Marcus watched Sage intently as he inhaled and let it out slowly. “Nothing you want to know.”
Gareth’s face fell with seriousness. His lips pursed. “Do not get me involved in anything, Nogaret. I don’t want trouble.”
“That’s why I’m not telling you.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “One night. That is all. You and your ‘friend’can sleep in the loft for the night.”
Marcus nodded, grateful. “Thank you.” He glanced at Sage. “This way.” Marcus guided Sage up a set of stairs to a door. He opened it and allowed her to enter before he did.
The room was small, with one straw mattress against the wall across from the door. A lit candle and flint and steel lay near the door.
Sage stalked across the room and sat on the straw, leaving Marcus to stand before the door. He closed it softly.
She glared hotly at him until the boy knocked quietly on the door. When Marcus opened it, he handed him a meal of bread and ale. Marcus bobbed his head in thanks and shut the door. He offered some to Sage, but she lifted her chin and turned away, refusing to eat. She sat with her back against the wall, and her knees pulled up to her chest, watching him.
Marcus ate. He was no fool. He was going to need all his strength to watch her. He did not untie her. He couldn’t trust she wouldn’t try to escape again. Although, she didn’t have the book. Marcus dropped his hand to his pocket to be certain. With relief, he felt the rectangular shape. That gave him reason to hope she would not attempt another escape.
His gaze shifted to her belt and scabbard resting beside him. He knew he would return her sword to her soon. Foolish as he was, he wouldn’t keep it. She would be safer with her weapon in case robbers or Templar knights attacked them.
When he had finished eating, he extinguished the candle and stretched out on the hard floor in front of the door.
Thunder rumbled over their heads, and the onslaught of rain hitting the roof pounded through the room. Gareth had seemingly vanished. It was better that way, Marcus thought. Gareth didn’t need to interact with Sage. Who knew what she would tell him?
A Hawke.
Of all the women, why did it have to be a Hawke?
She was trouble.
Her family would be searching for her. Relentlessly. But nothing would stop him from delivering that book to his cousin and collecting the reward. Nothing.
He heard movement and glanced toward the mattress against the opposite wall. As a flash of lightning lit the room through a slat at the bottom of the door, he saw her sitting up like a specter in the night. “Are you well?”
“I would like to see the book,” she replied quietly.
“For what?”
“It is difficult to decipher if I can’t see it.”
Marcus hesitated, wondering what type of trick this was. But she was correct. She couldn’t decode it without seeing it. “You should sleep. We’ll be riding for a while on the morrow.”
“I should. But I can’t.”
After a moment of indecision, he reached into his pocket and pulled the book out. He handed it to her.
She took it eagerly, even though her hands were bound.
He felt guilty, leaving her bound. But she had brought it upon herself. He would have been happy enough to leave her unbound. Now, she had made that impossible.
“Can you light the candle?” Sage asked.
Suspicion narrowed his eyes. Was he this mistrustful of every one of her requests? With a sigh, he leaned forward and used the flint and steel beside the candle to light it.
“I need a piece of parchment and quill,” she replied.
At least that was an innocent request. He opened the door and called down to the boy, instructing him to bring parchment and quill.
Then he closed the door and sat back against it. Thunder rolled overhead. His eyes rested upon Sage. She had removed her hair from the braid, and now her brown locks hung in waves about her shoulders. She was a thin girl, but he knew from personal experience that she could fight.
