Alone for the first time that day, she observed the interchange of the men around her. When going to the carriage, Ivan made a wide arc around her. Cole and Andrew kept their heads down, their eyes averted. They didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with her.
When she twisted to work out a kink, however, their heads snapped up to leer at her. That lustful gaze she knew so well. Andrew winked. Fear struck at her like a snake. Brighit hunched forward, crossing her arms about her. She sought out Mort but couldn’t find him. Peter was missing as well. The bald man quickly approached and searched the area around her.
“Our little Brighit is being well taken care of now, isn’t she?” He reached for the wood behind her as if that was his objective but his words were for her ears only. Low and menacing. “Fear not. We’ll be nearby as well.”
There was a movement behind her. Andrew took a wide step away, going back to drop the wood on the blazing fire without a backward glance.
“Is there something amiss?”
Brighit jumped at Peter’s voice. Her hand went to her throat.
“No. Nothing.”
Peter frowned and searched her face just as her brother, Tadhg, did when he was trying to decide if she was lying. He pressed his lips together.
“Mort!” he called without taking his eyes off her. He sounded angry.
“Here, my lord.” Mort came at a quick pace, wiping his hands on a towel wrapped around his waist, a questioning look on his face.
Peter’s look of accusation thickened the guilt seeping through her veins. Mort hadn’t done anything wrong. If she spoke in his defense then Peter would know something had indeed transpired. Andrew had approached her as if he’d been waiting to catch her alone.
Brighit glanced from Mort to Peter. Unheard words seem to be flying between them and Mort nodded before turning his full attention to her.
“My lady, if you could assist me with the preparations, I would be forever in your debt.”
Peter placed a fisted hand on his hip but said nothing.
Brighit dipped her head. “Of course.”
She followed Mort to the far side of the carriage. An iron pot sat on the ground. It was already overflowing with various root vegetables. A hunk of meat lay on a wooden slab, the huge knife protruding from it. He kneeled beside the makeshift carving table.
“I was having some trouble with the quality of the tools here.” He gave her a sideways glance. “The knives are not as sharp as I am used to.”
Her hand instinctively went to her belted waist where her small knife lay hidden beneath her outer gown. She dropped it just as quickly. Mort tipped his head up to her and smiled.
“I’ll be but a moment.” He tossed the meat into the pot, grabbed it by the leather handle, and stood beside her. “We’ll get this to the fire.”
Brighit followed him back. Mort snatched the wooden box beside the wheel with his other hand and placed it next to the fire.
“Please.” He gestured to the box then went to get his would-be stew close to the glowing embers.
Brighit glanced around. There was little talk but much was being accomplished. Always before, Ivan and his men took out the mead and beer before anything else was seen to. They would drink as they worked, throwing ribald comments her way. Comments that would make her face heat. There was none of that now.
Mort looked around as if assessing the situation. He half turned toward her.
“If you will excuse me, I will be but a moment. Not out of sight or out of ear shot.” He gave her his most charming smile and walked past her.
The others still kept their distance. Andrew’s threat had been delivered. Her peace was shattered. Peter may believe he was in charge but it was only as long as these men allowed him to think so. It wasn’t possible for Mort to be with her at every moment and they wanted to make sure she knew that. She wasn’t safe from them even with Peter and Mort nearby. She no longer had any desire to eat.
Chapter Thirteen
The darkened woods were very near but the clearing they’d found for their camp would suffice for one night. It gave the others a place to retreat without knowing exactly how far they’d gone. Ivan’s lackeys would surely make as good a use of the cover as Peter did now. Unlike them, he chose to still be seen. Mort needed to remain vigilant. Peter crossed his arms and gave the man his sternest look.
“What were you thinking?” He kept his voice low.
“My apologies, my lord. The men were busy jumping to the tasks you’d given them. I saw it as an opportunity to give her a few minutes to herself. She has much on her mind.”
“How do you know that?” Peter snapped his mouth closed. The urgency was there in his question but he would have preferred not to be quite so transparent. The entire situation with this woman was becoming more and more intense. His tension was rising as if preparing for battle.
