“That’s Father talking.” Sage lifted her chin. “I want to know what it says. And I’m going to le Bezu whether you come or not.”
Willow gaped in disbelief. Sage had never stood up to Raven like this.
Raven’s lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell Father.”
“I don’t care. I’m going.” Sage brushed past Raven. “You do what you have to.”
Willow stood for a long moment, stunned. Her gaze moved from Sage to Raven and back in indecision. This was all her fault! She couldn’t let Sage go alone. She opened her mouth to explain to Raven, but nothing came out. She trailed after Sage.
Raven cursed quietly and followed them into the stables. “This is not a good idea.”
Willow secretly smiled as Raven joined them. She was pleased Raven was coming with them. She didn’t want to split up.
The three women walked to their horses’ stalls.
Willow met Sage’s gaze over the back of her horse, grinning widely. “When has anything worthwhile been a good idea?”
Christian dismounted, ready to make camp for the night. Hidden deep in the forest, he felt safe and sheltered in the thick group of trees. No one would find him here. Not that damned bounty hunter Willow let go. Not the king’s men. Not his father. No one.
He sat beneath a tall tree, leaning back. His injury was remarkably well-tended. He was awed at how little it hurt. Willow had done an admirable job.
Willow.
Lord, she was gorgeous. He rested his head against the tree and closed his eyes, allowing himself to think of her. She was not as he remembered. No longer the child, although he could see the girl he remembered in Willow’s eyes. But nothing else was the same. She had become a remarkable, headstrong woman. Confident, vibrant. Stunning.
Distracting, he reminded himself. She and Sage were in trouble because she had allowed that man to live. She was involved now. The man would be able to identify her, and they would come after her to find him, to find the book. He should go back, and he knew it.
But then there was their father. He shook his head. John didn’t want to see him.
Besides, Christian had another mission to complete. He had to deliver the book to Brother Nicolas. His hand dropped to his belt. Yes, he had other things to worry about.
Other than a pair of bright blue eyes and soft lips.
His hand moved across his belt.
Nothing. He sat up straight. His pouch. It wasn’t there. He looked down at his belt, searching. Then he shot to his feet, shuffling through the dirt and leaves, scanning. Had he dropped it? He froze as dread and anger shot up his spine.
Willow!
