Hazel's Promise (The Fey Quartet Book 2) (5 page)

“Your knuckles are bleeding.” The fury was gone from Hazel’s voice. She sounded weary and defeated.

“I’ll survive.”

He knew he should be ashamed of himself, but he wasn’t. Satisfaction hummed in his chest. He’d broken Drewet’s nose, and he was pretty certain he’d done a lot of damage to his balls.

Hazel’s smile was faint and miserable. She gave him her hand.

Tam gripped it firmly. “Come on,” he said again. “Back to Dapple Vale.”

HAZEL’S THOUGHTS KEPT
returning to the expression on Drewet’s face when he’d recognized her, the amusement, the contempt.
I was nothing to him
. And then memory showed her Drewet reeling from Tam’s first punch, his nose spraying blood, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Thank you for hitting him,” she said, after they’d gone a mile.

“It was my pleasure.”

Hazel kicked a stone off the road. She was mortified with herself. No, more than mortified—furious. Drewet, handsome Drewet, wise Drewet, wonderful Drewet, the man she’d given her body to, pledged her heart to, the man she’d held faithful to for ten years—
ten years
—was shallow and fickle and faithless. “I can’t believe I fell in love with him.”

“You were thirteen.”

“Thirteen and
stupid
.” Another stone, another kick. “He made the village boys look so callow! I was flattered by his attention. Flattered!”

“Stop wallowing.”

“Wallowing?” She looked at him indignantly.

“You made a mistake. You were only thirteen. You hadn’t the experience to recognize Drewet for what he was.”

“A mistake I held on to for ten years,” Hazel said bitterly.

“Because you honored your pledge. That’s something to be proud of, Hazel.”

Hazel kicked another stone. She wasn’t proud of herself.

“If you met a man like Drewet now, you’d see who he was in an instant,” Tam said. “Be glad he didn’t make you pregnant. Be glad you didn’t run off with him.”

Hazel glanced at him.

“It could be a lot worse. As it is, no real harm came from it.” And then Tam grinned. “Unless you count all the hearts you’ve broken.”

Hazel tossed her head. “No one’s heart was broken. It was my face they fell in love with, not me.”

“Then it’s just as well you refused them all, isn’t it?”

She gave a half-laugh, and then scowled at him. “Damn you for making me laugh.”

Tam’s grin widened. He pulled her close for a quick hug. “Be glad it’s not worse.” And then he kissed her forehead, a light, brotherly, affectionate kiss. “Come on. Let’s see if we can reach Glade Forest before dark.”

At this reminder, Hazel cast a fearful glance over her shoulder. The road was clear behind them, but dread sat in her belly like a fist with sharp, bony knuckles. It was all too easy to imagine Tam hanging from a gallows, the lean body dangling, the laughing mouth silenced. Crows would peck out his eyes.

She pushed the image resolutely out of her mind, and lengthened her stride, walking faster. Tam was right: it could have been worse. Much worse.

I’m free of my pledge
. She could marry whomever she wished. And this time she’d choose well. Someone she could trust. Someone who wouldn’t flatter her, or lie to her.

Someone like Tam. Who made her feel safe. Who made her laugh. Who would slay her dragons for her.

Tam, with his shabby clothes and tousled tawny hair and laughing blue eyes.
I like him a lot
. And she’d used him poorly, dragging him all the way to Mottlethorpe and back. He’d looked after her, risked his neck for her.

“Thank you,” Hazel said contritely. “You’ve been so very kind to me, and . . . and
patient
and honorable an
d—
”

“Honorable?” Tam cast her a startled, frowning glance. “That, you can’t lay at my feet.”

“Of course you’re honorable!”

Tam halted. “Hazel, have you forgotten last night?”

She blinked, not sure what he meant—and then memory came tumbling back. Tam had kissed her.

A blush rushed to her cheeks. She looked hastily away.

“I talked you into a kiss you didn’t want. That I knew you didn’t want. An honorable man wouldn’t have done that.”

Hazel glanced at him.

“I apologize for kissing you last night,” Tam said. “I wanted to make you doubt your commitment to Drewet, and that was the only way I could think of doing it. So don’t call me honorable, because I’m not.”

“Make me doubt my commitment?” She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Hazel, Drewet Ilbertson seduced at least half a dozen girls in Dapple Meadow. Made several of them pregnant.”

Hazel opened her mouth, and then closed it again.
Oh
. “How do you know?”

“Some of the villagers went to my . . . to the Lord Warder. They wanted Drewet expelled from the vale. He left of his own accord, so it came to naught.”

“Almost
expelled
? I never . . . I didn’t know . . .”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Would you have believed me?”

Hazel bit her lip.
I’d have taken you for a liar
.

Tam must have seen the answer on her face, for he nodded. He turned away and started walking.

Hazel followed half a step behind him, digesting his confession. “So, you didn’t really want to kiss me last night?”
And I responded so ardently.
Mortification congealed in her belly.

Tam glanced back at her. “I wanted to.”

The words, the glance, almost made her miss her step. Hazel’s mortification vanished. How could three words, spoken mildly, make her blush so hotly, make her feel so tongue-tied?

IT WAS NOON
by the time they reached the king’s forest. “Best if you change into that tunic and hose again,” Tam said. “Just in case.”

Hazel nodded silently.

Tam cut her a stout, strong stave while she changed. His bruised knuckles were stiff, making it awkward to wield the knife.

Hazel emerged from behind a tree. The brown hood covered her long hair.

“Another fifteen miles to Glade Forest,” Tam said, handing her the stave. “Five hours. Four, if we hurry.”

Hazel nodded again.

They walked fast. The road wound its way through the forest, rutted and dusty. Every hundred yards or so, Hazel cast a glance back over her shoulder. Her expression was anxious, a frown pinching between her eyebrows.
She’s worried about pursuit
.

“They’ll not come after us.”

“They might.” Her pace became faster.

Even dressed in men’s clothing and with her hair hidden, Hazel was remarkably beautiful. Beautiful. Bold. Brave.

Tam remembered the softness of her lips, the heat of her mouth. His cock stirred.
Down, boy,
he told it. He’d razed his chances, confessing to her. But it was better than Hazel thinking him better than he was.

Honorable.
That
had stung.

Hazel glanced over her shoulder again.
Worried that I’ll end up on the gallows, even though she no longer fully trusts me
.

“They’ll not come after us,” Tam said again.

Hazel flicked him a glance and walked even faster. Tam lengthened his stride. Marigold trotted to keep up.

Hazel had scarcely spoken to him since his confession. He could understand that. He’d
earned
that. But it still hurt.

I could tell her my full name
. She’d speak to him, then. Probably. Young women usually treated him differently once they learned who he was. Some were flustered, some stiffly shy, some flirtatious, hoping to get into his bed, and thence his family.

He couldn’t imagine Hazel as any of those. Scornful, perhaps?

Tam stifled a sigh.
You were the one who confessed, lackwit
.

Their pace ate up the miles. Dusk was still several hours away when they passed an alder that had fallen alongside the road. Tam recognized it. “Only a mile now,” he told Hazel.

Ten minutes after that, Hazel slowed. “I need to pee.”

The first words she’s spoken to me in two hours
. Tam choked back an ironic laugh. “Choose your tree,” he said. “Marigold and I will wait at that bend.”

The bend was twenty yards ahead. Beyond it, the road stretched for a quarter of a mile before curving out of sight again. Recognition was like a sharp kick in his stomach. That distant curve was where Hazel had been attacked. Where he’d killed a man.

Only yesterday. It seemed like a week ago.

Marigold fell to cropping grass, chewing noisily.

Was the second man dead? Alive? Had thieves found the bodies and stripped them naked, taking clothes, shoes, weapons, purses?

We’ll find out in a few minutes
. Tam grimaced.

Footsteps crunched lightly in the dirt behind him. Tam turned. “Ha
z—
”

It wasn’t Hazel. It was a man. A bear of a man, burly and shaggy-haired, with a thick, matted beard. He wore a mismatch of filthy clothes and carried a cudgel.

Uh, oh
.

Tam held up one hand placatingly and took a prudent step backwards. “I don’t have any money. But I have half a loaf of bread you’re welcome to.”

More footsteps scuffed behind him. Tam spun around.
Shit, two more
. He released Marigold’s rope and hefted his stave in his hand, flexing his fingers around it, gripping it tightly. Should he shout for Hazel to run?
Could
she outrun these men?

Hide, Hazel,
he urged her silently, while aloud he said, “Back off. Unless you want your blood on the road.”

Bear man didn’t back off. Nor did the other two. They moved closer. One had a cudgel, the other a stave. Tam eyed the stave.
Get rid of that first, then deal with the cudgels
.

He raised his own stave and took a step forward, but the bear man rushed at him, cudgel uplifted.

Tam sidestepped and swung his stave, a heavy blow to the man’s ribs, making him stagger and grunt—and caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

He ducked just in time. The outlaw’s stave missed his skull and glanced off his arm instead.

Tam staggered and half-fell. His arm went numb. His fingers lost their grip on his stave.

HAZEL HAD TRULY
lost her temper only once in her life. She’d been occasionally annoyed, cross, piqued, peeved, and irritated, but true rage had only occurred once, when she’d found some village boys idly shying stones at a brood of day-old ducklings. The rage had been instant, and utterly consuming—and the boys had taken one look at her face and fled.

When she came out of the trees and saw Tam facing a hulking man wielding a cudgel, it wasn’t anger that overcame her, but fear. Hazel froze, half behind a tree, her throat choking tight. And then Tam turned, and she realized there were three men, not one, and they were all attacking him at once. Caution and self-preservation fled. In their place was an overwhelming and uncontrollable rage.

She saw Tam stumble, saw the stave fall from his hand—and then she was upon them, flailing with her own stave, fury roaring in her ears. What followed was a blur. Rage left no space in her head to think clearly. The world narrowed to one thing: hitting. Hitting and hitting and
hitting
. She felt the shock of each impact jar up her arms, smelled blood, heard the crack of bones breaking.

Someone caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. “Hazel,
stop,
” a voice said in her ear.

She swung the stave—and realized that the arms and the voice belonged to Tam. Her awareness of the world expanded again. Road and trees and donkey. And men. Two lay on the road, a third scrambled away on hands and knees.

Hazel lowered the stave, panting, gulping for breath.

Tam set her back on her feet. “Glade Forest,” he said. “Run!”

THEY RAN, TOWING
Marigold—down the long, dusty straight, around the curve—then veered into the forest, following the narrow cart track to Dapple Vale. Yesterday, Tam had been worried he might miss this track—it was so easily missable, the subtle Faerie magic of Glade Forest hiding it from human view; today it never occurred to him they might miss it. He knew it was there; and there it was, as plain to see as the road to York.

Tam slowed to a walk, panting. He shook out his right hand. His fingers were beginning to come to life, stinging painfully.

Hazel swung back to face him. “Don’t stop!” she cried. “There might be more of them!”

“We’re safe. Can’t you feel it?” Glade Forest surrounded them. The colors were richer, the air more fragrant, and there was a faint tingle in his blood that said
home
.

Hazel lifted her head and looked around sharply. He saw the tension ease from her jaw, from her shoulders. She’d sensed it, too.

Tam touched his cheekbone and found a shallow cut there. “Thank you,” he said. “I think you just saved my life.”

Hazel turned to look at him. She seemed unharmed. Frightened, yes—her eyes wide, her face starkly pale—but uninjured. “You were magnificent,” Tam told her.
And utterly terrifying
.

To his astonishment, Hazel burst into tears.

“Don’t cry.” Tam crossed to her hastily, put his arms around her, and pulled her close. “It’s over. We’re fine.”

“I thought they were going to kill you,” Hazel sobbed against his chest.

So did I.

Tam tightened his embrace. “Well, they didn’t,” he said firmly. “A few scratches, some bruises . . . that’s all.” Her hood had fallen off. Glossy nut-brown hair tumbled down her back. He stroked it gently, and then cradled the back of her head with one hand. A strange feeling filled his chest: bittersweet tenderness, protectiveness, love.

Hazel pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she said gruffly, not meeting his eyes. She sniffed, and rubbed her face with her sleeve. “I never cry. It’s just . . . There were
three
of them, and they were going to kill you.”

“Well, they failed,” Tam said. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He touched his cheekbone again, and brought his fingertips away bloody. “There’s a creek ten minutes from here. Come on.”