that so resembled a nun’s robe and her healing skills were all that stood between herself and ruin. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“A sentiment I support.”
“Is that meant to justify your unprovoked attack on us?”
“Us?” His mouth thinned. “What are you to Ranulf?”
Alys rued her hasty tongue. “He was my escort.”
“How went the battle, milord?” Dickie asked.
“Well enough. Ranulf fled when the battle turned against him. My horse was cut from under me, but the other lads gave chase,” Gowain replied, his eyes remaining locked on Alys. “Where was he taking you?”
“Newstead Abbey,” Alys replied.
His gaze hardened. “I know that place, but it is many leagues east of here.”
“Aye, well…” She could hardly tell him of Ranulf’s insane notion to wed her. Not and maintain her unanticipated but fortunate guise as a nun. “We became lost.”
“In these woods? Ranulf knows this land right well.”
Drat. “I…I do not know.”
He grunted. “Ranulf only cares for that which profits him. What did he hope to gain by escorting you to Newstead?”
Oh, dear.
“Sister Alys,” Dickie called, weaving unsteadily.
“Dickie.” Alys dropped her knife and reached for the boy. As she wrapped an arm around his back, she fancied she could feel the life draining out of him. Dickie slumped against her, nearly dragging Alys down with him.
Gowain rescued them both by sweeping the boy into his arms before he hit the ground.
“Lay him down right here in the grass and remove his tunic,” Alys ordered. She hurried over to retrieve her knife and pack. When she returned, she found the knight kneeling beside the boy.
“Whatever possessed you to follow us?” Gowain asked. His voice was low, gentle, as he stroked back the boy’s sweaty hair.
“I heard them say how important it was to get the food,” Dickie whispered. “You needed every man.”
“That I did, Stork, but I also needed men to stay behind and watch over the camp. Men I could trust to follow orders.”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Dickie shivered.
Gowain drew off his mended cloak and laid it over the boy, the gesture surprising and touching. “Just lie still.” He glanced around and glared at Alys. “Damn, I thought you’d run off.”
“I would never leave someone who needs me.” Alys fell to her knees on Dick’s other side.
“You’d be the first, then,” Gowain muttered.
“Sister, am I going to die?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“It hurts.”
“I know.” Alys longed to remove her gloves and touch him, to let the warmth of her flesh soothe him. But if she did, his pain would engulf her and she’d be useless. She stroked his cheek with the backs of her gloved fingers and let all her concern, all her confidence and, aye, all the love she felt for this skinny boy, show in her smile. “Trust in me, Dickie of Newton.”
He smiled. “I do.” His lashes fluttered, then closed.
“He’s fainted, thank God,” Alys said.
Gowain tugged off his worn helmet and tossed it to the ground. Leafy light gleamed dully on sweaty, well-chiseled features, a wide forehead, high cheekbones and a square, cleft chin. His hair, black as a raven feather, curled wetly against his bronzed skin. But it was his eyes that caught and held her. They’d looked black in the shadowed depths of his helmet. Now she saw they were green. A rich, velvety shade of green that reminded her of the forest at night. He might have been counted a handsome man, if not for the coldness in those dark, merciless eyes. Aye, he was all hard angles, a harsh face and remote eyes. Unforgiving. Uncompromising. “Can you save his life, Sister?”
“Aye. I need hot water, clean cloths for washing and—”
“You’ll have to make do without.”
“Do you want him to die?”
A twig snapped behind them. Gowain leapt up, sword in hand, and stood over them, as protective as a wolf defending its mate and cub. The bushes parted, and a mountain of a man stepped out.
“Ah, here you are,” he fairly sang out. “Lang Gib said he’d seen you taking to the forest with a wench, but I could scarcely credit that.” He looked down at Alys and her patient. “Dieu, it’s Stork!” His hand hovered over the boy’s head. “Is he dead?”
“Nay,” Alys replied, touched by his concern. “But he needs immediate care. If you could get me water and—”
“I’ve told you we haven’t time.” Gowain sheathed his sword with an angry motion. “Darcy, rig one of the wagons we captured to carry the wounded. Sister Alys will ride in it and tend them. Be ready to travel in a quarter hour.”
“Sister.” Darcy’s wide face was all smiles. “‘Twas a lucky thing we chanced on you.”
“She was with Ranulf,” Gowain growled, making Darcy’s smile dim. “What happened after my horse faltered? Did you manage to capture the scum?”
“He got clean away, though he left many a dead man behind. Wounded, too.” Darcy sighed. “Damn, I thought you had him.”
“So did I, but he maneuvered me into a corner. I could not take him without killing him.”
“Ranulf deserves to die,” Darcy exclaimed.
“But not by my hand.” Gowain’s jaw tensed. “I’ll not kill my own brother.”
“Aye, well. I expect there’ll come another day when we can take him and stop this.”
“I pray so.” Gowain cursed and ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. It would have saved us so much if we could have captured him and forced him to yield to our demands.” His hand fell to his side, clenched into a tight fist. “Losses?”
“Not bad.” Darcy rattled off the name of one who had died. “We’ve a handful with minor injuries and three others sore hurt…. Mayhap you’d see to them when you finish with Stork, Sister?”
“Certainly. I need hot wá—”
“We’ve no time to tarry,” Gowain said. “Ranulf could return at any time. Bind their hurts as best you can. We’ll see you have what you need when we get to camp.”
“I can’t go with you. I’m needed at New stead.”
His
