“Give them to me. I’ll take them to the lady. It’s on my way.” It wasn’t, but Rafe seized on any excuse to speak to Angelet.
Rafe ducked his head in through the low door. She was sitting on her bed roll, reading a little breviary by the light of a stubby candle. “My lady?”
She looked up from the book, giving Rafe a slightly nervous smile. “Yes?”
“Bethany said you asked for something to eat.”
She took the bag of fruit he offered, though with a puzzled expression. “Did she? I haven’t spoken to Bethany since she brought me my supper.”
Rafe frowned. So the maid had been lying about why she was in the supply wagon, claiming an errand for her mistress when she was actually searching on her own. Well, even if she could get to the chest, it was still chained and locked. Any attempt to open it would be heard by the others.
“A mistake,” he said, so as not to alarm her. “I must have misunderstood.”
“I doubt that,” Angelet said. “You always know what’s going on.”
“That is not true. I wish it were.”
She took a piece of dried apple, bit it thoughtfully, then asked, “What are you worried about? Dobson? That it happened?”
“Yes. I expected something, but not that. Not an attack from the inside.”
She nodded slowly. “He’s the last person I’d have thought would double-cross Otto like that. But then, he probably never saw that much wealth before. Do you think that’s it?”
Rafe knew all too well what could happen when a man saw the opportunity to get rich like that. “It must be.”
“I’m glad he’s dead. Is that shameful?”
“No,” he said firmly. “The man would have killed you. You don’t owe him anything.”
“We’re supposed to forgive those who have hurt us.”
“Easier said than done, my lady. Get some rest if you can. I expect sleeping outside is a novelty for you.”
“It is. But I’ll sleep better knowing you’re around.”
Rafe walked back to the group of knife-throwing men, whose laughter and shouting could probably be heard a mile away. He smiled to himself as he walked, thinking that it was actually fun to be with these people…most of them, anyway. He’d spent too long on his own. Rafe wasn’t a loner by nature.
A flicker of movement broke his reverie. There was something off to the side of the clearing. Rafe slowed his pace, then stopped.
He laid the wineskin on the ground and put his hand to the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw at any moment.
His eyes searched the scene in front of him, a tangle of underbrush and thicker tree trunks. The light from the campfire made all the shadows jump about and dance madly. It was impossible to tell solid things from shadows. Still, Rafe didn’t take his eyes from the forest. He had relied on his instinct for years, and his instinct now told him something was wrong.
He breathed slowly, in and out, waiting for whatever it was to betray itself. The shadows continued to twist and flicker. Just when Rafe decided he must have been mistaken, he caught something again. A shadow moving the wrong way, against all the others.
Was it an animal perhaps? A deer or feral creature? But what animal waited patiently behind the cover of trees instead of bolting into the deeper woods?
“I see you,” Rafe announced, pulling the sword a few inches out from its scabbard. “You can’t hide in there forever. Come out.”
He wasn’t particularly worried about sounding foolish if the interloper was just, say, a rabbit. If it was a rabbit, it wasn’t going to understand him anyway. A person, however, would hear him and have cause to doubt how well they were concealed.
The cheerful shouts of the men grew louder all of a sudden, and the moment was broken. There was a rustle in the woods, and then the feeling of being observed left him. He scooped up the wineskin and returned to the group.
He tucked away the issue of his tracker to deal with later. He said nothing of what he saw, or thought he saw. True, he could have explained, and then ordered the others to fan out and flush out the culprit. But to what end? If it was someone after Rafe, he’d have to explain the part of his life he’d rather bury. And perhaps it was only an animal after all.
But when the time came to retire, he ordered two men on each shortened watch. “And keep in sight of each other,” he told them. “Take no chances.”
“Is something wrong, Sir Rafe?” Simon asked.
