But as he led the palfrey forward through the trees, her heart sang a different tune. She had never seen such violence in a man’s eyes. Her flesh quivered, remembering the hard bite of his hands, which seemed even crueler after the tender way he had looked at her moments ago.
Better to be set upon by a pack of wolves than left in this man’s care.
She had hoped she was journeying toward love, or at the very least, protection and security. Instead, she had found hate.
And who could blame him. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her throat. Any man would be outraged and demand compensation for such an insult, which apparently Uncle Royce had not offered at the time, or she would not be paying for it now.
Damn his arrogance and tight-fisted ways.
After six years, he probably never imagined it would come back to haunt him—that Fortin would return to take what should have been offered in the first place—compensation for his near castration.
Obviously, Fortin had gotten wind of her recent betrothal and seized upon the opportunity. But, how had he known of their travel plans?
‘Twas a mystery.
The time of departure and the route they would take were well-kept secrets.
Or so they thought.
Of course, information could be bought—spies hired. A man as determined as Fortin would find a way.
Was he the danger Hesper had spoke of so many years ago?
If so, her nightmares had not done him justice. The fear he inspired in her heart, far surpassed the faceless ghosts.
Chapter Two
A thousand stars glittered like snow crystals against the black sky. Isabeau huddled deeper within her grey mantle in the back of the goat-hide covered wagon and tried not to think about her fate. They had ridden well into dusk, finally stopping on the ridge of a low-lying hill to make camp.
Fortin had been as good as his word, turning her over to his squire, William, with all haste, not glancing her way since.
Even now, he caroused with his men by the fire with his broad back to the wagon as though she did not exist. Mayhap that was his plan. She had had naught to drink or eat since he’d taken her. But then, he considered her less than human; mayhap he thought toads were her meat and she would pluck them from the ground as they went.
Best he didn’t know how terrified she was of anything that hopped or crawled—or that she was terrified at all.
As far as she was concerned, he was the slimiest creature she had ever encountered, but she would never let him know it, lest he gain some satisfaction in her fear. Oh, he was handsome in a dark devilish way, if you looked beyond the cruel set of his mouth.
‘Twas easy to see why so many maids in her uncle’s hall had fallen victim to his charms.
The startling contrast of his night black hair and deep red lips, set against golden skin would turn any maid’s head.
But the eyes never lied—he possessed a black and bitter heart. Thanks to her uncle Royce, ‘twould seem.
Fortin did not appear to be miserable by nature. She had noticed him laughing and jesting with his men. Only when his gaze turned her way could she see the hard glitter of hate. It made the breath catch in her throat. She had never been hated before, at least, if she had, she had not known it.
Except the time she had spilled wine on the altar cloth Nicola had sewn as a present for Father Clarence on his birthday. When Isabeau picked it up to shake it off, one of the wolfhounds in the hall, thinking she was playing a game, grabbed it with his teeth and tore it in half.
‘Isabeau!’
Nicola had wailed, while the other ladies in the hall stared agog in disbelief. ‘Oh! Sometimes I hate you!’ Nicola screamed. But she hadn’t meant it. Nicola was too good to hate anyone. She would never knowingly harm, or even wish to harm another soul.
So why had she accused Fortin? There had to be some reasonable explanation. Nicola would never lie.
Unless… she was protecting someone, like the real father of her child.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made Isabeau blink.
She peered through the gloom, clenching her teeth to keep her chin from trembling with the cold.
Fortin’s squire, William, stood before her, holding out a piece of dried venison and a hunk of dark bread.
She accepted the offering with a brief nod of thanks, resisting the urge to snatch it from his hand. “Tell me, William, how far have we to travel?”
He shuffled in the darkness, glancing toward the fire. “I’m not to speak to you, only to see to your needs.”
“How will you know my needs, if you don’t speak to me?” When he failed to answer she said, “My apologies, I don’t wish to
cause
you trouble. I only wish to know how many nights I must sleep out in the cold.”
He turned on his heel without a word and strode off into the darkness, returning shortly after carrying a wool blanket. “‘Tis not much, but it will keep you warm.”
“My thanks, but I don’t wish to take your only blanket.”
“I have my mantle.” He shrugged. “I have no need of it.”
As he turned to go she said with haste, “Might I ask one more favor?”
He shifted in the darkness from side to side, clearly uncomfortable with loitering near her too long.
“Could you escort me to the edge of the woods? I’d go myself, but I would not wish your liege to think I’m running away, only to find myself ill-disposed and surrounded by a score of men.”
His face lit like a torch, but nevertheless he said, “Come, I’ll take you.” He reached up a hand to help her down. They walked in silence to the spot he had led her to when they first arrived.
When she emerged from the small copse of elms, William was there, standing in wait with his back to the trees.
The eerie hoot of an owl made her start, bouncing up her spine, making her heart clutch along the way. She made a grab for William’s sleeve. When she realized what she had done, her cheeks went hot and her hand fell away.
As they made their way back to the wagon, she cursed her superstitious mind for turning her into a coward. If she was to maintain her dignity during this unwelcome confinement, she must master her fears, and not let these villainous rogues see her weakness—especially, their leader.
Her gaze strayed to where Fortin lounged by the fire. ‘Twas likely he was pleased with his days work, the brazen-faced lout.
Would that her smoldering gaze could smite him where he sat.
As though sensing her malice, Fortin turned his head in her direction. His cold gaze touched her like an icy hand.
Isabeau shivered. With a tilt of her chin she turned, then lifted her skirts to climb back into the wagon.
But even with the added warmth of William’s blanket she could not sleep. The low rumble of strange men’s voices by the fire kept her awake long into the night, as did many ominous thoughts concerning her fate.
It reminded her of arriving at her uncle’s hall as a child—the uncertainty—the same desolate ache. But she had had Nicola and Maddie then, and the promise of holidays home. As a child she could trick her mind to sleep by conjuring an image of her mother’s smile, remembering her father’s voice booming with triumph when he returned from the hunt, the smell of apple-wood burning in the grate.
Then, like an angel her betrothed appeared, riding toward her with his golden hair blown back from his handsome face. She ran to meet him. They laughed as he swung her high in the air. She felt so safe, so loved—as if no evil could touch her. Her heart grew light. “I knew you would come,” she whispered against his smooth cheek.
“I’ve come to tell you ‘tis time to depart, my lady.”
The squire’s voice ripped through her dreams, washing her mind clean as she blinked up into William’s flushed face.
‘Twas morn.
She must have slept, though it seemed as though she had just closed her eyes.
She stumbled to her feet feeling blurry and drained, but took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
Somehow, she would get through this.
All was not lost.
Her happiness was simply delayed.
It was there in the distance, dangling like and apple on a string. All she had to do was to reach out and grab it. ‘Twas unlikely Uncle Royce would pay the ransom and swallow down the loss of her dowry as well.
So it was up to her.
There was nothing else to do.
She must escape.
***
Alec ground his teeth in annoyance, as he watched Will assist the Lady Isabeau down from her palfrey with tender care.
God’s teeth!
He had instructed him to see to her needs, not coddle her like some honored guest.
‘Twas time he set William straight.
Though, likely his head was already turned by her winsome face, not to mention that magnificent hair, streaming in a glorious cloud down her back. And who could blame him, Alec admitted. He had succumbed to the same shock when the hood fell from her head to reveal an abundance of silky blonde hair, shot through with strands of golden light. Wide, blue-grey eyes, the color of a dove’s, stared back at him, above a delicate straight nose and a pair of perfectly bowed lips as red as crab apples.
The sweetest piece of flesh he had ever seen and he could not have her.
Would that he had never heard her name.
At the sound of it, all of the dark memories had come flooding back—the blinding pain, from the beating he had endured at the hands of Agnew’s henchmen, the salty taste of his own blood as they leered down at him, their twisted laughter battering his ears.
But worst of all, shouting his innocence and not being heard.
The frustration and anger he
felt,
could not be described.
The dowry would replace the coin Agnew had taken, and the ransom would compensate him for the cost of the siege against Highburn, lands that were rightly his, but nothing could make up for the personal insult he had suffered that day.
Alec sucked in a deep breath, attempting to clear his head. He strode to the stand of pines where Mercury stood tethered, to see him settled for the night. It had been a long hard day in the saddle—one, they must repeat on the morrow. The sooner he turned in, the better.
After rubbing Mercury down and fixing him with a bag of grain, he went to the fire to ease his hunger.
A few moments later enjoying his repast, he glanced over his shoulder and nearly choked on his meat.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Will stood at the end of the wagon drawing a comb through his captive’s hair.
Alec sprang to his feet with a low growl.
If the rest of his men caught sight of Will playing lady’s maid, he’d be the laughing stock of the garrison. They’d taunt him until his ears chafed. As if the lad didn’t have enough to contend with, struggling to master the skills of knighthood.
Will must
have spied him coming. By the time Alec reached them, the comb had disappeared from Will’s hand.
“Go and see to the palfrey.”
Will hastened to obey with a hop to his step, almost tripping him to the ground.
Alec glared at William’s retreating back,
then
turned to the one who pricked his ire most. “’Tis difficult I’m sure for a pampered maid such as you to lift a finger for herself, but that does not excuse shaming my squire before of the rest of my men.”
The Lady Isabeau jutted her chin forward in haughty defiance. Her blue-gray eyes turned to flint.
“’Twas not my intent.
My hair is long and doest tangle. I have trouble reaching the back ‘tis all. If I’ve caused Will any shame, I’ll beg his pardon.” She made to turn away.