an accusing glance toward Everand, who certainly had done so. He had the grace to lower his impudent gaze as she continued, “However, you are in no shape to offer me insult at the moment. How am I to know what you might expect of me once you are hale? I should make clear at the outset that I will be beholden to no man, be he gentleman or rogue. Find me work, sir, of an honest nature or I shall be obliged to call you knave to all, and ’twill be your fine honor besmirched, not my own!”
She immediately saw she had pricked his anger to a rolling boil, damn her quick tongue. Now he would want to be quit of her for certain. Desperate, she attempted to sweeten his temper. “I beg you do not take offense, sir…Henri. A woman with no defender must needs use what means she has to enforce—”
“Cease this foolish prattle!” he barked. “I have no designs upon your person, lady. And I can see you are a lady. Or were at one time. Rest assured, you have nothing to fear from me.”
“And the cub?” She nodded toward Everand. The lad’s fair head jerked up, and he glared at her in disbelief that she would even think to fear his advances. Or mayhaps he was simply offended that she had called him cub.
She noted the quiver of Henri’s lips, as though he had squelched a sudden burst of laughter. In an instant, he had schooled his features into a mask of solemnity. “Everand will not offer you abuse. My son does as I bid him do.”
“Son?” she and Everand asked in unison.
“Son,” Henri repeated, looking directly at the lad. “I have told you I would call you mine. You wear my signet. Why do you question me?”
“Well, you are not going to die now.” The lad’s voice cracked, betraying his uncertainty.
“So much the better. You’ll not be orphaned twice in the space of a year.”
Evarand cleared his throat and sat straighter, twisting the gold signet ring he wore on his middle finger. “I am unused to it is all. My apologies, sir…Father.”
“Accepted. Now give this lady your promise to protect her body and her virtue, so she will not suspect you of plotting evil deeds against her.”
Everand turned to Iana and scrambled up so that he knelt before her. “I so promise. You have naught to fear, lady.”
“My eternal gratitude, Everand,” she replied formally, struck by the silliness of his gesture. He was so small, she could flatten him with a slap if he dared to touch her, which she was certain he would never do in any case.
“That’s settled then,” Everand announced, scooting back to sit beside Sir Henri. The lad shrugged and grabbed another handful of the berries as he added in a deep, gravelly voice, “I never care to sport with unwilling wenches, anyway.”
Henri collapsed in a fit of coughing and Iana laughed outright. Everand chewed his berries and smiled.
It boded well, she thought, that fate had sent her these two. In truth, she had no fear of the knight. She could outrun him easily in his condition, and probably even after he had recovered. He was of such tall stature, she doubted he would prove very agile. The lad, she liked immensely, impertinent as he was. He was scarcely old enough or big enough to offer any true threat.
Though she admittedly found Henri handsome and possessed of a quick wit, Iana had no intention of granting him any favors, now or in future.
That devil’s minion, James Duncan, had soundly cured her of wishing to cohabit with a man for any reason, be it lawful matrimony or otherwise.
Now there was no need to worry. She had decided. She was free forever of any man’s will.
Chapter Three
Henri spent the afternoon alternately testing his strength and resting from the effort. His fever had abated that morning, only to return at nightfall.
The lady Iana did not seem overly concerned about that, but still dosed him as she had the night before.
Though he had many questions about her life in the village and why she was there, he did not ask them. Nor did he demand to know the paternity of the child. If it were her bastard, that would explain why she had lost favor with her own family and that of her dead husband. That certainly would be cause for her banishment and her mean existence. Henri did not want to know of it, he told himself. He did not wish to think of her as less than a lady.
She had saved him and he owed her his kind regard, despite anything dishonorable she might have done.
He could not fault her care of him in any way, for she was most solicitous. At times, too much so to suit him.
“I detest this bark,” he complained, popping a piece into his mouth when she insisted.
“Willow cools you and also reduces pain,” Iana explained. “I do swear ’tis nothing short of wondrous how quickly you are mending.”
He had to admit he felt better than he had since the ship sank. “What else have you to make me well again?”
“Tomorrow I hope to find yarrow to ease the soreness.” She handed him a wooden cup filled with water. “Drink this when you’ve finished with the bark. Then go to sleep.”
“Must I sleep, too?” Everand asked plaintively. “I’m not wounded.”
Iana smiled at him. “Aye, if we are to get an early start, we should all have plenty of rest.”
Well before dawn they emerged from the cave into the dewy darkness and began their journey. Henri ignored the stinging pains in his side, made worse by the slow rocking motion of the wide-backed bay that carried him.
Lady Iana had advised them to travel silently, but he saw no point in it. No one would be about this time of morning. Those with any sense at all would still be sleeping.
The waning moon barely gave off enough light to keep them from riding straight into the tree trunks. Soon it would be gone altogether in that darkest hour before the sun rose. Then, he supposed, they must ride with their hands before their faces to avoid low-hanging limbs.
“Do you think her suitor will give chase when he finds her gone?” Ev whispered from behind him. “We are hardly armed for a fight.”
Henri turned slightly to answer. “Very likely he will follow. In his place, I would. She is a comely woman.”
Everand’s soft, knowing chuckle made him smile. The boy had only recently shown any interest in females, but when the notion that he liked them struck, it had done so with the force of a battle-ax.
“What are we to do if that happens?” he asked Henri.
“Stand against him. Give her time to flee with the babe. I have my dagger and you have yours.”
Everand scoffed. “Mine is hardly larger than a paltry eating knife.”
“And you well know how to use it, not only at table,” Henri reminded in a chastising tone. “A blade is a blade, Ev. Remember your training.”
“Silence!” The order came from the lady. “You’ll be heard from here to the coast.”
