“Mercy,” Richard called. When she didn’t look at him, he took her hands into his. “Kit is a smart boy. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“No.” She shook her head. “He’s not. They took him from his home. They stole him from his family. He’s frightened and I can’t reach him. I can’t find him.”
Richard squeezed her hands. “We will find him.” He reached back and pulled a cloak from a chair. He draped it around her shoulders. “Here.” He pulled her chair closer to his and gently gathered her against him. “Close your eyes and rest.”
She resisted for a moment, but she was exhausted, mentally and physically. She lay her head against his shoulder.
He stroked her arm.
His embrace eased her fears and she felt safe. “I would never have given you to the bishop.”
Richard grinned against the top of her head. “You would have. And I don’t blame you.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have told you the truth. Told you what I knew about what you had done.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I still would have helped you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were kind to me. Not many are.”
“I put my needs above yours. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Richard squeezed her tightly. “I know why you did it. For Kit. I understand. And I was angry, but I don’t fault you. Not at all.”
She looked up at him. “Are you still angry?”
“How can I still be angry with you?” He brushed a lock of her hair from her cheek.
The brush of his fingers sent shivers through her body. She sighed against him, her head and body nestling closer to his. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. You were my salvation from the moment I saw you at the inn. You were the only one who would help. Then and now.” Her eyes began to close. The fire in the hearth blinking in and out of her sight.
Richard’s chuckle sounded low in her ears. “You are the only one to see me in that light.”
“That’s because they are all fools,” she whispered, and fell into an exhausted slumber.
The sound of crashing metal jarred Mercy awake.
Standing frozen near the hearth was a small, thin boy. His eyes were wide as they locked with hers. His brown hair hung over his eyes.
It took a moment for Mercy’s sleep-filled mind to recognize the boy as the child stealing an apple in the market the prior day. Just as she remembered him, the boy bolted, running for the door.
“Wait!” Mercy cried. “Wait! Please! I won’t hurt you!”
The boy didn’t stop and dashed directly into a large form that suddenly appeared in the doorway. Richard caught the boy by the arm. The boy reacted instinctively, kicking and squirming to escape.
“Did he harm you?” Richard demanded of Mercy.
Mercy shook her head and quickly rushed to the boy. “We won’t harm you.”
“What do ya want?” the child growled, looking at her suspiciously.
Mercy glanced at Richard and then back at the boy. He had fight in his brown eyes. “How was your apple?”
“Are ya goin’ ta hand me over to that fat merchant? One or two apples ain’t gonna harm anyone. I was just hungry!” He tugged at his arm, but Richard held him still.
“I know,” Mercy said softly. “Please. I have just one question for you.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed distrustfully.
