Return to Caer Lon (18 page)

“Do you think we will
be able to
exit the town without being seen?”

“Yes.”

The affirmation came from behind her, loud and indisputably male. She blushed furiously. He heard! What else had he caught of her secrets? She feared
turn
ing
around and meet his mocking stare.

“You should rest.”

His voice was quiet again, slightly tired. Sacha risked a glance above her shoulder. Derek had not moved from his former position near the hearth, and was not even looking at her. Maybe he had not heard that much.

“So should you.”

For once, she managed to keep annoyance out of her reply
.
O
r not. Derek exhaled noisily.

“This is not a contest
over
who can best resist exhaustion, Sacha. Try to get some rest.”

Should he had shown concern instead of patronizing her, or simply added ‘please’, she would have tried to preserve the fragile truce they had achieved during the evening. But he didn’t, and Sacha instantly forgot about tenderness and understanding.

“You are the wounded one; not I.”

Derek stood abruptly and walked back to his corner to lie down on his cot.

“Here. Happy?”

God he
was
insufferable.

“Very. Good night.”

T
emper boil
ed
in his snort and her pride purred.

Sacha turned to lay on her other side. Gisela’s amused smile greeted her. She glared. The other woman
's
smile widened, but she said nothing. The lady closed her eyes, and finally dozed off.

Chapter 18

Morning
was already half gone when Derek finally agreed to leave the small house. The crowd had grown so much it was nearly impossible to see more than four feet ahead. They had to negotiate their way through a compact forest of stalls and peasants. The more they progressed through the crowd, the more nervous he felt, though he couldn’t
pin
point why
;
the market’s frenzy provided the perfect cover for their getaway, should the powerful Guild still watch.

Derek swore loudly when a passing wheel forced him to jump aside.
Bad idea, waiting.
They should have gone the previous night
.
T
he hell with the rain. They should have gone as soon as Gisela came back with too few of their possessions
:
merely a change of clothes, and the assurance
that
Mistress Marion would look after their belongings and the horses.

The few words he had gathered between the servant’s chuckles and the beautiful
L
ady of Haven’s constant blush
es
had been sufficient to get the basics. The innkeeper obviously assumed they were retiring to the monastery, and now she was expecting the pair back in a day or two, blessed by a priest... He would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the spectre of Sacha’s reaction. This was going to be awkward, at best.

The
p
rince twisted to avoid being stamped by a cow and growled when the cowman’s stick hit his back. He pulled angrily at the bag he was carrying to free it, dismissing the peasant’s apology with another grouch. It took an effort to dismiss the suspicion of attempted robbery. Of course it wasn’t. The guy simply didn’t pay attention to anything but his herd. Derek tried a deep breath to settle his nerves, scanning the surroundings, and swore. Sacha was dancing around like she was enjoying herself; in a minute she w
ould
stop and negotiate a bunch of flowers or a length of fabric. He cursed again, more loudly. Apparently, her awareness evaporated in daylight.

Derek pulled the musing lady behind a cart more or less gently. Glimpses of silver and red mocked him through the opening of her cape. Couldn’t she at least be discreet? He barked, “Stop wagering. Keep your head down and close that damn thing!”

The cloak he could do without, but the lack of steel by his side perturbed him. He was incomplete without it. Useless. Exposed. The crowd was faceless and unfriendly. Men were carrying sticks as thick as his arm. More clubs than sticks.
Dangerous things, those. Could crush the strongest man into a pulp…
Were those two Hercules marching on them? They could be looking for a generous knight and his sidekick.

Derek grabbed Sacha’s wrist to urge her forward. She grimaced, probably because the long blade bumped into her legs with every stride. He had advised her to wear it sideways, but of course she hadn’t listened. She never
listened
.
And n
ow she was going to bruise, or get them caught if anyone noticed the blade, and if they needed to run…Derek squeezed her shoulder, and the hard crush made her yelp.

“I’ll take it back.”

Sacha shook her head with a sharp “Out of question
.
” and weaseled out of his reach to slip between a cart and a mule harassed by its load. Derek gritted his teeth, glancing around for an easier path to follow her. The two bullies spread out above the flow of heads. He bobbed his shoulders and hurried behind her. Fighting their way upstream was stupid. They were too damn noticeable. 

The bell banged ten blows and his heart boomed with each clang. His sleeve got caught, and he jerked, reaching instantly for his dagger. His confused mind took in Sacha’s light rose perfume one heartbeat before he struck his assailant in the heart.

“This way.”

He released his grasp on the blade while she steered him into a side alley. Carrying the sword didn’t seem to bother her now she was free to zigzag between the women holding half-empty baskets. Derek strode to keep up with her.

“Sacha, wait, we don’t even know where we’re…”
H
e crashed into her back when she stopped “…going.”

The narrow alley opened onto a bigger place, and the eastern city gate. The carts were pouring in through the opening. Another line had formed
of
merchants who had completed early business and waited to exit the town. Once in a while, guards interrupted the incoming tide to allow a couple out. Derek groaned. “This is going to take hours.”

Hours, in an open area, where the enemy could spot them. Oh, that was bad… He wiped his hands on his hip, where his weapon should have been. They needed another plan
. T
he hair on his neck prickled. The crowd was circling them, threatening. His pulse was shooting discomfort down to his hands, another reminder he was sword-less.

Derek pushed his pack into Sacha’s hand.

“Hold tight.”

“What? Why?”

Without waiting, he circled her waist with one arm, and
swept
her off her feet. Sacha fret
ted
.

“What are you doing? Derek!”

She gripped his shoulder when he started toward the garrison. Her cloak started gliding but she managed to keep it into place somehow.

“Sir! You can’t-”

“It’s my friend
.
S
he doesn’t feel well…”

The soldier examined Sacha’s pale cheeks. She had closed her eyes and looked in shock. Maybe she really was. Derek hardened his hold.

“Please. She needs
space
.
C
rowds tend to overwhelm her…”

The sword was moving along his side. He could feel the weight of steel against his waist. If the guard didn’t buy his story, they were in for a lot of trouble… Sacha jarred in his arms and moaned, pulling onto the weapon. His muscles started to heat uncomfortably in the effort.
‘Come on…’

“Let them pass! You! Can’t you see this girl is unwell? Give way! Let them pass!”

“Thank you, Captain.”

The private dwelt on the title and nodded with a poor imitation of a commanding air. Derek didn’t wait and quickly marched under the portal.

He stopped a few yards from the wall, quitting the swarming road to put Sacha on her feet. She leaned against a tree while he sucked in air.

“I don’t see why you had to put on such a show.”

Derek’s attention jerked to the beautiful woman on his right. She was sulking, lips slightly pursed, annoyance already blooming in her
green eyes
. She couldn’t be serious… He sneered
.
   

“Oh really. Didn’t you see the two clubs about to swing at us?”

Sacha glared. He
gave up
arguing. “Please hand me
back
my sword. I want to put some distance between us and this Guild
some
time today, if you don’t mind.”

The emerald stare flickered dangerously. He had taken them out of the monster’s den
.
W
hat the hell was her problem now? Sacha faced him, one hand
on
the belt near the
h
ilt of his sword, the other fisted on her hip. If she continued to delay them for nothing… Derek snapped
,
“I don’t have time for this”
before h
e stepped forward. Sacha scowled, daring him to put his hands on her. He was very tempted to grab her again.

“My sword, Sacha.”

Her eyes blazed, but she slowly untied the scabbard from her waist. The sword was heavy for her
to hold at arm
's
length
, yet he did not rush
to help
. He would probably earn himself a ferocious slap if he touched her now. Her arm trembled when she handed the blade defiantly. Derek held her stare as he belted it.

Neither had backed up, so they stood only a few feet away from each other. A different pull started to taunt his stomach. Her pale cheeks were pink, her lips parted to show pearly teeth he was sure she dreamed
of
us
ing
to rip hi
s throat
apart. She was clearly furious
.
God only knew why. Alright, maybe his tone had triggered it somehow. He rose to the bait every time she took him off guard. But he just… enjoyed the banter. She was fuming, and beautiful.

Derek slipped his thumbs into his belt, hesitating between more teasing and a prudent retreat. Sacha did not leave him any time to decide
.
She
stepped back first.

“Now that you feel whole again, maybe we can go?”

She spun on her heels, ready to hit the road. Derek grabbed their pack and followed her.

Outside the town, the road quickly cleared of traffic. They came across a couple of late shepherds, untiring dogs trotting by their side
s
, then nothing at all. With fields on left hand and compact copses on their right, their progress quickly grew boring.

Sacha strolled in front, trying very hard to ignore Derek’s gaze on her back. His eyes had taken a deeper shade earlier, so blue it made her heart race.

“
I
t’s too bad
that
Gisela left
our
map behind.”

Derek appeared by her elbow, close enough to touch. She bit into her lower lip, fighting the heat coming up her neck.

“We don’t have your mother’s potions
,
either.”

Staring at the horizon was a good thing. He couldn’t notice her trouble if he didn’t catch her eyes…

“What’s wrong?”

‘Could he?’

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Sacha, you’re not that unreadable.”

Really? When did that happen?
She used to do a good job at feigning indifference. She sulked.

“I am fine. Now be your usual self and ignore me.”

Derek choked.

“May you repeat that?”

This time her cheeks turned crimson. Oh no. She didn’t mean for him to hear that. Oh. No. Without a proper answer, he insisted:

“You scold me every chance you get
.
Y
ou can’t really expect me to stick around to be flogged.”

Sacha kept her mouth firmly shut. He took hold of her arm, forcing her to stop and face him.

“You started this
.
D
on’t walk away from it. Being honest won’t kill you.”

“Oh
,
you want honesty? Fine! You ignore me. You refuse to acknowledge I am an intelligent woman, that I can be useful.” Derek’s eyes widened; she was too far gone to notice his temper was dissolving into astonishment. “I am not one of those idle girls who faint with a whiff of your alleged irresistible maleness and purr around you like cats in front of cream!“

His eyes
had turned
a different blue, teasing.

“A wildcat, maybe…”

Sacha’s hand shot up so quickly he almost missed his catch. Derek tightened his grab when she brawled to get free, hissing like the angry feline he had just compared her to. Her eyes were cold enough to freeze Hell. Maybe not his best move…

“Is there a problem here?”

Both jumped, startled by the strong voice interrupting their face-off. Derek released her to reach for his sword. The intruder had stopped his carriage a few feet behind and glanced back and forth between the contenders. Derek let down his hand. Sacha kept her gaze on him an instant longer before she turned her head to greet the man.

“No, we were just exchanging different views on social behaviour.”

The newcomer seemed old enough, though a life in the fields could age a man beyond his years. His beard was greying above the navy blue scarf around his neck. The rest of his clothing was neat, if not brand new. He nodded with a small smile.

“So I heard.”

Derek stepped forward before the man simply resumed his travel.

“We are going to Alynnfaid; is it in your general direction by any chance?”

“Yeah
,
you can climb in.”

Sacha took the offered hand to settle on the front seat. Derek shoved the bag and his sword on the back platform before he jumped.

“Thank you.”

Their new companion made the reins snap and the cart started down the road.

“Your tongue is singing when you speak. Where are you from? The name is Baul.”

Derek grinned. Baul meant snail
in Camelot’s
peasant
dialect
.