see you managed to deal with the other one.’ Bomal, the oldest in the group, nodded in the direction of the silent, fallen figure. ‘A right pair of deviant characters, stealing rabbits from right under the Earl’s nose!’
‘Pair?’ Lussac asked, frowning. Surely there wasn’t another one like her? Every bone in his body wanted to turn around and see her eyes opening, to see her lift her head. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge.
‘Aye, that’s correct, my lord. We caught the other lad, forced him to take us to the nearest village, then let him go. We found enough food there.’ Bomal grinned, showing crooked, stained teeth, then frowned. ‘Should we have let him go? He was poaching rabbits, after all.’
‘Nay, it’s not our concern,’ Lussac replied curtly.
‘That one was the worst, anyway.’ Bomal nodded in the direction of Katerina’s limp figure beyond Lussac’s broad shoulder. ‘He must have pinched young John’s horse as well; we found it wandering in the woods. The utter cheek of the lad! He deserves a good walloping if nothing more...’ Dismounting, he started to head towards the figure.
‘Nay.’ Lussac stopped Bomal’s forward gait, his gloved hand snaking around the soldier’s stocky forearm. ‘Nay. You go back to the camp and pick up John on the way. I’ll deal with this one.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’ Bomal eyed him suspiciously. ‘Make sure you rough him up good and proper.’
Lussac stood in the small clearing, watching the squat, stocky soldier mount up, and the rest of the group kick the flanks of their horses to funnel away through the trees, leading the horse that the maid behind him had stolen. He could see his own horse some distance away, through the serried trunks, cropping idly at the spindly grass.
Why had he not mounted up and gone back with them?
He stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The stretched skin between his thumb and forefinger still bore a trickle of blood, the imprint of teeth marks. Why was he staying to see if this spitting wildcat came back to her senses? A wildcat who sent needles of desire, oddly, spiking through his broad frame. He had no wish to think about her, no wish to talk with her. He needed to recall why he had come to this country, not engage in cat-like brawls with foolish maids.
It was guilt. Pure, unadulterated guilt. He wasn’t in the habit of using his strength against women, overpowering them; it felt wrong, unnatural. He tried to tell himself that the maid had got what she deserved, with her constant attempts to escape him, to best him. Why had she not given up? Why had she persisted? Either she was very, very stupid, or very, very brave. Whichever it was, he hated to think of where her outlandish behaviour would land her next.
He turned around. In a puddle of filtered light, the maid was sitting up on a mattress of shining leaves, a ray of sunlight firing her hair to a dazzling gold, a jewel-like beacon that snagged his gaze. Lussac breathed out: one long, measured breath of relief. Striding over to her, he picked up her boot where it had fallen.
‘Here.’ Lussac shoved the boot across her field of vision.
Feeling his shadow move across her, Katerina jerked her head back, a faint sickening sensation lilting through her skull. She willed herself to remain calm. As she reached up, the baggy sleeve of her tunic falling back to reveal her thin wrist, she snatched the boot from him, shoving her bare toes back into the unwieldy leather. Tilting her head back once more, she fixed him with a bold, defiant stare.
‘What have your thugs done with Waleran?’ Her voice cracked slightly, eyes darkening to stormy grey.
‘Who?’
Katerina folded her arms tightly across her belly, drawing in a deep, unsteady breath. What was this knight planning to do with her? ‘Waleran.’ She raised her voice in consternation. ‘My friend, Waleran. The one your soldiers kidnapped... My God, they might have killed him by now!’
In response, he hunkered down beside her, his big body surprisingly graceful, balancing easily on his heels. ‘No, he’s safe. They let him go.’
She reeled back at his presence, fighting the peculiar wavering sensations in her stomach. Had the knock on her head affected her more than she thought? A heady mix of wood-smoke, the briny tang of the sea swept over her: the scent of him. His eyes, chips of sapphire, blazed out from his lean, tanned face. Shifting uncomfortably beneath his stark, steady gaze, she wiggled her hips to try to inch away from him, backwards, acutely conscious of her helplessness.
‘How do I know what you say is true?’ she blurted out. ‘How can I trust what you say?’
‘You can’t.’ He shrugged his shoulders, his dry, clipped tone cutting across her emotional outburst.
‘So, if your soldiers let Waleran go, you’ll let me go as well, then,’ Katerina reasoned, clutching at her opportunity to escape, and scrambling, too quickly, on to her feet. Her head dipped and swayed, and she clutched at the back of her head, suddenly.
Lussac placed one hand on her shoulder, steadying her, watching the slight colour drain from her face. He cleared his throat, unsure what to say. Beneath her pewter gaze he felt strangely tongue-tied, awkward. ‘Go easy now, maid,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ve had a nasty fall.’ Beneath his muscular fingers, her bones were bird-like, delicate.
‘No thanks to you,’ she retorted, rolling her shoulder back angrily to release his grip. ‘And take your hands off me; I have no need of your help.’ The silvery skin of his chainmail wavered and shimmered in front of her eyes. Narrowing her gaze, she focused on one of the gold fleur-de-lys emblazoned across his chest.
‘Let me take you home,’ he offered, ignoring her rudeness. ‘Do you live around here?’
‘No, there’s no need for that!’ Her words gabbled out in a rush of protest. The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time in this man’s company! She backed away from him, shaking her head. ‘It’s not far; you needn’t concern yourself.’
‘Oh, I’m not concerned,’ he replied mildly. ‘But I can’t leave you here, a maid alone, in the forest.’ He eyed her stumbling retreat with curiosity. Her look of horror. Did she not realise how vulnerable she was?
‘Believe me...’ she fixed the knight with what she hoped was a convincing expression ‘...I will be absolutely fine without your help. Dressed like this, no one will give me a second glance.’
He glanced at the tightly braided mass of bronze hair around her head, the delicate curve of her lips, her pale, luminous skin, and frowned. Even with her hood up, her fine features were exposed for all to see. And although her tunic was baggy and hid the true outline of her shape, the braies served only to highlight the slenderness of her calves. If Bomal or any of his soldiers had worked out she was a woman, then the outcome of this morning would have been very different for her.
‘I doubt that very much,’ he replied. ‘Come on. We’re wasting time here.’ He glanced up at the sun, striking a diagonal shaft through the whispering trees. The dappled light filtered down, casting shadows across the carved, sculptured planes of his face, firing the glossy strands of his dark-brown hair.
‘Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?’ Katerina glared pointedly at his dark-blue tunic, the golden fleur-de-lys.
‘Yes,’ he said bluntly. ‘And you’re holding me up.’ He crossed his arms across the broad
