Page 7 of Defy Not the Heart

  She did not have to see to know she had been put in their supply cart, hidden under the sacks of grain Gilbert had sold to them earlier. 'Twas the only way they could smuggle her out of Clydon, and from what she had heard, that was obviously their intent.

  Other things were known to her as well without her having to be told. Of course she had seen who was abducting her. And there could only be one reason for it. That it was a planned abduction, rather than a lark, was indicated by the mention that she was going to Rothwell, whoever that was. The stupid giant was not even taking her for himself. That she could have understood. Whoever wed her, be he landless knight or great lord, would have Clydon as long as he swore homage to Lord Guy. But to go to all this trouble for someone else? Fitz Hugh must be earning a fortune to do it. That was the only answer.

  Reina had also gathered from his manner that Fitz Hugh was still angry with her because of Theo, that he had not accepted her apology. She wished now she had never made it. How did he dare be wroth because of a little insult when all the while he had been plan­ning this?

  It galled her to the teeth to know she had welcomed the viper into her home, had in fact been grateful to him. The truth was, he had saved her to suit his pur­pose, not for any noble service to her benefit. Trick­ery, deceit, lies! Some chivalrous knight this. But her own gullibility could not be corrected now. She was well and truly captured. Even should their ploy be discovered, Fitz Hugh had it aright. Her men could not hope to defeat his, would only forfeit their own lives trying. And the soonest she could anticipate help would be several days hence. She could be wed before then, depending on how far away this Rothwell was. Who the devil was he?

  Reina grunted, feeling a new weight atop her belly, but it was quickly removed. Not the sack, however. So she had company, did she? Aye, someone was definitely moving around in the cart, shaking it. And she could hear other sounds now, just barely. The cover and sacks meant to conceal her and keep her quiet made hearing most difficult. Were they leaving now, or was she just being guarded, to see she stayed put? As if she could move even a little, as tightly as she was wrapped up.

  "Here, Lanzo, keep this with you."

  "What is it?"

  "Some clothes for her. There was not time to dress her proper."

  "Oh?"

  "Oho, best get rid of those thoughts. She is too old for you, and spoken for besides."

  "What has age to do with it, when Rothwell is old enough to be her great-great-grandfather?"

  "How you go on. One 'great' was enough. And quiet now, they are opening the inner gate. Remem­ber to moan if you have to."

  "I know what to do, Kenric. You best mount up yourself ere you get left behind."

  The cart began to move and right quickly. Reina wondered what possible excuse they could have used to leave before morning, but soon she felt the jarring bumps of the new bridge crossing the dry ditch and had no thoughts but of her own discomfort. The lad was bounced around, too, at one point right onto her.

  She moaned as his knee slid between two sacks to gouge her thigh.

  "Shh, lady!" she heard him hiss at her. "You will not have to stay under there much longer."

  Reina ground her teeth against the wad of cloth in her mouth. The sneaky little cur, him and that other sweet-faced lad. All along they had known what they meant to do, yet all afternoon the two young squires had been smiling and flirting with her younger ladies, and were naught but innocent looks when she hap­pened to gaze on them. The others, too, the young knights and Sir Walter, with his smiles and jests and friendly manner, all deceivers, all despicable knaves in their pretense, their foul plans already made. At least Ranulf Fitz Hugh had had the decency to avoid her the rest of the day. Whether in anger or because he could not dissemble as easily as the others, at least there was some honesty in that—but not enough to warn her or do her any good.

  Chapter Eleven

  “God's wounds, I have never seen so many disgrun­tled faces," Walter remarked as they rode slowly into the new camp about an hour after sunrise. "Did the light-skirts all run off yesterday, Eric?"

  "With as much as they earn of a night with us?" Eric snorted. "Not likely."

  "Then what is wrong with Rothwell's men?"

  "You do not want to know."

  Walter frowned to see Eric shaking his head, yet grinning, but he was distracted and shouted to those near, "Hold tight! Lady Ella has seen her master."

  A brown blur came racing across the camp to leap onto Ranulfs destrier. The huge horse did not even snort, used to this particular presence, though the other war-horses reared and snapped, and it took sev­eral moments to get them back under control. There were curses aplenty, but at last Ranulf was smiling, so no one cursed very loudly. And the creature who had caused the commotion was oblivious to it, settled now in her favored spot atop Ranulfs wide shoulder, wrapped half around his neck.

  "You were saying, Eric?" Ranulf said now from his position on Eric's right.

  "I was?"

  "About Rothwell's men?"

  "Oh." Eric was chagrined to have been caught rib­bing Walter. Neither had known Ranulf had been listening to their exchange. "Mayhap you should talk to their master-at-arms. Tis doubtful you will believe it coming from me."

  "Do you tell me anyway."

  That tone was not one to argue with. "The way I understand it, had we been delayed just one day in taking the lady, we would have been fighting Roth-well's men as well as hers."

  "How so?"

  "Their one year of service with Rothwell ends to­day."

  "So?"

  "So they do not mean to return to him. Had they been still at Clydon today, they would have offered their service to the lady."

  "And told her our plans?" Walter demanded, out­raged.

  "Aye. Apparently they hate Rothwell, but he had paid them in advance, so they could not leave his service. So until that service ended, they remained loyal to him."

  Walter whistled. "Incredible. A matter of a few hours made the difference in our success, because those louts clung to the very letter of their contract. That is carrying misplaced loyalty a bit far, especially when the lady would have been eternally grateful to them if they had joined her, and they must have known it."

  Eric nodded. "So there you have the reason for their sour faces this morn.''

  "Did Master Scot tell you all this?" Ranulf asked.

  "Aye."

  "Think you he will still approach the lady?"

  Eric shook his head. "You have her now, so she is no longer in a position to hire anyone. They are only fourteen stronger than us, and our four knights even those odds. They might be stupid, but not that stu­pid."

  "Will they hire to us, then?" Walter asked.

  "Aye, and gladly."

  "Then why were they willing to join the lady's ser­vice?" Ranulf demanded.

  Eric chuckled. "For revenge. They hate Rothwell enough that they do not want to see this good fortune come to him. But since that opportunity is lost, and well they know it, they will see to themselves now."

  Ranulf grunted, satisfied for now, but he would have to talk to the master-at-arms himself. "Fairing Cross is not large enough to support them all, not with my own men, and I do not even have it yet. Mayhap I can use twenty . . . tell Master Scot I will work something out with him, to come to me after we make camp tonight. Right now, I needs unwrap the lady and listen to her screams and demands the while my patience lasts. We ride within the hour."

  "She will not remain ungagged for long," Eric predicted as Ranulf turned about to head back toward the supply cart.

  "Mayhap," Walter said thoughtfully. "But you were not long in her presence yesterday, as we were. You did not see how easily she assumes command. She has been long on her own, after all, nigh on two years with no man to gainsay her. 'Tis as like Ranulf will be doing the screaming and demanding if he must deal with her."

  " 'Tis as like he will do that anyway, no matter

  her reaction." Eric laughed.

/>   * * *

  Somehow Reina had managed to sleep the remain­der of the night. Given that she could not see or move or do aught toward an escape at present, there was not much else to do but sleep, especially when she was still quite exhausted from one of the most gruel­ing days of her life. And cushioned as she was be­tween sacks, and with her thick cover adding to that, the ride was not as bumpy as it would have been otherwise, not enough to keep her awake. Nor did the removal of her blanket of sacks wake her. But being picked up none too gently has a way of breaking through the deepest slumber.

  She was being carried in a pair of sturdy arms, but whose arms she could not say. No word had been spoken near enough for her to hear it, though there were numerous sounds all around her, vague and distant-sounding through the thickness of her cover. Was she to meet this Rothwell now? Was she at least to be unwrapped?

  Fast on that thought, she was set down and literally unwrapped, rolled out of her cover and several feet farther with the impetus. She came to rest facedown, her nose buried in thick grass, the strong verdant smell of it nigh choking her. Well, what did she ex­pect? Fitz Hugh had said he did not care if she went to Rothwell naked. Rolled out at his feet and nearly naked was just as bad. But when she rolled to her side and managed to use her bound wrists and an elbow to push herself to a sitting position, she found only the giant and his youngest squire present.

  She had been brought into a tent, not a very large one, and quite empty, though there was a place or two where the grass was flattened, indicating some­thing had been there earlier but had since been removed or packed away. His camp, then, but where had the rest of his men gone? The light coming through the walls revealed it was morning. She could assume they would not be here long.

  The boy, Lanzo, stood next to the giant, looking rather startled, as if he had not expected Reina to be treated so carelessly. He held a bundle of clothes in one arm and a stool in the other, which he finally recalled and set down. Fitz Hugh was crouched on his haunches, likely to avoid stooping in a tent not large enough for his impossible height. He looked no more friendly than he ever had to her, golden brows drawn together, lips tight over clenched teeth. Obvi­ously he would prefer not to be anywhere near her, though for some reason felt it his chore to deal with her himself.

  He proved her earlier conclusion when he stood up to come nearer but could not stand straight. Then he was back on his haunches next to her, reaching for the bound hands she had resting in her lap.

  "Take care of her feet, Lanzo," he ordered without looking back at the boy. "We do not have all day to waste here."

  He had not said anything to her, had not met her gaze directly, nor did he now, looking down instead at the knot on her wrists he was trying to pick apart. Lanzo had moved to kneel by her side where she had her legs tucked under her, and without being asked, she moved her feet farther to the side so he could reach them. Unfortunately, that threw her balance off and one shoulder slumped lower than the other, caus­ing the loose material of her shift to slump also, half­way down her arm.

  Cool air against bare skin brought instant color to Reina's cheeks. She could not have been more hor­rified if she had been sitting there completely naked, for that would have been intentional, meant to hu­miliate her and put her at a disadvantage. This was accidental and much more embarrassing because it should not have happened at all, regardless that it was not yet noticed. And worse, when she tried to raise her hands to slip the material back on her shoulder before it was noticed, the stupid giant refused to let go of her wrists, probably thinking she was trying to resist his efforts to free her, though why he should think she did not want to be free was beyond her.

  A glance to the side showed the boy was not as unobservant as the man. He was paralyzed, his eyes agog, his mouth dropped open as he stared at her. But he was just a boy, she told herself, even as she turned a shade darker in color. 'Twas the man's eyes Reina wanted to avoid. Righting her shoulder was the wrong thing to do, however, for it only bared more skin, though she found that out too late.

  Desperately, she tried again to raise her hands—to have the horror finally realized. Fitz Hugh's eyes came up in irritation, but rose no farther than the bared breast staring him right in the face.

  Reina groaned behind her gag, but nobody seemed to hear it. In his surprise, Fitz Hugh was holding even tighter to the ties about her wrists, though his fingers had stilled on the knots. She still could not raise her hands and he just stared at her breast, just as the boy was doing, as if neither of them had ever seen one before. Reina could not even try getting to her feet to turn her back on them. Even if the man would let go of her wrists, to raise up on her knees to get to her feet would shove her breasts right in his face. Though this might snap him out of his bemused stare, she did not care to try it. Some men might construe some­thing like that as an invitation, and if he should think so ...

  It was Lanzo who came to her rescue at last, though he seemed pained to do so. Hot color had rushed into his cheeks when his senses returned to realize Reina could not correct the matter herself. His hand moved toward her hesitantly, thumb and forefinger extended, trembling; and carefully, as if he would die if he ac­tually touched her skin, he plucked the material off her arm to set it back on her shoulder.

  That the top of the shift caught on the tip of her breast and shriveled the nipple before covering it was of no moment to anyone but the man still staring at it. Reina was simply relieved to be halfway decent again. Not even those violet eyes meeting hers for the briefest second before lowering to her wrists could discompose her again. The damage was done. Best forget it as he appeared willing to do.

  But she did wonder what had happened to the angry visage for that brief moment when he looked up at her. Angry, Ranulf Fitz Hugh was still handsome. Bemused, he was devastating. She liked the angry visage better. She could breathe easier when he was merely handsome, though why that was so she did not know.

  And the frown was back when he still had no luck untying her. At last he drew his dagger, and though it was a tight squeeze between her wrists, the ties were quickly severed. A flick by her feet and at her cheek, and the rest of the cloths fell away, too.

  If only he had done that to begin with, Reina thought resentfully, then she would not have this embarrassing incident between them to color what she was feeling. She had every right to rail at him for what he had done to her, but at the moment, she wished he would just go away.

  But he did not. He drew the stool to him and sat down right in front of her. That he had not offered her the stool was no more than she could expect after everything else. The man was the most unchivalrous knight she had ever met. And if he thought she was going to remain sitting in this demeaning position at his feet, he was crazy.

  Reina ignored him for a moment whilst she spat out the cloth in her mouth and flexed her jaw to ease the stiffness from it. She took another moment to rub her wrists before slowly getting to her feet. With as much dignity as she could manage with her hair streaming about her in a tangled mess, and wearing no more than a thin shift that fell only just past her knees, she walked to where her cover had been tossed at the side of the tent and drew it around her like a mantle. Only then did she deign to face the enemy.

  "So, Sir Knight," she began in a deceptively pleasant tone. "If you have aught to impart to me, do you get to it right quickly. I cannot stomach your presence for very long."

  That stung enough to bring him soaring to his feet, only he forgot the tent would not accommodate him. Reina almost laughed to see his expression when his head struck the ceiling, shaking the walls so much the tent was in danger of collapsing. He was forced to sit back down, where his newest anger was still intimidating, but not nearly as much as it would be were he towering over her.

  "I see the feeling is mutual," she said before he could, thereby stealing his thunder and making his expression darken even more. "At least we have that in common, so if you can find a tongue that knows aught besides lies, do bring it
forth."

  She saw he had to strain this time to remain sitting, but he did discover his voice, a very loud one directed at Lanzo. "Gag her?'

  Reina stiffened and rounded on the hapless youth before he could take a step toward her. "Touch me, boy, and I will box your ears so hard you will hear bells for a sennight. If he is too cowardly to hear what I have to say of him, let him gag me himself. He does it so gently. " And her cerulean eyes seemed that much lighter as they came back to rest on the knight, daring him to just try it.

  "Cowardly, lady? I care naught what you think of me, but you waste time—"

  "Aye," she cut in with a sneer. "A baseborn knight would not care, which your manner claims you to be."

  "You have that aright," he growled back.

  It was deflating for an intended insult to turn out to be a truth instead. And perhaps she was pressing her luck just a little in deliberately provoking him. He looked now as if he were about to come apart, his body was straining so hard not to come after her and throttle her. Well, she had made her point and her disdain clear. Best get on with hearing what he had to say.

  "Well, then," she said on a sigh, "let us waste no more time, the sooner to part company." And yet she just could not seem to stop herself from adding, "What has your duplicity accomplished?"

  "You harp on lies and duplicity, lady, but you opened your gates to me."

  "Because you pretended to give aid!"

  "I did give aid. What I did not do was slaughter the rest of your people to take you out of Clydon yesterday, which would have been more easily done. If your misplaced dignity is not worth those lives, say so."

  That effectively knocked the steam out of her. She knew very well that to have taken her any other way than he had would have left countless bodies behind.

  "None of that discounts that you had no right to take me at all," she said in a quieter, though no less bitter, tone. "You did not come from my lord as you claimed."

  "There you are mistaken, lady," he was pleased to tell her. ' 'As your betrothed, Lord Rothwell is your lord, and I act on his behalf. And he does have the right to take you and force you to honor your be­trothal contract with him. Whether 'twas your idea or Shefford's to put him aside is of no moment. He does not choose to be put aside."