Chapter 11
“Ye,” she breathed.
She’d startled him. His voice had ratcheted up to an alarmingly high pitch when she’d leaped out.
She lowered her bow in disbelief as a dozen questions rushed through her brain.
What was he doing here?
Why was he alone?
Where was he going?
Why was he singing?
For a moment, he looked as shocked as she was. But of course, he had less reason to be surprised. He might have expected to find her here. She, on the other hand, hadn’t expected to ever see him again.
She was still reeling when his face blossomed into the adorable grin that had been haunting her daydreams.
“Why, Lady Gray,” he said in amused tones, inclining his head. “We meet a—”
She raised her bow again, training her arrow on his heart. She couldn’t afford to let his pretty face distract her. She didn’t know what he was doing here. But considering she was alone and didn’t have the advantage of strength over him, she had to use whatever leverage possible to keep him at bay. At least until she discovered his business.
“I’m unarmed,” he told her.
That remained to be seen. He’d managed to pull a dagger out of nowhere yesterday.
Still, a battle raged inside her. He was so magnificent, so handsome and full of charm. His eyes and that grin were even more enchanting than she’d remembered. And now that he stood before her on solid ground instead of swimming at her feet, he seemed more imposing, more muscular, more commanding.
Then she made the mistake of locking her gaze onto his mouth and those pressuring, yielding lips that had claimed hers and sent her pulse racing. Her fingers faltered on the drawn bow.
“Look,” he bade her, slipping his pack slowly and carefully from his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. He held up his hands in surrender. She noted he wasn’t wearing his sword belt. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he was unarmed.
But she never fooled herself about her own vulnerability. She didn’t have her bata this time. If she lowered her bow, he could reach her in three long strides.
Bloody hell. She should have stayed in the woods. She’d been so sure she could make a quick score on the road and be on her way, as fast and invisible as a shadow.
“Where are your friends?” she asked him.
“You’re not going to lower your bow?” He almost looked hurt.
“Not until I get some answers.”
“I told you I’m unarmed.”
She smirked. “Somehow I don’t think that matters. We’re not exactly evenly matched when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.”
The corner of his lip drifted up slyly. “On the contrary, I think we’re perfectly matched.”
She blushed at the thrill that shot through her as she imagined tangling with him in less combative ways.
But she couldn’t let lust get in the way of logic. She steeled her jaw and tightened her grip on the bow. “Are ye goin’ to answer me?”
“My friends? I left them.”
“And ye’re travelin’ through the wood on your own?” She doubted that.
He shrugged and looked around him. “So ’twould appear.”
“What’s your business?”
“I need your help.”
“My help?” She frowned. So he had come here intentionally. “What kind o’ help?”
“The kind that puts silver in your purse.”
Temair gave a humorless chuckle. “I don’t need to help ye to put silver in my purse, English. All I need to do is rob ye.”
Indeed, she should do just that and be on her way.
But if what old Sorcha had said was true—that there could be an active search for someone matching Temair’s description—then letting him go was too great a risk.
“You really won’t help me?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Why should I help ye?”
“I thought after…that is…after we…hmm.”
“What?” She knew what he thought. He thought that maybe after that breath-stealing, world-shattering kiss they’d shared, they’d forged some sort of a connection…had a meeting of hearts…bonded on an earthy level that had rendered them forever intertwined…
He was right.
She felt it too.
A part of her did want to help him.
But her life was in danger. She had to help herself first.
She’d start with helping herself to his silver.
She nodded to his pack. “Hand over your coin.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
She blinked. “What do ye mean?”
“If you’re not going to help me, I’m not giving you a farthing.” His eyes were no longer twinkling. They’d become as flat and menacing as a storm cloud.
“Then I’ll have to shoot ye,” she threatened.
Bloody hell, she hoped he wouldn’t make her shoot him. Only two people had ever made her do that. One she’d shot in the arm, the other in the foot. It still made her sick to think about it.
He leveled a rock-steady gaze at her. “You won’t kill me.”
Her return stare was just as unflinching. “Who said I was goin’ to kill ye?” Then she let her gaze and her arrow wander over possible targets, ending between his legs.
His eyes widened a little.
She cocked her head. “Now will ye hand o’er the coin?”
He sighed. “You give me no choice.”
But instead of digging through his pack for his silver, he raised his thumb and finger to his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle.
For a moment nothing happened, and she wondered what game the knight was playing.
Then, like a distant rumble of thunder, she heard them come.
His four fellow knights came roaring around the bend in the road on foot in a roiling cloud of dust, brandishing their broadswords like avenging angels.
For an instant, Temair couldn’t breathe. Like charging berserkers, they were bearing down on her with such force and fury that she’d be trampled in another minute if she didn’t move.
Beneath her fear was an awful sense of betrayal. Damn that knight. She’d believed him when he’d said he’d left his men behind. But it had been a trick. And now she wasn’t convinced it hadn’t been a deadly deception.
Outnumbered, all she could do now was surrender and hope for their mercy. She didn’t have a choice.
Or did she?
The moment she dropped her bow to the ground, the knight raised his arm, commanding the others to stop their charge. Still several yards away, they slowed to a walk and sheathed their swords.
It was then Temair pulled down her mask and let out a loud whistle of her own.
The knight frowned at her, and she gave him a smug smile.
No doubt he expected a handful of woodkerns to come flying out of the trees. He probably figured they could be easily dispatched by his four armed and armored knights.
Instead, two gigantic wolfhounds, all churning limbs and snarling teeth, came boiling out of the woods.
“There!” she directed them, hurling an arm in the direction of the four knights coming down the road.
The hounds bounded toward the men at such speed that the knights had no time to draw their swords. They shrieked and scattered, leaping into the trees to escape the snapping jaws of the wolfhounds.
For a moment, the knight stood dumbfounded, staring at his treed and trembling men with his jaw agape.
Temair felt a surge of heady triumph. She’d bested him again.
Shaking his head, the man gave a sigh of surrender and reached into his pack where he kept his coins. He pulled out a small parcel tied with twine and set it on the ground. Then he gave a loud whistle, a perfect imitation of Temair’s whistle.
The hounds, fooled by the sound, perked up their ears.
“Nay,” Temair breathed in disbelief.
The man untied the twine and opened the parcel. Inside was something that looked suspiciously like salted pork.
“Nay,” Temair said more loudly as the hounds abandoned their prey and began trotting forward.
“Look what I have for you, pups,” the knight cooed fearlessly.
“Nay!” she shouted. “Nay, Bran! Nay, Flann!”
“Come on, lads,” the man called out. “That’s it. I’ve got something for you. Something that tastes much better than an English knight.”
Temair bit back a scream of frustration. She’d never felt so betrayed. Her hounds were completely ignoring her. Distracted by the scent of meat, they only had eyes for that damned knight.
He used a dagger to cut the meat in half while the dogs waited impatiently, drooling and licking their chops.
“There you go,” he said as the two disloyal hounds nosed forward, gobbling up the meat as if they hadn’t eaten for days.
Then, just to salt her wounds, the knight gave her hounds a good scratch behind the ears. They returned his gesture of affection, licking his face as if he were their new best friend.
“Ye bloody traitors,” Temair muttered at them in disgust. “Ye should be ashamed o’ yourselves.”
The knight laughed as the gangly wolfhounds slobbered all over him, nearly knocking him over in their enthusiasm.
Damn the unfaithful hounds. Their magnificent breed was used as war dogs in combat. They were fierce and powerful enough to drag a man in full armor off of his horse.
At the moment, however, Flann and Bran seemed more inclined to lick the man to death.
He caught their chins in his hands. “You’re not traitors, are you, lads?” he crooned. “Poor things, you’re just half-starved.”
“Ballocks!” she protested. Her hounds ate better than she did.
He clucked his tongue. “Your mistress probably feeds you nothing but nuts and berries.”
“Nuts and…” she echoed. “That’s ridiculous.”
He grinned. Obviously, he was teasing her.
Then he swiveled on his haunches toward his men. “Are you going to roost all day in the trees?” he asked them. “Or are any of you brave enough to meet these ferocious beasts?” He ruffled the hounds’ heads again, and they wagged their tails in delight.
His men climbed reluctantly out of the trees. As they cautiously approached, her gaze flitted uncertainly between them. She hated being unarmed against five hulking knights.
“I have no coin,” she warned them. “So if ye’re hopin’ to rob me, ye’re out o’ luck.”
“I’m not interested in your coin,” he told her. “As I said, I just need your help. And I’m willing to pay for it.”
“What do ye want?”
“I’m looking for someone.”
Her breath caught. But she didn’t dare let her alarm show. As casually as possible, she asked, “Who?”
“A young woman.”
She gulped. So it was true. Her father had hired foreign mercenaries to hunt for her. She cursed herself for not taking her own advice, for not staying hidden in the forest. If these knights dragged her back to the tower house…
“She ran into the woods three days ago,” he added, “and has been missing ever since.”
Temair blinked. She let out a shuddering breath of relief. “Three days ago?”
“Aye.”
The rest of his men had come up now. None of them were interested in tangling with her hounds again. But to her aggravation, the dogs seemed content to sit beside the knight anyway, nosing at his hands and enjoying his companionable scratches.
“This woman,” Temair asked. “What does she look like?”
The knight furrowed his brows. “Small. Dark. Wild.”
“That’s all?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She need not have worried. That description fit about half of Eire. And small? These men were obviously searching for someone else.
On the other hand, all five men had seen Temair’s face clearly now. They could easily take her description back to her father. If her correct age and her raven-black hair didn’t convince Cormac his daughter was alive and well in the woods, her gray eyes would.
She had to find a way to keep these men away from the clann chieftain.
She perused the other knights. Despite being spooked by her hounds, they were a formidable group. Tall. Strong. Tough. With broad shoulders and heavy swords.
She was unarmed and alone. She couldn’t very well overpower them and force them to stay in the forest.
Maybe there was another way.