Page 110 of Bold Angel
He wanted the Ferret, and he meant to have him.
This time, he was determined that nothing would go wrong.
***
Sitting in a chair before the fire pit, Caryn pulled a long scarlet thread through the length of linen spread over her lap. She had spent the evening with Richard, helpinghim check provisions for her husband’s journey. They had finished long ago, and the hall had grown quiet except for a few drowsy servants, but she was too tense and worried to sleep.
Her hand shook a little, the needle slipped, and she pricked a finger. Sweet Jesu, she wished Ral didn’t have to go.
“Here, you had better take this.” Geoffrey handed her a scrap of cloth. “You will stain your embroidery.” She had been so lost in thought, she had missed his approach.
“Thank you.” She pressed it against the small drop of blood. “’Tis only that I am worried.”
His other hand came up and she saw that in it he held a goblet of wine. “So I have noticed. Mayhap a little of this will help.”
She accepted the wine, though she didn’t really want it. “Thank you, Geoffrey.”
He sat down on the bench across from her, waiting in silence for her to drink some of the rich dark liquid. Mayhap he was right. ’Twould do no good to sit there all night and worry. She took a long sip, glanced at Geoffrey’s concerned expression, took another, and then another.
“Better?” he asked.
She did feel better, warmer inside instead of so empty and cold. The heat spread out, sliding through her limbs, urging her to relax, to put her faith in her husband’s skills as he had asked.
“You must not fear, my lady. Whatever Lord Ral intends, he will surely be the victor.”
She released a pent up sigh, her heartbeat slowing, throbbing deeply inside her chest. As her worry continued to ease and slip away, so did her surroundings, leaving her in a place of peace and contentment. “The victor?” she repeated, unable to concentrate on the words Geoffrey had spoken.
“Your husband seeks the Ferret, does he not?Surely ’tis discovery of the outlaw’s camp that drives him with such vengeance.”
Why was Geoffrey asking about the Ferret? Hadn’t Ral told his men? But then he might not have. He would be taking no chances that the Ferret might once more escape. She tried to focus on Geoffrey’s face, but it blurred in the light of the fire. His skin looked too orange and his eyes reflected the same red color as the low-burning flames.
“Have a little more wine,” he urged, pressing the goblet into her hands, tipping it up until she was forced to swallow. “Now… what was it you were saying about the Ferret?”
“I… I was talking about the Ferret?”
“Aye, you were telling me about Lord Ral’s mission.” Geoffrey’s voice seemed to thrum, his words sounding uneven and strangely far away.
“I was?”
“Aye. Surely, he told you all about it?”
“They… have to catch him.”
“That we will, my lady. Just as soon as we find him.”
She tried to nod, but she could barely hold up her head. Something warned her to say nothing more, that Ral would not be pleased, then the warning grew weak and also began to fade.
“Where is he?” Geoffrey asked so softly she could barely hear him for the odd dull buzzing in her ears.
“He… he camps at… at the crossroads.”
“Which crossroads?”
“N-Near Tevonshire Pass.”
His lips curved into a smile, but his teeth seemed to glow and his eyes were ringed by rainbows of color. Then his image became just a faint, soft blur and she could barely hear him.
“Why don’t you finish your wine?” he urged. “Mayhap then you will be able to sleep.”
