Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (65 page)

Sabina obeyed him without question. They ran out of
the building and dashed to the forest’s edge. Sabina picked her way
through the undergrowth timidly at first, but Robert had no
patience for that. He scooped her up, flung her over his shoulder
like a sack of grain, and ran into the dense forest at full speed.
Thorns and brambles tore their clothes and cut their skin. A whole
section of Sabina’s gown caught on a branch—Robert just ripped it
off rather than waste any time detangling it.

“Put me down at once!” she shouted, pounding him on
the back with her fists. “And slow down! I’m getting torn to
bits!”

“Be quiet,” he hissed at her through clenched teeth.
“Do you want to get us both killed?”

Sabina bit her tongue, then protected her face with
her hands as Robert tore through the dense forest. He finally
stopped when they came across a huge fallen tree, likely hundreds
of years old. A section of it was hollow. He swept out a pile of
mud, leaves and other debris from the narrow hole that led inside
the tree trunk. “Get inside,” he ordered.

“But—“

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

Again, she obeyed. There was barely enough room
inside the hollow log for Sabina herself, and yet somehow Robert
squeezed himself in behind her. Their bodies were close, impossibly
close. Sabina felt like a rat in a trap. Then again, being so close
to Robert under such dangerous circumstances was strangely
exciting.

“So tell me, milady,” he whispered in her ear. “What
say you about this life we have chosen?”

“It’s a bit more than I bargained for,” she
admitted. “Though these past few days have brought me far more
excitement than I ever thought I’d have in my entire life.”

“Do you regret running away with me, then?”

She leaned her head against his chest, felt his
heart beating. “No, I don’t. Not for a minute.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, milady. For once
we’ve had to spend a night or two out here in the woods with
nothing but a hollow log to shelter us, you might think
differently.” He stroked her hair. “I really must apologize for the
poor quality of accommodations, milady. Though I hope that despite
everything, I’m still better company than your fiancé.”

Sabina laughed softly then. Even here in the midst
of this, their most desperate moment, Robert could still find a bit
of humor. No wonder she’d managed to fall in love with him. “Are
all Normans as funny as you are?”

“No, milady. Normans have no sense of humor at all,
I’m afraid.”

That just made Sabina laugh even more. “Well, that’s
news to me.” She looked up at him. Only the light reflecting in his
eyes was visible in the darkness. “If it all ends tonight, Robert,
I shan’t regret a single minute.”

“Good, milady. Because it could very well all end
tonight, I’m afraid.”

Chapter
13

Lord Reginald rode up to the abandoned Cock and
Robin along with his guard Brutus and a small group of soldiers.
They swept the entire compound, and found nothing.

“The entire inn is empty, Sire,” Brutus reported
once a thorough search had been conducted. “Master Cuthbert and
Mfanwy are nowhere to be found. Nor are your fiancé or Master
Robert.”

Lord Reginald pounded his fist against his armored
thigh. “Damnation,” he swore in French. Switching back to Latin, he
said, “That is an anomaly, Brutus. This is not what Cuthbert and I
planned at all. Cuthbert was to remain on site, acting as host to
his guests until I arrived, so as to not arouse suspicion. It seems
the exact opposite has happened. That means there is more to the
story than meets the eye.”
Brutus gave him a strange look. “I’m sorry, Sire. I don’t
follow.”

“Come along Brutus, and I shall explain.” He shouted
orders to the other soldiers in French, and they all fell in line
behind him on their horses. “I think perhaps Master Cuthbert might
have more than one iron in the fire,” he told Brutus in Latin. “I
should have known.”

“I still don’t follow, Sire,” Brutus said slowly. He
wasn’t the most intelligent of men. Then again, Reginald had hired
him mostly for his brawn, not his brains.

“I believe Master Cuthbert may have been serving
more than one master,” Lord Reginald explained. “That would explain
why he didn’t follow my instructions. The only question is, who are
the other masters? I suspect there may be several. Master Cuthbert
had a known weakness for gambling, and accordingly he might have
had a hard time saying no to anyone and everyone who offered him
gold in exchange for his services.” He pounded his thigh with his
fist again. “I made a poor choice in hiring him, ‘tis true. But
nothing can be done about it now. And though he may not know it,
Master Cuthbert may yet be of some use to us.”

“How so?”

The old Norman grinned his hideous blacktoothed
smile. “Although he obviously aimed to do the opposite, I suspect
he shall lead us straight to our prey.”

****

Master Cuthbert sat astride Amir,
the horse he had stolen from his former friend and collague Robert
de Tyre. He said
former
because he knew that Robert would think that he
had betrayed him. Nothing could be further from the truth, however.
Master Cuthbert had had no choice but to flee along with everyone
and everything at the inn. Cuthbert knew the way his old friend’s
warrior mind operated well enough to understand that Robert would
interpret his actions in a very specific way, and that
interpretation would ultimately be what saved Robert and his lady’s
lives.

Cuthbert had known from the start who the lady
accompanying Robert really was, of course. Lady Sabina of Angwyld
was no more a Scottish noblewoman than he was a dredge mare. Lord
Reginald had paid him handsomely to be on the lookout for the pair,
and Cuthbert had sworn his loyalty to the old humpback at the time,
thinking that no one else could possibly offer him more than Lord
Reginald was. But then his old friend Robert had actually shown up,
and bearing two hundred fifty crowns—more than double the purse
he’d gotten from Lord Reginald in the entire past year. And even
without the gold, Cuthbert knew now he’d have had a hard time
betraying his friend.

Cuthbert looked out over the horizon, his one good
eye trying in vain to discern what might be coming. All he could
see through the trees were low-lying smudges of dust, probably
eight or ten miles off. He knew from experience that probably meant
advancing soldiers. But whose? And from where?

Cuthbert sent his best scout—Roger, a tiny stable
boy of six—back through the woods to spy on the inn just before
dusk. Roger was swift and agile, which when combined with his tiny
stature meant he could hide almost anywhere in those woods. He
managed to survey the entire inn and dairy grounds undetected, even
pick up a few clues about what had happened since Cuthbert
abandoned ship.

“Lord an’ lady’re gone, guv,” Roger reported. “Horse
tracks all round the place. Old Reginald’uz there, sure, ‘long with
many others. But they’ve gone on, since t’ain’t nothin’
t’find.”

“Any clues on where our guests went?” Cuthbert
asked. His palms were sweaty underneath his leather gauntlets. He
didn’t like not knowing where Robert and his lady were. Knowing
Robert and his gift for stealth, Cuthbert could well find himself
with his throat cut in vengeance before he knew what hit him. He
could only pray that he would have a chance to explain things to
his old friend before that vengeance came calling.

Speaking of vengeance, Cuthbert turned to his newest
prisoner, who up until a few short hours ago had been his employee.
Never in his wildest imagination would he have ever suspected that
his supposedly half-blind, illiterate, and simple-minded
chambermaid was really a Welsh noblewoman who also happened to be a
master spy. Until he’d caught her in the act, at any rate.

He’d tied Mfanwy to a tree with rope, then bound and
gagged her with rags. She’d fought him hard, still pulled hard
against her restraints, to no avail. He was a giant Yorkshireman
and she was a tiny, bird-boned Welshwoman. Some contests just
couldn’t be won.

He’d discovered his servant’s true nature when he
found her in the privy, writing messages in a sophisticated
Latin-Greek code on birchbark, which she was preparing to give to a
rough-garbed scout he’d found hiding underneath a pile of leaves.
Cuthbert had no Latin or Greek, but he recognized a military scout
on a mission when he saw one. He’d grabbed both the scout and
Mfanwy, turned them both upside down, and started whirling the both
of them over this head by an ankle apiece (something that
Yorkshiremen usually did with unruly sheep) until they agreed to
talk. After some more brute-fisted cajoling that included, among
other things, separating both Mfanwy and her scout from all their
fingernails, they both made a full confession.

Mfanwy had two masters besides Cuthbert, it seemed.
She was not only spying for Lord Reginald—an ironic assignment if
there ever was one given the mess his friend Robert had managed to
drag him into—she was also working for Tostig of York, and that
seemed to be where her true loyalties lay. Master Cuthbert supposed
if she were just a spy for Tostig, that wouldn’t be so bad—he
supported Tostig’s bid to overthrow the Normans, after all.
Cuthbert was in favor of any native-born Englishman who managed to
kick Henry and his crew all the way back to Normandy, in fact. But
even so, Mfanwy was not to be trusted. She was a double agent, and
Cuthbert knew it never boded well to throw your lot in with someone
who was working both sides. He’d spent his entire career doing just
that, so he understood the dangers better than anyone.

No, Mfanwy would be far more useful as a hostage.
Cuthbert supposed he could force her to write some more of those
messages in that fancy code of hers that would help throw both
Reginald and Tostig off Robert’s trail for long enough for him to
tell Robert what the hell was actually going on. That was assuming
Robert didn’t get to him (and kill him) first.

Then again, Cuthbert wasn’t entirely sure who the
enemy was anymore.That was one of the problems with being a
mercenary. At some point, all the masters you’ve served throughout
your mercenary career end up meeting on the same battlefront. And
then it’s every man for himself.

Chapter
14

Sabina and Robert were still stuck in the hollow
tree. They’d been there for hours. Sabina begged him to let her
out—his body plugged the only exit—but he’d steadfastly refused.
“We still don’t know how close they might be,” Robert whispered
harshly. “They could still be lying in wait for us. I’m not taking
any chances.”

“I’m not going to sit here tied into knots inside
this tree for the rest of my life,” she retorted. “Besides, I need
to—ahem—relieve myself.”

“Keep your voice down,” Robert hissed. “And just
hold it.”

“I’ve been holding it for hours already,” she shot
back. “And I can’t hold it any more. Get out of my way, Robert de
Tyre, or you’re going to find yourself rather dirty in a rather
unmentionable way.”

“Now see here—“ he argued. He stood his ground, but
apparently the call of nature has a stronger will than even the
strongest of mercenaries.

Sabina kneed him in the groin.

She’d never done anything like that before. She
wasn’t entirely sure of what would happen. But whatever she’d just
done, it seemed to have worked. All at once, the mighty mercenary
Robert de Tyre was reduced to a sniveling ball of pain.

“I said get out of my way, and I
meant it,” she growled. “Now
move.”

Robert slowly crawled out of the log, clutching his
privates. “This is no way to treat the man who is risking his life
for you,” he grunted as Sabina relieved herself behind a clump of
bushes.

“Keeping a lady crammed inside a hollow tree for
half a day is no way to treat your sworn beloved,” she chirped.
When she finished she sniffed her underarms and noticed with some
revulsion that she stank. She stank not just of an unwashed body,
but of horse manure, mud, forest loam, and God knew what else. What
she wouldn’t give for a bath and a fresh set of clothes! If she
really was going to die tonight, she’d much rather do it looking
like a civilized human being than a rabid, filthy animal. Plus she
was starving. She cursed herself for not forcing down at least a
bite or two back at the inn. Robert refused to hunt anything with
bow and arrow for fear it would give away their position. God only
knew the next chance they’d have for something besides wild
mushrooms or lichens to eat.

She’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for on
this wild goose chase. Sabina even wondered for a moment if maybe
she wouldn’t have been better off if she’d just stayed back at
Angwyld, obeyed her father’s wishes, and married Lord Reginald
without a fight. Of course, she wouldn’t have met and fallen in
love with Robert that way. But at least she wouldn’t be trapped
alone in the middle of the woods, starving, in filthy clothes, and
running away from marauding mercenary armies who had every
intention of killing her lover, if not her as well. Sabina was
beginning to wonder if true love was really worth such a fuss.

In fact, she was beginning to wonder if what she had
with Robert was true love at all.

She stood up and looked over where her beloved lay
on the forest floor, still crumpled in a ball from her kneeing him
in the groin. Here was a man who on the surface had seemed strong,
gallant, all-powerful—but yet had such a fragile, weak point that
she, a mere woman, could render him helpless with little more than
a shove. Were all men like this? Or was Robert something other than
he seemed? Sabina didn’t have enough experience with the opposite
sex to know for sure. But knowing that an infamous mercenary
solider could be felled by nothing more than a woman’s knee didn’t
do much to make her feel protected.