“I can see it in her movements, my lord. She is in a fragile state.”
Peter had sensed that as well.
“And yet you left her alone.”
“I was wrong to do so. These men are more observant than they appear.”
“Hmphh.”
Mort shook his head. “I cannot possibly be at her side every second.”
“Then she is not well protected.”
“Who was it that approached her?”
Peter knew Mort was more astute than most so he didn’t mind telling him what he should have already known. “It was Andrew I saw collecting wood near her. I found her trembling while she stood there. Her face blanched. I did not hear what was said and she refused to tell me.”
“I fear she does not trust any of us.”
“Were you not at leasttryingto alleviate her fear? Alone with her in the carriage all day?” Peter snorted. He sounded far too accusing and by the surprise visible on Mort’s face, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “My apologies. I fear I did not sleep well last night.”
“Guilt, no doubt.”
Peter frowned. “You overstep yourself when you make such accusations.”
“I am torn between protecting the fair lady, as you have ordered me to do, and being respectful. The two duties are warring within me!”
“How so?” Peter demanded an explanation.
“Your behavior last night was less than chivalrous.”
Peter shifted his feet. “I lost sight of our objective.”
“Since when? You are a great fighter. It would not be true if you could so easily ‘lose sight of your objective.’”
Peter knew he was correct. Without a single word, Brighit demanded his total attention whenever she was nearby. He seemed unable to tear himself away from her. How many times had he stopped today to check on her? Feigning a need to relieve himself. When Mort finally asked him if he had eaten some bad beef, he knew it had been too many times.
He needed to look at her, check to see that all was well, see if perhaps she would ask to ride outside the carriage for a while. She never said a word to him.
“The knife?” Peter asked.
“She has it on her, hidden beneath her kirtle.”
“Do you think she plans on using it?”
Mort thought for a moment. “She will use it if she needs to.”
“If she is attacked? She will use it in her own defense?”
Mort strummed his fingers against his lips. “No. I think she may feel she needs to use it even now.”
“As in commit murder?”
Peter turned back toward the fire. Brighit gently rocked, her hands wrapped tightly around her waist. His heart sank. Without waiting for the reply, he walked to the fire with enough noise to assure he did not startle her.
“May I sit?” Peter asked.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with her fear. “You may.”
