LITMIR.BIZ

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the path went uphill. “I’ve never even heard his name.”

      The way was muddy and slick, the ground damp and covered with dead leaves, and she had to keep her eyes on the ground so she wouldn’t fall. Behind her, she could hear Keldra likewise struggling to stay on her feet.

      “Garreth, give the girl a hand,” Finn ordered as he looked back. He was finally starting to sound a bit winded, too.

      “Wimarc’s rich, he’s recently wed the daughter of a minor but wealthy earl, he hates the king and he’s an evil brute.”

      Merciful Mary! “Is that all?”

      Finn reached the top of the rise and, holding on to a slender branch, put out his hand to help her. “He’s dangerous and you don’t want to get anywhere near him.”

      “Have you any idea why he’d want to abduct me?” she asked as she clasped his offered hand and let him pull her forward, his grip sure and strong and warm.

      Keldra, huffing and puffing, reached the top of the hill, an obviously disgusted Garreth supporting her, and Finn let go of Lizette.

      “It could be because of your older sister’s husband,” the Irishman proposed as he started walking again.

      She gasped with surprise, then ran after him and grabbed his arm to make him stop. “Adelaide isn’t married!”

      He regarded her with obvious confusion as he folded his arms over his broad chest. “Yes, she is. She recently married Lord Armand de Boisbaston.”

      It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. “That’s a lie!”

      The Irishman’s well-cut lips turned down for a moment, then he shrugged and started walking again. “If it’s a lie, it was told to me as truth—and that marriage would give Wimarc a reason to want you in his power. The man loathes John and rumor has it there’s a conspiracy afoot against the king. Armand de Boisbaston’s the sort of loyal idiot who’ll protect John because of his oath of fealty and his faith in the Earl of Pembroke, no matter what he might think of the king himself. If Wimarc thinks Armand’s in his way, how better to get at him than through his family? If your sister’s his wife, that makes you family. Could be Wimarc plans to hold you hostage to force de Boisbaston to do what he wants.”

      “But my sister can’t be married to this Lord Armand de Boisbaston!” Lizette persisted as she hurried after him.

      Adelaide would surely sooner lose a limb than break her word. To be sure, she hadn’t actually seen Adelaide in months, not since Adelaide had gone to court after their father’s death, and she had gone to stay first with Sir Merton’s family and then to Lord Delapont’s estate. But surely her sister couldn’t have changed that much—and after all, their solemn promise had been Adelaide’s idea.

      Even if the impossible had happened and it was true … “She would have told me in her letter, or had Iain tell me when he came to fetch me home.”

      “Unless she was waiting to tell you in person,” he suggested, sliding her an enigmatic glance.

      No, she wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t. Adelaide had been too certain, too adamant, that marriage would only bring pain and heartache. This man must be lying, or misinformed.

      They came upon the massive trunk of a downed oak. “We’ll rest here awhile,” he said.

      Still stunned and suspicious, Lizette sat heavily, while Keldra sank down upon the trunk and sighed with relief.

      “If what you say is true, as ludicrous as it seems, and Adelaide is married,” she said, “and there’s a conspiracy against the king led by this Wimarc, my sisters could be in grave danger.”

      “They may be,” he agreed. “From all I’ve heard—and I’ve heard a lot this past fortnight—Wimarc is a very cunning, dangerous and ambitious man. He may stop at nothing to gain his ends, and if he thinks your family might be a hindrance—”

      Suddenly terrified for her sisters, Lizette jumped to her feet. “Then we have to send word to Adelaide at court and Gillian at Averette immediately!”

      “You can do that from the convent,” the Irishman replied with aggravating calm. “I’m going to go back a bit and make sure we aren’t being followed. Your men may all be dead, but Wimarc’s aren’t. Garreth, give them what we have left to eat, and have something yourself.”

      With that, he turned and headed back down the path.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      LIZETTE WATCHED the Irishman disappear through the trees. Could Adelaide really be married? Why would he lie if she wasn’t?

      As she tried to convince herself that he must be mistaken if he wasn’t lying, Garreth rummaged in the pouch. With the flare of a magician producing a bag of gold coins, he brought forth an apple that looked rather the worse for having been battered about in the pouch.

      “It’s not as fine as you’re used to, I’m sure, my lady,” he said, offering it to her with a sheepish grin, “but apples are all we’ve got.”

      “I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” she replied, giving it to Keldra.

      “You have it, my lady,” she demurred. “I’m not hungry.”

      “I’m ordering you to eat it,” Lizette said. “You need to regain your strength.”

      “That was the best one,” Garreth muttered as Keldra reluctantly took it. “I meant it for you.”

      “I’ll gladly take the second-best one.”

      Although still obviously displeased, the young man dived back into the pouch and this time, he produced a smaller apple. He polished it on his sleeve, which didn’t look overly clean, before handing it to her with a shrug.

      “Thank you, Garreth,” she said, hoping to assuage his wounded feelings with a warm smile. Ignoring her qualms about the dirty sleeve, she bit into it.

      It was indeed not as fine a fruit as she was used to; however, she was very hungry and they needed to keep up their strength. They had to get to that convent as quickly as possible.

      Looking slightly mollified, Garreth brought forth another apple, slightly smaller than hers. He removed his bow from his back, settled himself on the ground at Lizette’s feet and started to eat, gobbling it up as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

      Perhaps he hadn’t, or didn’t get many good meals, which was often the lot of peasants and poor folk, she knew. Iain and Gillian would believe she did not, or that she chose to ignore such unpleasant facts of life. Yet if she rarely mentioned such things, it wasn’t from ignorance or because she thought them unimportant. She didn’t speak of them because such things always made her feel helpless, and guilty.

      “Have you been … traveling with Sir Oliver … Finn … a long time?” she asked, trying not to think of Iain, or home.

      “Since last Christmastide,” Garreth replied.

      That took her aback. “I assumed you’d known him for years!”

      Still chewing his apple, Garreth said, “He saved my life. This candle maker thought I’d stolen from him and he came up behind me and hit me with one of his molds. Finn saw and grabbed the man’s arm before he could hit me again. I’d be deader than that tree you’re sitting on if it weren’t for him. The candle maker threatened to call the reeve, and Finn told him to go ahead, but he’d be sorry. It wasn’t exactly a threat, my lady, but the candle maker let go quick enough.”

      Tossing away her apple core, Lizette wiped her fingers on a part of her cloak that wasn’t spattered with mud or bits of leaves from pushing through bushes. “No wonder you admire him.”

      “Lots of people do—although he’s not as good with a bow as me.”

      Keldra sniffed scornfully.

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