Silverhawk (13 page)

The sun was warm, but nights were cool, especially if the only bed was the ground. He slept in the open often. Not so, the tired, still-angry lady who stalked toward him, rubbing her arms.

“We will return now.”

Did she never give up? But that was one quality he admired in her. Then she ran her fingers over the side of her chin. And winced.

An unfamiliar discomfort nagged Giles. Guilt. The spot where his fist had met her face was swollen and beginning to bruise. Fortunate that she couldn’t see it.

“We won’t go back. You are in danger at Langley. I’m traveling north. I’ll escort you to safety.”

Emelin propped her hands on her hips. “I explained that I have nothing to fear.” Her voice rose. “This is my life you so calmly ruined.” She tossed her head and began to pace.

Giles unwrapped the package Davy’d shoved at him in the garden. Cheese. He broke off a chunk and handed it to her. She took it without comment as she strode past.

“You know they’ll follow us,” she said as she chewed. “Lord Osbert will not allow you to take his bride.” She halted. Her face clouded. “And my brother…” She swallowed and coughed. “Where’s the water?”

Giles held out the skin. She took a sip, then daintily wiped its mouth before returning it.

“Garley will never stand for this.” Her voice became deadly calm. “He’s bound to be on our trail right now. My marriage means too much to his coffers. He won’t stop until the vows are said.”

Across Giles’ memory flashed the image of her reddened check and puffy lip of the previous day, and a sudden knowledge infuriated him.

“He struck you.” The statement hung heavy. Her chin ratcheted up, and he frowned at the bruise he had inflicted himself. Nodding once, Emelin studied the cheese in her hand.

“I’ve known too many men like your brother,” Giles said, his tone grim. “Bullies. They must have their way always. Nothing satisfies them. I’m surprised he waited so long to sell you off.”

She flinched at the words and looked away. “I truly believed he had forgotten me. He sent not one word in five years. Then the men arrived with a message to pack. He had betrothed me to a lord who needed an heir.”

“And they thought you were suited to the job?”

Still Emelin did not look at him. “It was my mother. She birthed nine children. My sisters are long wed, with large families. I seemed a likely candidate.”

She stared at the ground, her tempting lips compressed into a line. Her right shoulder lifted in a tiny shrug as she added, “Lord Osbert offered a hefty bride price. Garley needed the money, and he conveniently remembered the sister he had tucked away. Fortunate that…”

Her voice clogged, and she cleared her throat. “The lord of Langley demanded his wife be fertile. He said he would overlook any physical flaws. If she were obedient and not comely, all the better.”

Giles’ laugh flashed. “Langley got the long end of that agreement.”

Her head jerked toward him. Hurt flooded her eyes in the instant before all expression blanked. She misunderstood. Did she truly think she was unlovely? He fought the urge to gather her in his arms and persuade her differently.

“Well, look at you,” he said, his tone reasonable. “A less calm and obedient female I’ve seldom encountered. As for not comely,
have
you never seen yourself?”

Emelin frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He stepped close, reached out. She flinched but didn’t move. His fingers stroked the silken strands loosened from her braids, traced the shape of her soft cheek, brushed across a cinnamon fleck near her lips.

“No,” he whispered, “I would not call you comely, either.” He gazed into her forest-dark eyes before his mouth touched her forehead. “I would call you beautiful.”

Her breath jerked as she blinked. His forefinger brushed away a tear, then another. He cupped her cheek; she winced. That damned bruise. And he called Garley a bully.

“We should get on the road.” He withdrew his hand and turned to the horses. “Wouldn’t want your loving brother to spoil our breakfast. Give me your word you won’t do anything foolish, and you can ride the mare.”

Her voice was soft behind him. “I vow,” she repeated.

****

Emelin winced at a sunbeam, then clutched the saddle to steady herself. The mare plodded obediently behind the black gelding through the woods. If only the pain in her head would ease. She needed to think, to plan. How could she slip away? A rescue party must be behind them. Perhaps an object dropped in the path would signal the route.

She had nothing to leave. Except her slipper. How to remove…? What a
fine
idea. She bit back a smile. As if her abductor wouldn’t notice an unshod foot. And how would she walk through the sticks and brambles? Determination must be tempered with realism. Something less obvious, then. She’d consider it.

The headache settled into a dull, steady pulse. Almost manageable. Hands braced on the saddle’s edge, she concentrated—to separate her mind from the low throb in her body.

Hours kneeling on the convent’s stone floors had taught a few useful things, after all.

Time passed in disconnected bursts. Not quite asleep yet not fully awake, she rode. Once she dozed, awoke to catch herself at the last moment before sliding sideways. The dark knight led them through undergrowth, along a path only he could make out. At last they moved into a clearing and stopped. When Emelin lifted her face, midday rays warmed her cheeks and throat.

She looked around. “Where are we?” Giles ignored the question as he dismounted and grabbed the ubiquitous bag slung across the saddle. Stubborn man! Why wouldn’t he answer?

“Are we lost then?”

“No. I know exactly where we are.”

“And that is…?”

He reached the mare and looked up. “In the middle of a small woods.”

Holy Mother! Was everything amusing to this impossible man?

Strong, sword-hardened hands swung her to the ground, lingered at her waist while she steadied herself. The muscles beneath her fingers were hard as rocks. For once, she applauded that strength, although she disliked admitting it.

A small stream meandered not far from the path. She made her way toward it in silence. Surely the man intended to rest. She could drop, but he must be twice as weary. She, at least, had dozed while they traveled.

Behind a bush she attended to her needs, then looked around. The water’s rustle lured her. Oh, to wade in the calm, shallow coolness. The temptation proved too great. Hiking up her skirts, she headed for the stream. A quick pull of slippers, and she cautiously touched a heel to the surface.

She gasped. It was cold. Still, she dipped her toes until they were accustomed to the temperature. Immersing that entire foot, she repeated the process with the other. At last she stood in the stream. Gentle waves lapped at her ankles. She sighed and lifted her head. Both braids hit her back.

The ribbons. She stilled at a thought. A perfect clue to leave. She straightened, pulled one of the twists of hair over her shoulder. The green tie slid easily from the end of the braid. She unknotted the fabric and wadded it in her hand. Not a trace showed.

The act made her feel better already. Now, where to place the ribbon? She would drape it over a branch, near the trail where no one would miss it. She smiled as she splashed from the stream. Quickly drying her feet on the hem of her chemise, she yanked on the slippers and stood.

“Feel better?”

The unexpected voice triggered a squeal. “Can’t you announce yourself? Must you constantly creep up on me?” How much had he seen?

He lifted his dark brows and shrugged away from the tree trunk where he leaned.

“You took so long, I feared something had happened.”

She turned her back and checked the green strip in her hand. Still hidden.

“I was simply enjoying the solitude and the cool water on my feet. I’ll leave you to your…umm…I’ll just go back to the horses.” Emelin scurried to the clearing and threw a look over her shoulder.

He was right behind her. “I’ve already completed my…umm. We need to travel.”

The despicable man had the nerve to laugh at her. She wanted to…to…do something truly dreadful to him. But it would serve no purpose at present. Instead, she said, “You can’t mean to go on. We’ve been riding all night and all morning. We must stop.”

“Sorry, my lady, we can’t afford to dally. Any delay might permit our followers to catch up. Provided there are any. Later, we’ll find a place to rest the horses.”

Of course. Rest the
horses
. Never mind the two humans. The man was unfeeling.

As he turned to gather the reins of her mare, she saw a chance. Emelin draped the green strip over the ends of a bush, then stepped in front of it to face him.

“When my brother and my betrothed find us, they will hang you,” she announced.

His deep eyes crinkled at the corners. “You must be exhausted, if that’s the best threat you can muster.” He gestured. “Come. We’ll rest soon.”

Emelin walked forward, careful to hold his attention. He mustn’t notice the ribbon.

Her rebellious heart beat faster as she neared. Sinful, that’s what it was—no man should look so alluring with two days growth of beard, disheveled dark hair that curled at the ends, and sleepy, silver eyes that gazed from shadowed depths.

When his big, warm hands closed around her waist, she shivered, then gasped at the feeling of weightlessness as he lifted.
Oh, my.
His gaze caught hers as she settled, hands fisted on his muscular shoulders.

A blink broke the moment, and he turned away to retrieve the rough bag that contained the food. He broke off another piece of cheese, placed it on a chunk of bread and held it up. “I’ll find something tastier for our next meal.”

Emelin carefully avoided a glance at the bush. No sense drawing her captor’s attention to the strip of green. Giles shoved the food into the bag, looped it over the pommel of his own saddle, and mounted. Without another word, they rode into the woods.

Chapter Ten

“We’ll stop ahead.” Giles glanced over to discover Emelin’s eyes drooping. She nodded. Exhaustion dimmed her fiery spirit, yet she gripped the saddle with determination. Any other lady would have collapsed in hysterics by now. Not this one. But even warriors needed rest. So did the horses.

At last. He espied a double rock formation just ahead. Perfect for a brief stop. If his directions proved accurate, Chauvere lay but a few hours ahead. With the lead he’d ensured for himself, he could chance this halt.

He led the way into the small clearing which the rocks marked. The sun’s warmth had cooled, and the fiery ball rode low on the horizon. Dark clouds draped it like an ominous cloak. Satan’s backside. Just what he needed. Bad weather to hold them up.

Still, pursuit was bound to lag hours behind. Once Emelin was missed, searchers would comb the castle and grounds before a connection was made between her disappearance and his. At some point, the guard would recall Silverhawk left with a loaded pack horse.

They’d search in the wrong direction at first. He’d followed the road south from Langley, then swung north once they were out of sight.

Emelin uttered not a squeak when he helped her from the saddle. Eyes lowered, she allowed him to lead her toward the rock shelter where he spread her blankets and dropped the packet of food.

“Get some sleep if you can. We have a few more hours travel ahead.”

She sank to the ground, brushed the hair from her eyes where a braid had unraveled, then held up a trembling hand for the water. After a sip, she poured a handful of the cool liquid and dabbed at her chin. Giles glanced away. No need to still feel guilty. He hadn’t really harmed the lady. Her mind was sharp as ever. The loose braid proved that.

“Looks like you lost your hair tie.”

Emelin avoided his glance to smooth out the blanket edges once. Twice. “It may be tangled in my gown.” Unconcern limned her words, but her fingers trembled. “That happens sometimes. I’ll search before we leave.”

His little nun didn’t lie well. He smiled. Perhaps he could help locate the tie. Anger would spark her eyes then. Good. A bit of energy to take her mind off the tiring journey.

After the horses were unsaddled and secured amidst plentiful grass, he sauntered toward her. She scooted back at his approach, caught her lower lip between her teeth. The picture of suspicion. He smiled.

From his left sleeve, he pulled an object. Held it out. “Here. This must be what you need.” The green ribbon dangled from his fingers. “Lucky I found this on a bush where we stopped earlier. It must have caught when you mounted.”

Emelin’s eyes widened as she saw the strip of linen, then flew to his. They sparkled all right. Anger fairly burned her lashes.

“Thank you.” She snatched the tie from his hand and lay down, her back to him.

Not the outburst of fury he expected. Of course, she was exhausted. He dropped to the ground at one end of the large V of rock and leaned against the rough, still-warm surface, a lone blanket draped around his shoulders.

Now that her attempt to signal potential trackers had failed, she’d settle down properly. Surely she realized he meant her no harm. Surely she recognized his efforts to keep her safe.

Through lowered lids, he watched her burrow into her blankets. She was not a woman he could have, but she deserved his protection. At least for a few more leagues. With a soundless sigh, he relaxed. Just a bit of rest and they could be on the trail again.