Page 62 of The Mercenary

“Sabine,” he whispered, his lips close enough to her neck for a kiss. “I am sorry. For everything.” He slipped something into her hand. “Keep this safe and use it if necessary. Now go.”

He did not give her a chance to respond. To ask exactly what he had apologized for. Before she could even say goodbye, her brave husband was walking past the men toward the stable, presumably to get his mount and ride to Noreham.

And likely to his death.

Chapter 30

Noreham’s men were as silent as the room in which he’d been sleeping at the inn. Alone. Without Sabine.

They passed familiar landscape, skirting the village that had become Sabine’s refuge these past days. Even now, as he awaited almost certain imprisonment, he thought of her.

Not the disappointment of having failed his friends.

Not fear for his life.

Not regret for having never sought out his mother so he might tell her what her abandonment had done to him.

Nay, he thought of his wife.

Guy had no doubt she would be resourceful enough to escape. With her own coin and the promissory note from the bishop, Sabine would have plenty of resources to find an appropriate escort to Licheford. And Conrad would keep her safe.

If Noreham had discovered her true identity, surely his men would have taken her as well.

She would be safe.

He repeated it over and over and over again, all the way to the castle and into the keep. Doing so made him forget, at least temporarily, that his short life was likely at an end. Cursing de Chabannes, as he’d done so many times of late, he followed Noreham’s men to the stables.

Surprisingly calm given the situation, he did wonder when they would remove his weapon. The men hadn’t so much as glanced at his sword, nor had they flanked him.

Odd, that.

Earlier, he’d assumed they knew he would not dare to use it. Sabine had been standing right there with him at the inn. Her presence had ensured his acquiescence. So why did they hesitate now?

Did they know something he did not? Did they have men watching her, ready to retaliate if he should attempt to flee?

“Lavallais.”

Noreham joined their small group. The young baron was not armed, and yet his men departed, leaving them alone together.

“Will you walk with me?”

Guy looked for a knife. For any weapon. But Noreham appeared to be completely unarmed.

He followed the baron back outside and through a passageway that led to one of the four stone towers visible from the outer walls. It opened to a long chemin de ronde, called a wall-walk here in England. He and the baron stepped onto it, quite alone, and the only guard in sight moved away.

He could kill Noreham with one stroke.

He might even make it away from the keep and through the gatehouse undetected.

But curiosity stayed his hand.

“That would be unwise.”

Guy had neither moved nor looked at his sword. He would have smiled then had Noreham not been his enemy.

“Perhaps wiser than bringing me here. Armed. And alone.”

“Do you believe so?”