Magic in His Kiss (17 page)

Possession of just one horse would make this journey so much easier.

They’d pressed hard since leaving the farm, through the forest because Rhodri shunned the road. They’d not yet eaten today, and it was well past nooning. Tired, hungry, her gown filthy, her hair a mass of tangles, Nicole fought the despondency that threatened to overwhelm her.

She tried to think of this new disheartening obstacle as merely one more difficulty to overcome along a journey fraught with hardship. But God’s truth, she wanted to scream out her frustration or sit down and have a good cry. Except she didn’t dare utter a sound and alert the soldiers to her presence.

Nor dare she say a word about attempting to relieve the soldiers of their horses. Rhodri would outright reject any such suggestion, not only because ’twould be nigh impossible to do, but merely because she’d suggested it.

Since leaving the farm, no matter what she thought a good plan, he thought it a bad one. His caution was becoming irksome. Especially at night, when she wanted to sleep closer to him and he did
not.

She glanced at Rhodri, standing next to her, leaning on the walking stick he didn’t need anymore, carried only to humor her. His gaze narrowed in on the horses, his wish to possess them likely as fierce as hers.

With a sharp jerk of his head, he told her to follow him away from the horses, and the solid bridge, and the earl’s patrol.

Nicole knew she should be more upset over coming so close to a patrol, but damn, right now what scared her more was wading through the Avon.

The sound of flowing water should be soothing, not terrifying. There was no hope but to go through the river if they didn’t wish to travel leagues out of their way.

But she didn’t know how to swim. If she lost her footing and became caught in the current—Nicole shivered, not wishing to contemplate disaster. She followed Rhodri along a narrow path for what seemed a long way, before he paused to inspect what could be a place to ford.

“I wager others have crossed here,” he said, pointing to where the path sloped down to the bank.

“Successfully, I hope.”

His hand swept out to draw her attention to what would be a beautiful view of the river and surrounding greenery were she able to appreciate it. “See you any bones lying about?”

How could he jest! “You are not amusing.”

“After we cross, you will wonder why you worried so. Leave on your boots, but hike up your skirts.”

Nicole’s nose wrinkled with distaste, not liking wetting her leather boots. They’d be uncomfortable to walk in afterward. However, she supposed it made sense to wear them. The soles would protect her feet against rocks.

At this moment, Nicole wanted nothing more than to point her nose north and go home to Camelen. Aware that wasn’t wise for several reasons, she held out her hand.

“Might I have the rope, please?”

Rhodri dug into the sack and pulled out the length of rope he used as a rabbit snare. With the rope securely belted around her waist, she grabbed hold of the gown’s back hem and pulled it up and forward between her legs, as she’d seen peasant women do when laundering clothes in a stream near Camelen. She tucked the back hem under the knot, securing the skirt and baring her calves.

How odd to feel early autumn’s cool breeze whisper against her legs, a sensation she’d not enjoyed since outgrowing girlish short tunics. A pleasure she would be most willing to forego if not for the necessity.

Rhodri had bared his legs, too, his breeches rolled up to just under his knees. Nicole couldn’t help but admire those sculpted limbs, the muscles of his hair-sprinkled calves clearly defined.

He also inspected her legs. She might have been discomfited by his intense stare, if not for his obvious approval and the flicker of desire that had gone lacking since their night at the farm.

Sleeping in Rhodri’s arms had been both wonderful and disturbing. She’d wanted more than those few stirring kisses, more than cuddling against his hard body, but hadn’t been bold enough to entice him to further endeavors.

Since then, he’d kept his distance, especially at night, going so far as to bed down on the opposite side of the small fires he built. Deep down Nicole knew Rhodri was being noble, but his rejection still hurt.

Perhaps tonight he wouldn’t be so reticent. Maybe she could muster the courage to make a bold advance on his defenses.

But first they must cross the river.

Be bold, be brave.
Rhodri was right. Others had used this ford across the Avon. No bones were scattered about.

Except any old bones would have washed downstream.

Nicole swallowed hard and draped her blanket around her shoulders as a mantle, tightening the knot over her breasts.

Rhodri smiled at her preparations. “The river is passable, Nicole. I doubt the water is very deep here, nor is the river wide. Why, I could throw a rock and hit the opposite bank!”

“Maybe
you
could,” she grumbled.

He picked up his walking stick and slung the harp’s sack over his shoulder. “Just walk where I do, mind your footing, and stay close.”

She already had a plan for doing so. Rhodri no more than turned around when Nicole grabbed a fistful of his tunic. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled but said nothing as they entered the river.

Using his stick, he measured the water’s depth before taking steps. When not far from the bank, she felt the tug of flowing water, then the water itself when it flowed over her boots’ tops. Sweet mercy, the water was cold, chilling her clear through.

She glanced south toward the bridge, glad to see they’d come far enough along the path and around a bend so they couldn’t be seen by the soldiers. Still, she could hear the men’s voices carry up the river, though she couldn’t understand what they said.

“Careful here,” Rhodri quietly ordered.

Indeed, the rocks were smooth and slippery, and the closer to the middle of the river, the deeper the water, the louder the rushing sound, the harder her heart pounded.

Rhodri’s breeches were getting wet, as were her skirts that hung just above her knees. Nicole diligently strode forward, her eyes on the opposite bank. Not until the water reached her thighs did she begin to pray.

Her foot slipped on a rock, abruptly unsettling her balance. Only her hold on Rhodri’s tunic and his solid footing saved her from a tumble.

He halted, standing sturdy and strong as if rooted in the riverbed. “The worst is behind us,” he whispered. “Only a few more steps.”

She tried to smile and tell him she no longer feared for her life—a lie—but smiles and speech were both beyond her. ’Twas all she could manage to slog through the too-cold and swiftly flowing river.

Within four more steps the riverbed began to rise; the water became more shallow. The closer to the bank, the easier each step. The less treacherous the rocks, the more she took comfort in having survived the crossing.

With the water now below her knees, finally confident she wouldn’t drown today, Nicole released Rhodri’s tunic to gather up the sodden, sagging skirts coming loose from her rope belt.

Rhodri reached the bank first, his longer stride giving him the advantage.

Bemoaning her discomfort, she flung the soaked skirt over her arm. The shift of weight upset her balance. Her foot slid sideways. Nicole dropped her skirts and, with arms reeling, fell backward, hitting the water with an inelegant splash. She shrieked her outrage at her ill fortune before she landed hard on her bottom, her fear of drowning welling up again before she managed to put her hands down to keep from tumbling over.

She felt the veriest fool, sitting in water up to her bosom. If she weren’t so angry, she might cry.

Rhodri put down the harp’s sack and waded back into the water, trying not to laugh at the humorous sight she presented.

“It appears you let loose of me too soon,” he said, planting his feet and extending a hand.

She grasped his hand—and heard a shout. The bend in the river had put them out of view of the bridge, until now. She could see the very end of the bridge. One of the earl’s soldiers stood there, pointing.

Sweet mercy, the soldier must have heard her shriek!

Rhodri pulled her upright. “Hurry,” he said curtly.

“Halt!” came the cry from the bridge. “In the name of the earl of Oxford, I order you to halt!”

Nicole scrambled up onto the bank, her heart in her throat, her hand firmly clasped in Rhodri’s. Without pausing, he scooped up the harp’s sack and turned upriver.

Behind her, she could hear horses’ hooves pound across the wooden bridge.

Rhodri steered her to a clump of bushes. He tossed the harp’s sack and walking stick in amongst them. “Give me your blanket.”

Nicole untied her cumbersome brown shawl, thinking Rhodri intended to lightly hide their belongings and relieve them of extra weight until he added, “Crawl in there. I will cover you so you cannot easily be seen.”

Myriad questions begged answers as she settled into the thicket, but only one was important enough to voice. “What do you plan to do?”

“I intend to relieve one of the soldiers of his horse. I will return in a trice.”

He tossed the blanket over her, leaving her in the dark to sit and await his return.

She didn’t like this at all.

Rhodri intended to take on two soldiers and two battle-trained horses and come away with a horse. True, she’d watched him thrash two guards in Oxford, without a proper weapon. He might now possess a sword, but Nicole well knew the value of a trained horse.

Rhodri could get stomped on! His head split open. His bones broken. He might not come back for her!

Alarmed, Nicole pushed aside the blanket far enough to take a peek toward the bridge. The thicket obscured most of her view, but she could see Rhodri hurrying toward a large oak tree, his sword drawn. He wasn’t limping, but certes, if he made one misstep and again injured his ankle, he’d go down and the patrol would have him.

She heard the horses coming toward them, faintly yet, but most definitely headed their way.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she debated over how to help Rhodri, vainly wishing she had a sword and some knowledge of how to use it. Her dagger was in her boot, but the short blade was no match for a sword.

But then, she didn’t need a weapon to be of help. She’d assisted Rhodri once before to their benefit.

Rhodri took up position behind the oak tree, taking a moment to push down the legs of his wet breeches before settling into a stance.

Nicole watched the path along the river, awaiting the opportunity to give Rhodri a better advantage.

Chapter Eleven

A
fter a glance behind him to ensure Nicole was huddled securely beneath the blanket, Rhodri settled his stance behind the oak tree.

He’d never been one to shun a fight when it was necessary, as this one had become. True, he would have preferred to slip unnoticed past the men on the bridge. Nicole’s fall had rendered that plan nil.

And now they were both wet, Nicole’s garments nearly soaked through. Swiftly getting her to an inn or someplace of the like where she could warm up and dry out would be easier accomplished on horseback.

The patrol’s horses would do nicely.

The horses were coming at a hard, fast pace, causing the earth to tremble. Rhodri took slow, steady breaths, as he did before entering any battle, to remain calm and concentrate.

Then the horses slowed, their riders likely looking for the spot where he and Nicole had come out of the river.

Rhodri dared a glance around the tree. Indeed, both soldiers studied the riverbank.

The soldiers quickly discerned where the prey they sought had come out of the river. He waited impatiently for the lead soldier to believe Rhodri and Nicole were still running upriver and spur his horse to give chase.

Instead, to Rhodri’s chagrin, both soldiers reined in.

“Appears this is where they came out,” one said.

“Aye. Do you think they might have gone back to the other side?” the other wanted to know.

Nay, you dolts! Do you not see how trampled and wet the grass is?

“I believe they are still on this side of the river. But where?”

When the lead soldier turned to look around, Rhodri ducked back behind the tree.

“’Ere now, what is this?”

The creak of leather and jingle of tack indicated that at least one of the soldiers dismounted. If both dismounted, then he could rush them without fear of them using the horses to run him down.

“Looks like they went upriver.”

Rhodri ventured another peek. Both soldiers had dismounted and were looking north. ’Twas as fine a time as any to attack. With both hands gripping the sword’s pummel, a warrior’s cry gathering in his lungs, Rhodri heard a voice that jolted him to his soul.

“’Tis about time you found me!”

Nicole!

Rhodri swung around to see her striding toward the soldiers. Confident the soldiers were under the earl’s implicit orders not to harm Lady Nicole, Rhodri didn’t worry for her safety, only her capture.

But what the devil was she about?

“Lady Nicole?” a soldier asked, and Rhodri couldn’t blame the man for questioning the identity of the woman rushing toward him.

Nicole looked like a bedazzling hoyden, not a princess. Her hair was an impossible mass of tangles, several long strands having come undone from the thick braid hanging limp and wet between her breasts. She clutched her dripping, dragging skirts. Her boots squished with each step.

Yet her shoulders were squared, her chin tilted forward, her entire demeanor demanding deference.

“If you hurry,” she said with urgency, “one of you should be able to capture the wretched
beast
who has held me captive! Last I saw he was limping his way upriver.”

Rhodri slumped against the tree, realizing Nicole was repeating the plan they’d used at Little Gate. He nearly groaned aloud. He realized she wanted to be of help, but he had no need of her aid this time and wished she’d stayed put. He didn’t want her to again be in a dangerous position. Had she no confidence in him at all?