She shivered. “You’re probably correct.”
“I need to think of some way to lessen the risk.”
“How?”
“I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “Give me the night, and with luck some saint will slip the answer in my brain by morning.”
“I’ll pray for your success.”
He gave her a tiny smile. “However you wish to use your lips on my behalf, I won’t complain.”
“Rafe!” she scolded. The blood still surging through her veins after the terror she’d been through now heated up at his innuendo. Terror and excitement felt very, very similar, she realized.
His eyes widened in mock innocence. “What? Did you think I meant something besides prayer?”
Her cheeks burned. “I know what you meant. You’re—”
“Incorrigible. Yes, I know. It’s part of my charm.”
“How can you joke after…”
“Killing a man?” Rafe shrugged. “He was a killer himself. Should I weep over him?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Rafe’s expression cooled. “It was his life or mine. The whole point of being my own master is that I decide my fate.”
She tried to reach out, to tell him she didn’t blame him for what happened. “I didn’t mean—”
But he shook her hand off his arm. “Get some rest, my lady. We still have a long way to travel.” Then he left.
* * * *
Angelet didn’t think she’d sleep again after what happened. Even Bethany, in a hushed voice, asked to shove her pallet next to Angelet’s so the women might sleep next to each other. Angelet agreed instantly, feeling there was some sort of safety in that. She woke in the morning to find that she had slept after all, and this time, blessedly, she remembered no dreams.
In the tavern room below, the mood among the men-at-arms was grim. From the fragments of conversations Angelet overheard, everyone was perturbed by Dobson’s attack on her life. Even the few who muttered that a man might break his oath and steal so much gold were still aghast that one man went beyond theft to attempted murder.
“But not Dobson,” one of the men muttered to his companion. “He served Otto since they were boys!”
Rafe finished his breakfast quickly and stood up. He gestured to Simon and Angelet. “Come along, please,” he said.
Curious, Angelet followed as Rafe walked to her personal carriage, where the chest had just been loaded. Laurence was there, guarding it.
“Simon,” Rafe said curtly. “We’re going to move the chest from Lady Angelet’s carriage to the supply wagon. Laurence, keep an eye on the inn. I don’t want everyone to see what we’re doing. My lady, keep an eye on us the whole time to reassure yourself we’re not tampering with anything.”
She nodded, relieved that the chest would be further away from her on the journey.
It didn’t take long for the two men to wrestle the chest out of her carriage and onto the ground. They grunted as they hefted it up and walked it back to the supply wagon. Angelet went ahead to clear a space for it.
“Move the hay aside,” Rafe grunted.
She clambered up and pushed at the loose hay meant for emergency animal feed. The men lifted the heavy chest up and slid it over, nearly pinning Angelet to the wall of the wagon in the process. She yelped in surprise when the corner of the chest hit her right ankle. “Ouch!”
“Apologies, my lady!” Simon said.
“No matter.” Without being told, Angelet started to replace the hay over the chest, helping to conceal it from casual view. When she was done, she was on her knees, with straw all over her skirts, but she felt much better.
“Well done, my lady,” Rafe said, from behind her. “Come, I’ll help you out of there.”
