Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (28 page)

“Are you a knight then?”

He nodded.  “Earned my spurs not long ago,” he said and pulled out two golden spurs.  “I didn’t want to make any noise when I grabbed you so I put everything in my pack.”  He gestured to the b
undle he tossed her.  “Get dressed.”

“Dressed?” she poked at the bundle curiously seeing a tunic, heavy trews, and boots.

“That smock is useless.  Look at your legs, bruised and cut.  Your bare feet are near torn to shreds.”

“But these are boy’s clothes.”

He smiled at her.  “Mine when I was a lad.  I figured they’d fit you.  They will keep you warm and are far more practical than skirts right now.”

She couldn’t argue with that.  He turned his back and began to put on his armor.  Rose took the opportunity to dress, sighing in relief at the warmth of the sturdy garments.

Brynmor finished his armor.  Rose was startled that it made him look even older...except for his eyes.  For some reason, he still looked like a boy when she gazed into his eyes.

“Why...why are you helping me?”

He sighed softly and dragged his hand through his long raven hair.  “I met an angel on the trail...with broken wings.  She told me of you,” he whispered so quietly Rose wondered if she heard him correctly.  He shook himself and spoke louder.  “Powys married my mother and adopted me as his son not long ago.  But I soon discovered he is not an honorable man.”

“You said he was dead.”

Brynmor nodded bitterly.  “He...he was mean to my mother.”

Rose stared at him but he said nothing more about his family.

“I learned about your plight, and the fact your father’s hands are tied.  I know he wants you home.”

Rose’s heart twisted.  She missed her father terribly.  But could she trust this boy with the last name of Powys?

“I learned about the people who had you,” he continued.  “But I also know your father can do nothing so it wouldn’t do any good if I told him where to find you.  He is being watched and if he tried to free you...they would kill you.”

“But why are you helping me?”

His mouth pressed into a hard line.  “Because I want to.  Isn’t that enough?”

Rose swallowed hard and shook her head.

Brynmor growled a curse and turned back to his horse, returning items to his pack.  “I am helping you because it is the right thing to do.  You are a child, Rose, you don’t deserve this.”  He paused and looked up at the sky.  “We’ve put some distance between us and the mercenaries but I know they will not give up.  The sun will go down in about an hour or two.  I suggest you get as much rest as you can.  We will travel only at night and try to hide in the day.  But we’ve got to keep moving fast.”

Rose sat on the bedroll, watching Brynmor closely.  Should she believe the adopted son of her father’s enemy?  Was he speaking the truth and taking her home because it was the right thing to do?  Or should she try to escape?  Would the soldiers catch her again?  She sighed miserably and closed her eyes.  “Papa, what do I do?” she whispered.

****

For the next five days, Brynmor pushed them hard on the trail.  He was a strong vigilant boy in a man’s body, Rose discovered.  Many times they rode far beyond her endurance.  She would fall asleep against his chest and awaken in a bedroll with Brynmor sitting next to her, always guarding her.  At this rate, she would never get a chance to escape.

They headed north; traveling along what Rose thought was the Severn River, staying to the thick undergrowth and trees as much as possible.  When forced onto a road, Brynmor used it to push his horse into a hard gallop, the destrier’s stride swallowing the miles.  But the direction still did not prove if she should believe him or not.  Either way, if he was taking her home, or taking her to Powys as his captive, they would have to travel this way since Powys and Montgomery were so close to each other.

But Brynmor kept her fed, warm, and dry, true to his word.  Rose rationalized that since she would have to travel in this direction anyway, she might as well go with him.  He had not tried to hurt her.  He was not overly kind, but neither was he mean.  She also noticed the deepening shadows under his eyes.  He shaved every so often, but stubble seemed to darken his face perpetually.  The lines in his face grew more pronounced.  Rose did not miss the
meaning; her father had always praised her intelligence.  Brynmor was exhausting himself.  Even though she was weary, she received more sleep than he did.  His constant watch over her when they camped demanded a heavy toll on him.

The problem was he slept lighter than a cat.  Rose frowned, mulling it over.  Soon, his exhaustion would catch up with him and force him to sleep deeply.  That would be the perfect time to escape.  They were in the southern edge of her father’s earldom, that was certain.  Perhaps she could find a farmer who would shelter her and send word to her father to fetch her.  Or a church.  That would be even better.  Surely a priest would give her sanctuary until her father could come for her.

The horse gradually slowed from a gallop, to a trot, then to a walk.  Rose glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Brynmor’s eyes closed, his chin against his chest.  His arms loosened around her, but his fingers still gripped the reins, although not as tightly as before.  Rose remembered her father mentioning something about napping while riding.  It was something a knight learned quickly, to rest whenever the chance presented itself, but not fall off the horse.

She shifted slightly in the saddle and Brynmor jerked awake, his eyes narrowing as he saw her looking at him.  “What?”

“Are you all right?” she asked sweetly.

His eyes narrowed even more.  “I am fine.”

She nodded and smiled, her gaze returning to the trail.  Soon, very soon he would have to sleep.  As they walked, she saw a few plants lining the trail.  Oh, what were those called?  She dredged through her memory.  Valerian.  That was it.  Her scowl deepened.  She remembered a maid saying something about that plant...now what was it?

Brynmor didn’t trust the waif riding before him any farther than he could throw her.  Although, he noted dryly, he could probably throw the pitiful little creature quite a distance.  But when she smiled like that, it made him want to look over his shoulder, expecting to see her father sneaking up behind him ready to plunge a dagger in his back.

He was a bloody daft fool to try this scheme.

But what’s done was done and he couldn’t abandon the girl.  She wouldn’t survive a day, no matter her fiery spark.  His lips lifted slightly.  For a child, she was fiery, able to survive the hell her captors put her through and still have a stubborn streak a mile wide.  He didn’t blame her for fearing him.  His size and strength intimidated even full grown men; he could imagine what a slip of a girl would think.

But when those angelic blue eyes of hers locked on his, he didn’t see fear.  Instead he saw a calculating intelligence.  He had to remind himself she was only eight.  A child.

A child who was as sly as a fox.

Earl, I think you would be very proud of your daughter.
  He just hoped this whole thing didn’t blow up in his face and the earl slew him thinking Brynmor responsible for this.

Why are you helping me?

Why indeed?  He spoke the truth.  He had learned of her abduction and knew reuniting her with her father was the right thing to do.  Then he had found Gwen, wounded, on the trail.  Her plea for the Earl’s daughter twisted his heart.  Family meant everything to him and Brynmor knew if he could reunite one, he had to do it.  He did it for the family he had lost.

The reason was plain to
him; his heart demanded he act when he learned the answers to Rose’s whereabouts.  But it was doubtful anyone would believe him.  They would not realize he had heeded his heart simply because he could not bear to ignore it.

He sighed softly, wishing desperately for sleep.  He was at the end of his endurance, ready to drop.  But he remembered too well what had happened the last time he dropped due to the demands of his body.  His sister had died.

Steeling his resolve, he forced himself to continue.  He forced himself to ignore those angelic blue eyes and the bright smile that made his heart twist into a knot when she dared award it to him.

He would get her home, safely, even if it cost him his life.

****

Rose managed to stay awake when they stopped to camp this time.  She offered to help, noting Brynmor’s hands shook as he worked.  He looked at her suspiciously but accepted her assistance.  This time he risked a small fire to brew a strong tea.

While he tended his horse, Rose again spotted some Valerian plants around the campsite.  She had finally remembered what a maid had said in passing, not realizing Rose was in earshot.  If a maid wanted a man to sleep deeply so she could steal his money instead of bedding him, she should put Valerian in his drink, and he would sleep like a baby.  Rose didn’t want to hurt Brynmor, he hadn’t been mean to her.  But she couldn’t risk him taking her to Powys as his prisoner.  She had to get home.

Gathering a bit of the plant, she moved to the pot of boiling water and deftly added it, then hurried to her bedroll.

Brynmor strode to her.  “Would you like some?” he asked and put the steeping bags in the pot.

“No thank you.”

He shrugged and handed her some food from their dwindling trail rations.  She stared at her portion guiltily, knowing she got the lion’s share.  He needed more than what he was taking.

“Brynmor,” she asked softly and tried to hand her food back.  “I can’t eat all of this, you take it.”

His head came up and he glared at her in surprising anger.  “I do not need it,” he growled.  “Eat.”

“But--”

“Eat!” he snapped.

Rose swallowed hard, genuinely frightened of him for the first time.  She ducked her head and nibbled on her food.

A tense moment of silence passed then he sighed heavily.  “Rose, forgive me.”

She looked up at him startled.

“I did not mean to frighten you.  I’m just...tired that’s all.  And you do need the food; you’re nothing more than skin and bones.  I...worry about your health because you are near starved.”

“But you need the food too....”  She took a deep breath and grabbed a larger hunk of cheese he had given her.  Timidly she held it out to him.  “Please?”

He gazed at her a long moment, his blue-green eyes turbulent.  His lips lifted slightly and he took the cheese from her.  “Thank you, lass.”

Her heart did a funny flip with his smile.  Maybe she had misjudged him.  He returned to his meal then poured himself a cup of tea.

Rose bit her lip, a sudden guilt lunging within her.  She suppressed a wild urge to slap the cup out of his hand.  He drank deeply then scowled.

“What’s wrong?” she
asked, her heart pounding.

“It tastes...odd.”  But he shrugged.  “Probably just my imagination.”  He poured himself another cup.

Feeling even more ashamed of herself, Rose choked down the remainder of her food.  She had to do this, she kept telling herself.  But what if he slept so deeply the soldiers found him?  They would kill him.

Bitter tears blurred her vision.

“Rose?” he asked softly.  “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he said and gestured to the bedroll.  “I’ll watch over you.”

She suddenly despised herself but moved to the bedroll and lay down.  All she could do now was wait.  There was no going back.  And if Brynmor realized she had drugged him, he would probably make her pay dearly for her error.

The sun rose higher in the sky, minutes passed by interminably.  Then she heard a sound coming from him that she had never heard before.  She sat up.

Brynmor sat once again with his back against a tree, his knees pulled up to his chin and his arms wrapped around them.  His forehead rested on his knees, and he snored softly.

“Brynmor?” she called, wondering if it had worked, and almost hoping it hadn’t.

He continued to sleep.

“Brynmor,” she called louder.

Another soft snore was her only answer.

She sighed heavily and stood.  “I am truly sorry,” she whispered and touched his head.  His hair was soft and silky under her fingers.  Again guilt nagged at her.  She plucked a wild flower from a plant nearby and stuck the stem between his fingers.  Why?  Perhaps it was some form of an apology.  Perhaps she had gone completely daft.

He slept on, oblivious. 

“May God keep you safe.”  She looked at his horse and hesitated.  It was doubtful she could ride the animal and if the soldiers found Brynmor, he would need it to escape.  Turning her back on the horse, she faced north and ran with all her heart.

****

Brynmor’s eyes popped open but he didn’t move a muscle.  Dear God he had slept deeply...too deeply.  His instincts screamed at him.  The sun was rapidly setting but the forest around him was unusually quiet.  His gaze traveled to the bedroll and fury roared within him.  Rose was gone.