Sweet Bea (20 page)

“Er—” He shifted in his saddle.

“Do you value her as is her right?”

“I—”

“Exactly.” Beatrice tossed her hand in the air. “My brother does not value me and it is not right.”

“Surely not, my lady.” Garrett smiled at her toothily. “What man alive could not value one such as you?” He winked at the guard.

“Er…aye, indeed.” The man’s eye twitched. “We will let you pass.” He waved to his men to clear the way.

An instant path appeared between them.

“I do not think I do not signify.” Beatrice leaned forward in her saddle.

“Not a soul alive thinks as such,” added Garrett.

“Well, not my father.” Beatrice struck out her bottom lip. “He says I am the star in his firmament.”

“Quite rightly so.” Garrett motioned her forward. “The sun in his skies.”

“My father is greatly attached to me,” Beatrice told the three men as she passed.

The men blinked at her and nodded.

“He should not like to think I was being bothered by an evil boy.”

“We will catch him, my lady. Never you fear.” The guard’s chest puffed up.

“I shall tell my father how brave you are.” Beatrice let her benevolent smile touch each guard in turn. She kept the smile in place until they were past the carriage. She nodded a greeting toward the coach, but nobody emerged.

The four of them proceeded at a sedate pace down the road.

Beatrice maintained a steady stream of nonsensical chatter. The skin between her shoulder blades prickled. She waited for the shout that would call them back. Then, she spared a thought for Newt. She wished him as agile on his feet as always.

Garrett joined in gamely, but Tom merely glared at the two of them. Ivy remained silent, her arms locked around Beatrice’s waist.

They kept their torturous pace until the churchmen could no longer see them.

“Jesu, Beatrice.” Tom’s breath rushed out of his chest. “You should have kept your mouth shut. It could have gone horribly wrong.”

Beatrice reeled as if from a blow. She thought she’d done well, all things considered.

“I think she saved us.” Ivy gave her waist a squeeze.

Some of the sting eased.

“That may be.” Tom frowned. “But she nearly took it too far. What was all the stars nonsense anyway?”

“She was magnificent.” Garrett grinned.

Pleasure blossomed inside Beatrice. The smile he gave her crinkled around the corners of his eyes and came from some place deep within.

“My sister once said men cannot abide a chattering woman.” She lost herself in the warm glow of Garrett.

“Well played, my lady.” He raised his hand and saluted her.

“Where do you think Newt went?” Ivy peered about her.

“The little turd.” Tom stuck out his chin.

“And you are as cross as a bear.” She’d handled the crisis well and Beatrice wouldn’t let Tom diminish her moment of triumph. “But we still love you.”

Ivy made a muffled noise and shook.

Ivy was laughing.

It made her triumph even sweeter. A warm glow filled her chest. “Am I the star in your firmament?” Beatrice batted her lashes at Garrett “The sun in your skies?”

Ivy laughed harder.

“For the love of God,” Tom muttered.

“Without a doubt.” Garrett’s face softened. “And much more.”

Her heart galloped. He meant it. His face was easy to read, laid bare before her with his heart in his eyes. She became uncomfortably conscious of Ivy and Tom watching their interchange.

“And you, Tom?” Beatrice pasted a glittering smile on her face. “Am I your sun and stars?”

“Beatrice.” Tom tried his best to look stern, but he lost the battle. His lips twitched. Tom’s eyes widened and he jerked upright. A red stain spread across his tunic.

Ivy screamed.

“Tom.” Beatrice reached for him, but Tom slid from his horse, stumbled and dropped to his knees.

Badger plunged, his hooves flashed perilously close to Tom’s head. Beatrice grabbed for his dangling reins. Badger snorted, his eyes rolling as he lunged backwards into Breeze. Breeze skittered out of the way, catching Beatrice off balance. She hauled on the reins to calm her mare.

Tom staggered to his feet.

“Rudd.” Ivy’s arms tightened about her middle.

Rough, hard faces leered up at her. Two of them. Big hands, hairy and coarse, latched onto Ivy’s bliaut and pulled. “There you are.”

She and Ivy lurched to the side. They would fall.

“Nay.” Ivy kicked at her attacker. Her foot connected with his heavy chin. He stumbled back a few paces.

Beatrice dug her heels into Breeze’s flanks. Breeze screamed and wheeled. The man was forced to let go of Ivy or be trampled.

Tom had found a branch and defended himself against another man. His motions were awkward and jerky, but he was standing.

Desperately, Beatrice looked for Garrett.

He had a knife in his hand.

Beatrice’s scream stuck in her throat. Two men flanked him. She wanted to shout a warning, but she dared not break his attention.

The man after Ivy lunged toward them again.

Beatrice dug her heels into Breeze. The horse shot from the mass of moving bodies.

A man cried out.

She didn’t stop to see who.

Ivy clung to her as Breeze pelted down the road, the horse’s nervousness lending speed to their flight. Beatrice pulled Breeze to a stop. Her heart pounded in her throat.

Breeze fought for her head, blowing hard and trying to flee.

Beatrice hung on grimly. Ivy’s arms were like bands of steel around her waist. Breeze settled, still tossing her head, but no longer resisting Beatrice’s control.

There were four attackers against Tom and Garrett.

Tom and his assailant circled each other. One entire side of Tom’s tunic was stained red. Tom stumbled.

Ivy gasped and squeezed her waist.

Tom regained his footing. The man he faced was smaller, but Tom was injured.

On the other side of Parsley, Garrett had one man on the ground.

The man struggled and Garrett kicked him in the ribs.

Savage satisfaction coursed through Beatrice.

Two large men lunged for Garrett and he turned to meet them.

“Rudd,” Ivy whispered.

“We need to help them.” Beatrice wanted to do something, but she knew nothing of weapons.

“There.” Ivy pointed a shaking finger at a large branch. “You ride and I will swing it.” Ivy slid off the horse and grabbed the piece of wood. It was almost too heavy for her.

Beatrice helped her clamber back into the saddle. “Make sure you hit the right one.”

“You ride straight.”

Tom dropped to his knees.

“Go,” Ivy yelled.

Beatrice walloped her heels into Breeze.

Breeze tore down the road toward the grappling men. The combatants didn’t turn until she was almost upon them.

“Move, Tom!” she bellowed.

Tom leapt out of the way with a yelp.

Ivy lurched, swinging the club. It hit the man with a sickening
crunch
. Ivy jolted and slipped.

Beatrice grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled.

Ivy righted herself.

Beatrice urged Breeze through to the other side before drawing rein.

Tom’s man was on the ground. Tom’s chest heaved as he staggered to his feet.

Ivy gagged and Beatrice looked over her shoulder. The end of her club was a gory mess of hair and blood. A tooth stuck out of it and hung drunkenly to one side, the bits of gum clinging to the end.

Beatrice’s stomach heaved and she forced her gorge back down. She turned back to the fight. “Curse it.” The men were now too closely engaged for her to charge again. Not without risking hitting Garrett or Tom.

Tom raised a rock, stumbled forward, and brought it down on Rudd’s head. The brute crumpled to the ground. Tom raised the rock and brought it down a second time.

As one, she and Ivy jerked.

His face a brutal mask, he raised his rock again and struck the man. Again and again Tom struck.

Beatrice stared at her childhood friend in horror.

Garrett pushed Tom off Rudd. He had felled two and the other was running down the road. One of the men on the ground moved. Garrett raised his boot and brought it down on the man’s head.

He straightened, his head whipping around. He caught sight of them and his shoulders slumped.

Beatrice trotted Breeze forward.

Ivy dropped her weapon, and it hit the ground with a dull
thud.

Staring at the man he’d pulverized, Tom swayed on his feet. He turned and ran to the side of the road. His retching broke the desperate silence.

“Well done.” Sweat and blood streaked Garrett’s face.

Beatrice ran her eyes over him as she fell from her horse. Thank you Lord, he was well. She nodded and walked straight into his arms. He stank of sweat and the coppery tang of blood, but she didn’t care. He was alive and unhurt. She shook and tightened her grip around him.

His arms were steel as he held her to him. “Are you hurt?”

“Nay.”

“Thank, Christ.” He kissed the top of her head.

“It is Rudd.” Ivy stared at the body. “He must have followed me.”

Beatrice shuddered at the mangled mess of the man’s head. She buried her face in Garrett’s neck.

“Tom,” Ivy cried.

Beatrice whirled.

Tom had fallen to his knees.

Nay, not Tom.
Beatrice lurched toward him.

Ivy crouched beside Tom. She pried the shirt away from him to look at his injury.

Tom pushed her hands away, his face a scary shade of white.

“Let me see.” Ivy evaded his hands.

“I am fine.” Tom clenched his jaw. He wobbled backward.

Ivy caught him and righted him.

Beatrice’s chest tightened. She’d been so relieved it was over she’d almost forgotten Tom had been hurt.

“How bad is it?” Garrett crouched beside Ivy.

“He has been stabbed.” Ivy sat back on her haunches. “I cannot see how badly. He won’t let me.”

“Let her see, Tom” Beatrice could barely stand to look. “Or I will come and tend your wounds.”

“A knife.” Tom pulled a face. “One of those curs threw a knife before they attacked. I am sure it is nothing.”

“Let her see.” Garrett sneered. “Or will the sight of blood make you faint?”

Tom glared at Garrett, but moved his arm to allow Ivy to work.

Ivy peeled the soaked fabric away from the wound.

Beatrice grew woozy. There was so much blood. Tom’s blood. Surely too much.

“Do not faint.” Tom glared at her.

“I never faint.” Yet. Her voice wobbled and spots danced before her eyes.

Garrett rose and slipped his arm about her.

“See to Tom.” Beatrice wriggled in his hold. “I am fine.”

“Hush.” He tucked her against his side. “Ivy looks to know what she is about. He won’t thank me for fussing over him.”

He was warm and solid. Beatrice dropped her head onto his chest. She drew comfort from the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

Ivy tugged and whipped Tom’s shirt over his head.

Tom grunted, the sound muffled by the shirt over his face.

His chest was streaked with red, more darkening the waist of his chausses. A long, ugly gash oozed from beneath his armpit.

It looked horrible. Beatrice’s throat constricted. She couldn’t bear it if Tom’s wound…

Garrett’s arm tightened about her. “It’s the blood that makes it look worse.”

“It glanced off his ribs.” Ivy prodded Tom to lift his arm. “Which is a good thing because otherwise it would have been a lot deeper.”

The wound continued onto his back. Beatrice shivered. It had to hurt, but Tom was trying so hard to be stoic.

“It is long though,” Ivy muttered. “It will need to be thoroughly cleaned and stitched.”

“I can stitch it.” Beatrice hadn’t thought Tom could get any paler, but he went ghostly.

“Nay.” He turned to Ivy. “Do not let her near me with a needle.”

“Tom.” Beatrice stared at him. He was her best friend. She only wanted to help.

“Beatrice.” Tom grit his teeth. His face contorted with pain. “Do you remember when I fell off the stable ladder?”

Tom was being monstrous unfair, it must be the pain. “Tom, I was ten. I knew nothing of stitching wounds.”

“You still know nothing of stitching.” Tom glanced at Ivy. “I have seen her embroidery.”

“I will do it,” Ivy said.

“Are you any good?” Tom frowned.

“Do you have a choice?”

Tom laughed, flinched, and gasped.

“Can he ride?” Garrett stroked Beatrice’s back in long, soothing strokes.

“Nay.” Ivy continued her examination. “It did not hit anything vital, but if he rides, it will jar the wound.”

“I can ride.” Tom clenched his teeth.

“Not if you bleed to death, you cannot.” She looked up at Beatrice. “You and Garrett must go on. I will stay here with him and tend to his wound. We will join you as soon as we are able.”

“I cannot leave Tom.” Beatrice stared at her aghast. “Or you.”

Ivy jerked her head at the man Tom had bludgeoned. “Rudd is dead. He will not be looking for me anymore. And whoever pursues you is still alive.”

“We can wait until the morning.” Tom needed her and she wouldn’t abandon him.

“Do not be simple, Bea.” Tom winced. “I am not going to die. Ivy is right. You must go on now you are so close. You could be in London by nightfall. We shall be fine here.”

“But you are hurt.”

“And you are a terrible nurse.” Tom uttered a short bark of laughter. “Go on, Bea. You cannot wait here for whoever is after you to catch you. You made me come all this way with you. Do not give up now. Otherwise, it will have been for naught.”

“Ivy is right, sweeting.” Garrett turned her chin to face him. “She will take care of him, and you and I can ride hard for London.”

A lark called from the meadow beyond, mocking her dilemma with its cheer. In the distance a small group of travelers wove into view. Beatrice had to make a decision. Around them life was moving forward. “It does not feel right.”

“That is your big heart talking.” Garrett kissed her temple.

“More like her soft head,” Tom said.

“Do not make fun of her.” Ivy turned on Tom. “Lady Beatrice has the warmest heart I have ever encountered. It is not a weakness to care deeply for those around you. It is a weakness in those who would seek to use it to their advantage.”