Chapter 11
Angelet enjoyed the relative peace that riding alone in the carriage offered her, though nothing dulled the monotony of travel, especially as the surroundings grew wilder, with almost no villages or farms along the way.
That evening was the first time they were forced to make a camp. The road had become lonely, with no hint of any village or manor in the vicinity. Laurence had ridden on ahead of the group just to be sure, and brought back the news that the group would have to make its own shelter.
The men all worked to set up the camp, relying on Sir Rafe’s instructions for nearly every element. The single large tent was set up for Angelet and Bethany. There were several more smaller, simple ones for the men, although the sky was clear and fine, and the air quite warm, even with the sun sinking low.
Angelet was contemplating the effect of the setting sun through the young leaves, thinking it looked just like the stained glass windows in a church, when Bethany interrupted her.
“Where is the chest?” Bethany demanded. “I looked in the carriage and it wasn’t there!”
Angelet said, “After what Dobson tried to do, Sir Rafe thought it best to move the chest.”
“Moved to where?”
“That is hardly your concern.” She looked the maid over. “It is quite safe, and there the matter ends.”
“I’ll tell Lord Otto you disobeyed him!”
“You mean after I’ve gone to a nunnery, where I’ll be subject only to the rules of the Church? Carry your tales to whomever you wish. It matters not to me.” Angelet laughed. For years, the greatest threat anyone at Dryton could offer was to alert Otto that something might displease him. Such a threat was meaningless now.
Bethany realized the same thing. She pursed her lips, then said, “How do you know Sir Rafe isn’t going to steal it himself?”
“At this point, I’d give the chest over to anyone who came to take it,” Angelet said wearily. “It’s brought us nothing but trouble.”
The maid nodded. “Who knew Dobson would be so vicious? He’s Otto’s man, after all, here on the lord’s orders. Otto asked him special. Excuse me, my lady. I have to take care of something before it gets dark.”
Bethany hurried off. Angelet watched her go with idle interest, since she had nothing better to do. But when she saw Bethany actually leave the camp and walk purposefully off into the woods in the direction of a large hill to the north, she wondered just what the maid was up to. Surely she didn’t want to climb a steep slope simply for a call of nature.
Without telling anyone else, Angelet began to follow the maid. The underbrush was more or less completely leafed out now, obscuring much of the ground, and Angelet had to move quickly to keep on Bethany’s trail.
She clambered over a few rocks and tried to keep pace, although the path was fast turning from dirt to rock and making her progress more difficult as she slowly got closer to the hill’s summit.
She paused from time to time, listening for the crash of Bethany’s steps up ahead. She was fairly certain she was still on the right path—she hadn’t seen any other trails diverge from this one.
The trail flattened out for a short stretch, along a natural clearing, and she got an unimpeded view of the rapidly darkening eastern sky. The valley below was already in shadow. In a few minutes, the woods she just passed through would be much harder to navigate. Perhaps she ought to return…
“But where did Bethany go?” she muttered, looking ahead once more.
All of a sudden, she felt someone grab her hand from behind. She whirled, about to scream, when she saw it was Rafe. A very annoyed Rafe.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Rafe demanded. “After what happened, you should know better than to be alone. Ever.”
“There’s no one around but us!”
“You don’t know that,” Rafe said tersely. “Until you’re safely to Basingwerke, my lady, we have to assume that you’re in danger.”
“You think like a soldier,” she said.
“I am a soldier.”
“Well, I’m not and I won’t live looking over my shoulder.”
“You don’t have to, Angelet. I’m going to watch over your shoulder whether you like it or not. Now tell me what possessed you to wander away from camp just now.”
She pointed toward the summit. “I think Bethany is up ahead. I saw her leave the camp and I was suspicious. I followed her, or what sounded like her. And now you’ve slowed me down…”
“I saw Laurence leave the camp,” Rafe said, relaxing. “Heading this way too. Then I saw you go on the same trail and I followed.”
“So Laurence may go where he likes, but I can’t.”
“Precisely.” Then his eyes sparkled. “So what you’re saying is that you saw Bethany walk away from camp shortly after I saw Laurence…you may want to be less adamant about locating your maid just at the moment.”
“You mean they’re together….oh.” She broke off abruptly. “Well. If that’s what they’re up to, then I wouldn’t really want to interrupt… that is…”
“Why don’t we head back to camp, my lady?” Rafe suggested.
“Yes.” She looked around, then noticed something. “Wait!”
Rafe instantly had his hand on his sword. “What?”
“Nothing to slay, sir knight. Look!” She pointed toward the eastern horizon, where the first sliver of the moon was emerging over the horizon. “I want to watch the moon rise. Please. We can linger that long, can’t we?”
* * * *
Rafe knew he should say no, but the idea of telling her that she wasn’t allowed to watch a moonrise just seemed cruel. Who knew how many more moonrises would be available to her?
“All right, then. Only a little while. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he added under his breath.
Angelet didn’t even register his comment. Her gaze was locked on the moon, a sort of rapture in her expression that was almost pagan.
And completely beautiful.
Her beauty had nothing to do with her outward appearance, either. The hem of her gown was stained with dirt. Dirt was an inevitable part of travel, but he was a little surprised that Angelet was so tolerant of it, until he remembered that she had never been expected to show herself off at Dryton. For many women of her class, appearance was the only consideration. A woman could spend hours a day making herself ready to be shown off for her lord or some other event. Angelet had been ignored for so long that she didn’t follow those practices, despite her arresting natural beauty.
Angelet could have been a very useful tool in Otto’s political arsenal. How strange for the man to overlook her…there must be a reason. Angelet’s affliction wasn’t explanation enough, since it was only occasional and didn’t reduce her prettiness by one bit.
He must have been staring at her like an oaf, for she gave him a quizzical look. “What?”
“The moon suits you. That’s all.” It was true. She was a creature of the moon, with her silver blond hair and fey eyes.
“You’re teasing me, but there’s no court to impress.”
“Angelet, you’re the only one I’m interested in impressing at the moment.”
She looked a little uncertain. “I am?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot about my offer.”
By the way she bit her lip, she definitely remembered.
He walked up to her, standing right in front of her. “What have you been thinking about, then?”
She put one hand on his chest, keeping him a few inches away from where he wanted to be. “I’m thinking about the moonrise. You’re blocking my view.”
He shifted fractionally to the right, still in front of her but letting her look beyond him. “Pardon. I’ll try not to do that again. You enjoy your view… and I’ll enjoy mine.”
“Rafe, is this quite—”
He bent to lay a kiss on her neck, just under her jawline, and was rewarded with a little intake of breath.
Rafe pulled away and looked her over with approval. “So you have been thinking about my offer.”
“That is not true,” she breathed out. Yet he could tell by her breathing that something stirred her interest. And he’d bet it wasn’t the moon.
“If it’s not true, then why are you holding me as if I might get away?”
Angelet glanced down, seemed to realize that she had reached for him, and gasped in dismay. Her hands flew up, fingers splayed wide.
He caught her hands in his, then put them back exactly where they’d been. She took a breath, then said, shyly, “If you wanted to…you could kiss me again.”
He wanted to. Rafe wanted to do a lot of things with her, but he only kissed her, because that was what she asked for. He concentrated on her neck, laying little, teasing kisses on her skin. How the hell was it possible for a woman to be so soft?
When he licked her collarbone, Angelet actually moaned. His need sharpened about a hundredfold.
“How’s the moonrise?” he asked, forcing a light tone. God, he wanted to see her naked in the moonlight.
“It’s very…inspiring.”
“Mmm. Are you even looking at it?”
“Yes!” she said. But she spoke just as he ran his tongue along her neck up to her ear, and it certainly sounded like she was saying yes to him.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“You know exactly what I’m doing.”
She opened her mouth when he kissed her again, and curled her hands around his neck and slid her tongue along his. Lord, this woman was going to destroy him.
She sighed when he dipped his head and kissed her neck again. He took his time, teasing her with his lips, exploring her body with his hand, going slowly so he didn’t alarm her. Widow or not, it was clear that she’d been without a man for a long time. Too long.
He gathered up the fabric of her skirts to expose her legs, and then touched her. “Angelet? Is this what you want?”
She had closed her eyes. “It feels good,” she murmured, and she inadvertently let out another little moan.
In response, Rafe tightened his grip, his fingers digging into her flesh a little more as he explored her body by touch. His hands were roughened by years of physical work, fighting, and riding, but she didn’t object, and then, thrillingly, even laid her own hand to guide him upward along her thigh.
“What do you want, Angelet?” he murmured, ready to perform any feat she requested. “Tell me what to do.”
She left out a breath, and he felt it across his skin. He wanted to feel her breath on so much more of his skin, unhampered by clothing. He wanted to know exactly how she’d feel under his hands…
Angelet took a ragged breath. Her eyes were wide in the moonlight, and she looked as if she might be a moon goddess herself.
Then she gasped out, “Let me go.”
Damn. He released her instantly and stepped away, his eyes still locked on her. “There you are, free.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This isn’t something I can do. It’s not right…”
He stifled the disappointment—and the lust—raging through him. “What did I tell you, Angelet? Whatever you want from me, all you have to do is ask. Even if what you want is nothing.”
She turned her face away. “It’s not about what I want, Rafe.” Angelet straightened her skirts nervously. “I should not have… This was a mistake. We should go back.”
“As you wish.” He pointed to the trail. “Can you see it in the dark? You can go ahead. I’ll be right after you.” That way he could keep an eye out for danger over her head while ensuring that no one could grab her from behind.
She nodded, then repeated, “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. She was sorry? He was the one who was chasing her for the basest of reasons. “Never apologize to me, Angelet. Never.”
They returned on the same trail, or what he thought was the same trail. He couldn’t get lost anyway. All they had to do was keep following the downward slope toward the smell of a campfire below.
Rafe watched Angelet walk along ahead of him, noting the unsteadiness of her steps. She would be thinking about him all night, which was fair, since his thoughts were increasingly dominated by her. God, he wanted her. Every time he looked at her or got close to her, his need increased. Something about her tantalized him, and he couldn’t name what it was. All he knew was that if he didn’t get to touch her again, and soon, he’d lose his mind.
She was obviously interested in his offer, yet she still put an end to their encounter. Not surprising, he told himself. Angelet wasn’t the sort of woman to give herself to a virtual stranger out in the woods in the middle of nowhere. She had too much dignity for something like that. And then there was that lock of hair she carried with her, a sign that she still clung to some memory too strong to put aside for a short diversion like Rafe.
At the very edge of the camp, he told her to walk ahead and go directly to her tent. “Don’t tarry, don’t speak to anyone, and if anyone asks where you were, tell them not to worry, and you didn’t have a fit.”
He waited a few moments, then moved around in an arc so he would appear to be approaching the camp from the east rather than the north.
A few men saw him come into the circle of firelight.
“Where were you?” Simon asked, looking up from the food he’d been eating.
“Scouting around,” Rafe lied easily. “Just making sure no one else was about.”
“Did you see anything?”
Rafe shook his head.
Laurence, who just happened to be sitting on a log next to Bethany, now chimed in. “I never like the forest. I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Watched?” Rafe asked, remembering his sense of being watched along the road, the feeling that kept recurring even though he never saw any hard proof to confirm it. “Have you seen someone?”
“No,” Laurence said. “It’s just a feeling in my gut.”
“Collywobbles,” Tad said knowingly. “The fairy folk do it to keep Christians away from their homes.”
A few of the others made noises of agreement. Rafe chuckled and sat down to eat, while the others lay back, joked, and generally relaxed. Bethany excused herself to attend to Angelet, and Rafe took a long breath, realizing how tense he was, for all sorts of reasons.
The incident with Dobson disturbed him far more than he let on. Rafe felt personally responsible for failing to see what the man had planned, though in all honesty, he couldn’t have known. Dobson cleverly waited, using the first few days to let the group settle into a routine, a routine he then exploited. Rafe hadn’t thought Dobson was that smart, actually. He shifted, willing himself to forget about the vicious fight that resulted in Dobson’s death. He needed to relax.
Perhaps a need to relax was driving some of the men’s jollity that night.
Simon set up a makeshift target range, and in the flickering light of the fire, he and the other men took turns flinging knives into the soft trunks of the pine trees. Bets were placed, naturally, and the men shouted and joked and laughed as wagers were won or lost.
Rafe took note as Simon won more bets. The young man had a talent—his aim was steady and he struck the center of his target nearly every time.
“I think Simon ought to stand ten paces back from the others,” Rafe called out from his comfortable spot by the fire. “Let’s make this fair.”
Simon grinned. “I could do that. Or someone could fetch me more wine!” He nodded toward the empty wineskin on the ground.
“I’ll find another,” Rafe said. “Least I can do.”
He walked to the supply wagon, where a few spare wineskins were stored along with some food.
There he found Bethany, who was rooting among the boxes.
“Grab a wineskin, will you?” he asked. If she was already inside, no need for him to clamber up.
But she jumped in surprise and looked back at him with an expression that could only be described as guilty.
“Did…did you say wine, sir?” she asked, her voice higher than usual.
“Yes, wine,” he repeated. “What are you doing? What are you looking for?”
“Oh, my lady wanted something after her supper. Dried fruit or nuts. I couldn’t find them in the dark…” She made a sound of discovery. “Here, sir. A wineskin.”
“And the nuts?”
“I just found them. Or dried apples, anyway. Here’s the sack.”
“Give them to me. I’ll take them to the lady. It’s on my way.” It wasn’t, but Rafe seized on any excuse to speak to Angelet.
Rafe ducked his head in through the low door. She was sitting on her bed roll, reading a little breviary by the light of a stubby candle. “My lady?”
She looked up from the book, giving Rafe a slightly nervous smile. “Yes?”
“Bethany said you asked for something to eat.”
She took the bag of fruit he offered, though with a puzzled expression. “Did she? I haven’t spoken to Bethany since she brought me my supper.”
Rafe frowned. So the maid had been lying about why she was in the supply wagon, claiming an errand for her mistress when she was actually searching on her own. Well, even if she could get to the chest, it was still chained and locked. Any attempt to open it would be heard by the others.
“A mistake,” he said, so as not to alarm her. “I must have misunderstood.”
“I doubt that,” Angelet said. “You always know what’s going on.”
“That is not true. I wish it were.”
She took a piece of dried apple, bit it thoughtfully, then asked, “What are you worried about? Dobson? That it happened?”
“Yes. I expected something, but not that. Not an attack from the inside.”
She nodded slowly. “He’s the last person I’d have thought would double-cross Otto like that. But then, he probably never saw that much wealth before. Do you think that’s it?”
Rafe knew all too well what could happen when a man saw the opportunity to get rich like that. “It must be.”
“I’m glad he’s dead. Is that shameful?”
“No,” he said firmly. “The man would have killed you. You don’t owe him anything.”
“We’re supposed to forgive those who have hurt us.”
“Easier said than done, my lady. Get some rest if you can. I expect sleeping outside is a novelty for you.”
“It is. But I’ll sleep better knowing you’re around.”
Rafe walked back to the group of knife-throwing men, whose laughter and shouting could probably be heard a mile away. He smiled to himself as he walked, thinking that it was actually fun to be with these people…most of them, anyway. He’d spent too long on his own. Rafe wasn’t a loner by nature.
A flicker of movement broke his reverie. There was something off to the side of the clearing. Rafe slowed his pace, then stopped.
He laid the wineskin on the ground and put his hand to the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw at any moment.
His eyes searched the scene in front of him, a tangle of underbrush and thicker tree trunks. The light from the campfire made all the shadows jump about and dance madly. It was impossible to tell solid things from shadows. Still, Rafe didn’t take his eyes from the forest. He had relied on his instinct for years, and his instinct now told him something was wrong.
He breathed slowly, in and out, waiting for whatever it was to betray itself. The shadows continued to twist and flicker. Just when Rafe decided he must have been mistaken, he caught something again. A shadow moving the wrong way, against all the others.
Was it an animal perhaps? A deer or feral creature? But what animal waited patiently behind the cover of trees instead of bolting into the deeper woods?
“I see you,” Rafe announced, pulling the sword a few inches out from its scabbard. “You can’t hide in there forever. Come out.”
He wasn’t particularly worried about sounding foolish if the interloper was just, say, a rabbit. If it was a rabbit, it wasn’t going to understand him anyway. A person, however, would hear him and have cause to doubt how well they were concealed.
The cheerful shouts of the men grew louder all of a sudden, and the moment was broken. There was a rustle in the woods, and then the feeling of being observed left him. He scooped up the wineskin and returned to the group.
He tucked away the issue of his tracker to deal with later. He said nothing of what he saw, or thought he saw. True, he could have explained, and then ordered the others to fan out and flush out the culprit. But to what end? If it was someone after Rafe, he’d have to explain the part of his life he’d rather bury. And perhaps it was only an animal after all.
But when the time came to retire, he ordered two men on each shortened watch. “And keep in sight of each other,” he told them. “Take no chances.”
“Is something wrong, Sir Rafe?” Simon asked.
“Just being careful. That’s what we’re being paid to do.”