Chapter 12
Marcus purposely backtracked and rode through the stream, attempting to throw off their trail anyone following them. Who would want to kill them? This had to be about the book; there was no other explanation.
When he was convinced that they were safe and no one was trailing them, he stopped the horse near the stream. A small clearing surrounded by thick trees offered them a hidden spot to rest. The tall trees at the edge of the stream would shelter them. They would hear attackers sloshing across the stream. There would be no element of surprise.
Sage slid from the horse, and he dismounted. He tethered the steed to a tree.
“We should take turns on watch,” Sage suggested.
“I don’t think we were followed,” Marcus assured. Guilt weighed heavily on Marcus’s shoulders every time he happened a glance at Sage, which was often. Her short hair was a testament to how close she had come to losing her life. The blame built, brick upon brick inside of him, weighing him down. She shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t worth endangering her life. He still had to admit that without her help, the men would have most likely overpowered him, taken the book, and killed him. She had helped to defeat the four attackers.
He took a deep breath as he removed the saddlebags from the horse. It was that damned book. So many people were hunting for it. Sterling. The real Knights Templar. And now...the mysterious attackers who had been dressed as Knights Templar.
He looked at Sage. She stood by one of the trees, the leather-bound book in her hand. She was always trying to decode it; always had the book in front of her. And yet...she couldn’t read. She certainly could sound words out. But it would be difficult and time-consuming to put sentences together and even more difficult for her to decipher the book.
The more he thought about the fact that Sage could not read, the more convinced he was that she would take too long to decode the book. At the chateau, he had overheard her and Nicolas talking. But it was clear he had misheard. Sage was not a decoding expert.
If she couldn’t read, if she couldn’t decipher the book, then she was of no use to him. He tried to ignore the remorse swirling inside of him at the sight of her chopped locks. He didn’t want to drag her across the countryside if he didn’t have to. Not with so many after him and the book. Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Sage. She held the book before her, her lips moving in silent rhythm as she sounded words out.
He knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath in preparation and looked at Sage. Her pert little nose was buried in the book. One would think that after the confrontation, she would be scanning the forest for attackers. “Sage.”
She glanced up in a daze and then blinked, coming to her senses. She approached him, her curvy hips swaying with her steps. “Will you teach me?”
Stunned, Marcus stared at her for a moment. It was as if being attacked by killers was an everyday occurrence for her. Her uneven locks, shorter on one side than the other, only added more resolve to Marcus’s conviction. He looked down at the saddlebags in his hand. “You are free to go.”
Surprise washed over her features before a scowl settled on her brow. She glanced around at the forest and then pinned him with a confused, angry gaze. “But you haven’t taught me how to read.”
This was for the best, Marcus reminded himself. He would not take responsibility for her. He didn’t want her hurt because of him. He licked his lips and gazed at the book, holding his hand out for it.
She retreated, pulling it protectively against her chest. “You promised to teach me to read.”
Marcus lowered his hand and lifted his chin. “I made the promise under false circumstances.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Have you ever decoded a book?”
Her frown deepened. “What does that have to do with your promise?” she demanded.
“When I kidnapped you, when I made the promise to teach you to read, it was under the assumption you had decoded before.”
“Are you saying you don’t think I can do it?” she demanded.
Marcus tried to remain calm. Couldn’t she see he was doing this to keep her safe? “I’m saying you can’t read. That will make deciphering the book difficult.”
Her brows drew down harshly, angrily, over her eyes. “You don’t think I can do it,” she insisted.
“Sage,” he pleaded.
“You don’t think I can decode the book,” she accused with a clenched jaw.
“Not right now,” he admitted.
She went silent. Her composure wavered with hurt. He saw it in her eyes, in the small quiver of her chin. The sudden need to comfort her washed over him.
He fought the urge and tried to explain, “I think in the future you probably could—”
“Don’t,” Sage snapped. She straightened her shoulders. “I can do it now. You’re making a huge mistake.”
