Page 45 of Her Dark Seduction
“Does a lady not care to get her feet wet?” he mocked. “We cross the water now, or I leave you here at the mercy of Mortlock’s men.”
I turned my back and jumped. The shock of the cold pierced me like a knife. The woolen gown hampered my limbs, and I struggled to stay afloat. Was death by water a worse fate than death by fire? A splash beside me signaled Sawford’s entry. Strong hands took hold of me, and he swam across the water, supporting me until we reached the other side. He scrambled out and pulled me up after him before we set off at a run again.
I was almost grateful for the hard pace; my limbs began to warm with the exercise. Eventually he slowed at the edge of the forest where a large black horse was tethered by a tree. The animal pricked its ears up on seeing us. Behind the saddle, bulging panniers had been strapped to the horse. Sawford had prepared for this.
“Please—tell me what is happening.”
“Your husband is a traitor,” he said savagely, “and tonight the traitor was betrayed.”
“By you?” I whispered. “Mon Dieu.”
He laughed, “I think you will find God onmyside tonight.”
“But innocent lives will die! Servants, children…” I cried, thinking of Cedric, still a boy.
He shrugged his shoulders. “The casualties of war.”
“I hate you,” I said with all the passion I could muster, “God would never be on the side of a man who caused such destruction. The Devil himself would gladly walk beside you after what you have done.”
“Enough!” he roared, pushing me toward his mount, “get up on the saddle. I have no time for tattle.”
A shout rang out from behind.
“Treacherous bastard!”
Wyatt ran toward us brandishing a sword. Sawford pushed me out of the way and reached into one of the panniers, pulling out a sheathed sword. The air hissed as he drew the sword from its scabbard and raised it the very moment Wyatt reached him. The clash of steel rang through the night, punctuated by heavy breathing and grunts as the two men fought savagely. Wyatt was a skilled fighter but what surprised me more was Sawford’s prowess. For a mere servant he fought with the skill of a knight. In the months since my arrival at Mortlock I had never seen him wield a weapon, but it was clear he was a practiced fighter; a warrior. Who was Sawford, and what did he want with me?
Sawford lunged at Wyatt and drove his blade through his heart, pulling it back and cleaning it even before the other man’s body had fallen to the ground.
Frozen to the spot, I had not thought of escape while they fought. Though shapes were discernible in the moonlight, I wouldn’t need to run far into the forest before I’d be completely concealed in the shadows. As if he read my thoughts Sawford turned toward me, his face grim, and he motioned to the saddle.
“Get up—hurry, woman.”
Behind him, another man appeared. I recognized Sir Baldwin, who raised a finger to his lips to warn me to be quiet. Holding his sword aloft, he advanced toward Sawford. His eyes were on me, almost glowing in the darkness. I saw my life split like a fork on the road. One path led away from Mortlock, to Sawford, the man in whose power I had been almost since I had arrived here. The other led me back, to the man my father had given me to, the man who would take my child and dispose of me.
Baldwin paused about five paces away. In that moment I made my choice.
“Vane!” I screamed.
Sawford spun around as Baldwin’s sword came down. It narrowly missed his head but he took a glancing blow to the shoulder and lost his balance.
“Bitch! You’ll be next,” Baldwin snarled before lunging for Sawford again. Grunting in pain, Sawford kicked out at Baldwin, who crashed to the ground. The two men rolled over, arms and legs flailing, fighting to the death. I pulled out my knife and held it up but they were moving so fast I was terrified I might hit the wrong man if I threw it, still uncertain who the wrong man was. Who was the enemy?
The next moment it was all over. Baldwin screamed before making a gurgling sound. Thick red liquid poured from a long gash in his throat, running down his tunic with slow, steady bursts as his heart pumped the last of the life out of him. Sawford threw the body to the ground and cleaned his blade before looking up. For a heartbeat he stared at me, the intensity of his expression making me uncomfortable until his gaze dropped to the knife in my hand. He shook his head almost imperceptibly before his lips curled into a sneer.
“What did you intend to do with that against a man with a sword? Little fool!”
I tucked the knife back into my kirtle.
“You’re no ordinary servant. Who are you?”
“’Tis nothing to you. Get up on the horse.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll do nothing until I have answers. You owe me that, at least.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Are you a knight? A nobleman?”
