“What about the rest of my men?”
“Dead or dying, my lady.”
“That can’t be true!” she protested, fear rising again. “Iain’s the best soldier in England and the best commander. My men are the best garrison in England. Surely no motley crew of outlaws or mercenaries could defeat them all.”
“They were outnumbered three to one, and now the blackguards who attacked you are going to be coming after you. We’ve got to get away from here as quickly as we can.”
It seemed her choice was simple: stay and risk capture, or go with Sir Oliver.
Without another word, Lizette put her arm around Keldra to support her, and went with Sir Oliver.
CHAPTER THREE
“THANK YOU for coming to our aid,” Lizette panted some time later as she and Keldra continued down the road with Sir Oliver. It had been morning when they’d been attacked; judging by the sun, it was now past noon.
“No matter,” he brusquely replied.
No matter to him perhaps, but if he hadn’t appeared, if he hadn’t stopped Lindall. She tried not to think of what could have happened to her and Keldra then.
Sir Oliver suddenly stopped and held up his hand. At nearly the same time, a youth of about sixteen slithered down a nearby tree, a bow slung over his back and a quiver of arrows hanging at his side. Like Sir Oliver, he wore a leather tunic with no shirt beneath, woolen breeches and boots, and his hair likewise brushed shoulders that were nearly as broad as the Irish nobleman’s.
He must be one of the hunting party, a servant probably, although she had no idea why he’d be up in a tree.
“Ah, Garreth, here you are,” Sir Oliver said as the young man walked toward them, his questioning gaze sweeping over them before coming to rest on Sir Oliver.
“Lady Elizabeth, this is Garreth,” Sir Oliver said. “Garreth, this is Lady Elizabeth and her maidservant.”
“Keldra,” Lizette supplied as the young man regarded them with furrowed brow and wary eyes.
“I got separated from the rest of our party,” Sir Oliver explained. “I assume you did, too, and were up there searching for me, or one of the others. I have no idea where the rest of the hunting party’s got to, but thankfully I was able to come to this lady’s aid when her cortege was attacked, although I couldn’t do much more.”
Nodding, Garreth tugged his forelock. “A pleasure, my lady,” he replied, in an accent quite different from Sir Oliver’s. If she had to guess, she’d say he was from London, not Ireland. “And as you say, my lord, I was looking for the others. No sign of ‘em, I’m afraid. That gamekeeper’s going to have some explaining to do—and that dog boy, too,” he added with righteous indignation. “Telling me to go north and then disappearin’ with the dogs. I’d like to get my hands on him, I would, and teach him a thing or two about—”
“In good time,” Sir Oliver interrupted. “For now, we’d best get this lady and her maid to safety, to the convent.”
“The convent?” the young man repeated, although he wasn’t nearly as surprised as Lizette.
“Will your host not give us sanctuary?” Lizette asked.
“The convent would be better,” Sir Oliver said shortly, with no more explanation. “Now come.”
Lizette made no move to follow. Perhaps she’d been a fool to trust this nobleman after all. What did she really know about him except what he himself had told her?
She began to back away. “Where are you taking us?”
“To safety,” Sir Oliver impatiently answered.
“Not Wimarc?”
“Wimarc?” Garreth cried as if her suggestion wasn’t just ludicrous, but sinful.
“Apparently he’s offering a reward for this lady, but he’s not going to get her,” Sir Oliver replied.
Get her? He made her sound like a bone two dogs were fighting over.
This was not good. Not good at all.
Taking hold of Keldra’s trembling arm, she moved back more, ready to run again even if they died of exhaustion.
Sir Oliver realized what she was doing and frowned with frustration. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not taking you to Wimarc. I give you my word that I’ll not give you, or any woman, into his keeping, whether there’s a reward or not.”
That promise didn’t assuage her dread. “I don’t know you. I’ve never met you before, never heard your name. How can I be sure your word’s worth anything?”
His handsome features hardened to a stony mask. “Unless you want to be taken by Wimarc’s men, my lady, I don’t think you have much choice except to trust me.”
Garreth nodded as he plucked the string of his bow against his chest. “You can trust him, my lady. Finn never hurts women.”
Finn?
“Nor robs them, either, if they give him a kiss.”
God help them! “You’re the thief!” she gasped while Keldra moaned softly.
The thief apparently named Finn both scowled and—surprisingly—blushed as he darted an annoyed glance at his young confederate. “As I said, I don’t hurt women, so I’m not going to hurt you, or take you to Wimarc, who does. He’s a bad, wicked man and whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good. There’s a convent a few miles from here. I’ll take you there and you can write to your sisters and tell them what’s happened.”
“How do you know my family?” she demanded warily.
“He’s been to court,” Garreth supplied, as if insulted by her question. “He’s even met the king.”
She had believed this thief an Irish nobleman; perhaps he’d been able to fool the courtiers, too, as impossible as it seemed—but that didn’t mean she and Keldra were safe.
Not even when a sparkle of amusement appeared in the Irishman’s eyes. “Your sister wears a gold-and-emerald crucifix that was your mother’s.”
Merciful heavens—that was true.
“And because I have met her and she’s a good woman, I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”
He reached into his belt and drew out her dagger, presenting it to her by the handle. “Here. If I wanted to do you harm, I wouldn’t give you this, would I?”
She grabbed it, gripping it tightly. “This doesn’t mean much. You’re stronger than I am and could probably get this away from me in a moment.”
“Aye, I probably could,” he conceded, “but if I
