand beside Sikes had spoken in modern English. Shock ran through her as she stared at the newcomer. He was a small Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

man, wearing little more than dirty rags, but the rags were pinstriped. A heavy beard and badly cut hair obscured a familiar, sharp-featured face. Amber gold eyes looked her over with an unfamiliar manic hatred.

Her throat went dry, then she swallowed hard and croaked, "Hemmons?" She would have put her hands angrily on her hips if she could have as she demanded,

"Elliot Hemmons, what are you doing here?"

"Molding David Wolfe's daughter prisoner," he answered, with a very unpleasant smile.

Libby felt like she'd been punched very hard in the stomach. A lot of things that had happened recently made very little sense, and seeing one of the richest men in the world in a thirteenth-century outlaw camp was the most insane twist of all.

It wasn't that Hemmons didn't belong among brigands and thieves, but his usual haunts were boardrooms and Congressional committee hearings. She'd met him a few times, at the sorts of official parties where one had to be excruciatingly polite.

She was glad she didn't have to be polite now. She didn't ask him again what he was doing in the past. He was the man who wanted to turn time travel into some sort of interactive Disneyworld attraction. What was that line from
Jurassic
Park
? Something about when the Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down the ride doesn't eat you, wasn't it? Hemmons looked like he'd been chewed up pretty badly by the reality of the Middle Ages. She began to laugh.

She didn't stop until he slapped her. "What's so damned funny?" he demanded.

"You," she said, after she'd wiped off blood from a split lower lip with her sleeve. "Have you enjoyed the ride?"

"What are you talking about?"

The irony didn't seem to be as self-evident to him as it was to her. "Welcome to Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm