Without turning, Marion attempted an imitation of Agnes’s loud cackling laugh and limped into the woods, holding the worn garment closer about her. Praying that the sentry would take her for Agnes making her evening ablutions, Marion stepped into the shelter of the forest. Once there, she did not dally, however. This time, she intended to put as much ground between her and the Wolf as she could.
She hurried forward, not daring to run over the uneven undergrowth, but moving as fast as she could. Already night was gathering under the oaks, and Marion knew it would be her ally. Slipping in and out of clumps of trees she came upon a path of sorts and decided to follow it, simply because she did not want to travel in circles. She moved off the trail at times, but kept close to it until darkness forced her to stay upon the narrow track.
And darkness came soon, blanketing the world in a disconcerting blackness when the leaves above blocked out the moon and the stars. Marion lost some of her boldness. The rustling of small animals in the brush and the flap of wings overhead would make her freeze in her place, breathless. At first, it was pursuit from camp that she feared, but later, the strange sounds conveyed their own dangers.
Trying not to think of all that Dunstan had warned her about—wild beasts and desperate outlaws—Marion clutched her small dagger close and stepped carefully. Breathing evenly through her nostrils, she focused on her freedom and a life without threat of a dreaded past. Safety lay ahead of her, and she could not let the night noises cause her to veer from it.
Telling herself that no one could possibly be deep in the woods at this hour, Marion had herself convinced—until she heard a low rumble ahead that heralded the unmistakable movements of men.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dunstan stood staring into the trees and listened distractedly to Walter’s report. They had made good time today and had halted early enough to scare up some fresh game for the evening meal. The weather might hold another day, and they were that much closer to his mission’s end. Why did he not feel better?
Glancing around the fire, Dunstan rubbed the back of his neck, where the muscles had tightened uncomfortably. The men seemed to be in good spirits, and even old Benedict was teasing that strange crone who served Marion…. Marion… Dunstan had tried to ignore her since this morning, but as if possessed by its own will, his gaze traveled toward her tent, seeking her out.
His eyes narrowed when he did not immediately see her. When he could not find his squire, either, his jaw clenched, and when he caught sight of Cedric picking at the last bits of meat on the bones of the night’s supper, Dunstan felt a chill right to his own marrow.
“Cedric!” Startled by the force of his master’s voice, the youth dropped a morsel onto the ground and jerked to attention. Dunstan closed the distance between them in two strides. “Why are you not with Lady Warenne?”
“She is bedded down for the night,” the boy answered, flushing beneath Dunstan’s glare.
“And who gave you leave to desert your post?”
“Uh, no one, my lord. I just thought that since she was sleeping…”
Dunstan tried to control his impatience even as raw fury, mixed with some foreign emotion, threatened to lay claim to him. “Is Benedict watching her?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“No, my lord.” Cedric was staring at him, wide-eyed, apparently too witless to comprehend the enormity of his misdeed. Not trusting himself to speak, Dunstan turned and made for the lady’s tent, Cedric at his heels.
“But, my lord, she was tired,” the boy protested.
Dunstan marched on, hoping that his instinct was wrong and that the wren would not be so foolish. By the Lord’s grace, let her not be so foolish…. Without preamble, Dunstan jerked aside the flap to the accompaniment of Cedric’s gasp. Inside the dark cocoon, a form lay upon the ground, seeming undisturbed by his entry, and Dunstan felt his blood go cold.
Although Cedric breathed a soft sigh of relief at the sight of the heaped blankets, Dunstan was no empty-headed youth. A grim knowledge moved him to action, and with a swift flick of his boot, he tossed away the blanket to reveal to his astonished squire the mound of clothing and pillows that lay underneath.
“She is gone!” Cedric squeaked. “But I never thought—”
“Yes, she is gone! Heed you this, boy,” Dunstan growled. “When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed without question. You were not given leave to think!”
“My lord, forgive me!” Cedric fell upon his knees.
“Get up!” Dunstan hissed. “And forgive yourself should we find her dead.”
With a startled look, Cedric glanced at the woods, and Dunstan followed, staring into the fields and forest that lined the roadway. The sun was setting behind a hill, casting the ghostly glow of twilight all around them and heralding the coming night. It would be upon them soon, with only the moon and the stars to guide any search.
Dunstan’s heart sank down to his toes as he realized the enormity of the situation. She could be anywhere—up a tree, hiding in a cave or fallen into a ravine—and he had not the resources to find her. It was too late. To divide up his men and send them off into the darkness would be just as foolhardy as her own recklessness. He could not do it.
Walter’s voice broke through whatever force was gripping Dunstan, holding him stock-still. “She has fled again?” the vassal asked without surprise.
“Yes.”
“We had better hurry,” Walter said. Surprised, Dunstan shot a swift questioning glance at his vassal. Walter’s eyes were hooded in the twilight, and, when Dunstan said nothing, they turned to him, strangely bright. “We shall spread out and find her.”
“No,” Dunstan said wearily. “It is too dangerous. I cannot risk separating the men and sending them off into the woods in the night to look for a needle in a haystack.”
Walter opened his mouth as if to argue and then closed it again. “The road is quiet, and naught is abroad but one lone female,” he reasoned. “If we began now—”
Dunstan shook his head, cutting off his vassal’s words. “You have fought beside me long enough to know the folly of such a course. Yes, in all probability there is no threat among these hills, but I did not stay alive this long by taking such chances.”
