Irritation slithered into his chest. He turned on Mort. “And where were you?”
Mort gasped. “My lord, I got up to relieve myself. I realized you were not here and went in search of you. I returned to—to this.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
Brighit staggered into the field, wiping the sleep from her face. “Where is everything? Where is Ivan?”
Peter’s fighting instinct took over. Had she been a ploy to lure him into the woods? “And you? Did you know this was their plan?”
Brighit gave a quick shake to her head and stepped back as if scorched by his accusation. “Surely you jest.”
She looked as shocked as he did. And she had nothing, too. Peter fought to cool his ire.
“My apologies. Of course they would not inform you of their plan.”
“You think they planned this?” Her sharp words cut through his annoyance. “They were not so cunning. They were near imbeciles.”
Mort’s jaw dropped before he started to laugh. “Methinks she does not think highly of her guardians.”
“So it would appear.”
Brighit’s face turned bright pink. She averted their gaze. “Beg pardon, my lord.”
Peter stepped near her. “Oh, no, fair Brighit. I would not have you apologize for words spoken in truth.”
She faced him. He sensed the lovely lady he’d witnessed ascending from the carriage, mad as hell, was hovering just behind her stoic features.
He needed to encourage here so he repeated his earlier words. “You are safe with me.”
A smile as bright as the sun burst across her face. “They were imbeciles.” She made the pronouncement as if she were a judge declaring her decision.
He smiled back at her and tipped his head. “And I agree.”
Mort cleared his throat. “As do I but what are we to do? We have nothing.”
Peter tapped down the delight he found in her brash statement. He sighed. “You have a point, my friend.”
A perplexing dilemma because of all he’d lost, but there was only one answer.
“We walk to the next town.”
Mort stepped closer and pointed at Brighit with a shift of his head. “What are we to do about our predicament?”
Peter assessed her. In the bright light of morning the problem became transparent. She stood in her nightdress. A flimsy material. Too short. Too revealing. Although he enjoyed the view.
Mort and Peter turned to each other at the same time.
Mort shook his head as if reading his mind. “There is nothing remaining.”
Peter removed his tunic and moved closer to Brighit. “Please cover yourself.”
She glanced down at herself and back at him, her eyes wide. “I have nothing else.”
Peter shoved his shirt at her. “So cover yourself with this.”
She quickly donned his tunic. It fell well past her hips. She glanced between the two with such a look of expectation. Her ankles remained exposed. Her bare feet as well. And her uncovered hair fell about her shoulders. She looked like a peasant woman for hire.
“It will have to do,” Peter said.
Bare-chested now, he paced around the camp. The grass still flattened from where the men had lain sleeping.
