CHAPTER 3
Prisoner
Lara
The captain picked up thestill-unconscious Wolf and carried him back to the keep, which wasno easy feat: Wolf weighed ten stone at least.While holding Wolfhostage was one way to keep Lara from bolting, it was also akindness she didn’t expect.It threw her because it made it harderto be angry at him.She really wanted to be angry at him, at leastas angry as she was at herself for getting into this mess.She hadinjured, and possibly killed, a king’s soldier.And not just anysoldier, but the king’s cousin.The enormity of what she’d done andwhat could be done to her for her actions sank in.Soldiers ranahead of them to open the door to the main hall.Her feet wereheavy and sodden as they passed through, her chest felt as if itwere being crushed.
“Lara.”
She looked up and met the captain’ssteady gaze.
“Breathe.”He took a slowbreath in and blew it out, nodding as she did the same.“That’s it.Breathe.”
The captain handed Wolf over to abrown-haired, short-bearded giant of a man called Tree, whofollowed them as the captain took Lara by the arm and led her upthe stairs.At the top, she glanced down into the common room,where Sophie sat on a chair next to the injured man laid out on acot, his throat and leg bandaged, red spots of blood seepingthrough the one around his throat.She met Sophie’s worried gazebefore the captain pulled her along the hallway, open on one sideto the hall below, and through the last door on the other side intoa large bedchamber, where Tree laid Wolf down next to the coldhearth.
“You and Wolf stay here,”the captain told her.“Do not attempt to leave thischamber.”
He and Tree left, closing the doorbehind them, and the outside bolt slid across with a loud thud.Lara knelt by Wolf, who lay unconscious to the world around him butwas breathing steadily, then grabbed two large pelts off the bedand laid one down on the floor next to Wolf’s back.After takinghold of his legs, she rolled him over so that he was lying on thepelt and then covered him with the other, a little concerned whenhe still didn’t make a sound as she rolled him.She lifted his lipand checked his gums, which were pale, but not dangerously so.Thebest thing for Wolf right now was to let his body rest andhopefully recover.
Lara wandered about the chamber, whichwas as large as the entire ground floor of her and Sophie’s house.The four-poster bed had red drapes that were pulled back and wassituated against the outside wall next to an open window facing thecourtyard.She glanced out the window.While she might be able tomake the two-story drop, she had no way of getting Wolf out safelyor unseen.She turned from the window and opened the two chests atthe foot of the bed.One held men’s clothing, neatly folded andfreshly laundered, as well as an otter cloak and a fur throw.Theother held a pair of men’s boots and sandals, two bars of soap, abook of maps, a dried rose folded into a square of embroideredlinen, a set of carving knives, and a wood figurine of a woman withan oval face and long hair curling down her back.She ran herfingers down the flowing lines of the figurine, then shut thechests and went to a table where a square board sanded smooth andcovered in small, alternating squares of black and natural woodsat.Figurines were positioned on the squares, half of them carvedout of what looked to be some kind of bone as white as alabasterand the others out of black stone.
Each side had eight pieces with widebases that tapered up to round tops, along with two in the shapesof turrets, two horse’s heads, two tall, robed figures topped withcrosses, and two intricately robed figures with crowns: one with abeard on its featureless face and the other with long hair down toits waist.Nothing else gave her any clue as to whose chamber shewas in, though she had a good idea.She checked the door, eventhough she knew it was locked from the outside, and then lay downalongside Wolf, closing her eyes and taking some solace in thesteady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and the absenceof any wheezing or crackling, while trying hard not to think of allthe stories she’d heard of the punishments meted out to women forprotecting themselves against men, much less the king’scousin.
When she opened her eyes again, herfingers stuffed into the familiar thickness of Wolf’s fur, it tookher a moment to realize she was lying on the floor with a lightblanket over her and to remember where she was and why.And thatshe hadn’t had a blanket over her when she’d lain down beside Wolf,whose body was warm to her touch and whose chest rose and fell in asteady rhythm.
The chamber was dark but for the lowglow of a candle on the table where the board and figurines sat.Lara pushed herself up to a sitting position, every muscle from herneck to her toes pulling tight.She tried to gently rouse Wolf, buthe was still out to the world.She rearranged the pelt over him andwent to the open window.A half-moon shone brightly in the nightsky, illuminating the soldier sitting on a bedroll directly belowthe window, his back propped against the manor wall.
“Damn,” she whispered tothe night.“He doesn’t trust me one whit.”
Stretching her sore, tight back, Laraturned from the window and took in the chamber as her eyes adjustedto the dark.The hearth fire was still unlit and the bed empty, butthere was a pile of pelts at the foot of the door.
And lying sprawled out in the middleof the pile, the captain slept soundly.
“Not one whit,” shemuttered.
The captain’s eyes were closed, andhis breathing was slow and steady.The only clothes he wore was alinen breechcloth, and she stood staring at the impressive breadthof his chest, lightly furred with dark, curly hair, and how ittapered down to a flat belly ridged with muscles.He had one legpropped against the pelts, and his bandaged hand rested on hisknee.She skimmed over the manly bulge filling his breechcloth.Atelltale white of a scar ran up his inner thigh from his knee to ahand’s width below his groin.
Lara sucked in her breath and let itout slowly as she retraced the scar’s snaking path.Not more thanone man in twenty would be able to survive such a wound, even fewerwould come out of it walking without a limp, much less running andfighting.
Shifting her stance, she saw his shortsword on the pelts at his left hip, the hilt where he could grab itinstantly.His longsword was tucked behind his back, its hilt tohis right side, its blade poking out to his left.
“IesusChristus,” she swore softly in thecleric’s Latin.“Who does he think he’s guarding, the devilhimself?”
His eyes opened, shards of silverpointed directly at Lara, and she jumped back.
“Don’t even think aboutit,” he growled low, his hand on the hilt of his shortsword.
“Think aboutwhat?”
“Using my sword againstme.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What were you staring at,then?”
“Your leg.”She glareddown at his scar.“I was hoping it gave you great pain.”
He chuckled and held up his bandagedhand.“Not nearly so much as a certain troublesome wench has givenme.”
