When a few fat drops of rain spattered on the ground, Rafe cursed under his breath. Angelet winced when the rain hit her face, pulling her cloak more tightly around her.
“Rafe? What should we do?” she asked.
He looked at the horses, patting the neck of Philon. “We’re going to hurry,” he announced. “Match my pace. If we find a town before the horses tire, then good. If not, it won’t matter what shape the horses are in.”
Within moments, they were moving at a steady gallop. Angelet kept pace with Rafe. The horses began to kick up mud as the road grew wetter. They raced past trees and meadows and more trees, the rain always chasing them.
But the horses, however fast, could not outrun a storm, and soon the rain pelted down more fiercely.
After they’d covered perhaps two miles, Rafe called out for her to bring her horse to a halt. He did the same. The beasts slowed to a walk, panting heavily.
Angelet sighed. There was still no sign of civilization. And the rain still came down.
“What now?” she asked.
Rafe shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. I’m afraid to press the horses when—” He stopped talking, and tilted his head up. The rain fell onto his face and his closed eyes. But then he smiled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Can you smell that?”
She smelled only rain and wet earth.
“Smoke,” he said. “There’s some shelter along this road and it can’t be that far. Come on. I think we’ll be out of the rain soon.”
The time couldn’t come soon enough for Angelet. The rain never let up. By the time they reached the source of the smoke, which turned out to be a little town, Angelet was sopping wet and miserable. Rafe took one look at her and abruptly told her he’d take care of everything.
Indeed, within a quarter hour, she found herself in a small, warm, dry room with—praise Mary—a crackling fire. Rafe lost no time in stripping her of her wet clothes, then wrapping her up in a thick wool blanket from the bed. He sat her directly in front of the fire.
“Better?” he asked.
“Lord, yes. This is heaven.”
“The place looks a little humble for heaven,” Rafe said, bending over to kiss her. She was already warming up from the heat of the flames, and Rafe’s mouth was cool. His stubble scratched her.
“You need to shave,” she noted.
“Is that an order?”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Rafe stood up. “Listen, I’ve got to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back shortly. Stay there and warm up.”
He left the room, and only after the door closed did Angelet realize that he was still in his dripping wet clothes. He must be freezing.
She leaned closer to the fire, letting the warmth soak into her bones. How bizarre that she was here, in a town whose name she didn’t even know. She should be at Basingwerke by now, handing off a chest of gold and an embroidered cloth in order to beg the abbey’s physicians to heal her.
Angelet hadn’t thought of her affliction much over the past several days, even though it was the whole reason she started on the journey. True, she’d been rather distracted, and she had so much more to think of. At Dryton, she’d spend most of her days confined in a room, worrying about when the next vision would come and how much the aftermath would hurt. Now she thought about the road, and the weather, and who was trying to catch her, and who was trying to catch Rafe, and why Rafe wouldn’t tell her about his past, and why she wanted to know about his past in the first place.
But before she could fall too deeply into her thoughts, the door opened again. A maid entered, with a big clay pitcher of water. She was about twelve years old and wore her long dark hair in plaits. She put it carefully on the floor, then curtseyed awkwardly and gave a beaming smile to Angelet. “Welcome, m’lady. You can call for me if you need anything. I’m Martha.”
“I thank you, Martha,” Angelet said gravely, aware that she didn’t look a thing like a lady, huddling under a blanket while she sat on the floor.
But Martha acted as if she saw nothing odd about it. The maid gave a quick, very practiced look around the room, assessing the supply of firewood, the blankets, and the cleanliness of the room. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned on her heel and scooted out of the room.
A moment later, Rafe came in, carrying his sword and daggers, all in their sheaths.
“What did you have to do?” she asked.
