Page 54 of Bold Angel
“You are certain that Braxston does not know?”
“Nay, my lord. I have done as you instructed.”
“Good. Rest assured you will be well paid.”
Durand smiled, exposing slightly yellowed teeth. Stephen left him, making his way to the place where his men-at-arms guarded the Ferret. The outlaw sat with his back against a boulder, his head slumped onto his chest, long black hair falling haphazardly over his forehead. He was a thin man with eyes that darted from one place to another, a man who matched his name, yet it was certain the Ferret was no fool.
“Leave us,” Stephen commanded his men.
“Aye, my lord.” They backed away from him, melding into the forest and leaving the two of them alone.
Only the Ferret’s eyes moved now, watching him closely, judging him, waiting for his words.
Stephen smiled. “’Tis said that you are the devil himself.”
The smaller man grunted. “I have heard the same of you.”
Stephen chuckled softly. He circled the smaller man, sizing him up, noticing his whipcord strength. He snapped the end off a branch and flexed it between his fingers. “Are you afraid of me?”
“I am your prisoner.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“A man would be a fool not to fear you.”
Stephen smiled. “That is good. Fear is always a good beginning.”
The Ferret raised his head and eyed him warily. “A good beginning for what?”
Stephen chuckled softly, and tossed the branch away. “How would you like to escape?”
***
Caryn sat at the chessboard across from Richard. The evening grew late, yet she felt only mildly tired.
“Your king is in check to my queen,” she said, smiling at her sandy-haired opponent, who looked more than a little perplexed.
“You are a better chess player than most men. Was it Lord Harold who taught you?”
She shook her head. “I saw little of my uncle.”
“Your father?”
“Nay. He was never around. ’Twas Edwin of Bedford who taught me. He was a friend of my uncle’s.” Richard smiled. “I remember him.”
“I heard that he still lives. I wonder what has become of him.”
Richardstarted to answer, but noises in the hall snapped his head toward the entry, then sent him shooting to his feet. “Lord Ral returns.”
Caryn stood up, too. “That cannot be. He has only been gone three days. He couldn’t be back so soon.”
“’Tis him,” Richard said, recognizing Odo and Hugh and several of the others. “He will be weary. I must see to food for him and the men.”
Worried at what might have happened, Caryn turned to see Ral standing in the entry, his young squire, Aubrey, stripping off his dusty chain mail. He looked tall and commanding, and the sight of his ruggedly handsome face made her heart begin to pump fiercely. Caryn smiled, thinking as she had a dozen times these past few days, just how much she had missed him.
Aubrey bent to remove Ral’s spurs, but before the squire could do so, he strode forward, his shadow looming large on the walls of the keep in the flickering light of the torches. For the first time Caryn noticed the hard set of his jaw, the tautness in his shoulders as he moved. Several day’s growth of beard roughened his cheek, and with each of his long determined strides, his hands balled unconsciously into fists.
Sweet God in heaven, he was angry. Furious, it seemed. Caryn’s stomach knotted. She forced herself to walk toward him, to greet him with a smile of welcome, praying the anger she sensed was not directed at her.
