The frog squirmed in Clarissa’s hands.
Her mother looked down at the black bag and slowly back into his eyes. “I’m certain.”
The man snatched the bag away from her.
The frog wriggled out of Clarissa’s grasp, landing with a soft thump on the wooden floor. She dropped to her knees, chasing it as it leaped across the room into the path of a man who had just entered.
His stringy gray hair hung along his face, and his mouth twisted into a grim line as he stared down at the hopping frog. He lifted his boot and brought it down with a sickening crunch, crushing the poor creature.
Horrified, Clarissa froze with her hands outstretched.
His beady eyes shifted to her, and his lips curled into a sneer.
Clarissa’s eyes welled with stinging tears.
“Little girls shouldn’t play with frogs,” he advised in a gleeful voice.
Clarissa’s brow furrowed, and her lower lip trembled. She threw her head back, letting out a heartbreaking wail.
The black-armored man joined the stringy-haired man at the door. “Come, Father,” he said.
Marcus trailed the group, sweeping a weathered stick along the trail, wiping away any evidence of their presence.
Sage had dismounted and waited for him with her horse.
Marcus scanned the path, hoping their tracks were covered well. As he looked at Sage, he was struck by how stunning she was with her delicate features. The ends of her brown hair were beginning to curl. A rush of warmth spread through his body and he grinned.
“What?” Sage asked.
Unable to resist touching her, he took her fingers into his. “You’re beautiful.”
A flush spread across her cheeks, and she kept her eyes downcast. She stepped closer, pressing her forehead against his chest, and he felt a tug of desire. He slowly tilted her chin up, their eyes meeting, the passion between them undeniable. He leaned down to stroke his lips against her tempting ones.
For one brief moment, it was just them. No family. No men chasing them.
Sage ran her fingers next to his neck and up his jawline before lacing them through his hair and tugging his head closer.
His breath hitched as she moved in, barely giving him time to respond before their lips were entwined and lost in a passionate kiss. He felt as if he were swimming in a sea of sensations and emotions, her breath fanning his face and her warmth radiating against him. He let go of all his reservations, allowing himself to be swept away by the desire quickly engulfing him.
“Sage,” Raven called.
Marcus released Sage and looked up. Raven’s right hand was firmly planted on her hip, and a stern expression masked her face.
Raven turned her steed back.
Marcus and Sage strolled toward her, guiding their horses.
“When this is finished, I can’t wait to return to France and have our own place,” Sage grumbled.
Marcus asked the question with a flicker of hope in his voice, “You think we’re going back to France?” Rose was there, and he wanted desperately to see her, even if he couldn’t hold her in his arms.
Sage shrugged. “It’s home.”
King Philip’s pursuit of the Templar Knights was making life difficult for Marcus. Although he had no involvement with their activities, his cousin, Guillume de Nogaret, was close to the king. If Guillume ever learned he was alive, it would spell trouble for him. Marcus longed for a safe home where he and his family could live without fear. Returning to France would be dangerous for both him and Sage. “I want us to have a home where we can raise a family and not be afraid of someone coming to…imprison us.”
Sage stared at him with thoughtful eyes. “You think about starting a family?”
“I already have a daughter. I would like more children.”
