A Daring Sacrifice (6 page)

But why?

Part of me said I should do the honorable thing and walk away from her. If she wanted to remain hidden and continue her thieving lifestyle, who was I to interfere?

But another part of me wanted to help her, even if she claimed she didn't want my aid. Deep in my gut, I knew it was only a matter of time before she got caught—no matter how skilled she might be. And I dreaded to think what might happen to her.

In fact, if I'd been someone more sinister—a lusty man without any regard for her womanhood—what would she have done tonight? If I could easily discover she was a woman, surely with time someone else would as well.

I swallowed hard, letting determination push aside my misgivings. I wouldn't let her escape, not until I had answers to the many questions that were rampaging through me.

With a stealth I'd developed during the many battles I'd fought with the duke, I climbed into the tree closest to me. Several of the larger limbs intertwined with the beech, where Juliana was hiding on a low branch that formed a V
with the trunk. I slowly slipped from one tree to the next, until I was slightly above her. The cover of the leaves hid me, and the soft rattle of the wind through the branches muffled my steps. In the shadows of the limbs and changing leaves, she was perched and ready to spring. She peered down, likely searching the ground around the tree for me.

Finally, I lowered myself, unfolding my lean frame next to hers. “Looking for me?” I whispered.

She gave a start and straightened quickly—too quickly. She wobbled and flailed her arms. Before I could grab her, she fell backward off the branch and plunged toward the earth.

A small yelp was followed by a thwack and then a thump.

My heart sped with sudden panic. “Juliana?”

Complete silence greeted me and pushed the anxiety into my blood. I jumped after her. The drop wasn't far and I landed on my feet, the impact jarring my knees only a little.

“Juliana?” I called louder, searching the base of the tree.

Moonlight touched on the red-gold of her hair, now tangled in the brush and leaves.

My heartbeat slammed to a halt. “Blessed Mary.” I scrambled toward her. She lay unmoving, her hair sprawled around her pale face.

I touched her lips with my fingertips and drew in a shaky breath at the moist air she released.

She was alive.

My hands slid gently to her limbs, searching for broken bones, gashes, or any other sign of distress. As I probed and felt the thinness of her body, I swallowed back dismay. She was too gaunt, the hungry-thin I'd seen on siege victims who'd slowly starved to death.

I touched her head, and she gave a soft moan. I probed the back of her skull until I found a slick spot of blood.

She must have hit her head during the fall.

I gently slipped my hands under her body. What had I been thinking to chase her around the forest in the dead of the night? Why hadn't I been more careful?

The whole escapade may have brought me the rush of excitement that had been eluding me since I'd returned home. But at what cost?

I was a selfish fool and I should have put an end to the chase sooner.

I lifted her with the care I'd give a rare jewel. As far as I could tell, her only injury was the knock she'd taken to her head during the fall. But I wouldn't be sure until I'd checked her more thoroughly. And to do that, I'd have to take her back to my home. I most certainly couldn't leave her out in the forest injured.

I shifted her into my arms, cradling her like a babe against my chest.

Her body was limp and her head lolled back. As I started back through the forest to my horse, she didn't utter a word.

“I'm sorry, Juliana,” I whispered.

I knew with certainty she would have protested had she known where I was taking her. But what other choice did I have?

Chapter
5

From the softness that surrounded me, I could almost
believe I was floating upon a cloud. The warmth was heavenly, as if sun poured over me and wrapped me in its solid beams.

I sighed and soaked in the delight of my fairy-tale world. I hadn't been so warm and comfortable since . . . My mind stumbled to remember a time.

Then it came to me. I hadn't experienced such comfort since I'd been a little girl, in the days when I'd lived with my father in Wessex Castle. I'd had chambers of my own, a big, canopied bed, and servants to wait on me.

Strange I would imagine this now, after so many years of the cold, hard earth serving as my bed. I stretched, still dreaming of warm coverlets snuggled around my body and feather pillows piled beneath my head.

My stomach rumbled, urging me to wake from my dream. The gnawing hunger was the signal I needed to begin my daily routine of hunting, not for myself but for all the other bellies that relied upon my game.

The waft of something roasting sent another gurgle into my stomach. I sniffed and dragged in the delicious scents of fresh-baked bread and venison stew.

“Has she awoken?” a voice drifted into my dream.

Suddenly, I wished more than anything to stay asleep. I was in the best dream I'd ever had, and I didn't want it to end.

A cool hand pressed against my forehead, and then gentle fingers brushed my hair back.

“Father,” I whispered, an ache forming in my chest. The last time my father had touched my hair, he'd been bleeding to death on a pallet in a peasant hut. His blood had bubbled out of his wounds, spilling onto the dirt floor, forming into mud. Though my uncle's army was approaching, to capture Father for the final time, his cool fingers, sticky with blood, had caressed my forehead, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and then had combed the tangles out of my face.

The fingers caressed my hair again. “Juliana?”

The voice was definitely not my father's.

A rush of memories flooded my conscience, memories of running through the forest, of climbing a tree, and then falling. The rush was followed by a burst of terror.

My eyes flew open to the sight of a golden canopy hanging above me. My gaze shifted to the face hovering near mine. A handsome face covered with a couple days' worth of scruff. A lock of blond hair fell over a creased forehead. And worried green eyes peered down at me.

“Collin Goodrich?” I asked. “What are you doing here?” Why was he a part of my dreams?

At my question, his lips curved into a smile that made my stomach do a funny flip.

“You're awake,” he said, bringing his hand to my cheek and making a gentle path down to my chin.

“Why are you here?” I asked through the grogginess in my throat, letting myself stare at him.

He seemed to be doing the same with my face, his gaze making a leisurely trail from my cheek to my chin to my lips, until the brilliant green finally met my eyes again. The
lightness and warmth there seeped into me and spread through my middle.

“I'm here because I live here,” he said.

The words slapped me fully awake and brought back all my memories. I'd robbed him, and then he'd tracked me down and dragged me away from Thatch. And now he'd brought me back to his castle?

I fought down a panicked cry, shoved away the coverlet, and pushed myself off the ultra-soft feather mattress. I climbed out of the bed and was on my feet before Collin could rise from the chair positioned next to me.

Fierce, blinding pain rammed through my head, almost as if a blacksmith was banging his anvil against my skull. I swayed, black dizziness threatening to make me collapse.

Collin jumped to his feet and reached for me before my knees gave way. I was helpless to do anything but sag against him, my body weak, my legs unable to support my weight, and my head pounding.

For a moment I leaned into him, remembering the few seconds in the forest when he'd comforted me even when I hadn't known I'd needed it.

What was there about this man that made me feel like I'd gained a friend, when I knew he was nothing more than the enemy? I straightened and tugged away from him. I couldn't forget who he was and what he represented.

He let me step back but still held onto my arms, keeping me from toppling over.

“You brought me to your home?” The words came out a strangled whisper. For the first time I glanced around the spacious chamber, taking in the luxurious tapestries covering the walls, the wide stone hearth ablaze with a glowing fire, the enormous canopied bed, and the heavy curtains.

A short, stoop-shouldered servant stood in front of an open wardrobe, her hand poised on a gown she'd been about to hang with the assortment of other glorious garments.

My panic swelled. What if the servant recognized me? What if word reached my uncle that I was still alive?

I had the overwhelming urge to plunge back into the bed and pull the coverlet over my head. Instead I broke free of Collin and lurched toward the door, my footsteps unsteady like those of a babe just learning to walk.

All I could think was that I needed to get away. Now. I had to get back into the forest and hide before anyone figured out who I really was.

“Wait,” Collin called.

I forced my legs to move faster and fixed my attention on the door, which seemed a league away. If I could make my way outside the walls of the castle, I would find Thatch and he would help me. But I only made it halfway across the room before my legs gave way, and I crashed to the rushes strewn over the cold floor.

In an instant, Collin was at my side. Amidst my weak cry of protest, he slid his arms underneath me and lifted my body effortlessly.

“And where exactly do you think you're running off to?”

“As far away as possible,” I whispered.

He tucked me against his chest, and I loathed myself for laying my head against him and relishing the comfort of his hold.

“You can't go anywhere yet,” he chided into my ear. “Not wearing only a nightgown.”

Only then did I realize someone had divested me of my tunic and breeches and had dressed me in a thick linen nightdress. The soft garment covered me from my neck to my toes. Even so, hot embarrassment pulsed through me.

Had Collin changed my clothes?

He chuckled. “No, sweetheart,” he whispered in answer to my unspoken question. “I had Mistress Higgins change and bathe you.” He nodded in the direction of the servant at the wardrobe. The woman bowed slightly. The gorget surrounding her throat and the tight veil covering her head left only her face exposed, an aged face that was as wrinkled and cracked as a parched field. But her eyes were soft pools, which regarded me kindly.

“Bathe?” I squeaked the word.

This time Collin gave a full, hearty laugh. “Even though you were quite pretty covered in mud, you're absolutely stunning without it.”

At his lavish compliment, fresh warmth coursed through me, and I was tempted to hide my face in his tunic. But I forced myself to meet his gaze instead. “You had no right to bring me here.”

“I had no other choice.” His eyes held an apology. “You've been unconscious for the past two days.”

“Two days?”

“Don't worry. You're safe.” He stopped at the edge of the bed. “I've told everyone that you're a friend who was traveling to visit me, but you were attacked on your way.”

I couldn't keep from admiring the strength and ease with which he held me, as if I were nothing more than that girl of five. “At least it's not a complete lie,” I said dryly. “I
was
attacked.”

“I'm sorry.” His grin faded. “I never meant for you to get hurt.” His face was near mine, his eyes honest, the regret in his expression palpable.

I was suddenly breathless. I'd never been in such close proximity to a man, and I was quite sure if my father had been there, he wouldn't have been pleased with the situation. Nevertheless, I couldn't bring myself to make Collin put me down. Yet.

“It wasn't your fault,” I admitted. “I was entirely too careless. And it won't happen again.”

“Well, that's good to hear.”

“Next time, you won't get near me.”

“There doesn't have to be a next time.” His expression was much too serious, and he made no effort to hide his frank appreciation.

He wasn't merely flattering me with his compliments about my appearance. He really did like how I looked.

I squirmed, not quite sure how to handle that revelation. I doubted many of my companions even counted me as a woman. Bulldog had insisted I take a man's disguise before he let me ride with him, and I'd kept the front ever since. Not only did I dress like a man, but I acted like one and fought better than most. My one vanity was my hair. Even though Bulldog had suggested that I cut it, I hadn't been able to.

This interaction with Collin, this obvious awareness of each other, was entirely new to me. For the first time in my life, I realized I was no longer a young girl. I was becoming a woman.

“I think you'd better put me down,” I said.