Dauntless (Valiant Hearts Book #1) (32 page)

He offered a rueful grin. “You are not meant for me, Merry. I realized that the moment I saw you crying in Timothy’s arms. Besides which, I saw a terribly pretty maiden selling wares in Bristol. You were right. There is a whole world of possibilities. I should open myself to them, just as you should open your heart to Timothy.”

Not wishing to deal with the truth contained in his speech, Merry laughed and turned to brush some dust off a nearby chest. “I thought you did not like the fellow. He is not one of us.”

“He is now,” Allen said with quiet assurance.

Merry’s gaze shot back to him. “What do you mean?”

“He lied to the king’s men for us. Sent them away. I would say he is as much a part of us as anyone now. He has taken huge risks for you, from the beginning. You can trust him.”

Merry wished she could. Wished she remembered how. But too much danger yet loomed about them. While a part of her, that admittedly traitorous part, wished to try, she remained unsure that she had the courage to open her heart and risk having it crushed to pieces all over again.

Merry threw herself into a tumbling combination, gliding across the newly worn path in a series of flips and spins. Exhilaration surging through her. At the end she planted her feet firmly into the cool English soil. She pressed her bare toes into it, relishing the sensation. Soon she might never feel this treasured piece of earth again. Both excitement and dread filled her at the thought.

“You see, Sadie. Not long now, and you will master it.”

Sadie, also barefoot and stripped of weapons as they practiced the highest-level agility skills, approximated the forms as she worked through the series in her head.

On the other side of the overgrown village clearing, Allen instructed the younger children at their balance upon the board. Most of the older men, even Big Charles for once, had headed out on a final hunting foray, no doubt wanting to enjoy this land of their birth while yet they could. Only two more days now.

Young Henry and James stood watch at the obscured path, as any soldiers looking for them would surely take the direct route. And the castle guards watched over the lane beyond. But
since the king’s men had been sent away by Timothy and their remote location was nearly impossible to find, Merry dared to hope they just might make it out of England alive. She checked her bow lying nearby nonetheless.

“Could you show me one more time?” said Sadie.

“Of course.” With pleasure. Anything to keep her mind busy and away from the many concerns that pressed at her.

Merry jogged to the far end of the clearing, then turned and prepared herself. How she loved the weightless sensation of soaring through the air. A jolt of energy flowed through her. She leaned forward into a pounding run and threw her hands to the ground. Hands, feet, hands, feet—spinning freely through space, she landed solidly back to her feet.

Sadie cheered. “I think I have it now.”

A low, slow clap met Merry’s ears. A whistle followed. A familiar whistle she had not heard since childhood. Timothy’s whistle.

“Then again,” said Sadie, “it can wait until later.” She slipped away in the direction of the balancing board.

For a moment, the childish urge struck to run into the manor house and lock the door. She had not seen Timothy since his arrival, though she had chided herself again and again that she should visit his aunt’s home and thank him. Her heart at once tugged her in that direction and pushed her away.

She had been able to convince herself that the risk of detection was too great, though it should have been her by his bedside. She was the one he had been protecting when he was injured. She was the one he loved.

But did she love him as well? The fluttering in her heart and butterflies in her stomach must have some significance. More importantly, that sense of rightness and coming home that she always felt in his presence seemed to indicate love. But
could she choose to trust him, to commit to him with all her heart?

Finally she turned her gaze to the full impact of his striking face. A smile flashed across his lips. Hope flickered in his warm eyes. He tossed back that thatch of silky blond hair her fingers ached to run through.

She took a bracing breath. “I should have come to you. I meant to.”

“No worries. Auntie took good care of me, and you are safest here.”

“Come.” She motioned him closer. “Let us sit and talk for a moment.”

They settled themselves upon the drooping front steps to the manor house.

Merry clasped her hands tightly together to prevent their trembling and stared down at them. “I owe you much thanks. Not just for dispatching of Hadley, not just for turning away the soldiers, but for your kindness and faithfulness all along. You are my best friend in the world. I should never have turned you away.”

“Hmm. Best friend. I suppose that shall have to do for now.”

She ignored the insinuation and continued kneading her hands. “It is hard for me to accept help. I have been doing this so long on my own. I apologize.”

He reached his hand around the back of her neck, tucked it beneath her short-cropped hair, and rubbed his thumb against that sensitive spot, sending shivers of delight through her. “I apologize as well. You were right not to trust me at the first. After I thought you dead, I threw myself into becoming a success. I fixated upon making my place in the world, upon being as good as my older brothers. And because of that I made some poor decisions.”

“Like?”

“When I came to your camp, I yet wished to capture some of the men.”

“Timothy!” She pulled away from his hand, despite the lovely shivers.

“But I quickly realized I never could.”

“Oh.” She relaxed and took his hand in hers to examine it, wondering how simple human flesh could evoke such magical sensations. She experienced that warm, shivering surge again.

He flipped his hand over and gripped hers. “Allen showed me that it is not about me or my pride or my ambitions. It is about God’s plan.”

She gazed deep into his eyes. “I see.”

“Do you? I believe that Wren’s sunshine men led me to your camp. And I know beyond all doubt that when I nearly passed you by and headed straight to France, God placed a runaway tyke in my path to stop me before I made a dreadful error.”

He reached to her cheek and brushed his fingers across it.

She swallowed hard. In that moment she could almost imagine letting him into her heart completely and utterly.

Why had he said all of that? Timothy immediately regretted his words. He should not confess so much so fast. But he could not cease stroking her cheek, and for once she did not pull away. “You probably think me foolish,” he said. “I know you doubt God and certainly do not believe in sunshine men.”

She attempted speaking several times before she got out the words. “I . . . no . . .” She sighed and leaned her face into his palm. “I saw them. The flashes of light. Wren would have died without them.”

So many thoughts flew through his mind. Did she understand
now? Might she believe? Might she be ready to accept him? “Does this mean . . . ?”

Merry offered a shy grin. “I think it means you had best get to practicing your agility skills. Cedric still insists we should be a tumbling troupe in France.”

And in that moment none of his questions mattered. Though he longed to press his lips to hers and whisper proclamations of love and forever, he resisted. Hesitation lingered in her eyes. He should not push her. She would let him go to France. That was enough for now. He had the rest of their lives to woo her.

“You know you need not live on your tumbling expertise. I have family in France. We could stay with them.”

Merry winked. “But where is the fun in that?”

“Then shall we test out my aunt’s most excellent nursing skills with a few tumbling exercises?”

“A marvelous idea.” She stood and brushed off her boy’s leggings and tunic. He dreamed to see her in a beautiful flowing gown with hair streaming over her shoulders once again. Although, he had grown accustomed to this look as well and found her charming either way.

“Let me see your rolls,” she instructed. “I recall you at least mastered those when we were young.”

“Ah, and Sadie has taught me to stand on my head. Watch!”

He knew he must be grinning like a fool as he executed the trick. With caution, he perched himself into the upside-down position, held it to the count of ten, and lowered himself back down.

When he rose to standing, Merry rushed to hug him and nearly knocked him over in the process. He caught her against him before they both toppled to the ground.

“I always knew you could do it,” she said, then she seemed to realize what she had done, and stepped away. “Now, those rolls.”

He would roll for her. Forward, backward, sideways, from here to the moon. And once they made it safely out of England and away from their ever-threatening enemies, he would spend the rest of his life with this woman.

John Hadley slunk toward the decrepit old village as giggles drifted through the forest. Though his side still burned like thunder and lightning, he would not abandon his quest until he saw both Merry Ellison and Timothy Grey hanging from the gallows. He no longer cared in which order, as long as they both rotted in hell where they belonged.

Pressing his hand to his wound, he felt the warm, sticky blood seeping through. He had no idea how he had stayed alive so long, except by the pure hatred flowing through his veins. A surgeon along his route had confirmed that the sword had not struck any vital organs. But the infection would do him in before long. He had feared he would never make it, never find them. But that same hatred had fueled his determination. Just a few more hours, and he could turn them over to the sheriff in Linham and peacefully breathe his last knowing his father would finally admire him, finally praise him, and finally regret that he had turned him away so cruelly in favor of Timothy Grey.

He peered past a boulder and studied the children at play in the center of the ancient, overgrown hamlet. The fools.
Ghosts of Farthingale
Forest.
Hah! They had left a trail from Bristol to this place that even an idiot could have followed, let alone an expert tracker like himself. Where were those hulking guards who had once scared him away? Only a few soldiers watched the lane from the castle and two scrawny boys stood at the entrance to the hamlet.

Ah, there! His searching gaze landed upon Timothy and Merry
as they tumbled about like a set of court jesters. Now that was just too easy. They would strip all the fun from his revenge. He might be able to take them out now with bow and arrow, but again, too easy. Besides, he did not trust his aim. The pain in his side might throw him off. No, he had enough strength and bitterness remaining to see them safely to prison. He would do this properly.

He crept in closer and hid behind a barrel between two crumbling cottages. Taking a moment, he checked his sword and bow. All was ready. He drew his dagger from his boot, ran his thumb across the razor-sharp blade, and grinned in satisfaction as a thin line of blood formed across it. Perfect.

Glancing past the barrel, he sought out his first target. The one that would force them to do his bidding without complaint. Like puppets on a string. Power surged through him and filled his chest near to bursting at the thought. There she was. The tiny girl dressed in pink toddled toward him, as if the gods of vengeance and justice smiled down upon him at long last.

He tiptoed from his hiding place to the edge of the clearing, glancing around to ensure he remained undetected.

Just as he was about to snatch the girl, she hollered, “Sunshine man!” and dashed in the opposite direction.

As Timothy rolled to standing, the sight that met his eyes caused his stomach to lurch. Merry must have seen it at the same time, for she froze beside him, agony twisting upon her face.

A pale and grubby John Hadley grabbed for Wren but missed her by inches and fell onto his face. He stumbled back to his feet and grabbed Sadie from midair as she flew by in a tumbling combination.

“Don’t move!” he called. “Nobody move an inch.”

As if they could. Fear glued Timothy in place. Hadley had indeed come back from the grave to ruin everything. Timothy should have finished him off while he had the chance. “Do not hurt the child,” he managed, slowly raising his hands over his head. “We will give you whatever you want.”

Hadley hooted in delight. Pure evil shone from his eyes. A madness of the soul. “I want you and your despicable chit swinging from a noose.” Tightening his grip on Sadie, he jerked his head to young Gilbert. “You, fetch a rope.”

Gilbert’s eyes grew large.

“To tie them up. I won’t hang them here and now, unless they give me too much trouble.”

The boy took two shrinking steps away from Hadley.

“Now!” he hollered, shaking the knife. “Or you shall see your friend’s head roll.”

Gilbert shrieked and ran into the manor house.

Sadie clutched to Hadley’s wrist where he held the knife to her throat.

“No, no!” screamed Abigail, streaking directly at them, but Jane caught her back.

Timothy took the opportunity to survey the yard and spied Merry’s bow and quiver a mere ten feet from him, lying on the ground. If only he could reach them.

Hadley seemed confused by Abigail’s outburst. No doubt unwilling to kill his hostage and render her useless so soon, he shouted, “Shut the brat up!”

And in that moment as he turned his attention to snarl at Jane, Sadie caught Timothy’s eye.

Timothy nodded. The time had come.

Sadie picked up her feet and sent her weight shooting to the ground, moving away from the knife at her throat and tucking in her chin at the same instant. As her back made contact with the grass, she sprang in one neat move—up and away from Hadley and to her feet.

As she flipped back toward him, sending the knife shooting from his hand with her foot, Timothy ran and dove upon the quiver and bow.

The next moment seemed to last a lifetime. He gripped the cool, curved wood in his hand and snatched up the quiver. How he longed to stand to his feet and shoot an arrow directly through Hadley’s black heart. To be the hero. To at long last prove to Merry that he deserved her. But Merry was the better
marksman and had the straighter trajectory. He had no time to debate his decision.

“Merry!” Timothy’s voice drew her from her stupor even as she caught sight of the bow and quiver flying her way out of the corner of her eye. Instinct took over. In a flash she caught them, whipped out an arrow, and nocked it in the bowstring, even as Hadley still stood in confusion, gaping at his empty hand.

Aligning the tip with the man’s chest, she sent the arrow flying straight and sure, deep into his heart.

Hadley looked down at the red stain seeping over the gold of his Wyndemere surcoat. He stared at the arrow, as if he could not believe it real, then he wrapped his hand around it. “I only wanted him to love me,” he said, crumpling to the ground. Allen dashed over, brandishing his sword above the man, and made certain Hadley would not rise from the dead again.

Emotions crashed in upon Merry. Elation, regret, victory, and sadness, all at once. The world wavered about her.

Timothy caught her just when she might have fallen and lowered her gently to the ground. “Merry, are you all right?”

“You did it! You saved us. You and Sadie.” She clutched his tunic and buried her face in his neck. “I needed you all along. How did I ever convince myself otherwise?”

“We did it?” He stroked her hair, confusion apparent in his voice. “You did it. I feared I could not make the shot.”

“No, I froze. I could not move. Seeing the children in such immediate danger proved too much. If you had not rallied me . . .” She let the thought trail off, unable to speak the awful words. “But you did.”

“I shall not argue with you but to say we all did it together. You, Sadie, Allen, and me. And we must credit the sunshine
men with protecting Wren from Hadley’s grasp. She could not have fought so admirably as Sadie.”

“Sadie!” Merry’s gaze shot to where the girl had finished her flip, which had so neatly disarmed their enemy, and she found her in the center of a crush of young women and children.

Gilbert emerged from the manor house, rope in hand. Surveying the scene, he threw it to the ground, whooped, and skipped to join the hug.

Wishing to join them as well, Merry said, “Help me up, please.”

Timothy pulled her to her feet.

Still a bit wobbly, she stumbled against his strong chest and grabbed at his tunic. Once there, within his magnetic pull, she could not bring herself to let go. How she had needed him all this time. She had just been too afraid to admit it.

“Oh, Timothy, I will never let you leave me again. I love you!” Merry would no longer be a coward concerning love. From this day forward her love would be dauntless.

He crushed his lips to hers, sealing that promise for all eternity.

Timothy looped his arm over Merry’s shoulder in a manner that had become pleasingly familiar in the last two days. To his great satisfaction, she wore the lovely apricot gown he had asked Matilda to alter for her back in Wyndeshire. With her hair tucked beneath gauzy white veils, she looked every inch a noblewoman. He could hardly believe that after all these years, they were back together, as they belonged.

They gathered with the rest of the group in front of his aunt’s castle. She had insisted she would see them safely to the port, bedecked in finery, and declare them her passel of Grey nieces and nephews departing for France. With her guard along, no
one would dare question them. It seemed they would be safe at long last.

A surge of melancholy passed through Timothy as his aunt and uncle exited the castle portal to lead them on their way. How he would miss his family and his country. His gaze crossed over the courtyard filled with children dressed in a bright array of colors. But he had a new family, and he would make a new life far from the ruthless King John. Though he knew not what rank or title he might hold, he knew he was where he belonged.

He leaned down to kiss Merry atop her head. “Are you ready?”

She turned her adorable face up to him and hugged him around the waist. “I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”

Unable to resist, he deposited one more kiss on the tip of her nose.

The moment had come. His aunt and uncle climbed onto their horses, and the group fell into step behind them, soldiers bringing up the rear. How regal his aunt looked perched atop her mount, tall and steady despite her twists of silver hair. How honorable she and his uncle were, willing to stand up for the innocent and oppressed against their own ruler.

Allen pressed toward the front of the crowd and fell into step beside Lord Linden. He had no wish to watch Timothy snuggle with Merry the entire journey to Bristol. Though he knew things had turned out as they should, the sight of them together tore at his heart nonetheless.

At least he had had the satisfaction of dispatching of that awful Hadley for good. Had he known the future, he would have put an end to the man when he’d first seen him outside of Farmingham. Allen could hardly wait to face down the next
villain in his path. To fight for justice and protect the innocent. The more he pondered Timothy’s question about God’s path for him, the more he realized that was his calling in life.

Lord Linden swiveled upon his horse to face him. “Are you ready for France . . . Allen, is it?”

“Yes, m’lord. I’m surprised you remembered.” They had only met once—when he’d brought Timothy to the castle. Lord Ellison had never bothered to learn his name in the fifteen years that he lived in the man’s village. “I doubt I shall stay long, though. Once the children are settled, it will be time for me to find my own place in the world. I had thought to fight with the rebels, but perhaps I shall give a try to North Brittania instead. Have you heard of it?”

Lord Linden raised his brows. “I have indeed. If I were a young lad, I would be tempted to join you. But alas, my responsibilities are here.”

“Is it true? A man such as I might make my way there?”

“Possibly. Timothy speaks highly of your character, and I have heard amazing stories about your band of ghosts. Can you handle a sword?”

“Quite well.” Allen’s confidence swelled.

“And a lance?”

Just as quickly, it deflated. “I’m afraid not. I’ve not even held one.”

“Then I suppose you shall have to return here and train with my men before you head north. My captain of the guard has a reputation for turning out the finest knights.” Lord Linden chuckled and winked at Allen.

But Allen could barely catch his breath, and he saw no humor in the situation. “Would you do that for me? Truly?”

“Why, of course.”

Upon hearing those words, Allen knew for a certainty that God’s favor smiled upon this new path. He had chosen well.