Lord of Vengeance (9 page)

As his men hastily mounted, Nigel pictured his glory at bringing the fair flower of Raina back to Norworth, with Rutledge's head on a pike. Averse as he was to taking another man's leavings, Nigel would make exception when those leavings carried with them the promise of a dowry as generous as Raina's. With her safe delivery home, the baron would surely grant Nigel whatever he asked.

How ironic, Nigel thought, that in capturing Raina, Rutledge had given him an opportunity he would never have gained through his own machinations. Nigel did not even attempt to contain the broad grin inspired by that notion. He had waited far too long to let all of that simply slip through his fingers.

He crushed the slipper in his fist then cast it into the mud before dashing to his mount and calling for his men to follow as he sped along the riverside.

* * *

Raina sighed heavily and drew her knees up to her chest, clasping her arms around them. They had been sitting in the glade for more than a couple hours, based on the position of the climbing sun, now nearly midsky. She calculated that she had been awake for an entire day and her patience was waning with each passing moment.

Rutledge's men had nodded off long ago, snoring and making other more disgusting noises before settling into heavy slumber. He, on the contrary, remained awake and as alert as a spring falcon. His ears caught every snap of every twig; each rustle of the smallest forest creature quickly captured the attention of his keen eye. Nothing, it seemed, would escape his notice.

Raina attempted to study him from the relative safety of her position beneath the tree, but each time she dared to cast him a sidelong glance, she met with his steely gaze. After the third time, she decided it best to avoid the temptation and focus her attention elsewhere.

Though the air was warming with the day's progression, the ground of the forest floor was damp and cool beneath her derriere and her bare foot. Raina's gaze slid ruefully to her remaining slipper. Blood from the Norworth guards who had fought to protect her spattered the pale wool felt, a bitter reminder of Rutledge's evil doings.

She shot an angry scowl in his direction, only to find him still watching her intently over the rim of his cup. His gaze dropped to her bare foot, and suddenly feeling exposed, she tucked it under her skirts. “Is it entirely necessary for you to stare at me in such broody silence?”

“My clue?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You are mad.” When he scoffed, Raina leaned over her knees and hissed, “My slipper is missing through no scheme of mine. It fell off when you nearly killed us diving into a ravine.”

He chuckled. “You play the role of innocent fairly well, my lady. Your father no doubt would applaud your performance, for 'tis clear the fruit indeed falls close to the tree.”

“My father is a good man.
You
are the knave, the rogue who would torture and slay a harmless old man.”

Rutledge's gaze followed his thumb as he traced the rim of his cup. His voice, when he spoke, was soft, thoughtful. “Harmless old man, you say?”

“Aye,” Raina cried, desperate to appeal to any sense of reason that might lurk behind his dark eyes. “If only you would give him a chance, talk to him, you would see that I speak the truth. Whatever crimes you believe him guilty of, I swear to you, my father is incapable. He is pious and tender-hearted.” She ignored Rutledge's bark of sardonic laughter and vowed, “I would wager my life on his honor.”

On hearing that, his gaze lifted and leveled on hers. At first she thought he might be considering her plea--she hoped he was--but the twist of his lips was cruel. “Wagering your life on him would make you the veriest fool, my lady. A dead one at that.”

“He is all I have, damn you!” Raina blurted, feeling hot tears prick her eyes before they spilled over the rims and down her cheeks. “He's all that I have.”

With a casual flick of his wrist, Rutledge cast the contents of his cup into the bushes and came to his feet. “Then I pity you, my lady.”

Raina buried her face in her hands, refusing to cry in his presence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing what he had reduced her to. She took deep, ragged breaths to calm herself, trembling as she swallowed past the lump in her throat and dammed her tears with sheer will alone.

A faint rumbling vibration that started beneath her bare foot provided a distraction, and she lifted her head, coming to attention at the same time Rutledge's sword rasped out of its scabbard. In the next instant, a rider called out, waking the other knights, who hurriedly jumped to their feet. Rutledge sheathed his weapon as his man rode into the clearing.

If Rutledge was concerned, his countenance did not betray him. His gaze slid to Raina, piercing her with its accusing iciness. “Is d'Bussy among them?” His unmistakably hopeful tone sent a shiver down her spine.

“Nay, no sign of the baron.”

Raina did not even attempt to contain her sigh of relief. Her reaction did not escape Rutledge, though he but smirked, then looked away.

“There's no use trying to outrun them,” he said to his men. “We're better to conceal ourselves here and let them simply pass through unaware. Then we'll head due north. 'Twill be a longer ride, but one I warrant they'll not be eager to take. I know of a place we can stay for the night.”

“What do you plan to do about her?” one man asked as Raina slowly came to her feet, gripping the rough trunk of the oak to steady herself.

Rutledge moved before her in a decidedly protective stance. “She is mine to do with, Burc. Concern yourself with hiding the horses, why don't you?”

The knight glared at him but said nothing as he and another man untethered the mounts and led them deep into the forest. Their steps faded and Rutledge turned, coming to her side.

“I warned you once to follow my orders if you wish to avoid bloodshed. Now we shall see how well you listen.” Taking her by the arm, he pulled her into the bushes with him. Then, with military precision, he dispatched his men to various locations at the periphery of the glade with instructions to hold their attack unless he gave the order to strike.

“And if they spy us, milord?” a knight armed with bow and arrow whispered.

“Kill them.”

Rutledge's cool command sunk into Raina's brain as the search party's leader came into view. One glimpse of the close-cropped blond hair and her heart plummeted.

Nigel.

Chapter 6

Raina held her breath as Nigel rode straight into the center of the clearing, flanked by three armed men on either side of him. They scanned the surrounding area as they passed through, even glancing up into the treetops as if they might be set upon from above.

Nigel's white destrier bore the evidence of a ruthless ride. Foam oozed from its mouth as it tossed its head, coughing and working against the bit. Sweat glossed its neck and legs; drying blood from overzealous spurring stained an otherwise flawless coat. The other horses had fared only slightly better, all of them looking close to collapse, as did the men.

Raina wanted to call out to Nigel, to warn him of the trap, but Rutledge's threat echoed in her ears. If she made her presence known, Nigel and his men would be killed. Mentally she pleaded for them simply to ride through, and with haste.

At the horses' approach, a small rabbit darted from the bracken and across their path. Startled at the sudden movement, Raina drew in her breath, but the simultaneous nicker of a destrier masked the sound. At least she prayed it had.

Nigel cooed softly to his mount as he reined it in. A couple of the other men followed his lead, drawing up and circling round to Nigel's side.

“What is it?” one man mouthed.

Nigel shook his head once, holding up his hand for silence. He cocked his head to the side and listened for a long moment as his man peered about the glade with a puzzled expression. Then Nigel's blue eyes narrowed and he looked to the very spot that concealed Raina and her captor.

Dear God, had he spied them?

Raina's gaze slid to Rutledge to gauge his reaction. He gripped her arm tighter, his eyes never leaving Nigel. Without a sound, the man beside Rutledge drew his bow taut, prepared to let fly on command.

A bird twittered nervously, taking flight in a rustle of wings and disturbed leaves. Several moments passed before Nigel's expression relaxed. “Press on,” he commanded with a curt wave of his hand. “We've got to reach them before dusk if we stand a chance of finding her at all.”

The two knights urged their mounts forward, trotting to catch up with the other riders who picked along the periphery of the clearing. With a final lingering glance about the glade, Nigel gathered up his reins then clucked to his horse, directing it onward in an easy, albeit guarded, stride.

Soundlessly, Raina exhaled her pent-up breath, watching Nigel's back as he made his way past them toward the edge of the clearing. Relief washed over her in a gentle wave as Rutledge's man slowly lowered his arrow. As he did so, his knee came down to rest on the forest floor.

And a twig snapped under his weight.

The brittle pop echoed in Raina's ears like a mighty clap of thunder, seeming to ricochet off the trees until the air filled with the sound. In that blurry instant, Nigel yanked the reins of his stallion, pulling the beast back on its hind legs. It neighed, pawing the air as Nigel's yell went out to his men to hold. Wheeling the horse around, he drew his sword.

A bowstring drew taut, then sang as an arrow flew from the bushes.

“Nay,” Raina cried, vaulting to her feet. “Nigel, 'tis a trap!”

No sooner had the words left her lips when the arrow struck its mark, lodging in Nigel's left shoulder. He screamed in agony and Raina winced, though she knew not if her pain were more from the sight of Nigel's suffering or the tight hold Rutledge now had about her upper arm.

With a firm tug, he cast her to the ground and drew his sword. “Stay there,” he commanded, lunging from the bushes and into the fray.

Raina scrambled to her knees as the clearing erupted in a vicious clash of men and horses. A blurry hail of arrows came from behind trees and between bushes, instantly dropping two of Nigel's knights. Then one of Rutledge's men fell to a Norworth sword, and another. Raina tried to find Nigel or Rutledge amid the carnage, but both were lost in the crowd of fighting.

A movement behind a tree drew her attention, and she knew instantly that Nigel was hiding there. Rutledge knew it, too, for at that very moment he headed toward the spot, his sword raised high.

Raina shivered at the foreboding figure he cut as he stalked forward, one fist wrapped about the hilt of his sword, the other clenched in a tight ball at his side. His focus seemed to be on Nigel, and Raina knew for certain he would slay him before her very eyes. Just as in a short time to come, he would slay her father as well.

It was all too horrible to bear.

She wasn't even aware that she had left her spot in the bushes until she was at Rutledge's side, clutching the bloodied arm of his tunic. He stopped, looking down at her with a complete absence of any emotion. “Please,” she cried, searching for mercy in those fathomless eyes. “I beg you...please, spare him.”

Rutledge's stormy eyes held her gaze for the longest moment, searching, probing. Then his knuckles softly grazed the line of her jaw. “What price, such blind devotion?” he whispered as if for her ears alone.

Stunned by the intimacy and the lingering danger in his touch, she pulled away from it. He smiled vaguely, then brushed past her to face Nigel, leaving Raina quaking where she stood. She kept her back to him, not daring to watch what might transpire.

“Come out, coward, and face me as a man,” Rutledge's voice boomed from behind her.

“I am wounded,” Nigel called back weakly.

“Saints' balls. Are all the men of Norworth born without spines?” Rutledge taunted. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. Show yourself, man. I would have you go and take a message to your lord.”