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“Felix?” she murmured, meeting his eyes.
He nodded. “Aye?”
“Are there really brigands in these woods?”
He felt the bump of the sword that John had sheathed in the leather scabbard, attached to the saddle. “Nay, Lass, they’ve been dealt with. John and I were only teasin’.”
Judging by her wide eyes and trembling hands, he knew she did not believe a word. Perhaps, she was not as foolish when it came to danger as he had thought. He just wished he could hold her, wrap himself tight around her, so she knew she was safe in his arms, but only the night could tell if she would ever look at him with softness in her eyes again.
CHAPTER18
“I’mnae one to complain about adventure, but whereareye takin’ me exactly?” Edwina had managed to calm herself somewhat by concentrating on the steady roll of Buttercup’s shoulders and the reliable bob of the mare’s head. She trusted the horse, and if trouble were to burst out of the shadows, she hoped the beast would not fail her in carrying her to safety.
Felix fixed his gaze forward. “We’re nearly there.”
“Do ye see somethin’ I daenae?” All Edwina could see was endless darkness, eased only by the slice of light that spilled from Felix’s lantern.
“Nay, but I ken these lands the way a bird kens how to fly south when the weather turns,” he replied. “It’s nae far now.”
Edwina wanted to trust in him as much as she trusted in Buttercup, but she had always had a way of letting her imagination get the better of her.
What if, what if, what if…she willed her mind to cease the questions, for her skull was beginning to hurt. Spiced wine might not have been such a good idea, nor would she have imbibed so many cups if she had known they would be going on a nighttime ride through terrifying forests.
As if summoned, shadows slithered out of the dark and spread out in a blockade across the road. The figures stood just beyond the edge of the lantern’s reach, making them seem like creatures from Hell itself: too large, too wide, too horrifying to be human.
“Yer horses and yer coin!” a gruff voice demanded.
“I wouldnae mind the lass, either,” added another, with a cold laugh.
“She looks a fine thing. Bet there’s a faither somewhere who’d offer a high price for her return,” growled a third.
On Edwina’s right, Felix brought his horse flush alongside hers. His face was a picture of calm, though muscles twitched beneath the surface.
“Stand aside,” he ordered, as his hand reached for Buttercup’s reins.
The brigands, or whatever they were, snickered in the gloom.
“There are more of us than there are of ye,” the first voice replied. “I suggest ye do as ye’re told if ye want a chance of keepin’ yer life.”
Edwina straightened up. “Do ye nae ken who ye’re speakin’ with?”
“Nay, but pray tell us,” one of the brigands retorted, in a voice of disdain.
Edwina narrowed her eyes, realizing that only some of the shadows were moving. And in the silence, she thought she could only hear a few harsh breaths, though her pounding heart made it hard to tell how many. Still, something felt strange about the scene ahead of her. Either there were many brigands who were exceptionally good at not moving, or there were only three and some kind of trickery was afoot to make it seem like there were more.
“This man is—” Edwina started to say, but Felix interrupted.
“Her husband. A man of nay merit to anyone but her, though I’ve seen my fair share of war. If it’s a fight ye want, ye willnae walk away disappointed. With any luck, ye willnae walk away at all.”
Edwina blinked at the tone of his voice. It was hard and menacing, making her blood run cold. Was this another side to the man she was going to marry tomorrow?
My husband.Those two words warmed her blood again. Between her anger, the unexpected dinner, the frightening ride, and now this, she had not truly allowed it to sink in that she would soon be someone’s wife. Felix’s wife. It was not as if she could run away or return to Beckingdale Manor, and being in the friendship of Felix’s sisters was something she did not wish to give up.
“There are only three or four,” Edwina whispered to Felix. “The rest is a trick, I am certain of it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Aye, I think ye might be right.”
“What are the pair of ye whisperin’ about?” one of the brigands barked. “Hand us yer coin and yer horses and we might spare yer lives.”
