Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) by Jillian Hart Page A

swore to avenge. “I’ll not disappoint my king. Giles, take command of the men and prisoners. See them safely to the king’s dungeon. There had better be no more attacks, no more poisonings, no more surprises.”
    â€œAye, I will see to it. You’ll hunt down the girl?”
    â€œHunt her?” Full afternoon light burnished the landscape, and he gazed at the lay of the land, at the rise and fall of hillsides, the denseness of forests and groves. She would not be easy to find. “Aye, the traitor’s daughter is mine. Tell that to Edward.”
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    Only as the sun skirted the western horizon did Elin truly feel hunted. Twilight threatened, and she could feel the danger behind her. The vengeful knight tracked her, and he grew closer. But she couldn’t see him, even when she paused her mount on a rise and gazed over the valley below. She sensed he was there, somewhere in the gathering dusk.
    She’d risked her life to escape him, she knew that. If he found her, she would be as good as dead. If I spy any act of treachery, I will chain you to the wall of the king’s dungeon myself.
    Aye, ’twas best to keep ahead of him. She nosed herpalfrey off the road. Bare limbs grabbed at her mantle and at the hem of her hood. Cool winds through the forest brought with it the scents of the coming night.
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    He trailed her with a vengeance, driving his stallion hard as twilight thickened. Spears of darkness pierced the somber trees and cast ever-deepening shadows along the forest floor.
    Lady Elinore of Evenbough. She’d betrayed him, deceived him, poisoned him. The warrior maiden was no different from all women.
    Sweat dripped off his brow and into his stinging eyes blurring his vision. The sickness still lay claim to him, twisting his stomach, but he cared not how he suffered. With every passing league he felt stronger and more certain of his course.
    He drove his destrier deep into the forest, following the crash of broken boughs and crushed undergrowth. Though it was almost night, he could see the imprints of hooves upon the rain-drenched earth.
    Blood thickened in his veins and quickened his heart. He was close; he could taste it. Aye, he was closer than he’d thought. Malcolm could sense her, like a hunting wolf knowing the hidden rabbit shivered nearby.
    Shiver she should. He was no longer amused, no longer curious. In the inn’s chamber, assisting her with Hugh, he’d lowered his shield. For one moment she’d tempted him, just a bit, and he’d looked at her through a man’s eyes.
    He would not make that mistake again.
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    As midnight gathered, she could not see before or behind her. But she could hear the ghostly sound of hooves upon the forest’s carpet of decaying leaves and rotting branches. Night had slowed her escape, but not the fierce knight’spursuit. She suspected a man like Malcolm le Farouche saw best in the harsh hours after midnight, when not even stars cast faint light from above, when not even heaven dared to watch.
    He was gaining. And likely to overtake her as well. She’d not believed he could trail her, for she worked hard to disguise her tracks. ’Twas impossible to hide all traces, and yet she’d not expected even the king’s greatest knight to find her like this, and so swiftly. Especially after a dose of oakwood.
    No man was that powerful or that impossible to defeat.
    Fear dampened her palms and made her heart kick with a fast, quivery rhythm. Aye, she grew more afraid with each step. She had no doubt he would condemn her, drag her to the king’s court and certain death. Or worse.
    Well, the battle was not yet won. Elin snared her satchel from her saddle and dismounted. The palfrey nosed her with an inquisitive gesture. ’Twas her father’s horse, not her preferred mount, and she hoped the animal would not follow her. She gave the mare a sound smack on the rump. Emitting a startled whinny, the