A Daring Sacrifice (19 page)

No matter how loyal William was, there were torture methods that could make even the staunchest man talk.

“I shall have to go to Wessex now and retrieve them.” I retraced my steps to the desk, my body tensing in readiness for the task before me. “And hopefully I'll arrive before his torturing kills them.”

Along the way, I'd have to warn Juliana that Wessex had likely discovered who she was. I'd take the blame squarely upon myself. And if she hadn't loved me before, she would surely hate me now.

At least I could take comfort in the fact that Juliana was well hidden, that the caves were impossible to find. Even if William told everything, Lord Wessex would never be able to track her down.

I poked the embers of the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks into the air of the dank hovel. The rain had fallen endlessly through the night and into the morning. And now rivulets of cold water trickled down the walls, dampening the ground and making our home slick, cold, and unbearably muddy.

I knew I should try to get some sleep alongside the others who were sprawled out on the wet hay and damp pallets around the fire. But I hadn't been able to do much of anything since Collin had left more than a day ago.

Had I been foolish to send him away? The question clamored like a gong, growing louder with each hour.

Every part of my body ached with a strange longing for Collin. All yesterday and all last night, I'd watched for him, expected him to reappear. I kept glancing at the secret tunnel,
hoping I'd see his blond head pop through the opening and his disarming grin flash at me.

His affirmation of love and his last tender kiss pulsed in my blood and pumped through every corner of my body, claiming me and stirring a desire for him. The need grew so strong at times that my chest hurt.

I couldn't deny that I cared about him, though not enough to leave behind all of the people who depended upon me. Even if I didn't have that responsibility, I still wouldn't be able to go with him. I despised the nobility, didn't I? And I wanted nothing to do with them. I'd cut myself off from that lifestyle forever, hadn't I? And I certainly didn't miss all of the comforts, the soft warm bed, the security of a dry room, and a steady supply of hot, filling food.

I glanced around the cave, the roots in the low ceiling hanging down and beginning to drip rainwater and squelched unfamiliar discontentment. My gaze slowed on Thatch's empty spot. He still hadn't returned after running away the night he'd caught me in Collin's arms, at the moment Collin had asked me to marry him.

I'd already discussed the situation with Bulldog, and we'd agreed if Thatch didn't return by noon, we would have to go outside the caves and track him down. Like Bulldog, I was praying he hadn't tried any robbery stunts or hunting on his own. It was one thing for me to occasionally poach or steal from an unsuspecting nobleman. But I certainly didn't want Thatch attempting it.

My attention shifted to Bulldog. He was lying on his pallet, eyes wide open, staring into the fire. His thick brows had formed into their usual thunderous position above his black eyes.

An uncomfortable niggling of guilt wormed its way through me. I had no doubt Bulldog reacted the same way
whenever I went off on one of my reckless missions or hunting escapades. I worried him as much as Thatch worried me now.

“You should have gone with Lord Collin.” Bulldog's gravelly whisper knocked into me, and for a moment, I was speechless at his gruff admission.

I shook my head. “I didn't want to.”

“He'll be able to keep you safer and happier than I ever could.”

“I don't care.”

“He loves you.”

“Well, I don't love him.”

“Yes, you do,” Bulldog whispered fiercely. “You're just too stubborn to admit it.” He propped himself up on his elbows so that I had no choice but to look at the stubs of his missing thumbs. “Stop acting like a child, Juliana.”

“I'm not.”

He growled. “In case you haven't noticed, you're a full-grown woman now. And you can't live down here with a bunch of men forever.”

My gaze touched on the dirty, bearded faces of the men who'd become my friends over the past couple of years. None of them had ever paid any attention to the fact that I was a girl. Why would they start now that I was getting older?

“If it worries you, then I'll start sleeping with the women and children.”

“You have to get married eventually.”

“Says who?”

“I do!” His voice thundered through the cavern. Several of the men stirred. Bulldog waited a few seconds, then continued in a lower voice. “Lord Collin is the kind of man your father would have picked for you if he was still alive.”

“Collin's father offered a union when we were but children, and my father refused.”

“That's because Lord Goodrich was a self-serving dog.”

I shrugged.

“Collin Goodrich is not his father.”

“I thought you said the only good nobleman was a dead one.”

“Well, this one is good for something.” Bulldog lowered his voice back to a rasp. “For taking you away from this pit.”

My mind tumbled back over all the experiences I'd had with Collin: the constant kindness he'd shown to me, the generosity, the tenderness. He'd even humbled himself enough to live with me in the caverns. He hadn't required special treatment and had, in fact, attempted to learn as much as he could about our way of life, as well as adapt to mine.

Collin Goodrich was a decent, God-fearing man. Any woman would be blessed to have him as a husband.

A place deep inside me ached to be that woman.

Was Bulldog right? Did I love Collin?

Or was I merely growing more convicted of the wrongness of my stealing? I'd always felt justified. But what if God was displeased with my methods? Was He calling me to do something different? Something that wouldn't lower me to the same level as my uncle? Because that's what I'd done, hadn't I? I'd resorted to the same ugly tactics Uncle used.

A sudden noise in the hidden passageway brought Bulldog to his knees. He unsheathed his knife and had it ready to throw before my fingers even connected with mine. My heart lurched with sudden keen longing. I suddenly desperately prayed the noise was Collin, that he'd come back, that he would admit he couldn't leave my side.

Maybe he'd decided to stay with me in the forest.

I released a disappointed breath when the head that poked into the cavern belonged to one of the guards posted on duty
above ground. “Thatch's come back,” he whispered to Bulldog. “But he's hurt somethin' awful.”

Bulldog re-sheathed his knife and scrambled on hands and knees through the winding maze of tunnels faster than I could keep up. When we finally reached the base of the large hollowed-out oak that hid the opening of our caves, I was breathing hard and my pulse hammered with worry.

I crawled through the splintered bark of the tree and ducked out into the thick woodland that shrouded the entrance to our homes. The steady patter of rain greeted me, along with the sight of Thatch propped against a nearby trunk.

He leaned his head back, giving a clear view of his battered face. His straw-like hair was plastered to his forehead above bruised eyes and cheeks. Blood dripped from his nose and ran with the rain onto his swollen and cracked lips.

Bulldog rushed forward and fell to his knees in front of his son. “What happened to you, boy?”

Thatch shook his head and glanced wildly behind him. He tried to turn, but instead cradled his arms to his chest.

When Bulldog pried one of his son's hands forward, Thatch cried out in pain. “Did you break your arm?” Bulldog asked.

I kneeled next to him. A glance at his hands told me he'd experienced much more than a broken arm. His fingers were bloodied, the tips punctured, his fingernails torn from the flesh.

The skin on my back prickled. My fingers closed around my knife, then went to the bare spot on my shoulder where my bow would have been had I not rushed out of the cave without it.

“He's been tortured,” I whispered. But even as I spoke the words, Bulldog slipped out his dagger.

I'd seen enough torture and mistreatment over the years that the blood and gore didn't rile my stomach. It only fueled my anger. “Who would do such a thing? And why?”

The soft whinny of a horse came from behind me. “I did it.”

I stiffened and tightened my grip around the knife.

“Drop your weapons or I'll kill the boy,” came the low voice.

Bulldog's forehead furrowed into deep crevices and his eyes narrowed. Slowly, he lowered his dagger as he spun to face the intruder.

I followed his example, unwilling to put Thatch in any further danger.

At the sight that met me, my blood turned as cold as the rain that was pelting my head.

There, on a pure white steed and wearing a white cloak, sat Lord Wessex. Another horse stepped out of the shadows, carrying Edgar. He gave a pointed glance around the woods at the wide circle of soldiers surrounding us, their bows stretched with arrows notched. All of them pointed at me. “We offer you our sincerest greetings,” Edgar said.

“And my deepest thanks to your boy for so kindly leading the way here,” Uncle said to Bulldog. “If you'd like me to put him out of his misery, just say the word. I have no need of him now that he's cooperated so well.”

“What do you want?” I stepped forward.

The soldiers' bows stretched tighter. But Uncle raised his hand to stop them from shooting. Instead, he gave me a cool smile, one that cracked the pockmarked skin of his face. I instead focused on his dark hair, which contrasted with the white hood of his cloak.

“She wants to know what I want.” Uncle exchanged a glance with Edgar. “What
do
I want?”

Edgar slid from his mount and crossed toward me. With each footstep, my muscles tightened. When I risked a quick glance next to me, I saw Bulldog's lips had curled in a snarl. I put a steadying hand upon his arm.

Once Sir Edgar stood before me, he flashed a wide smile. Then with a vicious, almost brutal yank, he tore off my cap, ripping strands of hair with it.

I cried out at the pain.

Bulldog lunged for Edgar, but before Bulldog could manage a punch or kick, soldiers surrounded him and dragged him back. They yanked his arms upward behind him so that he had no choice but to fall to his knees with a moan of pain.

My hair tumbled down my shoulders. It was already damp from the rain, but with the steady patter now hitting my head, the curls flattened against my cheeks.

“It's so nice to see you again.” Edgar tossed my cap to the ground. “Lady Eleanora.”

I didn't respond.

“Or should I say, Cousin?”

“I'm not your cousin.”

He grinned again. Then, before I knew what was coming, he raised the back of his hand and smacked me across the mouth, his knuckles making contact with my lips.

The metallic taste of blood oozed between my teeth and onto my tongue.

“No more lies, Juliana.” He straightened his shoulders. “Or should I once more correct myself and say, Cloaked Bandit.”

I lifted my chin, and a trickle of blood dribbled off and onto my cloak. I met Edgar's smirk head on and didn't flinch.

So this was it. They'd finally caught me.

Chapter
15

I
STEPPED LIGHTLY THROUGH THE BRUSH, ATTEMPTING TO
cover my tracks. Glancing up, I squinted through the rain into the branches overhead. I expected to see a lookout guard, hear the soft blue jay call the peasants used in warning, or even find Bulldog lying in wait for me like the first time I'd come into the forest. But in the hour since I'd left my horse and men behind, I'd sensed no one.

Even with the light patter of rain on the leaves that were left on the trees, the woodland was too quiet. My gut told me something wasn't right. The peasants always kept watch for intruders entering their deep area of the forest. Where were they today?