Dauntless (Valiant Hearts Book #1) (19 page)

Timothy froze in his spot beneath the horse, securing the
saddle. He paused to erase the shock from his face before standing to address the man. Why had he not considered that Greeves might remember the Lady Merry from her visits? They had been all about the village that autumn. “And did you? Recognize her?”

“No. Couldn’t tell much past those veils.”

Greeves walked away, seeming unaware of the gruff manner of his departure.

Timothy was merely glad the conversation was finished and that Greeves had not recognized Merry. He needed no more complications in this situation. Hopping onto his horse, he headed out. He had ghosts to capture and a future to secure.

Merry ran, flipped sideways, and then threw her body backward, catching herself on her hands, then feet, and repeating the pattern as she skimmed the ground with a springing motion. She finished with nary a thump in the newly fallen leaves. By the end of the combination, she was breathless and exhilarated. She held her hands overhead and turned to smile at her audience of one.

“Teach me how, Lady Merry. I know that I can manage it.” Sadie hopped from foot to foot and clapped.

Merry moved through the clearing toward the girl. “You begin with a single backward flip. Come here, and I shall help you.”

The girl looked ready to burst out of her skin.

Merry recalled that feeling from her own childhood—that inner knowing that your body was made to perform such feats. “Stand here beside me, facing that tree.”

Sadie obliged.

“Now, hold your arms over your head, elbows tucked tight by your ears, and sit down and back like this.” Merry demonstrated. How much better to focus on Sadie and tumbling than to torture herself with memories of Timothy Grey.

Sadie bent as instructed, testing her weight and how far she could go without falling over.

“Excellent. Now, from that position, you shall spring back onto your hands, passing through the arched shape. There shall be a moment you feel unsafe, but don’t worry—I shall be right here to catch you if matters go amiss.”

“All right.” Sadie looked a bit frightened, but then set her face with determination.

Merry smiled. She and the girl were so much alike.

“On my count then. One, two, three!”

Sadie launched herself backward and slightly to the side. Merry adjusted her body midair, allowing Sadie to catch herself on her own strong arms and flip her legs over to the ground.

“I did it!” Sadie squealed, hugging Merry and jumping up and down.

Merry’s heart warmed as she shared in the child’s success. From a slight distance came the sounds of children giggling and the clink of practice swords. The rich scent of roasting meat wafted from the cave. All was right in their little corner of the world. For once. She was so happy to be back where she belonged. And if she might miss Timothy Grey a bit, she could manage that.

“Very good start, Sadie. But you must be careful to throw yourself straight backward and not to the side. Let us try again.”

Sadie positioned herself, arms overhead, and wiggled her small rear as she tested her balance to ensure that she solidly shared the weight between her two feet. Just as she was about to toss herself backward again, the sharp
pook, pook, pook
alarm of the blackbird met their ears.

Both of them straightened to attention to see if it would repeat three times with pauses in between. And most assuredly it did, alerting them to intruders in the area.

“To the cave,” Merry whispered, her heart thumping in her chest.

Sadie did not waste words answering, and they both dashed over the hillside and into the sparsely treed area in front of the cave. By the time they arrived, the little ones already hid inside, as the older members of the group brushed away footprints and other signs of life.

“In!” She practically shoved Sadie through the entrance.

“Who is on watch?” she whispered to Allen as she helped the men toss leaves about the clearing before the cave.

“Robert and James,” he whispered back.

Good. Robert would know what to do. Surely it must only be hunters. Why would anyone else have cause to enter so deep into the forest? They could not still search for the ghosts. Surely Timothy would find a way to prevent that.

Or would he?

Once everyone but Robert and James were safe inside the cave, they pulled the camouflaged door closed.

“Take the children to the back room, and keep them quiet,” she ordered Jane. “Only the battle-trained men will stay here to guard the opening. Prepare the weapons. And, girls, be sure you have your daggers at the ready as well. You are a second line of defense to protect our little ones. Big Charles, guard them by the passageway.”

Everyone jumped to obey, like a well-trained battalion of soldiers. The fire was already out, but there would be no way to disguise the smell of the venison.

“No talking above a whisper, and keep that to a minimum until further notice. I will sound the call of the partridge if silence is required,” said Merry. Robert would use their whistling signals to keep them apprised of the situation.

“And pray that God stops up the noses of our guests,” added Allen.

Merry prepared her bow and arrow and wrapped her belt and sword around her waist. Had she not been tumbling about, she would have been prepared for battle, but thank goodness she had time to ready herself now.

All her senses sharpened. That odd blend of excitement and fear filled her. She should be terrified for the children, and no doubt later she would sink into sobs as she recalled this moment, but right now her racing heart and tingling nerves bade her to fight. To fight with all her might, with the ferocity of a mother wolf, and never surrender. She would protect these children if she must do so with her own life.

Peering through the slight gaps in the woven wall of branches and leaves, she could see nothing of concern. Just more leaves, grass, and trees. A rabbit scampered past. It stopped to twitch its nose and look about, then hopped along its way as though nothing were amiss.

Taking note that she was panting, Merry slowed her breath
ing with deep, cleansing breaths. She looked down to her hands, and they trembled with her nervous energy.

Allen tucked in close at her side. “Let me do that for you, Merry.” He proceeded to take her hands in his larger, stronger ones and rub the trembling from them.

The action so caught her unawares that she failed to draw back immediately, as she should have. The heat of his skin permeated something cold and fierce that had settled inside of her at the first alarm.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched you do this before a mission and longed to ease your tension.” Allen offered a shy smile. “No need worrying yet. I’m certain Robert has the situation well in hand. And I do think, of all of us, he could kill if needed.”

Though she realized her body had been ready to commit murder only moments ago, Merry’s stomach knotted when she heard it put into words. She pulled her hands away and settled them upon her sword. Her warrior spirit battled with her nurturing side once again. “But what if the person is innocent? Oh, Allen, we have gone all this time and never hurt a soul.”

Or worse, what if Timothy had come searching for her once again?

“Robert will act with wisdom and restraint. You can trust him,” Allen said. He placed his arm about her shoulder and pulled her to him. Though that traitorous portion of herself longed to sink into his strength, she tensed and backed away. “We must stay alert, Allen.” Against all sorts of things.

What trick of nature caused a woman to long to be watched over by a man? Even a woman such as herself, who could best every male in their band at the bow and hold her own with a sword. Perhaps it was force of habit from being protected by
her father and his knights for so long. Two years ago her “men” could barely care for themselves, let alone anyone else, but they had grown strong and capable.

Moving away from Allen, she checked the view from a different angle. She must take care not to mislead him. Though he might stir warm, soft feelings within her, they were nothing compared to the fire and thrill Timothy evoked. She dragged her mind from feminine musings and back into battle mode.

Wait! What was that? Merry pressed her ear closer to the opening. Although far away, she detected the faint call of the wood warbler.

“Did you hear that?” whispered Allen.

“Shh!” Merry attuned her ears. This time she heard it more clearly, followed by the sound of the crested lark, and the wood warbler again.

“All is well, be at the ready?” Cedric came up behind her and closed one eye to peer through the crack in the wall. “What do they mean by that?”

“I suppose not to worry, but to stay alert,” said Allen.

Merry drew out an arrow and nocked it to her bowstring just in case. Now that her nervous energy had waned, she longed for a quiet afternoon teaching reading to the little ones rather than this constant danger. Again she considered France, but she hoped it would not come to that. Though plagued with a ruthless monarch, England was their home.

It seemed eons passed in those few moments as she waited with Allen, Cedric, Red, and the younger men, peering through the entryway. Finally Robert and James crested the nearby hill and entered the little valley that led to their cave.

Over Robert’s shoulder hung the long, lifeless form of a man. Merry now understood the signal. Had he killed for them? She closed her eyes against the awful thought but used that moment
to dig up her resolve. At a time like this, she must think as a leader. Powerful. Tough. Heartless, if need be. But oh, she was glad it had been Robert and not her.

At the call of the wood warbler, they slid through a hole in the entryway, and Merry emerged to greet the men, willing her heart to turn to ice.

She gulped down any stray vestiges of emotion. “Robert, James, I am so glad you are safe.”

“The situation has been dealt with for the moment. But I wanted you to remain on the alert, for I had no idea what I should do with him.”

Robert turned to the side, revealing the back and head of the person he had killed.

Even as the thatch of pale hair came into view, Merry’s vision blurred. The world spun around her. One of the men caught her from behind and righted her on her feet. She could not see through the tears filling her eyes to know whether or not they had somehow deceived her.

“Dear God in heaven!” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. For once, she dared to wish He might be listening. “Please say it is not true.”

“I thought I recognized this one from the castle. ’Tis the fellow you said you knew, is it not?” Robert hoisted the body higher upon his shoulder. “I doubted you’d want him dead, but I thought you might wish to question him.”

Allen blew out a breath. He had recognized the fellow as well, and for a moment feared that Robert had killed him. In addition to the fact that they’d gone so long without harming a single soul, Timothy Grey—much as Allen might detest the cur—was Merry’s friend. He turned to study Merry’s reaction.

Her face grew deathly pale. She teetered upon her feet. “He’s not . . . you didn’t . . .”

Allen caught her for a second time and clutched her to his chest. “’Tis all right, Merry. His lordship is merely knocked unconscious.” And for that, Allen felt some small sense of satisfaction. Though he hated to see her obvious affection for the fellow, he yet longed to soothe her anguish. “Look, no blood. No arrows. All is fine.”

Her tense body sagged against him, and he treasured this moment to comfort and hold her. How he wished she would let him do so more often. But something about her reaction to this Timothy fellow warned him it might never happen again.

“What shall I do with him?” asked Robert. “I could take him back to his horse and smack them in the direction of the castle. Or deliver him there myself. Or, if we all agree ’tis wisest . . .” He let the sentence trail off.

In other circumstances Allen might agree, but Merry must make this decision. Not him. He knew little of the unconscious man, and Merry clearly had a history with him.

She pulled herself up straight, steeling herself as he’d seen her do on so many occasions, although she did not yet disentangle herself from his arms. “I did not think he would come after me. Was he alone?” Her voice sounded wispy rather than strong and confident like it usually did.

“As far as we could tell.” James appeared in control of the situation and not at all afraid.

Why would this Timothy have come? Did he wish to have Merry back for himself, or did he yet seek the ghosts?

“Maybe he wished to warn us of something,” said Cedric.

“Yes.” Merry clutched to that idea. “I believe we should keep him here for now, until I can speak with him. We must know why he has come. How close did he get?”

“Not close enough that I would have shot him,” said Robert, shifting Timothy’s considerable weight upon his wiry shoulder. “But close enough to follow the scent of dinner. I feared he had reached the point of no turning back. I’d say about a furlong away.”

Allen watched as Merry calculated the facts.

“Very good,” she said, finally stepping free of Allen’s support. “Then he does not know the precise location of the camp. Take him to the room to the rear of the cave. Red, guard him so that Robert might take some refreshment.”

Her act seemed to convince the others, but Allen still feared she might collapse at any moment. She strode determinedly toward the cave and disappeared in the direction of the sleeping chambers. He hoped she would take a moment alone to process the situation.

He stared at the form of Timothy Grey as Robert passed by. He noticed again how tall and strong the man was, and how pleasing a woman might find his features and boyish thatch of hair. Without meaning to, he clenched his fists tight, then he opened his hands and shook them out.

These last days he’d been doubting if he’d ever get the opportunity to support the rebels and prove himself a warrior. Now that Timothy had come, Allen longed to leave more than ever, but the danger was greater than ever as well. He had no choice but to stay until this matter was concluded and the children were safe once and for all.

If that day ever came.

John approached the hill over which the unconscious form of Timothy Grey had disappeared. At the sound of voices on the other side, he paused to assess the situation, ducking behind a broad tree trunk.

Over that next rise might lay the camp of the ghosts. And those ghosts might just do the dirty work for him and dispatch one arrogant, insufferable Timothy Grey. Either way, John would soon lead a party of soldiers back to this place and finally prove himself a hero. Prove himself worthy of his father’s love and acceptance after all these years. Not Timothy Grey. Him!

Timothy thought himself so smart, so resourceful, such an expert on this forest, but he had never seen the wiry little fellow coming up behind him. John cackled as he relived the moment when the blunt edge of the young man’s sword had come crashing down upon Timothy’s head.

No, Timothy was not the only one who knew his way around this forest. John recalled wandering this very area, starving and alone. Looking for anything edible he might bring home to his sick mother—for the good Lord knew his father had never bothered providing for them.

Before long John had learned to fashion a slingshot and became quite adept with it. He mastered the sounds and rhythms of the forest and could move silently through it. He supposed some might call what he had done poaching, as only noblemen such as that had the right to hunt. But he had never believed such nonsense.