Elizabeth Elliott (9 page)

“Be careful!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. The sleeve came away from her neck and disappeared into a pocket of her gown. She drew her cloak forward again until she was covered from neck to toes.

The road leveled out, and he pushed the horse to a canter. Nearly a hundred soldiers awaited them at the clearing. Guy brought the horse to a sliding stop near his two cousins. He did not relish the thought of what he must tell them.

When a squire came forward to hold the horse, Guy swung down from the saddle, then he lifted Claudia by the waist and set her on the ground. He continued to hold her until she loosened her grip on his arms, an indication that she could stand on her own. Another horse trotted up beside him, and Evard dismounted.

“Tell the men to break their fast,” he ordered Evard. “We will stay here an hour or more. Have a squire prepare a bag of rations and tie it to my saddle. When I am done with my cousins, I will eat with Lady Claudia.” He nodded in her direction. “Guard her.”

Without another glance at Claudia, he turned and stalked off toward his cousins.

Claudia looked from Guy’s departing back to his second-in-command. Evard de Cordray folded his arms across his chest and stared back at her. His stance seemed to dare her to challenge him. She looked around the clearing and realized that most of Guy’s soldiers stared at her as well. If she’d had any notion to bolt for freedom, she would not get far. Where did they think she would go? Into the woods, to take her chances with wild animals? She would rather take her chances with the civilized ones.

Evard called a soldier forward and relayed Guy’s orders while Claudia sought out their source. Guy stood near the edge of the ridge with two men who must be the cousins he and Evard spoke of, too far away for her to hear their quiet discussion. The cousins lacked any resemblance to Guy, and they appeared much older. One had steel-gray hair with a
wooly beard; the other was black-haired and clean-shaven. There was a leanness to their builds and the lines of their faces that spoke of hard living. Her gaze wandered in the other direction and she spied a small elm tree with soft-looking grass beneath it.

“May I rest beneath that tree?” she asked Evard. The knight’s brows drew closer together, but he did not reply. She repeated the question.

Evard tilted his head to one side, his frown even deeper. “I cannot understand you. Say it again. Slower.”

Claudia gritted her teeth. She pointed to herself, then to the tree. “Me—sit—there!”

Evard shook his head. He pointed to the ground, then answered in a voice loud enough to startle his horse. “No, stay here!”

Claudia affected a blank look. “Parli più forte per favore. Non ti sento bene.”

“You heard him just fine the first time.” Guy spoke from behind her. She spun to face him, but he didn’t look at her as he remounted. “And the horses would bolt if he spoke any louder.”

Claudia glanced over her shoulder to gauge Evard’s reaction to Guy’s translation. A dull red blush stained his face. She didn’t realize Guy had moved his horse closer until he reached down and lifted her onto his lap. She scrambled to grasp the edges of her cloak together so his men would not see her ruined gown. The long slash up the front might give them the wrong impression about how it came to be there.

“I will speak with Lady Claudia alone,” Guy told his second-in-command. He nodded toward the forest to the east and Claudia noticed that the road they followed reentered the woods in the same vicinity. “There is an old oak tree about three hundred yards from the entrance to the forest. I do not wish to be disturbed unless the watch spies Lonsdale soldiers in the valley below us.”

“Aye, my lord.” Evard gave Claudia a pitying look, as if he thought something dire awaited her.

Guy spurred the horse forward.

The patches of blue sky became fewer as they rode into the forest, until the sky disappeared entirely beneath leafy branches that grew thicker and taller. These were ancient woods, with oak trees as big around as a watchtower. Smaller trees that would seem impressive in an open field struggled to find the sun amidst the neighboring giants. Even the grass ceased to grow, replaced by a carpet of moss that muffled the hoofbeats against it. A damp odor lingered in the air, a smell of things long dead, yet fresh at the same time.

“Why must we be away from the others?” she asked, still taking in their surroundings.

Guy grunted by way of reply.

She glanced up at him, but his gaze continued to sweep over the forest, searching, probably for the oak tree he mentioned to Evard. Why did he want to be alone with her? Surely there was nothing of a romantic nature on his mind. He didn’t even like her. If he meant to harm her, there was no reason to leave his soldiers. They would not lift a finger in her defense. Perhaps he was looking for a place to abandon her. He could not bring himself to order her death, but leaving her alone in this forest would amount to the same thing. “You will not abandon me here, will you?”

“Nay, Claudia. I will not abandon you.” His expression was unreadable, but she sensed that he told her the truth.

The sunlit leaves turned this entire, isolated world a glowing shade of green. She held up one hand to examine the strange new color of her skin, knowing it was but a trick of the light, yet fascinated by it just the same.

One could find sprites and fairies in woods such as these. After dark, ghosts and goblins. Careful to make the gesture unnoticeable, she crossed herself then said a silent prayer to ward off evil. A raven screeched at the same moment, then took sudden flight from a low-hanging branch above them. She clutched at Guy’s tunic and cowered closer to him.

“We stop here, please? They will no hear us.” A raven
was the worst sort of omen. Nothing good awaited them here. Her hands turned to fists when he shook his head.

“We are almost there.”

“Where is ‘there’?” she demanded. “Every tree in this place looks the age of time!”

“There.” He pointed in front of them.

Claudia’s gaze followed to an oak that looked the parent of every tree around them. It rose from the forest floor like a mighty fortress, its roots the roads that lead to the tower, the sprawling branches its own strange sky of green clouds. She felt a sense of awe as they drew closer. If magical creatures lived in the forest, this would be their home. She did not think they should disturb them. “What is this place?”

“ ’Tis just a tree. I discovered it years ago, when I was a boy.” He seemed to notice her apprehension. “What did you think it was?”

She shook her head, distracted by a black circle on the ground between two of its massive roots. “Something started a fire at its base!”

“Something?” He laughed aloud. “You think this a place of spirits?”

“You think it not?”

That made his smile fade. He dismounted and helped her down, then removed a length of rope from the saddle to hobble the horse. “Wait for me by the tree. I will return as soon as I tend the horse.”

She shook her head. “I will help you.”

“I need no help to tie my horse.” He handed her the bag of rations from his saddle. “Wait for me here.”

She supposed it would behoove her to obey that order. It would do no good to anger him. He led the horse away but she somehow ended up standing behind him as he tended the animal. He nearly stumbled over her when he turned around.

His hands grasped her shoulders to steady her and he held her at arm’s length. “I told you to wait by the tree!”

She glanced over her shoulder, hesitant to turn her back
on the fortress-tree. “I am not all that hungry. Can we not continue our journey?”

“We have been in the saddle all night. An hour’s—” He held her chin in his hand so she could not cast another wary glance over her shoulder. “You are afraid of this place, aren’t you?”

She didn’t care if he thought her a coward. Great knots in the trunk of the tree looked like twisted faces, the faces of poor souls who had wandered too close to something they should avoid. She gave him a frantic nod.

He took her hand and began to walk toward a hollowed-out area formed between two of the tree’s enormous roots. She began to tug against his hand. “Come, Claudia. I want to show you something.”

She didn’t have much choice but to go along with him, since he held her hand in a fast grip. He didn’t release her until they reached the base of the trunk. He looked along the bark in front of them as if searching for something.

“Ah. Here it is.” He pointed to a smooth section of the trunk that was level with his shoulders. Someone had stripped away a portion of the bark, and she could still make out the initials G. M. in the weathered carving. “Guy of Montague. I think I carved those letters when I was no more than eight or nine.” His tone turned boastful. “I made this tree mine long ago, and all the woodland sprites and spirits do bow to me as their overlord.”

Claudia found a reluctant smile. “You make light of me.”

“That was my plan. Is it working?”

His teasing tone caught her off guard. Uncertain how to deal with the abrupt change in his mood, she tried to change the subject. “You came to this forest alone when you were so young?”

“Nay, my father liked to camp in the clearing near the ridge when he rode to his outlying properties. He let me explore the forest as long as I took a page along, most often a page named Thomas.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “Would this page now be a humble friar?”

“Nay, the humble friar would be a respected knight in my service.” He smiled at her expression, and she made a conscious effort to close her mouth. “I am not such a fool that I would ride into Lonsdale knowing nothing of the place or its people. Thomas served me well in his role of friar.”

“ ’Tis a sin to mimic a man of God.” If Thomas had masqueraded as an ordained priest, that would be a serious matter indeed. But a friar? She had to admit that his plan was clever. “You were wise to have a spy within Lonsdale. I did not know about the guard at the bolthole. My plan would have failed.”

The shadow of a frown crossed his face, then he turned to retrieve their bag of food. They settled between two of the tree’s large roots to share their meal of bread and dried beef with a leather flagon of wine. Guy sat cross-legged with his back resting against the root. He had unbuckled his sword belt and propped the weapon next to his side. Claudia made her own seat across from him, arranging her ruined skirts to preserve her modesty. She had not thought to bring her sewing kit on this journey and hoped she could borrow one when they reached Montague. She had no coin to purchase a new gown.

“You asked me earlier about your fate.” Guy sank his strong, white teeth into a strip of beef and tore a piece free. He watched her as he chewed. After he swallowed, his words sounded unhurried. “In all honesty, I am not certain what to do with you.”

His unwavering attention made her self-conscious. She tried to be dainty about her meal, rather than wolfing the food down as she would like. The long ride had restored her appetite for some strange reason, and she was starved. She gave the chunk of bread in her hand a wistful look, but made herself offer a suggestion. “If you will allow me to hire a company of your men, you need do nothing more. I told you the truth last night. Before I leave for London I will make a
statement before your priest about the events that took place at Lonsdale. You will be free of me, Baron.”

“I am not so certain I wish to be free of you.”

Claudia’s hand stopped halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You could go before another priest and say that I had forced you to lie to mine. There is also the fact that you want me to send you to London with a company of my men when you have no coin to pay them.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You will forgive me if I question the wisdom of such a bargain.”

“I will not misspeak myself, and I
will
pay your men!”

“I have yet to see this necklace you intend to barter,” he said. “ ’Tis doubtful any bauble is worth a company of men.”

“The necklace will fetch enough to pay your men, and I have told you already that it is sewn into the lining of my cloak.” She drew one side of her hood away. “You see? If you will return my dagger, I will cut open the stiches and show you the necklace.”

He made a small gesture with his hand to dismiss her request. “I doubt you realize the expenses you face, lady. I would not trust a woman’s safety on the road to London with any less than a knight, three archers, and two men-at-arms. The archers will charge you threepence a day, the soldiers eight, and the knight twenty. Count on no less than tenpence each day for the cost of meals and lodgings at inns along the way—if you are fortunate enough to find an inn each night, with stables and feed for the horses. You must also take a serving woman along to vouchsafe your reputation, and she will cost you a ha’pence per day. The journey to London will take you three weeks if the weather holds, then you must quarter this small army of people once you reach the city. In London, lodgings of a suitable size for your company start at sixteen pence per night, with the cost of meals and stabling doubled.” He gave her a meaningful look. “And that is where you intend to begin your search?”

“I did not realize the daily cost.” She picked at the piece of bread she held. “It sounds a small fortune.”

“Aye, and no one will step forward to volunteer for your company unless I guarantee their pay. They are my people, and you will be indebted to me, not to them. How many coins will your necklace fetch?”

“I have never bartered for coin.” She had felt certain the emeralds would fetch more than enough for her search, yet the array of numbers he spewed out and the expenses she had not considered made her less and less certain. “My brothers told me the necklace was valuable, but they did not mention its worth in gold or silver.”

Guy smiled and shook his head. “A London jeweler would think you a gift from heaven.”

“You think a jeweler would try to cheat me?”

“Have you never dealt with tradesmen?” He rolled his eyes when she shook her head. “They will rob you blind.”

“Perhaps I could make do with just a soldier or two, then—”