Page 39 of Trapped By Vengeance

This woman is going to be the death of me.

“Come see this!” Eloise calls.

I tear my gaze away from Eloise to where Valda stands atop the hill, shielding her eyes from the sun as she stares down at the beach. Her cloak billows dramatically behind her.

Focusing on her instead of unnecessary distractions, I climb the hill and come to stand beside her.

Eloise points. “Look— their raft is just about finished.”

I peer down and see that they have a contraption big enough for all of them to sit on— or the three of us to be quite comfortable on. They are in the middle of attaching torn sails to its mast.

“We should steal it.”

Startling, I turn to find Valda standing beside me. How did she sneak up on me? With my wolf-aided senses, that is nearly impossible.

“I hate to say this,” Eloise begins, “but I agree with the vixen.”

I glare at her. “First of all, don’t call her that. Second of all, who taught you that word?”

“Baldy.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “Though I liked not having to hide.”

“Oh, Eloise—”

Valda is unconcerned as she leans forward. “Just let the chickpea wear her hair how she likes, Konrad, and focus on the issue at hand. How many men did you hire?”

“A dozen.”

“I only see four.”

Frowning, I turn from Eloise and look back over the cliff. “Mayhap they’re still in those little canvas tents of theirs or out on the ship.” But even as I speak, I sniff the air.

I smell fear. And it isn’t Eloise’s or Valda’s.

Drawing on my hearing, I focus on our surroundings.

A twig snaps to the east.

I move between Eloise and the twig snapping. The breeze isn’t blowing from the east. Still, I smell the fear, sweat, and adrenaline of unwashed men.

Sir Pigeon squawks in alarm.

“Valda,” I whisper, “take Eloise and—”

With a great cry, eight men burst out from behind bushes and trees and charge us, sabers and oars in hand.

“Kill him before he can devour us all!” yells one of the Klepper twins.

I glance behind me just long enough to see Valda and Eloise tugging each other away. Then I turn back to the men. “Oh, gentlemen— you’re already too late.”

Chapter Eighteen

The Castaways

Valda:

Ihear rustling fabric and then the sound of tearing, but I don’t dare look back. Neither does Eloise, who is focused on the path ahead of us— one taking us toward the beach.

The bird-brained pigeon does look backward, and he squawks his horror repeatedly.

---