Chapter Ten
“What are you doing?”Richard stared at Mercy. He didn’t like the anguish on her face, he didn’t like the way she was looking at that damned rope. It shouldn’t matter!Sheshouldn’t matter! Yet, guilt ate away inside him. He should have been there to help her. But how? He had no weapon, no sword. And yet, he knew if he was there, he would have fought to save Kit.
He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Sitting slumped over on Kit’s bed, that rope held loosely in her small hands. He took a step into the cottage. “What are you doing?”
“I would have killed him,” she whispered. “To save Kit, I would have killed the bishop.” She lifted such tormented eyes to him that Richard was taken aback. An immediate need to help her filled him. “This is what hell is. I’m already there.”
Richard grimaced. She knew nothing of hell. Or perhaps she did. Now. They called him the Brute. Compassionless. Yet, he felt the desire to go to her and gather her in his arms.
“There is no life without him,” she whispered, looking down at the rope. “Abbey knew this.”
Richard didn’t like her hopelessness. He didn’t like the way she was looking at the rope. He crossed the room in two large strides and stood before her, his arms crossed. “What are you going to do?”
Mercy shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears. She stared down at the rope for a long moment. “Anything,” she finally whispered.
“Anything?” he demanded. He towered over her. She had lied to him, kept his identity a secret. He owed her nothing. Except… he recognized the desolation in her eyes. She was alone. A loneliness he lived with every day. And the boy. The child was innocent. And truthfully, he had enjoyed the child’s company. He was strong and clever. He couldn’t let the bishop have him.
She threw the rope across the room. “Anything I can to get Kit back.”
His eyes narrowed. That was the Mercy he knew. He nodded once. “I’ll find the children.”
She looked up at him, staring blankly as if she didn’t understand his words. “How will you find him when no one could find the other children?”
“Is that what they told you? And you believe them? Someone somewhere knows where they are. I’ll bring Kit back.” He turned and started toward the doorway.
“Why?”
Richard grunted. “Because I am a fool.” He walked to the curtain that sheltered the cottage from the outside world, and paused. He cast a glance back at her. “You are to wait here. Do you hear me?”
Her expression melted and she stared at him with such wonder that he became uncomfortable.
“I’m not doing this for you,” he said firmly. “I’m doing this for the boy.”
She stood.
For the first time, Richard realized how fragile she was. How slim and tiny. How utterly brave to be the common sense of the village.
“We should go after the bishop now. Follow them.”
Disbelief filled him. “I have no sword. What would you have me do against armed men?” Hardness filled him at her betrayal. “Unless you are still planning to trade me for Kit.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Hear you nothing that I say, woman?” he demanded as she crossed the room toward him.
“The village men will try to stop you if they know what you are planning.”
“All the more reason for you to stay and keep my secret.”
She shook her head. “They don’t know where you are. They think you’ve gone. You can’t trust any of them.Ican’t trust any of them.” She shook her head firmly, a lock of dark hair swung free from her braid. “I can’t stay here. I don’t want to.”
“It’s not your decision.” Richard left the cottage and walked to the barn.
“I want nothing further to do with Goodmont.”
At least there was a blush in her cheeks and purpose in her eyes. “You are not coming with me. You will only slow me down.”
“Then I will look for Kit myself.” She whirled and headed toward her horse.
