Elizabeth Elliott (10 page)

“Nay.”

“But I—”

“You are my responsibility now,” Guy interrupted. “You will remain at Montague. I will give you a fair price for the necklace, and send one of my knights to search for your brother. I intend to petition the Church to have the bishop’s edict set aside, yet that could take months. You will not leave Montague until I can settle the issue to my satisfaction.”

She wanted to rail against his arbitrary decisions about her life, but on the whole they made sense. Guy dealt with many merchants. He would know the value of her necklace. She trusted him to give her a fair exchange for the emeralds far more than she would trust a stranger in a strange town. “Sending a lone knight does sound less costly than going to London myself,” she mused. “How much will it cost each day to feed and lodge this knight?”

“Never mind that,” he said. “What part of London does your brother live in?”

“I am not certain. He did not make mention of his lodgings.”

“What trade does he pursue in London? Most tradesmen live within the same districts.”

“He is a knight, not a tradesman,” she said.

“Who is your brother’s liege lord?”

“Well, as to that, I am not certain he calls any man his liege.” She took a bite of bread and took her time to chew it. “Your king hired his sword, but I do not think a knight must swear his allegiance under such circumstances.”

Guy lowered his chin and raised his brows. “Your brother is a mercenary?”

“Aye. ’Tis a noble profession for landless knights who wish to make something of themselves,” she said defensively. Guy’s droll expression said he thought otherwise. “King Edward promised Dante a fine keep in Wales for his efforts. If he is not in London, I am sure to find him in Wales.”

“You are more likely to find him in a grave.” He pressed his lips together. “I did not mean to be so blunt, but ’tis the truth of the matter. Mercenaries do not live long lives. They are paid well because a nobleman will not risk his own knights in whatever task they are hired to accomplish. ’Tis a dangerous—” He stopped and stared straight into her eyes, his own widening.
“Christ!”

She gasped when he leaned forward and grabbed her by the arms. “What—”

“By all the saints, I am a fool!” His gaze raked over her then returned to her eyes. “I knew you looked familiar. Your eyes—I have seen them before.” He gave her a small shake. “Tell me the name of your oldest brother.”

“Roberto,” she answered, her voice a frightened whisper. Just saying the name aloud brought back a flood of memories: the oldest brother she had always looked up to, the embittered man he became after their parents’ deaths, and most of all, his own dishonorable death. This was what she dreaded from the moment they met, the truth she knew Guy would learn sooner or later. She had foolishly hoped for later.

“Aye, Roberto of Ravenna.” He released her in an abrupt movement, as if he could not bear to touch her. “Another mercenary brother, one who took his blood money from the king of Scotland, did he not?” His lip curled in disgust. “If I had known you were the sister of that bastard—”

“He was
not
a bastard!” Her hands turned into fists, smashing the bread she held into hard lumps. “Roberto paid a high price for the mistakes he made in his life, but he was not a bastard.”

“Mistakes?” Guy gave her an incredulous look. “He was an assassin! He tried to kill my brother and his wife, and I am the one who made it possible. That foul worm you call a brother insinuated himself into my company at court, told me some far-fetched tale about losing his lands in Italy, then he asked if I could gain him a place in my brother’s army. God help me, I did as he asked.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Do you know what it feels like to have your own brother suspect you of plotting against him?”

“Surely your brother did not—”

He held his fingers against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Be silent, Claudia.”

She bowed her head and remained silent. He hated her. Before he did not trust her, but he seemed to accept the possibility that she was telling him the truth. Now he despised her. He would always despise her. And she was his prisoner. The future looked very bleak indeed.

“Poisoners, blackmailers, assassins, and mercenaries,” he finally muttered. “Did I miss anyone in your family? Perhaps a thief, or a defrocked priest?”

She shook her head without looking up. The words hurt, as he surely meant them to hurt. She hoped he would abandon her, that he would get up and simply walk away without a backward glance. What did it matter if she was alone and unarmed? A trifling problem in the face of all others.

“Are you crying?”

She shook her head again. The movement made two fat
tears splash onto her hands. From beneath her soggy lashes, she saw him reach for her. “Please do not touch me.”

His hand wavered, then fell away.

“I do not like to cry. I especially do not like anyone to watch me indulge in such a childish display.” She didn’t know why she tried to explain herself. Why should he care? She rubbed the fallen tears into her hand. “If you wish to leave me here, I will understand.”

The hiss of steel against steel made her heart skip its beat. Her heart stopped beating altogether when she looked up.

Guy had drawn his sword.

5

C
laudia gasped. “I—I did not mean—”

“Silence!” Guy hissed, his voice little more than a whisper as he rose to his feet. “We are not alone. Stand up, but do not make any sudden moves.” He held his hand toward her, palm up, but kept his attention focused over her shoulder. “Use my left hand as a stirrup. I am going to hoist you onto the branch above me.”

“ ’Tis a boar,” he said when she hesitated. “I must get to my horse, Claudia. Do as I say!”

She followed his orders without question. He crouched down to catch her foot in his hand and lifted her without any noticeable effort. She swung one leg over the wide branch just a few feet above his head, then made certain her cloak did not tumble down to blind him.

Guy began to take measured steps toward his warhorse, his attention on a felled tree that lay a few hundred feet away. The trunk was splintered by a long-ago strike of lightning, and a clump of new shoots formed a tall bush of sorts at its base. Its branches moved in a way that could not be caused by the wind in the still forest. Just then the horse whickered, a startled, nervous sound. The leaves of the bushes stirred, then Claudia heard a low grunt.

Guy spoke in a low, steady voice without looking at her. “Do not make a sound unless the beast charges before I reach the horse. If it charges while I am still afoot, scream for all you are worth.”

She knew why he gave that order. Uncle Laurence and a company of his knights had stumbled across a boar last summer when they were hunting deer. The knights repeated the
tale for weeks afterward. Boars were unpredictable beasts that would turn and run as often as they would stand and charge. Once provoked, a boar could take down a mounted knight. It had taken a half dozen men on horseback armed with spears to bring the beast to ground. Guy’s sword would not protect them.

The horse neighed, a frightened sound that meant it caught the scent of the boar. The sound of the jangling curb chain and shank rang out like a bell in the still forest. The brush rustled as the boar moved forward.

She saw the snout first, hooked with long, curved tusks. Then the head appeared, and the entire beast itself ambled out from behind the bushes, its stance a clear challenge. Her heart thudded hard against her chest. The boar looked even bigger than the one her uncle and his men had brought back from their hunt, its massive bulk covered with coarse brown hairs. Its small, beady eyes moved from the horse to Guy, and it snorted again.

When Guy came within five paces of the horse, the boar trotted forward a few steps and came to an abrupt halt, its jerky movements a warning or a challenge. The closer Guy drew to his horse, the more agitated the boar became. Claudia wondered if the beast waited until it could attack both Guy and the horse at once.

“Hold.” Guy gave the command in a hushed voice. The single word brought the horse’s skittish movements to a halt, and it stood still and silent. He closed the distance to the horse in one long stride. His sword sliced through the rope hobble in a single stroke, even as the boar began its charge. Claudia clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle an involuntary scream.

The warhorse did not move until Guy leaped onto its back. He spurred the horse into a charge to meet the boar head-on. A moment before the sharp tusks would have gouged into the horse’s chest, he gave an unspoken command and the horse gathered its haunches and leaped into the air.

They cleared the beast, even though it lifted its head and
tried to rake the horse’s belly. Enraged by the near miss, the boar squealed and turned in pursuit. Surprisingly, when the boar reached the bushes, it shuffled to a stop. Guy slowed the horse to a trot then turned to face his foe, moving the horse in a wide path around the felled tree as he worked his way toward Claudia.

The boar watched his every movement. As soon as Guy closed the arc of his path, the boar began to paw at the ground. Guy came within twenty yards of the fortress-tree when the boar charged again. This time Guy galloped toward the road that led toward his men.

Claudia watched him ride away. She kept waiting for him to turn around. He
would
turn around. Surely he was not so cruel that he would abandon her. Not here, with a wild beast ready to devour her. But that was exactly what he did. He disappeared from sight, then even the sound of his horse’s hoofbeats faded away.

He was gone.

The boar had also watched Guy’s departure, but now turned and trotted toward her perch in the tree. Once beneath her it stopped to investigate the scattered remnants of their breakfast, eating everything it found. The animal was so close that she could hear every snuffling breath it took, every grunt it made. She buried her nose in the crook of her arm to escape its musky scent. Every once in awhile it stopped rooting long enough to glance up at her, as if to remind itself of her presence. Each look from those flat, emotionless eyes was a clear warning that it would kill her, given the chance.

At last the boar returned to the felled tree and began to dig around one of the downed branches. Her heart began to slow its frantic beat.

How could Guy leave her? She was alone and defenseless, without a horse or even food. What hope she nourished that he might still return for her died a little with each passing moment until she stopped watching the spot in the forest where he had disappeared and propped her chin on her crossed arms.

“I hate this tree,” she muttered. The boar glanced up at the sound of her voice, but soon returned to its snuffling. She would have to wait until it lost interest and wandered away. Hopefully, a very long distance away. And then what would she do? Once she climbed down from this branch, where would she go? What other animals would she encounter?

He had really abandoned her. So much for knightly honor, the duty to rescue any lady in distress. So much for courage in the face of danger, the coward. So much for—

The sound of hoofbeats interrupted her thoughts, faint at first, then they grew louder. One horse could not make so much noise. The boar let out a long series of grunts and shuffled back to its post by the bushes.

Guy and his warhorse reappeared on the path, followed by a dozen soldiers on horseback. They all carried lances. The grim expression on Guy’s face didn’t change when he glanced up at her. He didn’t return her smile, but that mattered not at all.

He had come back for her!

She looked at the boar and her smile faded. One cloven hoof tore at the mossy earth, and it made a loud snort each time its hoof struck the ground. The danger was far from over.

The men fanned out in a semicircle and lowered their lances. They drew to a halt when they neared the fortress-tree, and Guy glanced up at her. “Stay where you are, Claudia. Do not come down from there until I tell you it is safe.”

As if she needed to be told as much. She nodded anyway. “Aye, Baron. I am in no hurry to leave my perch.”

A faint smile touched his lips, then disappeared when he turned his attention to the bushes. The boar leaped forward then came to an immediate, jarring stop, a challenge to those who invaded its territory.

“I would rather we faced a boar with spears,” Guy told his men, “yet your lances will serve well enough in the open ground. If it bolts to the side, swing your lance up and over when you turn lest you unhorse the man next to you. Have a
care for the branches overhead as well. If the attack is straight on, the three nearest the charge will use lances. Everyone else move in with swords or we will end up skewering each other. Understood?”

The men voiced their assent, then followed Guy’s lead and began to move forward again. Guy rode in the center of the company, a length ahead of the men around him. Claudia bit her lower lip. Riding before his men meant he made the most likely target. Was that his intent?