Page 111 of The Daughters of Avalon
“My lord?” She asked again, and he shook his head, averting his gaze, suffering the same bewildering sense of recognition he’d experienced this morning when he’d met her.
“’Tis naught,” he said, determining that he must be over-weary.
So long as she’d been sleeping, he’d let her rest because he’d wanted to put as much distance between them and Darkwood as possible. He didn’t care to alarm the girl, but he had a sense they were being followed, even despite that he couldn’t see anyone. It was entirely possible they’d caught the attention of one of Darkwood’s brigands, and the man was skilled enough to know how to track them, and perhaps wise enough to know that he couldn’t prevail against two armed warriors—which also implied he must be alone, perhaps waiting for an opportune moment.
He hadn’t bothered alerting Wilhelm only because his sword lay resting as quietly as the woman in his arms. Regretfully, stopping for the evening was inevitable and now was as good a time as any. He was the only one who hadn’t managed to catch a kip in the saddle.
And, anyway, he’d already proven his point. Wilhelm had been dozing nearly as long as Rosalynde, and if he denied it, Giles had the girl as his witness. Clearly, his brother had judged himself in superior form. Alas, he was merely the bigger man. And, regardless, it annoyed Giles to no end that this unlooked-for competition had reduced him to a youth, fresh off the field, with balls bigger than his brains, and a yen to prove himself where he oughtn’t bloody care to.
Sister Rosalynde was still looking at him, pleading, and he gave a short whistle, heard a waking snort, then an immediate shift in Wilhelm’s gait. Without turning, he waved his brother into the woods, where the late afternoon sun sluiced through the limbs of naked oaks.
He found a spot near a small burn, where he could see clearly in three directions, and there he dismounted, then helped Sister Rosalynde down from his horse, making sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her...
Blue.
Her eyes were, indeed, blue. Bright as bellflowers.
And more… under the soft, dappled light of the forest, she appeared… different.
Softer, perhaps?
Peering up, over the dingy white veil she wore, her lovely blue eyes were filled with concern, and she held the book between them like a shield.
Amused, Giles released her, and gave the book a nod. “There’s room in my satchel,” he suggested. “Along with your cloak…”
“Nay, thank you,” she said quickly, casting a glance at the sword in his scabbard, the shining rain guard catching her attention as it glinted by the sun. She gasped suddenly, gave a hasty pardon and hurried away, giving him the impression that his sword had intimidated her.
Shrugging, he watched her go, wondering again why she wouldn’t wear her cloak. Clearly, she was cold, or she wouldn’t have been so insistent about climbing beneath his own, and yet…
He had a feeling there was more to Sister Rosalynde than what she’d claimed… and despite her outward appearance, there was something about the lady that appealed to him. There was a spark of brilliance behind those chameleon eyes.
“Do not wander,” he called after her. “Hurry back, or I’ll come looking.”
Chapter
Fourteen
Not only could Giles not be sure they weren’t alone in these woods, but his brother was in a fine state to be hunting. Suffering the effects of too much ale and too little sleep, Wilhelm was cantankerous and restless, and Giles didn’t intend for Sister Rosalynde to be mistaken for quarry whilst kneeling behind a bush. He gave her plenty long enough to see to her affairs, before he went searching, sword in hand.
He’d found her repairing the hem of her gown, but she’d complained fiercely when he’d insisted that she return. Now she sat, pouting and worrying her hands raw as Giles finished gathering kindling for the fire.
But it struck him, as he watched her, that for all her worrying, she didn’t appear overly concerned about Giles, nor about Wilhelm for that matter—a man thrice her size. She was barely constraining her temper, and the look in her eyes reminded him of a cornered wolf—wary and desperate, quite prepared to bite the hand feeding her.
He also had a very strong sense that, despite her weariness, she didn’t wish to stop for the evening, and he recalled how nervous she’d been about staying on the King’s Road, in perfect view of fellow travelers.
Perhaps she knew something about the man who was following them?
Perhaps she was running from a husband, or a father?
Whatever the case, the more time he spent withSister Rosalynde, the more certain he was that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. He’d known many women in service to God, and for what it was worth, she didn’t appear to him to be any sort of candidate for the veil.
He gave her a patient smile as he adjusted the kindling and gave it another click of his fire-steel, annoyed that he hadn’t been able to find more suitable wood. “If you must return, I would happily escort you.”
“Nay,” she said, peevishly. And then, with a tilt of her head, she asked, “Did no one ever teach you that ladies must have privacy? We do not brandish our…swords…in public, as men are wont to do.”
Giles choked on his laughter.
It wasn’t immediately clear whichswordshe’d intended as her meaning. But, either way, it was clearly a rebuke.
