He knew they could have made it to the castle in the dark. He knew the way well enough.
He wasn’t prepared to do it. The threat of an ambush in the dark was a possibility but it wasn’t the real reason why he’d stopped for the night where he did. He wanted to spend just a little longer alone with her.
Once he was back at the castle the rules of nobility would be enforced. She would be whispered about if she spent time alone with him. Heads would turn and tongues would wag if he was seen distracted from his lordly duties.
This might be the last chance they had in some time to be alone together and he was not ready to end it by sleeping so soon.
She was soon asleep. He remained by the fire, finding himself praying. If war is to come, he thought with his hands clasped together, let it not harm her. She is good and pure, let her be safe. Let her live well and long, Lord. Keep her safe, I beg you.
He slept leaning back against the door, his dreams filled with that moment in the mountain pass. Again and again the men ran toward them.
In his dream their swords did not fall short, they connected. She was felled, dying beside him as he held her in his arms. There was nothing he could do for her and that hurt him more than any sword blow ever could.
The next morning he was up before daylight. For a brief moment he wasn’t sure why he was awake so soon but then he heard it. Outside there were voices talking. Had they found the horse?
He got to his feet as slowly and quietly as he could, glad to see that Heather was still fast asleep. Moving toward the boarded up window, he peered through a knothole and the sight chilled him. Half a dozen armed outlaws, one of them holding his horse by the reins. He cursed silently.
They hadn’t seen the cottage. He was able to discern them through a gap in the undergrowth but they could not see him. Would they hunt for him? Could they see the tracks in the earth? He held his breath, watching as they talked loudly to each other.
“I say we’re wasting our time. If they were here, they’re gone.”
“So he just left his horse and walked off, did he?”
“I dunno. Maybe it’s a trap.”
The voices started to talk over each other. “He could have his men watching us right now.”
“They might be setting up an ambush.”
The horse neighed loudly. “Will you stand still? Stupid beast.”
“They say Old Manor Wood is haunted.”
Gavin sensed his opportunity. Moving to the door he eased it open, sneaking out and burrowing deep into the undergrowth. From there he could better see the men who were continuing to bicker.
He rustled the undergrowth. “Begone,” he whispered in a deep voice.
“What was that?”one of the men asked, whipping his head from left to right.
“Did you hear that?”
“I heard nothing.”
“This is a waste of time. We should be at the siege. They’ll get first dibs on the stores and we’ll be left with nothing. Again.”
“You want to be the one to tell him we couldn’t find them?”
Gavin moved further to the left, whispering again. “Begone.”
“The spirits,” one of the outlaws shrieked. “They’re coming for us. Lord, save me. I never wanted to kill that farmer. Jimmy made me do it. Praise the Lord and all his angels.”
“Begone,” Gavin said shifting again, calling louder this time. “Now!”
The men turned and ran, leaving the horse behind in their blind panic. Gavin shook his head. They might be forming an army but that did not make them soldiers. They were still too easily spooked.
He emerged from the bushes in time to stop the horse wandering off. Once it was retied, he returned to the cottage. They needed to move swiftly. It would not be long before a larger group might return, a group much harder to spook.
He stood over Heather for a moment, watching her sleep. She looked as angelic as the outlaws had looked demonic. He had to stop looking at her. Do it any longer and he might have no choice but to wake her with a kiss on those soft lips of hers. “Wake up,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. “We must move.”
