His lips thinned. “You are safe. You need not worry.” He turned to continue toward the wagons.
She stepped into his path. “I’m not a child. I can help if I know what to look for.”
He stared at her for a long, contemplative moment. His eyes softened, and he grinned. “I know you are capable.” His grin vanished. “But you disobey me. I gave you orders to go to Sybil’s farm.”
Guilt and disappointment filled her soul. He was right, but she could not have let Sage go to Chateau le Bezu alone.
He moved around her.
Raven watched him go. She couldn’t escape the regret she felt. She was the one in charge and she was supposed to look out for her sisters, even though Sage had not listened to her. Raven bowed her head. And now, her sisters were missing. She would find them. But currently, she had to listen to her father’s instructions. She had to prove to him that she was capable, that she was a dutiful daughter.
She strolled back to her horse. She had to earn his respect.
Landyn was tense and jumpy. He had to calm down. He rolled his shoulders atop his horse as he glanced at the trees on the side of the road. Scouts had been sent into the forest to make sure there were no men lurking there. Even if there were not any men in this forest, he knew an attack was coming. Eventually, they would be ambushed for the treasure those crates supposedly contained. King Philip wanted it too badly.
Only a select few of the Templar Knights knew what the plan was, what was actually in those crates. But this mission was important, and the knights had willingly come. As had John.
Landyn had known John for a long time, and he admired him. It was John who had first come up with this clever plan. They were heading to Peniscola Port in an attempt to draw the king’s men away from the real treasure. But neither he nor John believed they would make it that far before they were ambushed. They both thought the Templar Knights would be able to fight off a force of the king’s men. He scanned the line of Templar Knights. Even if they expected to be victorious, some of these men could die.
That was why John didn’t want Raven with them.
He glanced at Raven. She was beside her father; both were checking their horses’ hooves. She was a mirror of him in many ways, but also tinier, curvier. Her leather armor could not hide her rounded breasts and shapely hips. When Raven and John finished, they both led their horses to the trees. John wrapped the reins about a tree branch while Raven draped hers over.
Landyn’s gaze rested on Raven again. She took the offered flask from her father and drank. Her black hair hung in a braid down her back to her bottom. He mentally scoffed. Such a long braid would impede fighting; he would have cut it long ago. She was but a slip of a woman and he had been surprised that John had sired such a thin girl. He had always pictured John’s daughters being stout and more…muscular.
Raven looked directly at Landyn then. Her blue eyes sparkled in the setting sun. He hadn’t noticed that her eye color was blue. Not that it mattered. Only that his wife, Viola, had blue eyes. But she was nothing like John’s daughter.
He glanced over his shoulder at the knights and the wagons. A third of the men strolled the perimeter on guard duty while the others settled in for the night, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wagons. They would switch off at allotted times.
John strode down the road past him. He stopped near a wagon and bent to inspect the wheels. Landyn snuck another glance at Raven.
She checked the buckle on the horse’s bridle and ran a hand beneath it between the leather and the horse.
She and John were so similar, Landyn thought with amusement. He dismounted and grasped the reins, leading the steed to John and Raven’s horses. He tossed the reins over a tree branch and ran a hand over the black steed’s neck. “I’m sorry we didn’t find your sisters.”
Raven nodded.
“This must be difficult for you.”
She shrugged. “Father and I will meet up with them. They must be at Sybil’s farm.” She put a hand on her hip and jerked her chin at the wagons. “The contents of those crates must be important.”
Landyn grunted softly and turned away from her to his horse. He bent to inspect the saddle straps.
“Treasure,” she whispered.
He hesitated in his inspection for a moment before straightening and moving to the steed’s leather bridle. “What do you mean?”
“The only thing worthy of so much protection is gold. Priceless relics. Treasure.”
He shifted to her, keeping his face emotionless.
She shrugged again. “If it were me, I would have disguised it better.”
He examined her. She was confident and overly perceptive. But he should have known this. She was trained by John.
She grinned and stepped past him.
He watched her walk to John. The slight sway of her hips, the curves of her feminine form beneath her leather armor apparent to all who would look. She was nothing like Viola.
