But Agnes had seen more. She followed him around like a hungry kitten. He hadn’t minded. He liked looking at her with her small, pert nose and a spray of freckles across it. Her eyes were cornflower blue and her hair was dark and as glossy as his horse’s mane.
Aye, she appealed to him very much. She had got him to thinking. Mayhap it was time to settle his roots and start a family. He was thirty years old after all. He would ask her in Carlisle, after everyone was safe.
“Follow me. And Agnes, if any man comes near, look away. I wouldna want yer bonnie eyes to see what I am so good at.”
She smiled at him and then tucked herself and Elias under his arm as they left the glade.
When he suggested that they climb the sloping trees to the planks above, he thought Agnes would put up a fight.
“I learned to climb them with Aleysia,” she told him. “I was here when all this was built, and before that, when Giles was lord here.”
Rauf laughed. “Och, how did we not…” he found no suitable words for what he wanted to express.
“I do not know,” she laughed softly with him. “But I am glad we did now.”
“Aye,” he said with an understanding grin.
He held Elias and stepped up first. He waited for Agnes, who waved his concerns away and motioned for him to proceed.
He ascended quickly, having come up often with Nicholas to hunt. Some directions led to weaker branches, as they both discovered when Rauf and Elias stepped on one and a loud crack sounded throughout the trees. Silence answered. It was as if those trees were poised to hear what happened next.
He looked to the left and saw a plank nailed into the wood. He counted to two and then stepped onto it.
The branch beneath his boot cracked a bit more. Rauf held Elias and pulled himself over to the plank by the strength of his leg.
The branch didn’t break. Rauf turned to look back but Agnes wasn’t there. His gaze scanned the thousands of trees and he was about to call out to her.
“Enjoying the scenery?”
He turned in front of him and saw Agnes five branches ahead. How did she…?
“Over here!” one of England’s men called out from below.
They were coming from the southwest. Rauf made a detour he was certain Agnes saw him take. He ran and waited high above for them to gather in the field of arrows. His knife was at the ready, his heart pounded with excitement. He smiled at Elias facing him, and cut the heavy rope holding back the trigger of the trap.
The arrows flew, as if from the ground and with good aim, and put down at least thirty of them.
Rauf and Agnes kept running until the planks stopped. They were close to the village. They climbed down and approached with caution. It seemed abandoned and reminded Rauf of the first time he came here with Cain, a small, deadly regiment of men fighting a ghost.
“’Tis Agnes with the lord’s son and the commander of his forces.” Her voice was loud echoing through the village.
Slowly, doors began to open. People stepped out of their homes, most dressed in mourning clothes.
“’Tis me, Agnes, Mattie and Aleysia’s maid.”
They suddenly came alive and hurried to her and then to Rauf. They had many questions. Some he could answer and some he could not. He begged for their mercy in failing to protect them and their loved ones and they freely forgave him. They invited them into their homes for some refreshment, but they had little. Rauf assured them that he would return with the brothers and take back Lismoor. There was not a doubt in his mind that they could. They filled their bags and borrowed another horse for Agnes. He retrieved his horse that he had tied off to a tree behind the village and they were off.
It wasn’t until they were a day into traveling that Rauf realized who Torin was to Julianna. He had penetrated Berwick’s forces and had gained the trust of Berwick’s army of men. He managed to get most of them drunk the night the Scots attacked. Everyone in Berwick was massacred.
Everyone but Julianna, whom Torin had delivered to St. Peter’s Abbey.
Hell, they were bound to meet again. What would Julianna do when she found out who Nicholas’ brother was? He shrugged his beefy shoulders. That was Nicky’s trouble. There were plenty more to see to first.
Phillip DeAvoy shovedopen the doors to his castle and bellowed for the Viscount of Bamburgh. He didn’t expect an answer. The groom had already told him that no one had come to the castle in weeks.
The bastard either stole her or she killed him. Phillip wouldn’t be surprised if the latter were the case. She was a wicked murderess and she would hang for her crimes—after he bedded her good and hard, the way she deserved.
He would find her somewhere between here and Lismoor. He’d whip her for making him chase her. He ordered six of his men to go with him and set off again. He remembered a small keep that belonged to Pratt in…hell, where did he say it was? Alburic? Lorbottle? No. That was too far north.
