Ramsay wondered. Their families had been sworn enemies for generations, locked in battle over possession of the lands of Inverfyre. He had been so glad to leave that dispute behind him. He had ridden from Inverfyre with naught—but the horse Evangeline had left for him and the crossbow she had reclaimed for him. He owed her much—if not more than the warning he would deliver.
They might not be destined to be together, but she deserved better than Rufus.
“She might have anticipated you,” Otto said, drawing his horse alongside Ramsay’s. They watched the party on the road below together.
“She was always a skilled rider.”
Otto scoffed. “And will be easier to separate from the others for all of that.” The older man frowned, his gaze assessing. “Three men sent to guard her and I would not dismiss the boys. You may not have much time alone with her.”
“I mean only to warn her.”
“Is that so?” Otto said under his breath, his tone making the back of Ramsay’s neck heat. The difficulty with having known a perceptive man most of one’s life is that few secrets remain.
What would he say to Evangeline? His ability to plan all in advance seemed to have abandoned him with just the prospect of seeing her again.
Otto continued. “A moment or two may be all we can manage, particularly as no one is to be injured. We will do our best, but do not dally, my lord.”
“Seize her if she disagrees and dispute the matter later,” Talbot advised. “Leave the horse, even though he is magnificent.”
“I will not treat her thus!”
Talbot laughed. “A man must be bold when his heart’s desire is in the offing.” The other knight’s brows rose and his eyes lit with mischief. “Or perhaps your ardor fades now that the challenge is upon us.”
“I hope we have not journeyed so far for naught,” Otto growled.
“The lady will be warned and no more,” Ramsay insisted.
“And you will see her again, the better to assess your own regard,” Talbot said.
Ramsay did not reply. He dared not reveal himself too soon, given her escorts. He knew the Hawk’s men would defend Evangeline to the death, and he might be remembered as a foe.
He bound a dark cloth around his head to mask his face, then ensured the holes cut for his eyes were aligned so he could see. He drew up his hood and nodded to Otto. That older warrior returned his nod, his resolve clear. Their plan was made and required each to recall his part.
Ramsay raised his hand and the other riders gathered behind him. His mentor Otto was on his right, his friend Talbot on his left, all disguised, their three squires behind. Even the boys had their part to play in this matter and Ramsay was glad to have such comrades.
He said not a word, but dropped his hand and spurred his horse. His small company flowed through the woods and onto the road like a storm that could not be evaded.
There was no one to intervene on this length of road, which was why Ramsay had chosen it.
* * *
The attackers appeared without warning,suddenly emerging from the shadows of the forest to surround Evangeline’s small company. One moment all was well, and the next, she saw the glint of daggers on all sides.
Their assailants were masked, which said naught good of their intentions.
“We are beset!” Ahearn shouted and the warriors drew their horses into a circle to defend the cart. Evangeline was ahead of the company with Ahearn, who swore even as he smacked Basilisk’s rump with his gloved hand.
The destrier surged forward and Evangeline bent low over his neck, digging her heels into his side. She was aware of Ahearn immediately behind her, the hot breath of his destrier close, but kept her attention fixed on the road ahead. It wound through the forest, the branches of the trees meeting overhead and shadowing the road, so they might have ridden through a tunnel. Basilisk galloped full out and Evangeline wished she could have seen him, for he was a glorious creature. His black mane flowed, buffeting her face, and she let him choose his own path, knowing he would ensure his own welfare.
“We lose them, my lady,” Ahearn said grimly. “Do not slow your pace.”
The hooves of the horses thundered on the beaten earth of the road, then its course bent to the right. Evangeline did not slow Basilisk as he galloped around the curve.
Then he nickered and shied, stopping short before the masked rider in the middle of the road. Basilisk snorted and stamped, protesting the obstacle. The rider was utterly still, his dagger drawn and his horse a dapple of Basilisk’s stature, with a dark mane and tail.
Basilisk tossed his head with indignation, but Evangeline hung on, calming the horse with a steady stroke. Ahearn swore as his horse went around the obstacle at full gallop. Before Evangeline could race after him, the masked rider lunged toward her with wicked intent.
She glared at him, turned the horse, and urged Basilisk into the forest. But a touch and the horse leapt beneath the cover of the trees. There was a small path and the destrier followed it with speed.
