just did not have it in him to be devious or deceptive.
“Should we check the woods, Creed?” he asked, his visor flipped up and his angular face flushed. “Perhaps she has gone into hiding?”
Burle was up ahead, aboard his fat gray charger, riding on the side of the road and studying the ground. “Burle has her scent,” Creed told him. “We will wait for his opinion.”
“Perhaps you should have put someone else to guard her, Ryton,” Jory’s voice floated up from behind them, over the thunder of the hooves. “Your brother does not seem to have much luck with women.”
It was a deliberate dig, vengeance for the beating Creed had dealt him the night before. Jory had a loose mouth but was no good at backing up his assertions. Ryton did not bother turning around.
“Another word and I send you on to Prudhoe alone,” he said steadily. “After what you did last night to the lady, you are lucky that you are still in my Corp. The baron will know about your actions towards the hostage, Jory. I have no use for degenerates such as you.”
Had anyone else said it, Jory would have snapped back. But Ryton was his commander and he wisely kept his mouth shut. But it did not prevent him from feeling as if, somehow, he had been the one who had been slighted.
Burle suddenly threw up a hand and everyone came to a halt. Creed, Ryton and the other knights rode up to him, watching the man point off to the east; there was an enormous meadow, as far as the eye could see, with snow-topped peaks in the distance. The land was lush and green from an early spring.
Burle got off his charger and following the hoof prints that veered off the road. “She went off into the meadow.”
All eyes moved to the landscape beyond. “There is virtually no cover,” Ryton said. “If she was still in the meadow, we would see her.”
Creed spurred his charcoal charger down the road for several yards, studying the soft brown earth.
“Here,” he pointed to the road as the charger did a nervous little dance. “She came back out here.”
Burle went over to where he was pointing, kneeling down as much as his armor would allow and studying the ground. “Aye,” he nodded. “She did indeed. It looks as if she has continued south.”
“Then south we ride,” Ryton lifted a fist to the column of men behind him.
Creed had already spurred his animal forward, cantering ahead of the troops, keeping his eyes alert for the big blond horse with the little lady upon it. As time passed, he was coming to wonder if they would even find her. There was so much danger in the world, especially for a lone female. He may have been foolish enough to have given her the opportunity to escape him, but he doubted she realized what she was getting herself into when she made the foolish decision to flee.
But one thing was for certain; either way, he was the one to blame. Christ, he felt stupid.
***
The knights were closing in. Bress was fast, but he was also weary. Carington ended up heading back onto the road she had traveled, a straight and wide road that gave Bress plenty of room to pick up speed. She knew she could outrun the knights and was frankly surprised they had followed her for as long and far as they had. She had expected the drunken warriors to quickly tire of the chase. But they had not. The panic she had been so adept in keeping at bay returned with a vengeance; Bress was tiring and his gait was slowing. If the knights kept their pace, they would eventually catch her.
The sky was darkening with dusk as they pounded along the road north. The men behind her were slowly closing. In the distance was a heavy patch of forest and in her fright, Carington directed Bress for the trees. Perhaps she could lose her pursuers in the bramble.
She plowed into the foliage, hearing the shouts behind her. The men were gaining ground. Bress was grunting and snorting as he raced through the trees. Branches whipped back on
“Should we check the woods, Creed?” he asked, his visor flipped up and his angular face flushed. “Perhaps she has gone into hiding?”
Burle was up ahead, aboard his fat gray charger, riding on the side of the road and studying the ground. “Burle has her scent,” Creed told him. “We will wait for his opinion.”
“Perhaps you should have put someone else to guard her, Ryton,” Jory’s voice floated up from behind them, over the thunder of the hooves. “Your brother does not seem to have much luck with women.”
It was a deliberate dig, vengeance for the beating Creed had dealt him the night before. Jory had a loose mouth but was no good at backing up his assertions. Ryton did not bother turning around.
“Another word and I send you on to Prudhoe alone,” he said steadily. “After what you did last night to the lady, you are lucky that you are still in my Corp. The baron will know about your actions towards the hostage, Jory. I have no use for degenerates such as you.”
Had anyone else said it, Jory would have snapped back. But Ryton was his commander and he wisely kept his mouth shut. But it did not prevent him from feeling as if, somehow, he had been the one who had been slighted.
Burle suddenly threw up a hand and everyone came to a halt. Creed, Ryton and the other knights rode up to him, watching the man point off to the east; there was an enormous meadow, as far as the eye could see, with snow-topped peaks in the distance. The land was lush and green from an early spring.
Burle got off his charger and following the hoof prints that veered off the road. “She went off into the meadow.”
All eyes moved to the landscape beyond. “There is virtually no cover,” Ryton said. “If she was still in the meadow, we would see her.”
Creed spurred his charcoal charger down the road for several yards, studying the soft brown earth.
“Here,” he pointed to the road as the charger did a nervous little dance. “She came back out here.”
Burle went over to where he was pointing, kneeling down as much as his armor would allow and studying the ground. “Aye,” he nodded. “She did indeed. It looks as if she has continued south.”
“Then south we ride,” Ryton lifted a fist to the column of men behind him.
Creed had already spurred his animal forward, cantering ahead of the troops, keeping his eyes alert for the big blond horse with the little lady upon it. As time passed, he was coming to wonder if they would even find her. There was so much danger in the world, especially for a lone female. He may have been foolish enough to have given her the opportunity to escape him, but he doubted she realized what she was getting herself into when she made the foolish decision to flee.
But one thing was for certain; either way, he was the one to blame. Christ, he felt stupid.
***
The knights were closing in. Bress was fast, but he was also weary. Carington ended up heading back onto the road she had traveled, a straight and wide road that gave Bress plenty of room to pick up speed. She knew she could outrun the knights and was frankly surprised they had followed her for as long and far as they had. She had expected the drunken warriors to quickly tire of the chase. But they had not. The panic she had been so adept in keeping at bay returned with a vengeance; Bress was tiring and his gait was slowing. If the knights kept their pace, they would eventually catch her.
The sky was darkening with dusk as they pounded along the road north. The men behind her were slowly closing. In the distance was a heavy patch of forest and in her fright, Carington directed Bress for the trees. Perhaps she could lose her pursuers in the bramble.
She plowed into the foliage, hearing the shouts behind her. The men were gaining ground. Bress was grunting and snorting as he raced through the trees. Branches whipped back on
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