Wildewood Revenge (39 page)

His own horse appeared as though it had galloped all the way from hell. Its eyes made all the more fearful by the white paint daubed around them, its blood red mane dripping dye which sprayed like an open jugular as it tossed it’s head. He hushed it quickly,
then
swung himself up onto the saddle. Wheeling the horse around to follow Hugh, his thoughts returned to Guy.

“We must go back,” he called from the saddle. “I must finish Guy.”

Hugh forced his bigger horse against Miles’ so he could be heard above the din. “There is no time, Miles, we must get all your folk including your good lady to safety. Your feud with Guy will keep.”

Miles acknowledged the sense in his words though it did not sit well to leave Guy alive - yet again. He nodded at Hugh, wondered distractedly at the man’s uncanny knack of appearing at just the right time and kicked his horse into action.

“Come,” yelled Miles, raising his sword triumphantly, and together the
Wildewood
Horde and the Templar knights fled the castle and disappeared in to the night.

Chapter Forty

The men retrieved their women waiting at the
Danestone
and swung them onto the backs of their horses. The women clung to their men with desperate relief. The children, hoisted excitedly behind the Templar’s, would retell the story of how they played their part in the rescue of their lord for many years to come. John plucked Linus from the back of the little pony for the child had not the skill to remain seated unaided and Edmund tied its reins to the saddle of his own pony.

They rode hard through the forest, led by Miles down hidden paths, with the Scots bringing up the rear, but no one from
Ahlborett
Castle followed. Stunned by the outrageous attack, Gerard’s men no doubt, waited in trepidation for the return of their lord, and the inevitable backlash to follow. Would he believe they had been attacked by the forces of the Dark Lord? Probably not, when he realised that during the attack, Miles of
Wildewood
and the Scottish prisoners had been released.

Miles kept Grace within sight the entire journey. He needed to see her in order to believe they were both still alive. Her visor had slipped down over her eyes and he doubted she could even see where she was going. Her breast plate flapped against her overlarge padded
aketon
and she’d foregone the chain hauberk, which would have reached past her knees and been far too heavy for her to heft. She was like a child playing dress-up, but she had led these men in extraordinary circumstances and he was in awe of her courage.

Martha
Pandy
and Peg Forester had stayed behind at
Wildewood
. With the setting sun, the women had set a pig to roast and by the time the weary fighters returned, the great hall was laid for a feast and the
wine and ale flowed to the accompaniment of music and shared tales of danger and heroics.

There had been some injuries but fortunately no fatalities, a miracle indeed considering the odds. The injured were tended by the women. Miles shrugged off Grace’s attempts to treat the marks of the lash, with a weary smile.

“Do not concern yourself, Grace. I’ve had far worse than this and survived to fight another day.” He took her hand, pulled her close and hid the pain as she assessed him with a worried frown. He dipped his head to kiss her, but was dragged from her grasp by knights filled with the adrenalin of battle, eager to celebrate success and renew acquaintance with an old friend. They jostled him, heavy arms embraced him. Fists raised in
comradery
landed mock punches and he took it all with weary resignation.

He cocked his head and shrugged his apology to Grace, as she too, was whisked away by the womenfolk, who jabbered excitedly for details of her account. Relief at the outcome of the rescue, masked their usual reserve in Grace’s company, and they
clamored
to hear her story.

He knew she watched him as he greeted Hugh’s men. He felt her gaze, and suppressed the longing. Despite the humour in his expression as he regaled some tale or other to the raucous men, his heart was not in it. Nevertheless he played the part and suffered their good natured banter while he bided his time until
he
and Grace could be alone.

Propelled to a seat next to Hugh at the table, he drank what was offered. Momentarily distracted, he lost sight of Grace and reluctantly turned his attention to his mentor.

*  *  *

Grace watched Miles and Hugh as they caught up on recent events. She hung back, distracted by the endless twittering of the women, and unsure of this charismatic newcomer. She judged him to be about fifty years, perhaps older, though he had the countenance of a much younger man and there was something about him other than his charm and good looks that attracted her. She was curious about him and thankful he’d arrived when he did, for without his men they would not have made good their escape.

She watched him covertly from beneath lowered lashes as she broke from the women and circulated the hall checking on the children and congratulating the fighters. She was mortified when he caught her glance and smiled slowly at her. She turned her back, tried to look busy and disinterested but when she turned again he raised his drink and nodded in her direction. Damn the man, he was as bad as Miles.

She turned her attention to the rest of the room, searching for Linus and was surprised to see him perched not on John’s knee, but that of one of Hugh’s knights. The child’s face was lit with delight as the man regaled him with a tale of sorts. She saw humour on the man’s tired face and great tenderness in his eyes as he gazed at the child. John stood behind and placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, causing him to turn and receive the slightest of nods, an unspoken word. With a quick glance in Grace’s direction, he handed back the child, almost reverently, and returned to his comrades, gathering admiring glances from the unattached ladies. He had a ready smile for each but managed to resume his seat at the table with the rest of the men without offending the ladies too greatly.

Momentarily distracted by the notion that she had witnessed
something she was not meant to see. Grace threw off her curiosity with a smile. These knights certainly had a way about them.

Fly approached her then, tired from playing with the children, his belly full with scraps from the table. He wagged his tail and wiggled at her feet, tongue lolling as puppy tongues are prone to do. She bent and picked him up. It had been some time since she’d been honoured with his presence. He was in demand here at
Wildewood
such was his cheerful disposition and his uncanny record for catching rabbits. She buried her face in his rough coat and sighed.

“We’re a long way from home, puppy,” she whispered against him and she felt his tail thud against her. “How will we ever leave this behind?”

The wagging increased dramatically and she looked up to see Miles approaching. “Traitor,” she muttered to the dog.

“Come join us, Grace, I would like you to meet Hugh.” He reached out a hand and tucked her fringe behind her ear. “You look deep in thought...”

Grace smiled at him. She had lots to think about. She reached out and took his hand, glad that they were together again, amidst the noise and crush of the celebration. But unsettled by the sudden invasion of Miles’ other life—the life she had inadvertently become a part of.

“Do I have to?”

He returned her smile. “Like you, I would like nothing better than to escape this melee and seek the privacy of our own chamber, but I think we must await our reward a little longer.”

Grace shrugged. She felt helpless. She sensed a shift in what had become normal in this strange situation, and sought to restore the balance.

“Who is the charming knight who is enchanting all the young ladies?” she asked as she cast her eye toward the gathering of men.

Miles followed her gaze and chuckled. “Thomas of Blackmore, a reluctant Templar...a far bigger rogue than I, but a good loyal friend.”

“He seems to have taken a shine to Linus, and the child to him,” commented Grace.

“Indeed.” Miles shrugged off her interest. His gaze flicked briefly between Thomas and John. “Thomas has that effect on most people. I shall have to keep him away lest he steal you from under my nose.”

Grace raised a brow. “I’m not that easily stolen...”

“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t have too much trouble.” His accompanying grin saved him as he added quickly, “Enough of Thomas, come meet Hugh.”

“I’ve already met him, remember,” she replied, the memory of his attack still clear in her mind.

Miles grinned, “He thought you were going to kill me.”

“Well, if I had, you’d have only yourself to blame. I learned everything I know about killing from you.” She glanced down at her clothes. She couldn’t sit at the table dressed as one of the devils army, although no one else seemed at all bothered about getting out of their armour. “I need to change first. My rabbit skin stole, although rather fetching is beginning to smell.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Go then, but make haste, Hugh is waiting to speak with you.”

Grace stretched out her arms to the sides and looked at him helplessly. “I think I may need some help. John fastened me into this and I’ve no idea how to get out.”

“That’s why knights have squires.” He sidled closer and gave a crooked smile. “Shall I be your squire this evening, Lady Grace?”
Taking her hand he escorted her across the hall and up the stairs to her chamber, unaware that their progress was being watched. From his seat below in the great hall Hugh gave no hint to his thoughts.

*  *  *

“You were stunning today, Grace, absolutely stunning.” Miles breathed against her ear, as he unbuckled her breast plate

“And I could be equally stunning tonight if you have the will.” She smiled at him with the merest hint of mischief.

“My will is without question.” Miles gave an answering grin. He was high on adrenalin and in the mood to play despite his wounds. He helped her to pull the
aketon
over her head and added it to the pile of rank smelling armour on the floor.

“Well, they say where there’s a will there’s a way.” Grace teased him.

“Now...?” Miles voice whispered gruffly in her ear. No one would notice if they didn’t go straight back down to the hall. He ran his hand down her bare arm

“Miles you have guests.” Grace raised a brow in mock horror at his suggestion.

“And they will understand. They are men.” It had started in jest, but now he found that it was not, and he wanted her more than anything. He wished they were alone, but they were not and he wondered how long he would need to play the dutiful host before retiring.

Grace squeezed his hand, “The best things are always worth waiting for.”

And don’t I know it, thought Miles as he watched her strip down to her underwear and wash with a cloth soaked in the warm water left out
by Martha. The water ran down her neck and he watched as it slipped between her breasts.

“Is this going to take long,” he asked...hopefully.

She threw the wash cloth at him “Your turn, you smell of....”

“Piss and shit, I know,” he replied “The hazards of hanging around in dungeons.”

“You have such a romantic turn of phrase,” muttered Grace.

It took a little longer to get ready than if she had been left alone to dress, but not long enough according to Miles who felt he needed a little more practice in the art of lacing or more specifically un-lacing ladies undergarments.

Chapter Forty One

Unaware of Hugh’s calculating gaze, Miles and Grace descended the stairs together. They had succumbed to distraction and kept their guests waiting much longer than intended. Dawn was fast approaching. The celebrations had mellowed. The men were stated and those not already sleeping, listened as Tom
Pandy
played a final haunting melody on the pipes.

“My lady,” Hugh said as he rose slightly, took Grace’s hand and brushed his lips across her skin.

Miles grinned as he placed an arm loosely around Grace and leaned past her toward Hugh. “Hugh, finally I can introduce you formally to my guest, Lady Grace from Kirk
Knowe
. Grace this is Hugh de Reynard my good friend and mentor.”

Grace gave a cautious smile.

“So, is this the diminutive Saracen warrior whom I almost beheaded at
Ahlborett
? Or the niece that slipped my mind?” Hugh’s voice rumbled pleasantly from deep within.

“Neither I’m afraid. I’m just Grace; a little prone to dramatics when the need arises, Miles will no doubt agree.”

“You make for a convincing Saracen.”

“I can play a part when required,” she replied. The look they shared was one of mutual curiosity.

“I can imagine.” He gave a slight shrug as if casting off some puzzling thought and bestowed her with a charming smile. “I must apologise for almost taking your life, Grace, but the lad here looked like he needed my help. He’s prone to getting himself into scrapes which require the intervention of others.  I can see now, however, you had
everything in hand and I need not have concerned myself as to his safety.”