Page 52

To distract herself, she asked, “How was your face scarred?”

“During a tournament, a melee. Swarms of men in armor chasing each other with swords across a field, all for the enjoyment of spectators.”

“I always thought those particularly barbaric, especially when so many good men were hurt.”

“My helm was knocked off, and three men who I regularly defeated in individual competition decided to have their revenge.”

She winced.

He grinned. “I’m grateful they missed my eye.”

“Does it bother you being…disfigured?”

“Does it bother you that I am?”

She reared back. “Why should my opinion matter?”

“I learned that it did not affect how most women saw me—commoners anyway. And you are one.”

“And are the titled more ill-behaved?” she asked, offended.

“Sometimes, aye.”

“Which is why you asked about Lady Elizabeth.”

He shrugged.

“You make too many assumptions about her,” she said coldly. “She owes you nothing, especially after the way you treated me.”

“I will write to her. I vow I will change her mind about me.”

“’Twill be more difficult than you think,” Elizabeth said.

Suddenly, she heard a strange sound behind her, and both she and John turned in time to see the stunned expression on the second soldier’s face as he stared at the arrow imbedded in his chest.

Before the soldier had even toppled off his horse, John was already pushing Elizabeth face first onto the floor of the cart as he shouted, “Attack!” to the lead guard.

She spat out straw, her heart pounding as she peered over the edge. The soldier in front wheeled his horse about just as an arrow shot past him and was buried in a tree.

“Anne, stay here!” John commanded in a voice she knew she could only obey. He took the dagger from his waist and put it into her hand.

“But will you not need this?” she cried.

He ignored her. There were shouts in the forest now, but she only had eyes for John, who vaulted over the bench, ran across the back of the cart and flung himself at the riderless horse. She gasped as his torso hit the saddle. But instead of falling, all in one motion he pulled himself upright and unsheathed a sword from the scabbard attached to the saddle. Though the horse was crazed and fought his mastery as it flung itself in a circle, John dominated and controlled it, then lay low over its neck as he rode to join the other soldier. Several arrows missed their mark as the two men galloped into the sparse trees toward the source of the attack.

Elizabeth clutched the edge of the cart and the dagger, squinting into the trees to see what was going on. She could hear both men and horses screaming, and she said a quick prayer for John’s safety. He emerged, galloping across the road as he chased a thief who ran for his life. With the hilt of his sword, he hit him across the head, and the thief dropped face first onto the ground and lay unmoving.

In the fading light, she watched in awe as John wheeled his horse about on its hind legs to return to the woodland. In his face there was no fear, just determination, exultation, and a fierce triumph that made him look like a stranger to her. In that moment, she saw him as a knight, a conqueror of French tournaments and battlefields, a man confident in his skill.

She felt shaken and disturbed, and didn’t know what to believe about him—or how he, one man with only three soldiers, thought he could rescue her from Bannaster’s imprisonment. But at least she understood where his confidence came from.

The cart suddenly shook beneath her, and she turned in time to see a thief climbing onto the back. He was small and wiry, dirty hair wild about his scruffy face. She crouched on her knees, showing him her dagger as if she knew how to use it. He only gave a gap-toothed grin and continued to advance.

She couldn’t seem to get enough air as she gasped open-mouthed. Her mind flew with questions—should she go for the thief’s chest or legs or even his hands as he reached for her? Where was John?

But before she needed to make a decision, two men rose up from each side of the cart, as if they’d been crouched beneath it. She screamed, knowing there was no way she could battle three of them. But to her shock, the newcomers gripped the first thief and flung him out of the cart. As he landed headfirst on the ground, his neck gave a sickening twist, and he lay still.

Elizabeth gaped at the two men and threatened them with her dagger. They grinned at each other, and to her surprise she realized one of them was chewing on the end of his mustache.