Page 126 of Bold Angel
“Aye, milord.” As the young lad hurried away, Richard walked up beside him.
“This time I would go with you.”
Ral started to deny him, to tell him he would better serve by staying in the castle. But he knew the twisting fear he felt with Caryn in the hands of his foe, and that unless he was bound in chains, there was no one who could stop him from going after her.
He nodded. “Make yourself ready. We travel by cover of night, taking only a handful of men. Odo will stay here and see to the keep’s defenses.”
“I intend to return with my wife,” Richard said withsome defiance, his eyes fixed firmly on Ral’s face. “’Twas my intention to do so long before this.”
Ral smiled with soft menace. “You may be certain my intentions are the same.”
***
“I can hardly force down a single bite,” Ambra complained as they stood beside the table in the small tent at the rear of the camp. A few feet away, scarlet silk cushions rested on a thick Persian carpet. In one corner sat a screen inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and sleeping pallets had been fashioned on the floor.
“We must eat,” Caryn said. “We will need to keep up our strength.” A tray of roasted wild duckling had just been brought in, along with a flagon of wine.
“Aye, but I am too worried to eat. Besides, ’tis stringy and tough and—”
“Aye,” Caryn agreed, her head coming up, her eyes alight with the first uncertain stirrings of a plan, “that it is.” She leaned closer to Ambra. “What say you we pretend that you are choking? When the guard comes in, I will hit him over the head with the flagon of wine and we will escape.”
Ambra smiled and thrust a duck leg into Caryn’s hand. “I am bigger than you. You pretend to choke and I will hit the guard over the head.”
“With your months in the troupe, you are far better suited to acting. You—”
“I tell you I am bigger!”
Caryn sighed as Ambra picked up the wine flagon and moved it into position atop the table. “All right,” Ambra said, “pretend that you are choking.”
Biting into the greasy duck leg, it wasn’t that hard to pretend. As Caryn started to sputter, Ambra pounded her on the back and began to worry aloud for her safety. All the while, Caryn continued to cough and wheeze.
“Help us! Someone help us!” Ambra ran to the tent flap and jerked it open. “She is choking. The Lady Carynchokes to death on a duck bone. Please, you must help us!”
Unfortunately, both men rushed into the tent. While Caryn rolled her eyes and clutched her throat, gagging and wheezing and teetering forward, the men looked anxiously on. With a final sputtering gasp, she sucked in a great gulp of air and collapsed to the floor of the tent.
“I must go for help,” the first man said, but as he turned, Ambra swung the wine flagon, smashing the heavy jug over his head. When the second guard spun toward the sound, Caryn scrambled up from the floor, grabbed the pewter tray filled with roast duck, and slammed the heavy metal against the side of his face.
“Bitch!” He swayed on his feet, but did not go down, just began an ominous move in their direction.
“What do we do now?” Ambra asked.
“I-I am not certain.” He was blocking the entrance and even should they try to run he would signal the others before they could get away.
“A few well-deserved bruises should not matter to Lord Stephen,” the man said with undisguised malice, balling his hands into fists as he moved toward them.
Above the hammering of her heart, Caryn heard a faint buzz somewhere behind them and turned to see the blade of a knife zipping upward through the tent. The guard saw it too but before he could reach the spot, a huge bare-chested figure appeared through the opening. A powerful arm snaked out, wrapping around the guard’s throat. He squeezed then twisted, and the guard slumped unconscious onto the floor of the tent.
“’Tis Gareth!” Caryn said excitedly to Ambra. “The Saxon warrior the villeins brought to the keep.” She turned to the huge golden-haired knight with a smile. “I am more than glad to see you, Lord Gareth, but how did you know we were here?”
A grim smile darkened his features. “I have been watching since Malvern’s arrival. Think you I do notknow who he is? There is not a Saxon warrior for three hundred miles who does not know of Malvern’s cruelty—and despise him for it.” He motioned toward the hole in the tent. “There isn’t much time. We can talk of this later.”
Her heart still beating wildly, Caryn followed him from the tent, Ambra hurrying along behind them. In minutes, they were swallowed up by the thick trees and bushes surrounding the camp, but still they pressed on. In the darkness it was difficult to find sure footing. More than once, Caryn winced as a sharp branch dug into an arm or leg, or her ankle twisted in a hole.
“We dare not stop,” Gareth said quietly. “Too soon they will discover you are missing.”
Caryn nodded. Ignoring the cuts and abrasions the dense growth inflicted, she and Ambra followed Gareth along, making their way toward Braxston Keep. When they came to a clearing, they paused, Gareth’s tall frame suddenly going alert.
“Stay here,” he whispered, indicating a place in the shrubbery as he moved stealthily off into the woods. Caryn crouched low beside Ambra, clutching her friend’s slender hand. When a twig snapped beside her, Caryn nearly leapt out of her skin.
