Taken and Seduced (8 page)

“And what does she think of you?” Robert said, wearing a grin.

Adam couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “She sees me as a protector, something she’s obviously never had.”

“And you’ve never had anyone to protect.”

Adam’s gaze shot to him, and for some strange reason, he felt angry. He didn’t know why. “Did I not have you and Paul?”

Robert sat down on a log, hands dangling loosely between his knees. “Peace, brother. Since you were six you have protected us, to the detriment of any kind of normal life. I should have clarified what I meant: you have not had a woman to protect. It think it is different than you imagined it to be.”

Adam wanted to stay on the defensive, but he found his shoulders sagging. He went to sit beside his brother.

“Different is not the right word,” he said tiredly. “’Tis far more challenging than I had ever imagined. She is…she is…”

“A woman. Now you see why I had to occasionally escape just to be with them.”

“I have been with women,” Adam said stiffly.

Robert chuckled. “I have to admit, I wondered about that. You were always so focused on our training, and on your work training others. Once I was
permitted
to hear about Martindale’s role in the crime against our family, at least I understood your obsession.”

“’Tis not an obsession.” This was a long-running argument, so his response was mild. “And you were given the information when you were old enough to understand it, just as I was.”

Robert sighed. “That is in the past.”

“And our future.” Adam seldom allowed himself to think of the end of the journey, how he would feel, what he would do when at last he faced Martindale across their two swords. But now, in his mind’s eye, he imagined Florrie there watching them, perhaps standing between them. He angrily shook that thought away. This was none of her concern. She could not understand his need for justice; she was a woman.

But wasn’t that his current problem?

“But Florrie is in our
present
,” Robert continued. “What will you do if she grows too attached to you?”

Though Robert didn’t speak the words, Adam understood the rest of his concern—what if
Adam
grew too attached to
her
?

“I will not let it happen,” Adam said coldly. “She is Martindale’s daughter.”

“I hope you remember that in the night.”

Robert playfully hopped off the log, as if he expected Adam to reach for him. But Adam just stared at the mist that hung low over the dark water.

“I shall return from my errand before midmorning,” Adam said. “Let her sleep as long as she wants.”

Back at the campsite, Michael had already saddled his horse. After instructing the knight to hunt more game while he waited, Adam rode away, and within the hour he’d reached York. He had timed it well, for after riding past the homes lining the lane, he could see the gatehouse ahead, and the portcullis lifting up to admit people to the town. It was easy enough to find the one haberdashery, situated in the same vicinity as all the craftsmen and merchants.

Dismounting from his horse, he left it tied to the rail outside and went in. His message was already written, ready to be sent to London. In it, he revealed his identity to Martindale, his capture of Florrie, and his challenge to meet the man in combat. He didn’t even consider that Martindale might betray his actions to the Crown. Nay, the man had too many of his own secrets to keep hidden.

Since he knew that the League of the Blade was
probably not looking for him, he decided to take a chance and use their messengers. It couldn’t be helped—he needed Martindale’s response as quickly as possible, and only the League had messengers waiting every fifteen miles between York and London.

Adam would have an answer by the end of the next day, when they reached Nottingham.

When Florrie awoke, she was surprised that the sun was already above the horizon. She was alone on the blanket, which
didn’t
surprise her. But although she could see Robert, who seemed to be mending a leather strap, there was no one else in their encampment.

Robert’s eyes met hers, and he gave her his usual cheerful grin. “A good morning to you, my lady.”

“Florrie,” she said without thinking. “Otherwise you’ll speak too formally in front of strangers.”

His grin widened. “You are learning the rules for disguising oneself quickly.”

She shrugged, and looked about again.

“Michael is washing down at the river,” he said. “He’ll keep an eye out for snakes.”

She blushed, even as she remembered that her screams had brought Adam to her. She found herself reliving the hard feeling of him within her arms, between her thighs. It was difficult to focus on Robert. “Oh, do not tease me any more. You cannot imagine how embarrassed I feel.”

“Do not feel so. You’re defenseless. I should teach you how to use a dagger.”

“I cannot imagine Adam would approve. None of you would be foolish enough to trust me with a weapon.”

“And speaking of my big brother, he should be returning soon.”

Hesitantly, she asked, “Where did he go?”

“Into the nearest town. He had a message to send.”

“To my father?”

Robert only shrugged. “He’ll tell you what he thinks you should know.”

“You obey him well.”

“Have we not already discussed how we younger siblings treat the elder ones?”

She found herself giggling. “You are silly, Robert.”

“When I want to be.”

“All the time,” said Michael from beyond the fire, as he approached.

Florrie stood up. “I will be back.”

When she returned, Adam still hadn’t arrived, and she found herself feeling uneasy. It wasn’t that she feared being alone with Robert and Michael. It seemed to her that it was far more dangerous to be alone with Adam.

But he was always so careful about being followed on this journey. What if someone had captured him?

But by the time she finished the meal Michael
had prepared, Adam was riding toward them, looking as impassive as ever.

Florrie’s overwhelming relief worried her. She didn’t like feeling so concerned about him, so drawn to him. She was a woman who’d always relied on herself for the contentment that marked her life. She could not let a man who would only briefly be with her become so important. She had never given her family any power over her happiness; it must be the same way with Adam.

But her body didn’t want to heed her mind, for it reacted to his presence with an awareness that was far too needy.

She stood with her hands on her hips as he approached. “So you sent a message to my father?” Adam glanced at his companions, but she quickly added, “They did not need to tell me. What else would I assume?”

Adam dismounted, and Michael led away his horse. It was interesting how much Michael took care of Adam, almost like a servant rather than an equal partner. Yet she knew Michael was also a knight, just as Adam was. Since Adam would call this journey a “mission,” every mission needed a leader, she guessed.

Adam lifted a wineskin and drank, still watching her.

“Are you going to tell me?” she prodded.

“When there is something I think you should know, I will inform you.”

He was reminding her of her place within this traveling party; she would do well to remember it. She nodded, letting him have his secrets. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to talk to her. She would discover the truth soon enough.

A
fter two days journey through drizzling rain, they made camp on the outskirts of Sherwood Forest long before the sun began to set. Adam saw Florrie give him a confused look, but he ignored it. She would find out soon enough why they were stopping early.

He thought he was getting better at ignoring other things where she was concerned. Since they spent so much of the day huddled in cloaks against the rain, he’d been able to avoid looking at her. When they stopped for meals and rests for the horses, she’d avoided his gaze as much as he’d avoided hers. They were both trying to be sensible about their attraction.

With the rain, no one had slept well the previous night. They’d had a hard time finding dry ground, and ended up sneaking into an abandoned barn at dark, too near a village for comfort. They hadn’t been able to light a fire, and had been miserably damp all night.

But at last the rain had stopped, and the sun
was peaking out from beneath low gray clouds. Sherwood Forest provided welcome shelter. The trees were plentiful, oaks with twisting branches, birches with their pale white bark. They made a bold campfire, and spread all of their damp clothing about it to dry.

Adam watched Florrie sigh as she settled near the fire. He felt a twinge of conscience, knowing it was his fault she was on this journey, sharing their discomfort. But it could not be helped. He looked at his men. “I will return before nightfall.”

She glanced up at him. “You are buying supplies?”

“Aye.” And retrieving other things as well.

“Good luck,” Robert said, watching him without smiling. “Are you certain one of us shouldn’t accompany you?”

“I would rather you stay with Florrie.”

She propped her head on her fist and sighed.

Adam knew that, now that he’d alerted Martindale, there was more of a chance that he could be in danger. But the League’s message system was much more organized—and quicker—than any regular messenger Martindale could hire. Even if the man decided to respond to Adam’s challenge by rescuing his daughter instead of meeting him in honorable combat, it would be at least another day before Martindale could have men nearby.

Adam reached Nottingham within an hour. He kept his cloak about him, his hat low over his brow, and took his time exploring the envi
ronment around the haberdashery. He didn’t see anyone lurking about waiting. At last he entered the building to retrieve his message, only to be told that there
was
no message.

Adam questioned the man behind the counter quietly, as there were still customers purchasing hats in the store. But the man was adamant—Martindale’s steward told the London messenger that there would be no reply to Adam’s missive.

Did the man not care about his daughter? Or did he think Adam wouldn’t dare harm her?

Or perhaps he assumed that Adam would do exactly what he was going to do: travel to London and issue the challenge in person. Martindale would have several days to prepare, but what did that matter? One was either prepared for combat, or not.

Of course, Martindale could be planning to rescue Florrie. Adam would take precautions, starting with his journey back to their encampment using a different path. It was almost completely dark by the time he returned, but the forest hid them well. He dismounted and led his horse inside.

Robert melted out of the trees before Adam reached the fire, then accompanied him the last several yards.

“Good trip?”

“Interesting.”

Michael stood up as they approached. “Interesting?” he echoed.

Then all three men glanced at Florrie. She was seated on a log, holding her skirts wide. Her hair must have dried, for she’d pulled it back away from her face. She was watching Adam carefully, waiting. And then he decided that her reaction to the news would tell him more than keeping it a secret.

“Yesterday morn,” Adam began, “I sent a message to your father, revealing that I had you, and wished to challenge him.”

She slowly stood up. She didn’t look worried, as he thought she might have.

“And you hoped to hear from him today?” she asked. “Surely ’tis much farther to London.”

“The messengers I used are organized and swift. They reached London yesterday evening, delivered their message, and returned to your father this morn for a reply.” He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her, but not seeing how he could avoid it. “Martindale chose not to send one.”

Instead of revealing confusion or tears, her expression remained strangely impassive. She wasn’t surprised at all by this news.

It was true that Martindale had never treated her well, kept her in service to her sisters, planned to send her away when he had no more need of her. But Adam didn’t believe that she was inconsequential to her father; Adam had done his research. He knew Martindale was arrogantly protective of his possessions, including his daughters. And Florrie was his.

Could she know something of her father’s past, the secrets he held? Then Adam would have to discover them. It was time to begin using his persuasive talents on her. He could talk to her more, reveal a bit about himself to induce her to do the same.

But he wouldn’t resort to seduction—he could not imagine using her in such a way. There were other methods of persuasion. Florrie was friendly and talkative. She would eventually slip and say what he needed to hear.

At last, Florrie seemed uneasy with the silence. She clasped her hands together and looked at the fire. “I wonder what my father is thinking. After all, you could be…hurting me.”

Robert exchanged a troubled glance with Michael, who only looked away and kicked at the ground, as if it wasn’t his place to be involved. Then he silently led Adam’s horse away.

Adam approached the fire and sat down, reaching for a wineskin. “Or he could assume I would be too intelligent to do so. I am using you against him, which means I would take care of you. But he could have any number of plans against us, which is why we must be even more careful from now on. He now knows the general vicinity we’re traveling. How does he react when he’s threatened?”

She sank down beside him, wrapping her arms about her knees. “If you’re speaking militarily, of course I do not know. But ’tis no secret that my
father has a terrible temper. He could be waiting to attack you when you reach the city.”

“But if I have
you
, ’twould be foolish of him to risk your life.”

She said nothing.

“You cannot think your own father wants you dead,” he said softly.

She gave him a swift glance. “Nay, not that. I am still…valuable in many ways. But protecting himself comes first in his mind.”

“Why? What does he feel so strongly about protecting?”

She hesitated for only a moment, and he thought she might be about to reveal something he could use. But at last, she shook her head. “Protecting his life, his position. His power is all important to him. And you’re threatening it. Perhaps he’s taking this to King Henry.”

“Nay, he would not do that,” Adam said with conviction. “He doesn’t want made public what exists between my family and his—yours.”

Florrie noticeably flinched as he tied her to her family, and against him. She looked at him with imploring eyes. “Tell me what it is, Adam.”

And for a moment, he considered it. Blood had been spilled, his family destroyed. She might be so outraged by the truth that she would no longer speak so easily to him. Nay, it was best to wait for the right time.

He looked away from her, back to the fire, and reached for the meat kept hot on a spit for him. “I
cannot speak of it now,” he said softly. And because she might take his silence better, he added, “’Tis too painful.”

Compassion flooded her eyes, obviously driving away her doubts. She put a hand on his arm, and it took everything in him not to flinch. But not because of the problems between their families; nay, when she touched him, he didn’t care who she was, only that he desired her.

Michael silently returned from the horses and looked evenly at Adam. “You’ve made your presence known in Nottingham,” he said.

Adam nodded. “Now that the marquess has not responded, I sense possible problems. We cannot remain here.” He stood up, relieved when Florrie’s hand dropped away from him. “If anyone is now pursuing me, I want them mislead. Michael, I bought dry blankets in town. Let us leave the wet ones behind.”

Michael and Robert exchanged slow smiles.

Florrie looked at all three of them with a bewildered expression. “Why would we leave blankets?”

“While you’re packing away your belongings,” Adam said, “we’ll show you.”

Only a brief time later, they stood near the horses, ready to journey in the night. The moon was shining, and if they kept to the edges of the forest, they’d be able to see well enough to travel for several hours yet.

Florrie watched in surprise as Michael and Robert arranged the four blankets in mounds around the dying fire. By the low light, it almost seemed as if someone slept there. She met Adam’s gaze and gave him a slow, impressed smile.

“Robert, remain behind for several hours,” Adam said. “Your report will prove interesting.”

Florrie felt like the night would never end. They’d been journeying for several hours after dark, and the horses had to pick their way slowly over tree roots and rocks and around mud holes. But they seemed well trained for such work, never once giving any of the riders a problem.

She had plenty of time to think. Had she made a mistake not showing more emotion at her father’s apparent rejection? Part of her had thought he’d send a blustering letter of threats since Adam had one of his “possessions.”

She’d been taken aback by the absolute silence. Adam was so certain that a response could have come had her father chosen to send it, that she had no choice but to believe him. Though Adam challenged her father, she already knew that he was the more honorable of the two men.

And she was used to being ignored; she would not let it bother her. Most of the time, it freed her to do what she wanted, within limits. And right now, it allowed her to be traveling the English countryside, on an adventure that she’d never
have again. Because when her father had her back, he might finally have had enough of her, and she would be hastened off to the convent.

But as she rode in the moonlit darkness, listening to ancient trees rustle on one side of her, seeing farmland stretch away endlessly on the other side, she couldn’t imagine being confined inside four high walls.

She glanced at Adam who rode straight in the saddle, his eyes seeing everything. At the convent, she would never see men again—would never see him.

Would this adventure turn against her, make her remember for the rest of her life what she’d be missing? Nay, she had always known what she’d miss; she wanted good memories to cherish.

At last he called a halt, and they made camp in silence. Were they thinking about Robert, she thought, glancing to the north every so often? Was Adam worried about his little brother? Or did men think differently?

She and Adam slept side by side again, the wet ground from the night before an unpleasant memory. The shared warmth between them always made her relax.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept before she heard their voices. Robert had returned, and Adam was no longer beside her. She guessed that they would speak more freely if they thought she slept, so she didn’t open her eyes.

“You were right, Adam,” Robert said, sounding tired. “You were followed.”

Florrie tensed, but Adam’s tone was just as calm as ever.

“I saw no one as I left Nottingham,” he said, “and if they’d followed me immediately, they would have attacked us.”

“Then they tracked us,” Robert continued. “But I do not actually know who they were. There were only two of them, and they didn’t attack. I watched from up in a tree, and heard their curses when they discovered our ruse.”

“Two men?” Adam said, his voice contemplative. “Surely Martindale would have sent more.”

Michael said, “But perhaps they had to spread out to find you?”

“So Martindale’s men could be all over the countryside,” Robert said, not sounding too bothered by that.

Awfully confident, wasn’t he? Florrie thought.

“I still have a hard time believing he could send men north so quickly,” Adam mused.

“Unless they were already here,” Robert said, “at a nearby castle or manor house. He has property all over England. Only a swift messenger would have to be sent to alert his soldiers.”

“A good thought, Robert.”

Robert sounded exasperated. “Adam, ’tis not necessary to compliment me as if you’re still training me. I know I’m your little brother, but I am also a—”

He broke off, and Florrie almost groaned. Also a what? Knight? Perhaps they’d misled her about their titles, and Adam really was still training him. She lay still, listening intently.

“It bothers me that we were found,” Adam said.

“But they didn’t trail us farther,” Michael added. “We are not even going directly south anymore, as we would be expected to do to reach London.”

“Do you think Martindale has Bladesmen working for him?” Robert asked.

In the somber silence that followed, Florrie found herself feeling an old excitement she’d thought buried. Were they actually discussing the League of the Blade? She’d always been told they were nothing but legend, tales to make a fire-lit evening exciting. But these men spoke of Bladesmen as if they’d actually met some of them.

When she was eight, confined to her bedchamber for many long weeks because her leg was broken, her nurse had lifted her spirits with tales of the League. As an adult, Florrie had made herself leave such fantasy behind, because no one was going to rescue her. Yet still, it was wonderful to hear that legends could be the truth.

“If Bladesmen are working for Martindale,” Adam said impassively, “there is nothing we can do about it. And Martindale would not even realize it himself, due to their vows of secrecy. Right now we must concentrate on the fact that we are being followed. We should try to spend more eve
nings under shelter, giving us more defensible positions. I will have the two of you circle back occasionally during the day, to look for people following us. But that will exhaust the horses, so we’ll have to take the most remote paths available, and not always in a direct line to London.”