“What of your wife, then?”
“What of her?”
“She doesn’t know that it is true.”
“What’s true?”
“That you are an agent for her father’s most hated enemy.”
Garren inhaled deeply, regretfully. “I will have to tell her and pray she can forgive me.”
The conversation died after that. Gabrielle was left to wonder what would happen to her brother if his ladylove did not forgive him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Derica had neverbeen out of the walls of Framlingham without her brother, father and uncles riding close escort. On those occasions, which had been rare, she had looked at it as something of a grand adventure.
But her harrowing ride with Fergus de Edwin was no grand adventure. It had been terrifying. Fergus had ridden north for the rest of the day to elude the search parties from Framlingham; when nightfall came, he had dared not risk putting her up at an inn and, instead, made camp in a small vale outside the village of Thetford. Although he tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, it was nonetheless cold and damp and he would not light a fire for fear that the search parties might see the smoke. Derica was cold and wet, wrapped in her new gown and Fergus’ old peasant cloak, and tried not to let her misery show.
Fergus built a little shelter for her to keep the damp off and she had slept fitfully. For warmth’s sake, he lay close to give her some of his body heat and in the morning they had made jokes about not telling Garren of their improper proximity. Derica was kidding, but Fergus was mostly serious. He’d seen Garren in battle too many times not to fear the man greatly, especially where a woman was concerned.
It was slow going once they turned west for Yaxley. Fergus estimated it would take them at least three days to reach the abbey. They stayed to the untraveled roads and footpaths, and Fergus slipped into a small town on the second day to buy bread and cheese for the lady. So far, she hadn’t complained, but heknew she was cold and hungry and uncomfortable. He felt very badly about it.
The second day blended into the third and, even though their travel had been slower than he had estimated due to the fact that they had swung far to the north, they had nonetheless made good time. The closer they drew to the abbey, however, the more relieved Fergus was becoming. It was certainly no offense to the lady that he was eager to drop her off and return to Longton; he simply didn’t like feeling of being hunted.
On the afternoon of the third day they stopped at a stream that transected a small, lush valley. There were trees about, offering shelter and shade from the sun that had decided to appear. In truth, it was pleasant and they needed the rest. Derica immediately took her slippers off and waded out into the stream, hooting at the freezing water. Fergus watered the horse, grinning at her, trying to keep his eyes averted from tantalizing flashes of ankle.
“Fergus,” Derica called to him as she hopped onto a slick rock.
“My lady?”
“Tell me something.”
“Anything, my lady.”
“You have known Garren a long time, have you not?”
“Since we were squires.”
“Tell me what he was like back then.”
Fergus let the horse graze. “He was a somewhat small boy, very quiet, very sharp. He never needed to be given an order twice.”
Derica hiked her skirt higher as she stepped from the rock back into the water. “Garren was small?” she giggled. “I cannot imagine that. He is absolutely enormous.”
“That happened very quickly,” Fergus said. “Because he was small and quiet, some of the other squires used to taunt him. Butthe moment he entered youth and his voice deepened, it was as if he woke up one morning a head taller than even the knights. From working with the sword and other weapons, his arms and shoulders grew enormous. Woe betides those who had teased him when he was small.”
“He punished them?”
Fergus smiled at the memories. “In very subtle ways. They never knew they had been punished until it was all over. But he made sure each and every one had their day.”
“But he is not a vengeful or wicked man.”
Fergus looked over at her; she was standing in the stream, the filtered sunlight glistening off her hair. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“No, my lady,” he said quietly. “He is not a vengeful or wicked man. In fact, Garren is one of the few men I know that will be honorable ’til the death. He is what every knight hopes to be but seldom is. I have nothing but respect and admiration for him.”
Derica smiled, thinking of Garren, her heart swelling with happiness and longing. “I hope to find that out for myself.”
