waded through it. When she reached the trees, the moon shadows enveloped her in a soothing darkness, and her tense shoulders and knotted stomach began to relax. Twice she paused and looked back toward camp to make certain she could still see the glow from the fires. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness and her hearing was piqued to greater sensitivity. She located a fallen log, tested it for soundness, then sat down to have a stern word with herself.
Why should it bother her so that Sir Hugh found her so … What? Troublesome? Annoying? Intolerable?
Her face flushed as the memory of his glare and disdainful words washed over her again. She wasn’t imagining it; his reaction was every bit as personal as it was official. What if her future husband reacted to her the same way? What if there were some grave deficit in her character or physical appearance?
Admittedly, she wasn’t as fair as the lovely Alaina, or as graceful and dignified as Helen. Few women were. And she hadn’t the sultry magic of a Lisette or the sweet, unworldly delicacy of a Margarete. But, truth be told, he seemed to hold them in a measure of contempt as well. Perhaps what she felt as a special hostility toward her was only directed at her because she was the one who spoke up and demanded proper treatment.
An image of the abbess confronting the officious Father Phillipe rose in her mind, and as the abbess’s spine straightened, so did Chloe’s. There were ways of dealing with critical, arrogant, overbearing males, she reminded herself. And, anyway, it would only be for a few more days, until they reached London. That was where the real test of her leadership would—
A branch cracked in the distance: a loud popping sound that spoke of a sizable limb subjected to substantial force. She came to attention, listening, searching the deep shadows for some clue to its location. Several moments passed before she heard a second snap … quieter this time, but closer. She shot to her feet, gathered up the hem of her straw-stuffed habit, and began to move.
Calculating that the sound came from her right, she traveled to her left to avoid whatever caused it. But as she made her way along, she heard the intruder—some
one
not some
thing,
she hoped—changing course and cutting between her and the camp. She moved faster, slapping away twigs and branches that clutched at her garments and held her back. Her only hope of reaching that circle of safety was to be quick and quiet.
But as she fled toward safety, it seemed every step in the rustling undergrowth betrayed her position. When she glanced over her shoulder to look for her pursuer, her foot struck a rock and turned. She stumbled, grabbed her twisted ankle, and hopped up and down, biting her lip to keep silent. As the first rush of pain subsided, she made herself go on, but was reminded by each step that every movement in the darkness was a potential plunge into disaster.
What direction was she going? Was she close enough for someone to hear if she cried out? How would they know it was her? Please—she beseeched angels and archangels and the entire host of heaven—let there be just one of them this time!
Abruptly what had been a slow and stealthy pursuit changed into an all-out chase. A thud and the thrashing of underbrush set her to open flight. She bolted for the dim glow coming through the trees, ignoring the pain in her foot and the slap and sting of the wiry branches. The faint light seemed closer with each desperate heartbeat, but so did that pursuing shape … until suddenly it loomed out of the darkness … human … male … bent on intercepting her.
With a cry of fright, she reversed course.
She felt him closing the distance, heard a growl of determination and the crashing of vegetation as he charged after her. Suddenly she was struck from behind and propelled forward … into a nearby tree.
The impact winded her. For a moment all she could do was clutch the bark and gasp convulsively. She
Why should it bother her so that Sir Hugh found her so … What? Troublesome? Annoying? Intolerable?
Her face flushed as the memory of his glare and disdainful words washed over her again. She wasn’t imagining it; his reaction was every bit as personal as it was official. What if her future husband reacted to her the same way? What if there were some grave deficit in her character or physical appearance?
Admittedly, she wasn’t as fair as the lovely Alaina, or as graceful and dignified as Helen. Few women were. And she hadn’t the sultry magic of a Lisette or the sweet, unworldly delicacy of a Margarete. But, truth be told, he seemed to hold them in a measure of contempt as well. Perhaps what she felt as a special hostility toward her was only directed at her because she was the one who spoke up and demanded proper treatment.
An image of the abbess confronting the officious Father Phillipe rose in her mind, and as the abbess’s spine straightened, so did Chloe’s. There were ways of dealing with critical, arrogant, overbearing males, she reminded herself. And, anyway, it would only be for a few more days, until they reached London. That was where the real test of her leadership would—
A branch cracked in the distance: a loud popping sound that spoke of a sizable limb subjected to substantial force. She came to attention, listening, searching the deep shadows for some clue to its location. Several moments passed before she heard a second snap … quieter this time, but closer. She shot to her feet, gathered up the hem of her straw-stuffed habit, and began to move.
Calculating that the sound came from her right, she traveled to her left to avoid whatever caused it. But as she made her way along, she heard the intruder—some
one
not some
thing,
she hoped—changing course and cutting between her and the camp. She moved faster, slapping away twigs and branches that clutched at her garments and held her back. Her only hope of reaching that circle of safety was to be quick and quiet.
But as she fled toward safety, it seemed every step in the rustling undergrowth betrayed her position. When she glanced over her shoulder to look for her pursuer, her foot struck a rock and turned. She stumbled, grabbed her twisted ankle, and hopped up and down, biting her lip to keep silent. As the first rush of pain subsided, she made herself go on, but was reminded by each step that every movement in the darkness was a potential plunge into disaster.
What direction was she going? Was she close enough for someone to hear if she cried out? How would they know it was her? Please—she beseeched angels and archangels and the entire host of heaven—let there be just one of them this time!
Abruptly what had been a slow and stealthy pursuit changed into an all-out chase. A thud and the thrashing of underbrush set her to open flight. She bolted for the dim glow coming through the trees, ignoring the pain in her foot and the slap and sting of the wiry branches. The faint light seemed closer with each desperate heartbeat, but so did that pursuing shape … until suddenly it loomed out of the darkness … human … male … bent on intercepting her.
With a cry of fright, she reversed course.
She felt him closing the distance, heard a growl of determination and the crashing of vegetation as he charged after her. Suddenly she was struck from behind and propelled forward … into a nearby tree.
The impact winded her. For a moment all she could do was clutch the bark and gasp convulsively. She
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