He dared another look at the soldiers, who still stared wide-eyed at Nicole. Neither soldier seemed in a hurry to chase after the
wretched beast
.
Nicole placed her fists on her hips. “Surely one of you is brave enough to capture a crippled man!”
Crippled? Hell’s bells, he hadn’t limped since leaving the farm!
“The Welshman is crippled?” the first soldier asked.
“He can barely walk. While you fetch him, your companion can aid me with my belongings.” She turned to the second soldier. “Have you a blanket? I am wet and cold and do not wish to sicken and die before you can return me to the earl.”
Reminded of her importance to the earl of Oxford, the second soldier took down the bedroll tied behind his saddle.
Nicole turned back to the first. “Why are you not gone?”
Her tone of arrogant nobility, expecting immediate obedience, this time urged her victim to mount his horse and spur it upriver.
Once more she’d played the princess that she was, and Rhodri wished the devil he knew how to make a princess obey a direct command. True, she’d split the enemy for him, but he would have preferred she’d stayed hidden and out of harm’s way.
With his original plan in tatters, with no choice but to allow Nicole’s scheme to play out, Rhodri watched Nicole wrap the soldier’s dry blanket around her shoulders.
“Oh, how wonderfully warm,” she sighed, the sentiment not at all feigned. Then her lashes fluttered at the hapless soldier. “I cannot tell you of how I have suffered in that… whoreson’s company, or of how grateful I am for your timely rescue.”
Whoreson.
Rhodri rolled his eyes at her inventive description of him.
The soldier puffed up with unwarranted pride. “The earl will be most pleased to have ye back, milady.”
“As I will be most pleased to return to Oxford. But pray, how shall we manage a hasty return with four people and only two horses?”
“Ye can ride with me, milady. As for the Welshman, we will tie him to a lead rope and let him keep up as best he may. The earl will not mind if we drag the whoreson a bit, as long as we take him back alive enough to hang.”
Nicole nodded as if the arrangement suited her. “Then let us fetch my belongings so we might leave as soon as your fellow soldier returns.”
The soldier turned away for a moment to grab hold of his horse’s reins. Nicole turned fully, and only then did she glance around, likely wondering where he was and why he hadn’t yet dispatched the soldier.
He was tempted to make her wait a while longer, allow her to worry just a little about his coming to her rescue.
But he couldn’t. Nor did he want to take the chance that Nicole might be hurt, so he tucked the sword back into his belt, deciding he didn’t have to kill or badly injure the soldier, just knock him out.
Rhodri waited until he was sure he wouldn’t be noticed before leaving the protection of the tree. Quietly, he sneaked up behind the guard, grabbed hold of his shoulder, and spun him around. The soldier’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t have time to bring his hands up or shout a warning before Rhodri planted a solid fist to his chin. The man spun backward and went down in a heap, and stayed there.
Rhodri grabbed hold of the horse’s reins before scolding Nicole. “Did I not tell you to remain hidden?”
She didn’t look the least remorseful for her disobedience. “I was merely trying to be of help.” She glanced down at the unheeding soldier. “Will he be all right, do you think?”
Rhodri didn’t much care about the health of the soldier, so he ignored her concern. “I did not require your help and will thank you not to interfere next time.”
A storm gathered in her eyes. “I worried you might be trampled by a horse!”
He knew why she worried. Without him to guide her, she’d be alone in unfamiliar lands. Without him to grab hold of, she might have fallen in the middle of the river and drowned. Without his protection, she might now be on her way back to Oxford.
And she didn’t fully trust him to protect her, and that stung.
“Shall we depart before either this soldier awakes or the other returns?”
They hurried over to where she’d left their belongings. Nicole snatched up the wet blanket and began to fold it. Rhodri let go of the horse’s reins to pick up the harp’s sack, planning to tie it to the back of the saddle.
Nicole gave the blanket a shake and, when it didn’t straighten as she wished, shook it harder. The flap startled the horse; the resultant snap sent the frightened animal galloping back toward the bridge.
Nicole groaned and hid her face in the blanket. Rhodri could only stare at the escaping horse and blurt out a sharp curse.
How could she have been so careless!
He had every right to upbraid her, but when she uncovered her face, ’twas so full of woe and remorse he didn’t have the heart to utter a reprimand.
After a glance at the soldier, who hadn’t yet moved, he hefted the sack over his shoulder and headed west, Nicole walking silently sullen at his side.
In a circular clearing about five long paces across, Nicole stood close to the larger-than-usual fire Rhodri had built, not surprised he’d decided to make camp even though the day wasn’t yet close to ending.
They both needed to warm up and dry out. Though from the look of the darkening sky, she would wager that about the time her gown started to dry, the rain would fall and soak her through again.
Apparently of the same opinion, Rhodri hurriedly built a shelter of cleverly entwined branches and wide-leafed ferns. She’d offered to help; he’d insisted she stay by the fire.
She didn’t press because he hadn’t yet forgiven her for her last attempt to lend aid. Still, she’d done what she could to help him make camp without getting in his way.
Both blankets were spread over nearby bushes, with her and Rhodri’s short hose spread atop the dry blanket she’d been given by the soldier. Their boots stood side by side close to the fire, roasting nicely, and she carefully watched over them.
Rhodri had already placed the harp’s sack and her dagger in the shelter.
He used his sword as a scythe to mow down the ferns, adding several more to the roof before he stepped back to inspect his handiwork.
Nicole glanced down at his bare ankle, which he didn’t seem to favor overly and which was no longer swollen. The injury appeared to have healed enough to allow him full use of his ankle.
He’d left the walking stick behind at the river. Chagrined, Nicole admitted she might have misjudged the extent of his injury, misinterpreting the amount of pain. She excused her understandable mistake. She was accustomed to treating the ills and injuries of nuns, not of warriors—a tougher breed.
He tucked the sword back into his belt, apparently satisfied he’d piled enough ferns on the roof to keep out the rain. From the sack, he fetched their last two apples.
As he handed over her combined late nooning and early supper, Nicole wished they were back at the farm, safe and dry, cuddled up on the floor. Before her dunking in the river. Before she’d startled the horse. Before Rhodri couldn’t bring himself to speak to her for making such a dim-witted error.
She also wished he would just shout at her, berate her for her error and be done. ’Twould be far more tolerable punishment than his sullen silence.
Nicole swallowed her pride along with a bite of apple. “I am sorry, Rhodri. I truly do know better than to wave a blanket in a horse’s face.”
He stared into the fire, eating his apple, making no comment. The wretch wasn’t about to make her admission of stupidity and the necessary apology easy for her.
“I should have done as you told me and stayed hidden.”
“Aye, you should have.”
Having finally gained a bit of ground, Nicole yearned for more. “The next time you give me an order, I vow I will obey.”
His sharp, humorless burst of laughter didn’t bode well. “’Tis not in your nature to obey orders, Nicole. Best not to make vows you cannot keep.”
That rankled. “I do not give my word lightly.”
“I do not doubt you mean every word you say, or that you will not try to adhere to the vow.”
Vexed, she crossed her arms. “Yet you disbelieve me.”
“You follow only those orders you find agreeable. The others you dismiss as mere suggestions.”
She frowned. Did she? Perhaps so.
Nicole knew Rhodri had her best interests at heart. He was her protector on this journey, and though it chafed to fully admit her shortcomings, she knew his knowledge of surviving in the wild and of how to avoid capture was superior to hers.
“Henceforth, I shall do whatever you say I must do.”
He finally looked her way, his expression doubtful. “Will you?”
Resolute, she nodded.
“Wonderful.”
He lobbed his apple core into the flames, slid the sword from his belt, undid the buckle, and set both down at his feet. Then he began to undo the laces at his tunic’s throat.
Nicole swallowed hard when he pulled the tunic over his head to reveal his muscular, hair-sprinkled chest, the like of which she hadn’t seen since watching her father’s soldiers in the practice yard at Camelen. The comparison wasn’t a good one. Nay, not a one of those soldiers had looked so splendid when bare-chested.
Every muscle in Rhodri’s upper arms and chest was startlingly defined. His dark hair didn’t soften the hard planes or serve as a shield against her fascination.
Her woman’s places flared, the heat spreading throughout her body, her fingers itching to skim over his chest, and lower, where the hair arrowed down over his flat stomach to disappear beneath his breeches.
He held out his brown woolen tunic. “Put this on. It may not be as warm as your gown, but it is drier.”
Nicole took the last bite of her apple and tossed the core into the fire, deciding what to do. Was this an offer or an order? Did he test her vow?
True, she’d worn her wet garments too long for health’s sake, but he shouldn’t sacrifice his own health for hers.
“If I accept your tunic, then you will be cold. The fire is hot, and my gown will soon—”
“Nicole,
change.
”
Ruing the vow she’d obviously made too hastily, she snatched the tunic and headed for the thick brush behind the shelter.
When certain Rhodri couldn’t see her, she held the tunic to her nose and breathed in the heady, dusky scent of its male owner. Still warm from Rhodri’s body, the tunic would soon warm hers.
She hung the tunic over a tree branch and untied the side laces on the gown she’d put on so very many days ago. With a bit of twisting and tugging, she managed to pull both gown and chemise over her head.
Her skin broke out in little bumps. Her nipples puckered in protest against exposure to the chill air. Swiftly, she donned Rhodri’s tunic, and just as swiftly her whole body sighed with pleasure.
The sleeves hung down past her fingertips. The tunic’s hem, still damp, fluttered at her knees. She gathered the rough wool around her, hugging it to her, basking in Rhodri’s heat and scent.
Arousal returned full force. Her nipples again puckered, whether from the rasp of rough wool or from want of Rhodri’s touch, she couldn’t say. Either way, Nicole relished the sensation.
She rolled up the sleeves, becoming ever more aware that tonight they would share the shelter and blankets and, ’twas to be hoped, their bodies.
Unless Rhodri was still too angry over the loss of the horse, or bent on being noble.
Then what was she supposed to do to relieve the delicious ache in her nether regions if Rhodri refused to assuage it for her?
She gathered up her garments and slowly padded back to the clearing, the breeze again whispering around the bare legs and feet Rhodri had already seen. Did he wonder about how the rest of her looked, as she wondered about the rest of him?
She had her answer upon entering the clearing.
He looked relieved that she’d finally returned, and then his eyes burned with the desire she hadn’t seen from him since they’d left the farm.
“Warmer?” he asked.
So warm she might melt. “Some.”
He nodded toward the shelter. “I put a blanket in there for your use. Go on in. I will spread out your garments to dry.”
Nicole decided her best course was to obey his order this time, too. Perhaps when he was done testing her vow, he would be more willing to act on his desire.
He’d spread the blanket on the ground of the shelter, the blanket being larger than the space it covered. With them both and all their belongings tucked inside, it would indeed be a cozy place to spend the rest of the afternoon and the long night.
She ducked inside and sat cross-legged in the corner near the harp’s sack to watch Rhodri separate her chemise from her gown and spread them over a bush. He took his time at the task. Feeling her warmth? Catching a whiff of her scent?
She wanted to invite him into the nest he’d built but knew that at the moment he’d refuse. He guarded the boots still near the fire, and her garments and their hose, and would likely do so until everything was dry or the rain began to fall.
With a short stick, he poked at the fire, resettling the wood. The day wasn’t over, but clouds the color of thick smoke blocked the sun, the fire’s flames a beacon on a gray day.
“You are not worried about the patrol finding us again,” she commented.
“Unless the man I struck makes a fast recovery, and he manages to find his horse in timely manner, they will not likely begin their search until morn.” He looked up at the foreboding sky. “Let us hope they are blessed with enough foresight to ware the weather the same as we.”
He’d been right before, so she had to trust his judgment, something she was learning to do.
But now that she’d broken free of the restraints of clerical life, enjoying a freedom she’d never experienced, it was damn hard to place her fate in another’s hands, even Rhodri’s large, strong, capable ones.
Again he stirred the fire. The firelight caressed his chest and broad shoulders, tingeing his skin with a golden glow.
Her fingers itched to touch every inch of that expanse of bare skin. To keep her restless hands busy, she tore the travel-weary length of leather from the end of her braid, intending to pull apart the worst of the tangles.