France, 1307
The six horses made steady rhythmic thudsas they stepped confidently on the dirt road. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
Willow Hawke loved riding her steed, Mercy. She had missed her so. She ran a hand along her brown mane. Oh, how she wanted to gallop at full speed through fields with the wind in her hair. The sensation of Mercy’s muscles working beneath her was like flying. It felt like freedom. But Willow was positive her sisters would frown upon that.
Willow’s sister, Sage, and Sage’s friend, Marcus de Nogaret, led the way through the tree-lined road. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees as they passed. Willow’s other sister, Raven, and Raven’s companion, Landyn Winchester, followed behind Sage and Marcus.
Perhaps she could halt Mercy and wait until they were farther away. Then she could ride at full speed toward them and…
She glanced at Christian, who rode beside her and stared at her suspiciously. She smiled as sweetly as she could. Christian would never allow her to do it. Something was going on, and he, Landyn, and Raven were on edge. She wasn’t privy to the information, whatever it was. They weren’t sharing it with her. She just knew they had to be careful, silent, and hidden. She didn’t much care. She was happy to be back with her family.
And Christian.
She moved Mercy closer to him until their legs bumped, grateful to feel him. She knew better than to speak. Raven and Sage would both have given her a tongue-lashing if she did. Be stealthy. Listen. That was what she should be doing. That was what she had been taught to do. But Christian’s blue eyes were far more interesting than what she should be doing. She focused on them, letting them draw her in with the blue ring of his irises and long lashes. Another longing burned within her. She wanted to be alone with Christian, feel his kisses, and stroke his hard body.
Suddenly, from the front of their line, Sage raised her fist, bringing the others to a halt.
Willow’s desire was immediately gone. Her senses automatically heightened. What had Sage seen? Beside her, Christian’s body seemed to vibrate with tension as he focused on something down the road. She looked at her sister.
Sage’s back was straight as she gazed down the road before them. Then, she signaled to the side of the road.
As one, the group rode to the edge of the trees and dismounted.
Quickly, Sage gathered the reins. “Hide,” was all she said before she disappeared into the forest with the steeds.
Christian took Willow’s hand and led her into the forest, zigzagging through the trees until he found a large bush that they both knelt behind.
Landyn and Raven were across from them, lying flat on the ground behind a clump of smaller bushes. Marcus trailed Sage deeper into the forest, taking some of the reins from her. They guided the horses to cover deeper in the woods.
Willow stared at the road. She had a view of the road through the leaves and branches of the bush and the trees in front of them. It was empty. Around her, insects hummed. A heavy, wet, oaky scent came from the tree branches.
She waited, breathing shallowly and steadily, for whatever Sage had heard or seen. Willow trusted her sister’s instincts. They had all been trained to scout, hunt and survive.
She must have been shifting too much because Christian put a calming hand on her wrist.
She looked at him. His gaze, those beautiful blue eyes, was on her. Heat flamed through her body. So much for calming.
Christian turned back to the road.
Willow studied his profile. Lord, he was magnificent. His hair was growing long, curling at his shoulders. His nose was straight, and his chin was strong. But it was his lips that captured her attention. They were so…inviting and tempting. She wanted to taste him right there. She wanted to lean against him and brush her lips across his until…
The soft thunk, thunk, thunk of hooves drew her gaze to the dirt road.
The first soldier, bearing a blue-and-red flag withfleur de lisengraved on it, marched down the road, leading the others—King Philip’s men.
Willow scowled.
Christian’s hand tightened over her wrist.
He had seen them, too. Soldiers walking on either side of the lane, filling it. Between them, Willow saw their prisoners. Some were barefoot. Some wore only tunics while others had the full uniform of the Templar Knights. Her eyes widened in surprise. What was happening? Why were some of the Templar Knights’ wrists bound? She glanced at Christian.
He squinted into the distance, his jaw tightly clenched.
The clip-clop of the soldier’s horses struck the road in a steady beat while the shuffling of the Templar Knight’s booted feet broke up the cadence.
Willow knew not to speak, but so many questions raced through her mind. She squeezed Christian’s arm, drawing his gaze.
The scowl on his brow eased as he stared at her. He lifted a finger to his lips, instructing her to stay silent.
