Page 17 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Elizabeth squinted in the sudden light. The sun had risen well into the sky. She sucked in the fresh morning air and fought the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. She would not succumb to the beckoning darkness.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up to sitting, shoved hair from her eyes, and looked around.

The ruffians now stood in the waist-high grass. Several guarded her and Mildred, while others moved off to keep watch from a distance. They were all armed.

The wagon rested at the edge of a meadow. A glassy stream meandered through the field of wildflowers and grasses before it disappeared into a forest. There was no sign of a road.

Movement drew her gaze to two men striding toward the willows that grew near the stream. She recognized de Lanceau and Dominic. They headed toward horses tethered in the trees’ dappled shade. De Lanceau’s dark hair glinted silver-blue in the sunlight and hung in waves over his tunic’s shoulders, and she cursed herself for paying him the slightest heed.

The man was a rogue. Worse than a rogue.

He did not warrant her attention.

“Are ye goin’ to sit there gapin’, me foin lady, or do I come in and get ye?”

Viscon’s fingers clamped around her wrist. The guards standing a few yards away chuckled.

With a loud “oomph” Mildred rose to her feet, her tresses a wild tangle. “Let go of her. This boorishness is unacceptable.”

“Ye too, ye fat old hen,” Viscon sneered. “Out. De Lanceau wants ye ta stretch yer legs. While ye can.”

Proving he would get their cooperation one way or another, Viscon drew his dagger with a slow, deliberate rasp.

Recalling that blade waved in her face, and his earlier threats, Elizabeth got to her feet. He looked disappointed—he obviously had hoped for a fight—then shrugged and released her.

Mildred climbed out. Elizabeth gripped the splintered edge of the cart and stepped down to the ground. Her stomach did a sickening turn. Daisies swam beneath her feet. As she pitched forward, Viscon chortled.

Mildred rushed over. Her arms went around Elizabeth’s waist and propped her up. “Can you stand, milady?”

“I… I think so. Aye, the dizziness has cleared.”

The matron’s worried gaze shifted to Elizabeth’s brow. “Does the gash hurt?”

Elizabeth nodded. The headache had returned with a vengeance, and her arm throbbed as though goblins hammered at her flesh. A cool breeze whispered through the grass and swirled over her bare ankles, and she shivered.

Mildred, too, was shivering. When she began to fuss over Elizabeth’s bloody hair and cheek, Elizabeth caught her wrinkled hands. They felt like slabs of ice. “You are chilled. Here, take my mantle.” Elizabeth unpinned the gold brooch and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. She ignored the men’s mutters and stares.

“Milady! You cannot stand before these ruffians wearing only a shift.”

Disquiet flooded through Elizabeth, but she shook her head. “I do not want you to become ill. My clothing is not indecent, and I doubt de Lanceau’s men will harm me. If they wished to do so, they had the chance earlier.”

“But—”

Lowering her voice, Elizabeth said, “You must stay well, so we can escape.”

“Are you certain you do not need the cloak?”

Elizabeth resisted the urge to hug herself. “I am.”

With a grateful sigh, Mildred pulled the garment around her shoulders.

Fingering windblown hair from her cheek, Elizabeth glanced across the meadow, to where de Lanceau and Dominic stood beside the horses. They were taking items from the saddlebags.

A chill skittered through her. The mantle had given her an added layer of armor against de Lanceau’s heated gaze, but now …

She shook off her thoughts. She would not drain her strength by worrying. She must focus on escape.

Mildred fastened the brooch beneath her chin and rubbed her palms together. “Ah, for a hot draught of mint and nettle.” Her gaze slid to Viscon leaning against the wagon, then to the other watchful guards. “Why has de Lanceau run off? The least he could do is offer ointment for my lady’s wound.”