Wildewood Revenge (16 page)

“So ah still owe ye
,
then?” asked Alex and it took a moment for Miles to register he’d been spoken to.

“No
, you don’t owe me. The information and advice were payment enough. T
he pony is an added bonus.”

“Ye once saved
ma
life, Miles,” answered Alex and his hand strayed to his scar. “Ah think ah still owe ye. Let me know if ah can return the favour.”

“Let’s hope I never need to call it in.”

“A word o’ advice, Miles, though ah doubt
ye’ll
take it
…
”

“Go on.”

“Be careful.
Yer
playing a dangerous game,
wi
’ people who have far more tae lose than ye. Make sure ye
dinnae
get caught up in the thrill o’ the game an’ lose sight
o
’ the prize.”

*  *  *

It was just gone dawn when Miles left the ale house. He was bon
e weary and certainly not alert
after an evening of drinking ale with Alex, but it was a clear morning with a touch
of frost and he followed a well-
trodden path. Even so
,
it took all of his willpower to stay awake and in the saddle for the long journey back.

He led the grey pony on a long lead rope tied to his saddle and it was indeed a pretty filly. It kept pace with his horse with no real effort which was just as well as he pushed both animals hard to get back. He had a
n increasing sense of urgency. T
hings were beginning to unravel. He had to get back.

The sun made its appearance as he entered the great forest which protected
Wildewood
from the north. The horses were weary and
gratefully slowed their pace to negotiate the hidden trails between the trees. Miles slid his feet from the stirrups and stretched his legs trying to regain some circulation. Although it hadn’t snowed, the morning remained frosty and he was chilled to the bone. He imagined the hot bath he would take when he eventually got back and he forced his drooping eyelids to stay open, not much further to go. The horse, having no further impetus from its rider
,
slowed to a walk and Miles closed his eyes and slumped against the horse’s neck.

He woke when he slid from the horse
’
s back and hit the ground with a thump. His left shoulder took the full force of the fall and he swore as he staggered back to wakefulness. Rising slowly he gathered up the reins of his horse and the filly. The horse whickered softly and Miles was suddenly aware he was not alone in the forest. He willed the horses to stay silent and crouched still, straining to hear.

The soldiers passed within ten yards of where he hid, and so busy were they with their conversation and so ineffectual in their observations, they saw neither him nor his beasts. By their livery he could tell they were Gerard’s men. They were on foot and they totalled eight men at arms.

He quickly tried to assess his position in relation to
Wildewood
. He’d been travelling through Gerard’s land since he’d crossed back over the border. Had Gerard been alerted, were these soldiers looking for him? He was still
an hour’s ride from
Wildewood
. H
e couldn’t afford to get involved in an altercation with Gerard before he had a chance to speak to Grace. He remained still and silent
,
and after what seemed an agonisingly long time
,
the soldiers moved on and Miles was able to remount his horse and press on to
Wildewood
.

Chapter Seventeen

Miles made it back by mid-morning. He spent the remainder of his journey turning over in his mind the seeds of doubt which Alex had inadvertently sown. It left him in poor humour and irrationally suspicious of Grace. Who was this cuckoo in the nest, what was her purpose? Pulling his horse to a standstill in the courtyard
,
he barked at Edmund who was busy in the stables.

“Edmund, get these gates shut and barred. Where is Grace?” He swung down from the saddle, the horse skittering away from him in alarm. “Where is she?” he snapped.

“In the kitchen, my lord, she
be
helpin
’ Martha...”

He would get the truth if it killed him...or her. He’d come home to
Wildewood
with his own plans, to re-establish the estate and exact his revenge on Gerard. He’d initially been distracted by the ransom he could get for Grace, then he’d been similarly distracted by the notion of keeping her for himself and foregoing the ransom. She was a distraction, there was no denying it. But was that her ultimate plan all along? He recalled the night in the great hall. He’d thought himself the victor of the game. The idea that he may have been the one being played and bested did not sit well. He had played the chivalrous knight on that occasion, but the rules had just changed. He would not make that mistake again.

Bursting into the room, he found her seated at the table with Linus, painting. She, the child and Martha started with fright as he slammed the door closed behind him. Ignoring Martha and Linus he crossed the room, gripped Grace firmly by her arm and pulled her to her feet.

“I would speak with you, in private.”

Grace’s protestations went unheeded as Miles marched her back across the courtyard and into the great hall. Tom
Pandy
rose from tending the fire to stare in wonder as Miles strode across the hall without comment and proceeded to propel Grace up the stairs to her chamber. Grace finally came to her senses as they approached her door and tried to slow his progress by set
ting her feet against the floor,
but he simply pushed her harder. Once in her chamber he flung her aside and slammed the door, drawing home the bolt with a resounding clash.

He narrowed his eyes, cocked his head and drew a long calming breath. It would not do to lose control.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” cried Grace, fury and fear competing on her outraged face.

“Mademoiselle, what do you know of the king?”

Grace stared back at him blankly.
“The king?”

“No more
games,” he said coldly, h
is composure reined in and held with an unsteady hand. “What is your connection to Edward?” He caught the revealing look of alarm on her face before she controlled it. Her continuing
deceit caused his gut to twist
along with his patience.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not playing games. I’ve never met any king.”

Miles could barely look at her. It seemed Alex had been correct and he had been fleeced after all. He dropped his gaze, studied the weathered boards beneath her feet and counted to ten silently. She was treading a hazardous path between falsehood and truth, but not quite carefully enough. He could
easily force the truth from her;
it would be a simple task for one as well trained as he. A hand at her throat, a blade between her ribs, it could be done in seconds and she would be begging to reveal all she knew.  Instead he raised his head and said softly. “You
are not of the church?”

“I told you I wasn’t. Y
ou didn’t believe me.”

“Yet y
ou say you come from Kirk
Knowe
?
”

“Yes.”

“Kirk
Knowe
is a chapel. What is your purpose there, if you are not a religious?”

“It’s complicated,” replied Grace. “I live there in a cottage. I told you this. I haven’t lied to you. I also told you I want to go home.” She faltered as he shook his head di
smissively.  “What’s happened? Why
are you behaving like this..?”

“What do you know of Gerard de
Frouville
’?” he asked, and again caught a flair of recognition in her eyes. She couldn’t lie to save her life. It was time she understood that only the truth could save her.

“I know nothing,” she replied.

He sighed with weary acceptance of her duplicity and Grace glanced away, avoiding his gaze. Reaching out an impatient hand he caught her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Try again, Mademoiselle.”

“I know the name...I must have read about him somewhere,” she stammered.

“You read about him?” He raised a brow.
Yet another falsehood.
The only women he knew who could decipher the written word were nuns and high born ladies
,
and she’d already denied being either.

“Miles, why don’t you just tell me what you think I’ve done.” She batted his hand away, stepped towards him and he took a sudden step back. He was not about to fall into that trap. He knew his current state of mind was undisciplined and wasn’t totally convinced he wouldn’t fall beneath her spell. Wary of doing so
mething he would later regret, h
e shrugged away thoughts of witches, took a breath and circled her
menacingly.

“I have it on very good authority that Gerard believes you to be a spy in the employ of the king. He considers you a significant enough threat to necessitate your removal. He is currently planning to remove you by force from
Wildewood
. I passed a number of his men at arms in the forest on my return this morning. If he succeeds in gaining access to
Wildewood
, you can rest assured
you will not last the night. He will have no qualms about slitting your throat, nor will he baulk at slaughtering the household or putting a sword through Linus.”

Grace stared at him wide-
eyed. He doubted she’d ever been speechless before, but he’d certainly shocked any response right out of her. He conceded his appearance along with his words might have caused the reaction. He was unshaven, dishevelled and still carrying the effects of a night spent drinking and a long morning in the saddle. He leaned in with a snarl, pushing his advantage, awaiting her response. When it eventually came, it was not as expected.

“Get out of my room,” she hissed, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed. Miles drew back in surprise. He’d anticipated denial or more lies, not defiance. Did she really consider herself a match for him?

“Get out,” she repeated, attempting to step past him toward the door. He moved quickly to prevent her and she pushed angrily at his chest. Catching hold of her arms in a firm grip, she wriggled in vain to break free, kicking wil
dly with her feet. “Let me go. J
ust leave me alone. You’re nothing but a bully,” she panted.

Forcing her back against the barred door, he did just that, releasing his grip and slamming his hands flat on the door either side of her. She flinched and he leaned into her. Despite the anger sparking in her eyes and the reckless show of defiance, he could almost smell the fear
leaching out of her pores
, and for the first time
in a very long time, he had the urge to do something bad.

“Did you hear a word I said?” he growled, suppressing with considerable effort the self-loathing rising from his gut which threatened to overwhelm him. He had been so close, a mere heartbeat away from resurrecting his inglorious past. Resting his forehead wearily against the door alongside her, he closed his eyes dragged in a ragged breath and slowly gathered his composure.

“I shall spell it out for you. Gerard, a very unpleasant man, is on his way here to take you by force. He will have the manpower to succeed and the arrogance to suppose he can do as he pleases with you. He believes you will bring about his downfall
,
so naturally he will wish to exact some revenge.”

He pressed close against her, drawn like a moth to the very flame that threatened to ignite him. He could feel her heart pounding through her clothes, matching the erratic beat of his own. She was soft, warm and fragrant and he was filled with the scent of her. He tried to ignore it, to steer his thoughts away as his breath burned a trail against her neck. His lips almost touched her ear as he continued in a hoarse whisper.

“He will kill you, but not before he has enjoyed some sport.” He pulled back slightly so he could see the moment when she finally realised he was deadly serious. When he saw her pupils flare, he continued.

“And when he has satisfied his extremely distasteful appetites, he will offer you to his men and then punish everyone at
Wildewood
who provided you with hospitality. He will slaughter the children in front of their parents
,
and he and his cohorts will take pleasure in every moment.” He watched as Grace’s eyes registered horror and her
complexion paled. For the first time he saw real terror and was uncertain whether her fear was caused by his own behaviour or the threat of Gerard’s.

“Have you nothing you wish to tell me?”

His eyes fixed upon her soft mouth as she gasped, tried to speak but seemed unable to get the words past her lips. He shifted his gaze, fascinated as her eyes pooled with unsh
ed tears.
She gave an ineffectual struggle but he held her fast and waited. Finally the bravado began to crumble.