By Queen's Grace Page 9

  Corwin chuckled. “If that mare were a cat, she would purr.”

  Judith smiled at the observation. “She enjoys the pampering. Has she a name?”

  “Likely, but Sedrick did not mention one, and I was in so much of a hurry to get her back to you I did not think to ask.”

  “She is truly a beautiful mare. Mayhap that is what I will call her-Beauty.”

  When Corwin didn’t comment, she looked toward him. He’d unsaddled the other two horses and stood near his destrier, staring at her.

  “Aye,” he said. “A true beauty.”

  His stare intensified, reflecting a raw animal hunger that sent a warm flush through her body, head to toe. Corwin wasn’t talking about the horse, she knew. Mercy, she was so disheveled she must look like the lowest of wantons. And she felt wanton, purely female, about to be pounced upon by the strongest, most virile of males.

  Judith fought the desire that coiled low and deep. She shouldn’t want Corwin’s attention, or long for the press of another kiss, or wonder if he would caress her again if they were private.

  Of course he would. He would do more than kiss her if she let him, and she very much feared she would let him do whatever he pleased. He’d been the first to arouse her female curiosity about coupling with a man. Her curiosity hadn’t abated, and again she longed for Corwin to show her the ways of the world, what could happen between male and female.

  At the moment, she wanted to be someone other than who she was, Judith Canmore, royal heiress. She longed to be a woman free to play the wanton, use whatever female wiles she might possess to lure the mate she desired to her bed. A mate strong, virile and intelligent-a man possessed of broad shoulders and a commanding voice.

  She’d responded to Corwin’s command, believing he knew what he was about, that she could trust him to do what was best. She’d listened with her heart, not her head. Was that wise? She didn’t know, but she had to allow that at some time she’d begun to trust him, and had sealed her fate to his the moment she’d obeyed him.

  Thurkill and Oswuld were beginning to trust Corwin, too. Not Duncan. Duncan trusted no one, not even Thurkill.

  “You stare too hard, Corwin,” she finally said, having become aware once more of the captors who watched. “Someone will notice.”

  “They can hardly be angry at me for what they do themselves.”

  “They do not stare at me as you do.”

  “Not for the same reason, but have you not noticed Thurkill’s long looks? I think he begins to wonder if he has done the right thing by kidnapping you. Duncan stares, trying to guess when you might take it into your head to run again, I think. But Oswuld-the poor lad, I think he is half in love with you. Have you not noticed how he dotes on you?”

  “He is just being kind.”

  “He is moonstruck, caught in the spell of a lovely, charming woman.”

  ‘Twas probably the height of foolishness to ask, but she had to know. “And you, Corwin, are you susceptible to spells?”

  He tilted his head, his smile pensive. “Thinking of using one on me to help you escape? I cannot do that, Judith. You know why.”

  Corwin had every right to be suspicious of her motives for asking.

  “Nay,” she said softly. “I have decided to trust you, Corwin. I will not try to run away again. We will learn what we can, then take the news to whoever you think best. You lead, I will follow.”

  He raised a hand to reach out to her, then closed it into a fist and let it fall. “What changed your mind?”

  Judith took the few steps separating them and gave Corwin the blanket. “I am not sure,” she admitted. “All I know is that I did not try to escape this morning when I had a chance at success, and that I worried over you until you found us again. At some time I must have realized your plan is a good one, that only we can stop this rebellion. I stay with you, Corwin.”

  Nor could she bear the thought of being parted from him. On the verge of confessing her feelings, she walked off to check on Thurkill.

  Oswuld hovered over his father, a worried look on his face. She, too, felt a pang of worry. Thurkill didn’t look good at all, no better than he had since he’d slid off his horse and sat down on the ground. With his back against a log, he hadn’t moved from the spot.

  His smile for her was weak. “So, my lady, you have your horse back. I saw you rub her down,” he said, his voice stronger than she’d imagined it would be.

  “I will admit riding the mare is highly preferable to bouncing around behind you.”

  “I imagine it is,”, then told Oswuld, “Fetch Corwin. I wish to hear his tale of the meeting with the sheriff.”

  Oswuld looked from his father to her. Judith understood his concern.

  “Go,” she said; “I will sit with him.”

  Reassured, Oswuld turned and headed toward Corwin.

  “I need no nursemaid,” Thurkill grumbled. “Oswuld worries overmuch.”

  “Does he? I wonder,” she said, making the log her perch.

  “I need but rest and food.”

  “So you have said.” She picked up the metal cup Thurkill had set aside. She sniffed at the dregs, noting the odors. “What herbs other than hawthorn are in this potion Oswuld gave you?”

  “I know not. Oswuld mixes it, I drink it. Have you recovered from this afternoon’s ride?”

  Judith noted his attempt to change the subject and ignored it. “But for the discomfort of wet boots, I am fine. You, however, possess the pallor of old flour and the strength of a newborn kitten.”

  “I will be fine by morn.”

  Judith had her doubts.

  Corwin gave her only a passing glance before he settled in to tell Thurkill of the meeting with the sheriff. Duncan returned with two large fish and listened as he scraped the scales away with his dagger. After Corwin finished, Oswuld gave his own impressions of the meeting.

  “The sheriff knew Corwin right off, but as he said, the nuns did a bad job of describing us. They even got our names wrong. The sheriff looked right at me and dismissed me.”

  “Humph, why would the sheriff pay any heed to you?” Duncan interjected. “If he catches us, he will be pleased. But we are not his quarry. The princess is. I imagine the royals will reward quite handsomely anyone who takes her back to Romsey.”

  Thurkill rubbed his eyes. “Aye, but if the sheriff finds Judith, he also finds us, and I prefer that does not come to pass.”

  “We should stay off the road,” Corwin said. “The men the sheriff left to search Oxford may have orders to ride on to Coventry when finished. Can we get to.wherever we are going if we change our course?”

  Thurkill looked from Duncan to Oswuld before he answered, “Aye. ‘Twill take us longer, but it can be done.”

  “Not too much longer, I hope,” Duncan said. “We must arrive within-soon.”

  Thurkill nodded, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Judith watched Thurkill’s chest rise and fall. “Oswuld, show me what herbs you give your father.” With just a look, he questioned her request. “I know something of medicinal herbs. Mayhap I can suggest another that would further ease his pain.”

  “Have a care, Oswuld. She may think to poison me for my sins against her,” Thurkill said, only half teasing, Judith thought.

  So Corwin was right. Thurkill was questioning her kidnapping, wondering if he’d made a mistake.

  “Oh, I would not worry, Thurkill,” she assured him. “I have no need to hasten your death. You do a good job of that all on your own.”

  As Judith left, Corwin decided she had the right of it. The stress and exertion after kidnapping Judith were taking a heavy toll on Thurkill. Mayhap, with stronger herbs and more rest, the man’s condition would improve. Or at least keep him alive long enough to complete the journey.

  “She is right, you know,” he told Thurkill. “You need to get more rest. I will take your stint at guard duty tonight.”

  “I forbid it!” Duncan shouted, getting to his feet.
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  “Forbid?” Thurkill asked. “So long as I breathe, I am still in command, Duncan.”

  Duncan backed down only slightly. “Strongly protest, then. He is not yet one of us.”

  “Not yet, but he will be.”

  “That, Thurkill, is not your decision to make, as you admitted when you let him ride with us. ‘Tis. our leader who will decide. Yet you give Corwin liberties as if there were no question of his acceptance. Well, I question.”

  Corwin got to his feet. “Duncan, I am at a loss where you are concerned. You are right about the reward for Judith’s return. ‘Tis likely hefty, yet I have not taken her back to collect it. I went into a Norman holding this morn and obtained a horse for her, without arousing a single suspicion. A few hours ago, I dealt with the sheriff. There have been several opportunities for me to turn you in, and I have not done so.”

  “You say you aroused no suspicion. You say you dealt with the sheriff. Did you really, or will we wake up some morn to find the sheriff’s men or Norman knights surrounding us?” He shook his head. “I trust you not, Corwin of Lenvil. You are not one of us. Your name may be Saxon, but you are far too Norman in manner for my taste. Not even the beard you grow will convince me otherwise.” Duncan glanced at Thurkill before continuing. “Take the guard duty if you must, but beware. I, too, know how to sleep with one eye open and my hand upon my sword.”

  Guard duty proved boring when there was little to guard against. They were far from the road, well away from any town or village. Not even animals scurried about to break the dullness.

  So Corwin watched Judith sleep.

  ‘Twas a heady sensation, having her confidence. Something in her voice, and in the way she looked at him when she’d handed her care over to him, said she meant it.

  You lead, I will follow.

  Might she have also been sincere when she’d apologized for snubbing him all those years ago? Might the words-have been truly meant but just delivered badly? Or was he fooling himself, wanting to believe?

  She’d been subdued all evening. After finishing the evening meal, she and Oswuld had gone off hunting for some herb she claimed might help Thurkill. Corwin had given a brief thought to going along, not so much to help hunt, but just to be near her. To listen to the sound of her voice, to see her smile, to simply enjoy her company.

  From somewhere, he’d found the willpower to remain in camp. ‘Twould not be wise to become overattentive, which might raise suspicions among the rebels. They considered her the future wife of their lord and would become displeased if be paid undue attention to the woman they would make their queen.

  Too, he couldn’t trust himself not to find some excuse to send Oswuld off on his own so he could be alone with Judith. He wanted her, and if he judged her reactions to him aright, she wanted him, too. ‘Twould be so easy, so pleasurable to wrap his arms around her, kiss her lush mouth until she moaned, strip her naked and caress every inch of her until both of them were senseless. When she cried out his name, he’d bury himself deep within her softness and stroke her solidly to the heights of ecstasy.

  He could do it now. Remove his chain mail, lay down next to her, have her. Only the two of them would know.

  Duncan’s threat to remain awake had succumbed to the rigors of the day. Corwin gave him credit for trying, but the man’s eyes had closed and stayed that way nearly an hour ago. The two of them were going to come to blows one day. Corwin knew it in his bones. Each time Thurkill allowed Corwin a new responsibility, Duncan’s resistance increased. Someday, Duncan’s anger would get the best of him and he would draw his sword.

  As much as he was glad Duncan slept, Corwin almost wished Duncan didn’t now snore. Resisting temptation was always easier if one feared one would get caught.

  His current temptation moved her arm, a slight movement to gain comfort. Judith didn’t wake, or reach out for him, or beckon him to her side. But he felt her pull.

  You lead, I will follow.

  And she would, right up to the gates of the rebels’ stronghold, then down whatever road he chose to spread the news of the rebellion. He had no right to ask more from her, even if she was willing.

  The risks were too great, both to their safety and his sanity. Duty demanded he complete his task, and he would. Fate had thrown them together; duty would pull them apart. So much the harder the parting if they became lovers.

  And wouldn’t King Henry just love that, if Corwin returned the royal heiress soiled. He didn’t want to imagine the price they both might pay for his indiscretion.

  So he would resist temptation. Best to concentrate on duty and get the thing done. Then he could get back to his own life. And Judith to hers.

  She could feel him, just in front of her, only a few steps away. If she called out to Corwin, would he come? If she asked him to, would he stay?

  He’d taken Thurkill’s guard duty tonight, to let the old man rest. Even the smallest child knew better than to interfere with a man on watch. But out here, so far away from any danger she could imagine, what might he possibly be guarding against?

  She understood why the others stood guard, more to keep watch over her than for trouble from without. Corwin knew she wasn’t going anywhere but with him. Where better to watch over her than beside her? So she wouldn’t truly be interfering with his duty if she distracted him.

  Distract. Now, there was a genteel word for wanting his complete attention.

  She heard him move, and opened her eyes. To her delight, he’d scrunched down in front of her.

  “I did not mean to wake you, only to cover you,” he whispered, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  “My thanks,” she said, preferring he toss the blanket aside, or crawl underneath it with her.

  He nodded and put his hands on his knees as if to get up.

  She grasped the first subject that came to mind. “Thurkill sleeps?”

  “Aye. Let us hope the added rest does him some good.”

  “It should, though I fear no amount of rest will matter in the end.”

  “So long as he stays alive awhile longer. I would truly hate to make the rest of this trip under Duncan’s command.”

  She hadn’t reflected on what would happen if Thurkill died before they reached the rebels’ stronghold. She’d been too mindful of easing his pain. “Thurkill is very ill but has some strength to him yet. He may surprise us all and recover.”

  “Ah, Judith, I do believe that is wishful thinking I hear. Have a care, my dear, that your sympathy does not run too deep.”

  She shouldn’t care what happened to Thurkill, but she hated to see anyone suffer, and truth to tell, she’d come to like the old man.

  “Is it so wrong to want him to live?”

  Corwin chuckled. “This from the same woman who threatened gruesome deaths for all of us not long ago?”

  Judith’s face grew warm as she remembered. “I was angry and hurt and fearful.”

  “I know,” he said. His fingers brushed her forehead, soothing against her brow. “All I am saying is to hold on to some of your anger. You have a tender heart, Judith. Guard it well, or you will be hurt in the end. Sleep well.”

  Sleep was long in coming, and when it did, it wasn’t easy. In her dreams Corwin kissed her again, not soft and briefly, but long and hard. He hugged her close, in no hurry to release her from his embrace. She reveled in his amorous attention and felt bereft when she woke to find herself alone.

  The full night’s rest had done Thurkill good. His color had improved, and his spirits were high. To her way of thinking, the man shouldn’t be on a horse, wasn’t well enough to take on a rough day’s ride. Today would be rough, for Thurkill had decided to follow the river.

  “If I remember aright,” he told them all, “it will take a sharp turn west just south of Banbury. From there we will push through the forest toward Coventry. Mayhap by then the sheriff will have left and we can take to the road again.”

  “You had best let me have my own reins, then,” she told hi
m. “If we are riding through brush, there will not always be enough room for me to ride beside you.”

  “I do not trust you on your own.”

  “You have nothing to worry over until we come to a road. I have no wish to be lost in this forest.” He didn’t look convinced. “Besides, there are three men behind me who can give chase if need be, though I assure you there will be no need, at least as far as Coventry.Then you might worry that I may try to go find the sheriff.”

  She wouldn’t, of course, having promised Corwin that she would follow his lead, not leave the rebels until he did. She couldn’t very well give Thurkill any hint of her altered attitude, however. He would question her change of heart.

  Thurkill glanced at the men behind her, ready and waiting to leave. “All right,” he said, relenting, then waggled a finger at her and scolded, “but make one move to escape and I will tie your hands together and lay you over the saddle like a sack of grain. Understood?”

  “Aye,” she said, suspecting his threat all talk with no teeth.

  Over the course of the morning, she followed the path Thurkill forged through the forest. More often than not, she heard the rippling, sometimes crashing sounds of the river. Birds marked their passage with warning calls from the treetops above. At times the forest thinned, making the go ing easy. At others the trees grew closely together, giving Thurkill fits as he tried to pick a path.

  Always she was aware of Corwin riding behind her. His destrier’s hooves beat heavily upon the forest floor, unlike her dainty mare’s. The tack of the horse’s trappings jangled in rhythm. Whether he rode close or back a ways, she always knew where he was without looking over her shoulder to check.

  She felt safer, more secure than she had since before the kidnapping. That had been, what. three days ago? It seemed longer, perhaps because she’d spent most of those days angry, battling her fears. True, she remained anxious about the future, but not as anxious as she probably should be.

  Corwin wanted her to hold on to her anger, but that proved hard to do without the fear to fuel it. And her fear had fled when she’d decided to trust Corwin. What a muddle!