Taken and Seduced (6 page)

Michael glanced at her, betraying no emotion. “I caught fish while you two slept.”

He looked past her at Adam, who gruffly said, “Good work.”

Was Adam embarrassed to be sleeping while his two men completed their assignments? But he was their leader, and had taken charge of her. That was an important duty—except now he knew she would prove no trouble to him.

She decided to ignore him and concentrate on fingering the snarls from her hair, which was a difficult task. She looked up in surprise as a comb was tossed into her lap, but Adam turned away before she could thank him. Gratefully, she used it until she was able to braid her hair, which would definitely have to be washed soon. But she could hardly ask for a bath. Perhaps the stream they’d camped near might be deep enough for her to do as Adam had done the previous morning, dunk her head.

She rose to her feet and approached Adam, who’d returned from the trees and was beginning to saddle his horse while they all waited to break their fast.

“Might I go unaccompanied into the woods this morn?” she asked cautiously.

He looked down at her, and she realized that his habitual cold and aloof expression was gone, as if it were something he’d put on to frighten her.
He did not smile at her, but he nodded. She felt…lighter, happier.

As Lady Florence walked away, Adam frowned and forced himself to stop watching her, only to find that Robert had returned, and was regarding him with wary confusion. Sighing, Adam approached the fire and both men.

“You let her go alone, big brother,” Robert said.

“I will watch over her in a moment. I do not think she can go anywhere.” Then he told them about her confession that she was bound for the convent and wanted an adventure.

“Should we believe her?” Michael asked, since Robert was too busy chuckling.

Adam hesitated before answering. He’d believed her words as she said them, so convincing had she been.

Or perhaps so blinded by lust had
he
been.

But she
could
be lying, all to lull him into relaxing his watch over her. Then she could escape, or bring the nearest constable down on his head.

“We cannot afford to believe her,” Adam said at last, “not without proof. We have to remember whose daughter she is.”

“One proof will be if she returns this morn,” Michael said.

“Too easy,” Robert answered. “She would be foolish to leave until there were people to help her.”

“Then the next town,” Adam said firmly. “We can test her there.”

After they finished debating their plan, Lady Florence returned from her grooming. Her braid was now wet, as if she’d washed her hair.

She smiled at Michael. “Is the fish ready? I am famished!”

Her merry voice was so lilting and pleasant, like a forest stream burbling over rocks. And then Adam caught himself thinking such foolery, and he knew she could lure him into danger if he allowed it.

F
or the first time, Florrie rode among the three men with no rope marking her as a prisoner. They knew her motives now, and they still accepted her—well, of course, they accepted her. They were still hoping to use her against her father.

And it didn’t bother her in the least. Nothing would come of it, she insisted to herself. She had plenty of time now to discover what they held against her father. She would be patient.

She tried talking to Robert and Michael through the morning, and although they were pleasant, they did not reveal anything personal to her.

And then there was Adam, who studied her as if she were a creature he’d never seen before. He didn’t watch with interest so much as with intensity. Why didn’t he simply question her instead of staring? She’d tell him almost anything. But why should he believe her? So she forced herself to relax and enjoy the countryside, where the moors had begun to steadily shrink into small hills.

After such an awkward morning, she was relieved when the road they took merged with another, and there were more people traveling—and more muddy holes to carefully navigate. They were obviously approaching another village or town, and when Adam said nothing about his intentions, she could no longer control her curiosity.

“Do we need more supplies?” she hinted.

He glanced at her, and her breath caught as his expression eased into a faint smile. My, did he not realize how handsome he was when he relaxed?

She smiled in return. “I promise this time I will do whatever you say, even if it means waiting outside the village.”

He shook his head. “We go in together. We cannot have you missing the wonder of another quaint village.”

She laughed aloud with excitement. How glad she was that she’d told him the truth!

“But I cannot call you Lady Florence, for obvious reasons.”

“I’m called Florrie,” she said.

He cocked his head and seemed to look her over. Even that simple gaze made her pulse flutter.

“Florrie suits you. ’Tis much less proper than Florence.”

“And I am not proper?” she teased, then blushed as she remembered her sinful pleasure at sleeping beside him. Surely
that
was not proper.

He rolled his eyes. “We cannot call you Florrie,
either, for fear your name should reach the wrong ears. I will call you Katherine today.”

And now she had a secret identity on her grand adventure!

Unlike Richmond, with its castle and many inhabited streets, this truly was a village, with a small green surrounded by thatch-roofed stone houses at the junction of two roads. A two-story inn made of gray stone dominated the crossroads, and there were many horses enclosed within the yard.

“A popular place,” Florrie said. “Where will I wait?”

“If they have a public room, we shall eat our dinner here today,” Adam said.

Ah, it was good to no longer be treated as a captive, she thought with anticipation.

Michael nodded. “Robert and I will keep watch over the horses and purchase our supplies.”

“But do you not want to eat with us?” Florrie asked, feeling sorry for them.

Adam gave her an impassive glance, and she realized that this was not a pleasant jaunt for them; they’d probably been hired for this task.

“Never mind,” she said ruefully, giving the two men an apologetic look.

Robert only laughed and shook his head, while Michael appeared uninterested. Perhaps a public inn in a nondescript village was nothing to them, but to Florrie, it was another chance to see—and do—something new.

Adam helped her dismount, then took her arm to lead the way inside. She did her best to appear simply tired and subdued, but she could not help looking everywhere as they passed through an entry room where a man—the innkeeper?—stood behind a counter. The public room was off to the right, and at midday, the tables were mostly occupied with men. A huge fireplace dominated one end of the room, and although it was stacked with logs, it was not lit on this fine summer’s day.

“If we were here tonight,” Adam said quietly near her ear, “this would be a much more boisterous room.”

“This is a tavern where men come to drink?” she asked.

“’Tis the best place to gather. A man can learn much here, as drunken tongues wag foolishly.”

A man in a leather apron and cap came to lead them to a table, and soon they were eating steaming lamb pie. Florrie chewed slowly, enjoying the rare treat after so many days traveling. She watched Adam, whose his eyes were constantly scanning the nearby tables, the windows, the door. She knew he was concerned about being confronted.

“So you come to such places often?” she asked.

His eyes met hers again. “Nay.”

“Oh, but I thought…” Her words died.

“I have come on occasion, but that is all. I, too, did not travel in my youth.”

Then he put a spoonful in his mouth, as if he regretted those words.

“So that is why ’tis Michael who guides our journey.”

He nodded.

“Why did you not travel?”

He seemed to chew his food even more slowly, before saying at last, “I was not permitted to. My brothers and I were well guarded.”

“Why?”

“I cannot speak of it.”

She resisted the urge to sigh loudly. “How many more brothers do you have?”

“One. He is my youngest brother by three years, named Paul.”

“Why is he not serving at your side?”

“He left us before we undertook this mission.”

‘ “Undertook this mission’? You sound like this was an assignment from your lord.”

He frowned. “You mistake me.”

“Then why say it in such a way?”

“’Tis the only way I know.”

He was such a mystery! What young man was not permitted to travel in his youth? Boys were usually given much more freedom than girls. But she sensed a direct approach with questions would not work.

“Where did Paul go?”

At last this seemed to reach him, for pain flared briefly in his eyes. “I know not. He wanted to
make his own way in the world, and I could not gainsay him.”

“Do you miss him?” she asked softly.

“I spent my life taking care of him, and without him at my side, nothing seems right. But surely you understand that. Two of your sisters are married with their own homes.”

“You know much of me,” she said dryly. “And the third, Matilda, is married to Father’s heir, but they live with us,” she added with a sigh.

“You do not sound pleased.”

She used her spoon to break open more of her pie. “I must confess, I am not as close to my sisters as you are with your brothers.”

“But…I thought women were naturally bound together with love and support. We were taught—”

He broke off and quickly took another bite of his pie, but Florrie wasn’t fooled. He’d revealed something he hadn’t meant to say. He’d been
taught
about women? What kind of a curious education had he been exposed to as a child? She decided not to press him yet. The more familiar he became with her, the more he would speak.

“Women are often very close to one another,” she said slowly. “But my sisters have always been encouraged by my father to count on my assistance whenever they needed it.”

“But not the other way around.”

She smiled at him. “I did not ask for much. I was more content with my life than they could
ever be. They were far too concerned with finding the proper husband, and what they had to do to prepare themselves for such a hunt.”

He blinked. “Looking for a husband is like a hunt?”

She lifted her nose in the air. “There are only so many noblemen to be had, after all,” she said primly, then smiled. “My father was determined to be allied with the best families in England.”

“But not through you.”

She shrugged. “I understood. The dowry money was better spent on attracting a viscount for Agnes and an earl for Christina. Matilda, married to Father’s heir, Claudius Drake, will be a marchioness someday. For me, Father has set aside money for the convent, of course, but ’tis hardly the same amount necessary for a marriage.”

“But with that money, you could have attracted a mere knight, could you not?”

Those blue eyes she’d once thought of as perpetually cold now studied her. Was he teasing?

She found herself blushing again. “Nay, my infirmity made such a thing difficult, so Father determined it best that I represent the family in the church. I understood, and I accept it. It will be a better life in many ways.”

“How?” he asked, straightening on his stool as if in surprise.

“I am looking forward to the education afforded a woman in a convent. And I will be doing God’s work—not my sisters’.”

Though he smiled and seemed to mean it, she thought his face almost seemed…stiff, as if he wasn’t used to expressing emotions. How curious.

Suddenly someone came to a stop in the rushes next to their table. Florrie looked up to see Michael nodding to them, his red hair falling forward over his brow.

“Sir, there is a problem with the horses. May I have a moment of your time?”

Adam nodded. “Katherine, please remain here and finish your meal. I will only be absent a short time.”

And then the two of them were gone, leaving her alone in the public room. It was a novel experience, since she’d never been totally alone with strangers—unless you counted her kidnapping. She continued eating, thanked the server for refilling her cider, and looked at all the people and the way they were dressed. Fascinating.

Several men began to openly stare at her. She should feel uncomfortable, but she didn’t. She knew Adam would protect her. It was an unusual feeling to have a man’s protection, and she relished it, however temporary it was.

A plump woman wearing an apron to cover her simple gown stopped near the table. “Excuse me, mistress, but I be Mistress Lingard, the innkeeper’s wife. Your husband had to step away, did he? Do ye want company?”

Florrie was flustered by the fact that Adam hadn’t assigned her a last name. But of course, she didn’t
need
to introduce herself. “Mistress Lingard, how kind of you to offer, but I would not want to keep you from your duties. My husband will return in a moment.”

And indeed, she saw Adam entering the public room. More than one person watched him approach, and she could understand why. He looked imposing and dangerous, a man used to command. Florrie felt a thrill at being with him.

He gave Mistress Lingard a nod and looked at Florrie. “I regret the delay. Have you finished eating?”

She nodded and rose to her feet, taking his arm as if she always did. “Mistress Lingard, the meal was delicious. My husband could not stop complimenting your establishment.”

Adam gave Florrie an impassive look, but she wouldn’t feel guilty for her boldness in naming him husband. Why else would “Katherine” be traveling with three men? Mistress Lingard blushed as she saw them to the front entrance.

Adam had not been able to ignore the feeling of relief he’d felt that Florrie had not tried to leave them. Robert had stood guard near the public room to watch over her, but still, she’d passed their little test quite well.

He watched the way she waved a greeting to
Mistress Lingard, the liveliness in her step as she strolled with her hand in his arm. She was so…happy, so content with the meagerness she’d been handed in life. He didn’t understand her.

He saw Michael and Robert waiting with the horses. “Katherine, remain with the men. I will return in a moment.” He went back inside the inn.

When he returned to her, carrying a wrapped parcel under his arm, he saw her look of curiosity, but she did not question him.

Not until they had left the village did she give a pleased sigh and smile at him. “How did I do?”

“You passed,” Robert said.

Adam shot him a frown, then winced when Florrie’s smile faded.

“Passed?” she repeated.

“I needed to be certain you could be trusted not to betray us,” Adam said.

She nodded solemnly. “I understand. Of course you could not simply take my word. That is why you left me alone?”

“It is.”

Taking a deep breath, she donned a small smile. “Then I passed.”

She was hiding her disappointment, and something deep within Adam ached, confusing him. Had she spent her life hiding her feelings?

Though he’d meant to wait until later that evening, he removed the parcel from his saddlebag and leaned toward her horse to hand it to her.

As she held it, she raised wide eyes to his. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

He thought he heard Robert snicker behind him, but he ignored his little brother. This was a necessary purchase.

Florrie untied the string holding the cloth together, then lifted up the plain green gown, with a linen smock beneath it. He suddenly realized it matched her eyes, and he hoped his brother didn’t notice that.

She gasped, wearing a delighted smile. “Adam, thank you so much! Where did you purchase something ready-made?”

“The innkeeper’s wife said she kept garments on hand for travelers in need.”

“And I am in need,” she said fervently.

She met his gaze, and there was a softness in her eyes that made him uneasy. But she said nothing else, only folded away the clothing and slid it into her saddlebag, all while controlling her horse with her knees. Adam was reluctantly impressed.

Traveling was much easier now that they’d left the moorlands for the plains of Yorkshire. Farm fields spread as far as the eye could see, dotted with the occasional castle, manor house, or monastery. Adam couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Florrie frequently. Each new building in the distance was a cause for her to experience wonder, whereas Adam had to be wary
for the hue and cry of being discovered. It had been three days since he’d taken Martindale’s daughter—more than enough time for the villain to hear about it. Adam was ready to reveal the next move in his plan.

As they rode along, Robert came up beside Florrie. “Adam says you mean to become a nun.”

Adam winced, but Florrie only smiled.

“I do,” she said. “It has not yet been decided when I shall enter the convent.”

Robert stared at her as if she were something he’d never seen before. “And you do not mind?”