Beatrice had to catch them. She simply had to.

“Come on, girl,” she urged, tapping the mare’s sides. It had been an inspired idea, exchanging horses with the deacon. Cecil never could have ridden as she’d ridden the gray mare whose name she didn’t know.

If the horse even had a name.

Not that it mattered.

She was exhausted, sweaty, soiled, and terrified. What if they were too late? What if she never managed to find Derek and Hugh?

Broc would think they had deserted him. And she’d promised to bring help, too.

She would go back all alone if she had to. No matter what it meant for her.

The sun climbed higher, a constant reminder of how long it was taking. Time was slipping by, precious time.

“Please, don’t collapse on me now,” she begged, patting the mare’s neck, tears clogging her throat as she struggled to hold onto even the slightest bit of control she had left. If she allowed herself to fall to pieces, Broc would surely die.

And he would think she had let him down.

He’d tried so hard to remain brave, for her sake. Though he had clearly been in pain, and bloodied, and though he had certainly known what awaited him at the hands of his captor, he had done everything possible to conceal his true feelings.

She sat up straighter in the saddle, more determined than ever when she remembered the blood on his face, and the strength he had still shown.

And the way his cheek had tasted under her lips, when she’d kissed him. The sound he’d made. He hadn’t been able to speak, already gagged. She wondered what he might have said if given the chance.

Tears filled her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks when she blinked. He was in so much pain.

“Halt!”

She froze, drawing the reins in to halt the horse as commanded. Her eyes darted around, vision blurred thanks to the tears still flowing from them. The voice had belonged to a man who didn’t take well to being trifled with.

Where was he, whoever he was?

“I—I was merely passing through,” she explained, breathing fast as her heart took off once again. “I don’t want any trouble, please. I’m in a terrible hurry.”

A rustling in the underbrush just ahead of her. The mare’s ears turned in that direction, though she stayed still. Beatrice watched, her breath catching as a figure emerged.

“Derek!” She nearly fell from the saddle in relief, her body sagging.

Though he held a knife in one hand, she didn’t fear him. Though it did attract her attention. He looked down, then grimaced. “My apologies, lass. We weren’t expecting to be followed by you, of all people.”

Hugh emerged from her left, also armed. “How is this possible?” he asked, looking at his brother. “She’s supposed to be with Broc.”

“What makes you think that?” she asked.

“He told us…” Derek cleared his throat. “He told us he was going to fetch you last night and leave for Silloth. We’d expected him to already be on his way by now. With you.”

“No! He’s at the manor house! Lord Randall captured him!” The entire story came out in a rush. She was close to sobbing by the time she finished, though it was a relief to know she was no longer on her own. She had help.

“So you know, then,” Derek murmured, reaching up and awkwardly patting her arm.

“I do. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t deserve what was done to him.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “He doesn’t deserve it. And even if he did, lass, we wouldn’t let anyone else decide his fate.”

“Especially not a man such as him,” Hugh agreed.

“What can we do?” she asked, looking from one of them to the other. Their presence was reassuring, their strength a comfort. They were both armed, too, which would be a help.

“We?” Derek asked.

“Nay, lass. You’ll be going home,” Hugh decided for her.

“No! I can’t. Lord Randall will know I had something to do with you going for him. Don’t you see? Home, by myself, anything could happen. He might truly send men to capture me this time. I don’t think my sword skills are up to the task, if Broc couldn’t defend himself against them.”

Derek surprised her by laughing. “You’re right at that. Even so, Margery would never forgive me if she knew I allowed you to be present for such an event. You’ll simply have to stay behind.”

“I won’t. And we don’t have any more time to discuss this. We need to get back to him, now.” Suddenly, another concern occurred to her. “But we can’t pass through the village. Everyone knows you’re supposed to be on your way to Silloth, and if they see you…”

“What other choice do we have?” Hugh asked. “Do you know of another way to reach the manor house?”

She opened her mouth, then paused. “I believe I know of another way to draw Lord Randall away from Broc.”