Thornwick did not release her but the tightness of his grip on her elbow lessened somewhat. His eyes narrowed.
“I’m not afraid of him if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No, of course you aren’t. I just want him to leave so you and I can continue to discuss this matter.” Whatever happened in this clearing, Phoebe didn’t want George to witness it.
Thornwick was looking at her and suddenly he wasn’t. He looked past her, over her shoulder, and his face changed. He let go of her and he was gone. Running and disappearing into the trees. What had George done to scare him so? But Thornwick hadn’t been looking at George, had he? He had been looking slightly off to the side.
Strong hands on her waist. The smell of cedar. A harsh whisper in her ear as she was pushed toward the edge of the clearing.
“Make no sound. There is a wild pig rooting in the forest. Twenty yards away. We are going to go to a tree and get you up it before it decides to charge.”
And then George was pushing her up a tree. She managed to grab a bough and get on top of it, lying over it, her arms and legs dangling on either side. She was safe, hung over the limb, eight or ten feet off the ground. A wild pig couldn’t climb a tree, could it?
As George reached for a different limb, there was movement on the other side of the clearing and she saw the pig coming at a run.
Her bow. The arrow. She still had not dropped them. How she had gotten up the tree still holding them she didn’t know. It must have been George’s mighty shove.
She notched her only arrow.
Concentrate, Phee, concentrate.
Thezwingof the bowstring and theplumphof the arrow into the pig’s flank were very close together since the distance was so short. The pig continued its headlong gallop, and George had not yet gotten a good grasp on a bough.
She despaired. She had not killed the pig.
A yard away from George, the pig stopped moving and fell over.
“George, it’s all ri—”
A horrendouscrack,she slid, George moved like lightning, the limb under her broke away from the tree completely and she fell. But only a few feet since George caught her, bow and all. She was safe in his arms, and the limb fell to the ground at his feet.
“I must—“ She was very out of breath. “Stop eating biscuits.”
George kissed her. A brief, tender kiss that was more perilous than Thornwick’s rage or a feral pig. A kiss that made her feel how much she loved him, how much she had always loved him and wanted him and yearned for him.
But he hadn’t wanted her.
“Put me down, George.”
“I’ll put you down if you promise me two things.”
“George!”
“Two things.”
“What are they?”
“You’ll never stop eating biscuits.”
“Fine, yes. Put me down.”
“And you won’t marry Thornwick.”
She could feel the thump of George’s heart in his chest.
“I promised to marry him.”
“He was cruel and vicious to you. I saw it. I heard it. And he’s a coward. He left you, Phee. He ran away.”
