Willow stared at it. It was perfect. Peter, the tanner, had done a fantastic job. She quickly hid it in her armor and threw her arms around Jacob. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He squeezed her. “Don’t get into trouble, Willow.”
She stepped back, gazing at him with sly eyes. “Never.”
According to William, Sage and Marcus each rode one horse now. If they each had a horse, why wasn’t Sage escaping? Christian couldn’t get over the fact Sage had told the innkeeper she and Marcus were working together. Marcus had kidnapped her! How could they be working together? Maybe it was a trick.
Christian was uneasy for the whole day. He felt Willow’s sorrow and wanted to comfort her. But as the day progressed, she became quieter and quieter. He tried to engage her in conversation, but she was withdrawn.
They had traveled all day, and as night fell, they stopped at a quiet two-story inn on the road to Les Labadous. No sign of Sage. No parchment pieces.
Willow had insisted on a room for the night so she could rest, and Christian thought it was a good idea.
After tenderly making love to her, he held her until the moon was high overhead. But he could not sleep. He was uneasy and wasn’t sure why. Whether it was Marcus or Willow’s silence or something else. He rose from the straw mattress and moved to the window to gaze out over the landscape, his senses alert to everything around him. The moon was high and bright, casting a silver light over the fields and woods. The wind rustled the branches and rolled through the grass in waves.
Willow shifted on the mattress, sitting up. “I love you, Christian.”
Surprised, he looked at her. She was a shadow in the room. Did she sense something too? Or was there more to her proclamation?
“I need to tell you—” she started.
He stepped toward her, but something outside caught his eye. He froze, tilting his head to see out the window better. Warning shivers shot up his spine. Around the corner, a boy was leading a black horse toward the stables. A black horse. There were thousands of black horses. But something about this one set his nerves on edge.
He always followed his instincts. He reached out to Willow, grasped her hand, and pulled her to her feet. He grabbed his tunic. “We have to go.”
Could it be his brother? He tugged his gray tunic over his head. “Get dressed,” he commanded.
Willow followed his lead, dressing quickly.
He tugged on his leggings and then donned his leather armor. He didn’t know how she did it, but by the time he was fully dressed and armed, she was ready to go.
The door creaked as he opened it slightly, listening. Quiet talking came from the first floor.
Christian stepped into the hallway. Moonlight washed through the corridor from a large window at the end with parted shutters. He signaled for Willow to wait. He wanted to see who was downstairs. But she wasn’t very good at following his instructions and exited the room, trailing him.
He bent his head to peer into the main room below. A flickering red glow from a torch on the wall cast light over a soldier turned away from Christian. The soldier couldn’t see him, but Christian saw the soldier clearly and recognized his brother’s man he had beaten. Christian straightened, retreating. They would have to go out the window.
He turned…
To see Simon with his sword tip to Willow’s throat.
