The looming man grabbed her arm and hauled her up on her feet. “How did you escape my tent? Did you trick my squire somehow?”
She gave a derisive snort at that and wrinkled her nose at him. He stank of smoke and sweat, and grime creased his face. He looked utterly exhausted as well, but she refused to feel pity for him.
“You’re a terrible spy.” His soft words had a hard edge of amusement to them. “I daresay that the only thing you’re worse at than spying would perhaps be escaping, or clothing yourself.” Leah looked down at her body with dismay. She was naked, her legs covered in sand from the beach. Her only garment – the old cloak – was nowhere to be found.
“Rutledge has excellent taste in wenches, I must say.” He forced her to turn, admiring her body.
She slapped at his hands indignantly, earning a chuckle from him. As she turned away, she spotted his men further down the beach, watching their master and waiting. Humiliation burned on her face.
“Nice flanks,” the baron continued, slapping a gloved hand against her behind. Leah jumped, which earned another round of amused chuckles from the baron. “Shall I walk you back to camp naked? Methinks my men would appreciate a glimpse of your treasures as much as I have.”
Leah shook her head, humiliated, horrified tears streaking down her face. She ducked her face, determined not to let him see that he was getting to her.
A loud, pitiful sniff broke the silence between them, and the baron swore. “God’s bones.
Not more tears.”
He took his cloak off his shoulders and wrapped it around her. The red material was soft and warm, and slightly damp from his sweat. Leah gratefully wrapped it around her body and gave him a timid smile, letting him know her gratitude. He wasn’t such a bad man after all, just a hard one.
“Don’t thank me, wench,” he growled. “I’ve still half a mind to hand you over to my men and see if twenty of them plowing you won’t cause you to open your mouth.” Her smile turned into a scowl and she stomped her foot down on his leather-clad one. He chuckled and tucked the cloak about her body, winding the cloak tightly around her so that she could scarce move her arms. “Bundled well, now?”
She nodded uneasily.
Two seconds later, he hoisted her off the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. The air slammed out of her midsection when it impacted with his shoulder, and she nearly gagged at the sensation. Then the earth began to weave and rock as he strode across the sandy beach, her body wrapped up like some sort of overlarge burrito over his shoulder.
His large hand rested on her rump, and she could feel the warmth even through the blanket. “I suppose that I shall have to figure out what to do with you, my lovely little spy, if you insist on escaping and running through my camp naked. Your presence is disturbing my men.” Leah remained silent – what could she say to that? It wasn’t as if she enjoyed being naked around all these men.
“Not to worry,” the baron was speaking again, even as he strode into the middle of camp.
“The defenses of the castle have fallen and we shall be sleeping in real quarters tonight. Which means that the donjon is free, as well.”
She shivered at that. Was he going to lock her up? She wiggled on his shoulder, trying to express her displeasure at that thought.
In response, she got a slap on her behind. An outraged squeal escaped her. He laughed at her outrage and left his hand on her backside, a feeling that Leah found distinctly unnerving.
The walk down the rocky shore and back up the cliffs to camp seemed endless. Just when her senses were nearly rocked to sleep, the world flipped on her again and she was dumped unceremoniously on her feet. Leah struggled to keep the cloak around her body and shot an angry look at her captor.
He laughed at the expression on her face. “Perhaps next time you’ll hone those fine escape skills, eh my little spy?”
Leah lifted her chin and gave him her haughtiest look.
The baron’s fingers grabbed one edge of her mantle warningly. “Stay close. I don’t want to have to hunt you down again.”
She tried to snatch the cloak back from him, but he held the corner just out of her reach, and it was causing the rest of her covering to become dangerously loose. Worried, she slid closer to him and huddled near his arm, using him to shield her against the bitter wind. To her surprise, he put a warm arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. It seemed like a possessive move, but he was warm and a good shield against prying eyes, so she let him.
“Royce,” called one of the men, and to her surprise, the baron answered. So she knew his name now, she mused. It suited him somehow.
“What is it, Guy?” He turned to the tall, lanky man heading straight for the two of them.
“You wanted a quick reconnoiter of the castle itself, my lord.” The man spared her a quick, scathing glance that told Leah she hadn’t made any friends while she was sleeping. “The peasants are just about rounded up and the fires put out. How is your spy?”
“Determined to share my bed tonight if she doesn’t open her pretty mouth, it’d seem.” Royce grinned at Guy and laughed when Leah’s bare foot stomped down on his own. “She’s a spitfire, if not overly intelligent.”
How dare he? She tried to jerk the cloak from him again. Like hell she was going to share his bed. She’d sleep in the dungeon first. She shrugged off his heavy arm and turned away, letting him know with her stiff posture that she was not happy.
Royce ignored her feeble protests and looped his arm over her shoulders again, continuing to discuss the castle fortifications with Guy and what would need to be replaced. Leah tuned out of the conversation and stared at the castle in question behind her. It jutted into the sky, nestled like a natural extension of the rough cliffs that surrounded it. A rounded tower was closest to her view, with walls spreading outward and covering the top of the cliff. Several long slits broke up the smoothness of the tower and she imagined those functioned as windows. All in all, it was a forbidding, dangerous structure, just like the man that had worked so hard to capture it.
She wondered
how
he had managed to take down such an enormous, well-defended castle. Treachery from the inside? Siege? Since she couldn’t ask, she supposed she’d never know.
Something flicked in one of the slits high on the rounded turret, drawing her attention.
She glanced up. Something long, thin, and pointed extended from one window-slit as she watched, and then it shifted ever so slightly.
Uneasy, she turned to the baron, who was still deep in conversation with his man-at-arms.
She tugged at the cloak again, but it did no good. He ignored her, his arm squeezing tighter around her shoulders to keep her in place. Anxious, she glanced up at the window again, and saw the thin thread move ever-so-slightly again.
It was an arrow, aiming carefully for its target.
Aimed at Royce – her one shot at a second chance.
She gave Royce a violent, sudden shove, desperate to move him out of the way of the arrow. She caught him by surprise, for he stumbled over a few feet. Guy bellowed with outrage, and she heard the sound of him drawing his sword. A loud
thwack
sang through the air.
The world bloomed into pain.
She stared down at the arrow that protruded from her cloak and felt the waves of pain rising off of her arm. She’d been shot, not him.
Uncomprehending, Leah stared up into Royce’s dark, surprised eyes.
Chapter Five
The world settled into a chaotic blur after that. The courtyard erupted, men drawing their swords and screaming, knights running into the castle to seek out the shooter. She remembered Royce touching her chin briefly and giving her arm a cursory look, ripping his cloak from her.
When he determined that it was lodged in her arm only, he touched her chin again and then headed for the castle, Guy close on his heels, sword drawn and his mouth drawn into a grim line.
After that, Leah lost track of what was happening. She stared down numbly at the arrow protruding from her skin, noting the smooth tip that stuck out the far side of her arm, and the hot blood that dripped down her skin. She wanted to scream with the pain of it, but her mouth wouldn’t work. No sound would come out.
Kind hands wrapped her listing cloak close around her body, taking care not to touch the arrow. “Come with me,” Christophe coaxed, urging Leah forward. “I’ll take you to the leech.” Leah jerked at that and shook her head violently. She didn’t want to see any sort of leech.
It sounded frightening.
He ignored her protests and pulled her along, and Leah found that she could not disobey.
She was too disoriented and the pain in her arm was an incessant throbbing.
Time swerved in and out as she was half-walked, half-dragged into the chaotic courtyard.
Royce’s soldiers shouted orders around her, babies cried, and people were running everywhere.
One man bumped into her, and the resounding shock of pain that reverberated through her arm caused her to nearly black out.
Next to her, Christophe yelled at the soldier, and steered Leah out of the way, dragging her across the cobblestones and through the courtyard to a building in the distance.
Warm hands grabbed her bad arm, brushing against the arrow, and Leah’s body racked in a shudder at the touch. Her mouth opened in another silent scream.
“She’s wounded,” Christophe bellowed beside her, and the hands slid away.
She faded in and out for the next several minutes, and the next thing she recalled was a gentle woman’s voice speaking. “Poor thing. She’s trying to be so brave. Pretty little mite. Who is she and how did she get shot?”
A thick, furry blanket was shoved under Leah’s chin and the cloak was pulled away from her body. Christophe’s grim voice rose again. “One of the rebels was still at the arrow slits in the west tower. She must have seen him. Strangest thing – she pushed Lord FitzWarren out of the way and took the arrow herself.”
I didn’t mean to
. Leah’s eyes remained squeezed shut, her lips tight. The pain was easier when she didn’t have to focus on the strange world around her.
The woman clucked, and warm hands touched her bare arm again. “And you said that Lord FitzWarren believes her to be a spy?”
“She won’t talk,” Christophe stubbornly insisted. “She appeared in the midst of camp, naked, and won’t say a word. The only logical explanation is that she’s a spy of some sort.”
“Mayhap the little mite is a mute. It happens sometimes. Did she cry out when the arrow struck her?”
“No.” Christophe’s voice was sullen.
“I see.” The woman’s voice was soft, understanding. “And when Beorn nearly knocked her aside in the courtyard?”
“Nothing.”
“Mmm.” The woman’s voice was bland. “Perhaps she cannot speak after all. She’s not much of a spy if she cannot report what she finds, is she?” Before Christophe had the chance to comment, the motherly voice grew fainter, as if she were turning away. “Stoke up the fire, lad.
We’ll need it nice and hot. Fetch me a blade, as well. The wound’s gone clear through to the other side. After we’ve removed the arrow, we’ll sear the wound shut.” Leah’s eyes flew open at that. Sear the wound shut? Take the arrow out? The damn thing hurt so much she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching it, much less ripping it out. She shook her head, trying to pull the covers off.
A face loomed over hers, a rounded one with bright red, flushed cheeks. It wasn’t a pretty face, but it was a kind one, an elder woman with her hair pulled back in a tight coronet of braids, the brown streaked with gray. “Relax, child. You can’t go anywhere until we get that arrow out of your arm. Be brave.”
Leah didn’t want to be brave. She wanted out. She swung her legs over the edge of the odd, lumpy bed that she was on and tried to push herself up. A wave of pain shot through her arm and she nearly collapsed. “Don’t move,” the woman warned again. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Nervous, Leah’s eyes searched the small chamber. It was dark save for the fire roaring in fireplace against the far wall. The bed she lay upon smelled of old sweat and musty hay, and the walls around her were bare. There was nothing to grab hold of and use as a weapon against this woman with the kindly face who was determined to burn her. Even now the woman turned back to the fire, stirring it up hotter. A whimper died in Leah’s throat.
The door swung open, and instead of Christophe with the knife, it was Royce himself. He lit up in a smile at the sight of the wide-faced servant. “Maida! It is good to see you here.” The woman smiled and gave him a cheerful embrace. “It is good to see you return, Master Royce.”
“Lord Royce, now,” he said, pride in his voice. “And now Lord of Northcliffe, thanks to the king. Where is Rutledge?”
Maida waved a hand. “Scuttled out of the keep last night, I hear. You know these halls are riddled with secret passages. He likely crept out once he heard you were coming.” Royce came to Leah’s side, his face drawn into grim lines. She averted her face, staring down at the thick blankets as he examined the arrow protruding from her arm. “Has she said anything, Maida?”
“Not a sound from her, milord. Not even when Christophe let her get smacked about by your soldiers.”
Strong fingers touched her chin, angling her face toward his. “So you were telling the truth the whole time, my little silent one? You cannot speak?” The look on his face was inscrutable.
Leah wearily tapped her throat.
He swore and raked a hand through his dark hair. “It makes no sense, Maida. None of this does. It should have taken us weeks to overtake the castle, not two nights. And now Rutledge is fled to the south, taking all his soldiers with him and abandoning his castle?” His hands grasped Leah’s arm and she stiffened when he snapped off the long end of the arrow. “I thought for sure the girl was some sort of spy sent by him to catch me off guard.” Great. He had gone from accusing her to talking as if she weren’t here.
He seized her upper arm in a burning grip. His dark eyes focused on her frightened ones.
“This is going to hurt, girl.”