Sweet Bea (8 page)

Garrett straightened and shoved his hands into his rope belt. “So Calder?”

“Aye.” She must have imagined it. “Calder used to be a good husband, but Faye says he has changed. He threatened to take her children away from her. So she came to Anglesea. To warn us and to keep her boy’s safe. But now that she is there, Henry says Calder has the perfect excuse to lay siege. The king will support Calder, because he fears my father.”

“The king fears your father?” His lip curled.

There was the anger again, in the sharpness of his tone and the cold, dark of his eyes. “Garrett?”

“Beatrice, the king.”

“Indeed.” The wind carried the stench of burnt metal from the forge. The trees rustled, startling her. “My father has become too powerful and the other barons listen to him. Unless we pay or my father answers the charges, we could lose everything. Everything, Garrett.” She leaned forward to stress her point. “And my mother is ill. We do not want her bothered with any of this. Henry will not go to London because my father is needed there, but I think he is needed here more. So, that is why I must go. Only, I do not know the way to London. But you do, which is when I thought of you.”

“Does your family know what you plan?”

“Nay.” Beatrice shook her head so hard her braid knocked against her back. “If anyone knew, they would try to stop me.”

* * * *

Garrett almost laughed aloud. He couldn’t have dreamed up such an ideal situation had he tried. The sod from last night had known this would happen. Garrett had made up his mind no force on earth would get him to conspire with the whoreson. But this. He had her.

Sir Arthur could rot for all he cared. And he would. The justice of it flowed hot and sweet through him. Arthur rendered nothing, with no castle and no fortune. Betrayed by the king whom he’d served so well. His family ruined. Let noble, bloody Sir Arthur see how quickly the other barons turned their backs on one in trouble. He fingered the pouch about his neck. He would see his mother avenged.

Beatrice stared at him, her eyes large and imploring.

Garrett wanted to throw back his head and crow his triumph to the moon. His blood surged. It was pitifully easy. “Beatrice.” He knew better than to mistake her innocence for stupidity. “London is a long way away. And it is a dangerous journey. You cannot ask me to knowingly put you in harm’s way. I would die first.”

“I know.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight. “But you are the only one who can help us…me.”

“What if your brother comes after you?” He pretended to give the matter grave thought. “He would run me through for being within a hair of you.”

“We can travel fast,” she assured him. “No one will discover I am gone until after the keep breaks its fast. By that time, we can have put a lot of distance between them and us.”

He let the silence draw out long and tense between them.

A dog barked and she jumped. “I am not sure Henry will stop me. My father left him with only enough men for defense. Henry cannot risk being short of swords if Calder should come and he is sure Calder will come.”

He heaved a sigh and let her ferment.

“Please, Garrett.” She moved closer to him. “There is nobody else to whom I can turn.”

“You ask much, sweeting.”

“I know.” She pressed her hands against his chest.

Lower. His skin prickled beneath her hand.

“What would you have of me in return?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he declared valiantly. He almost made his gut churn with his performance. “You need only ask.”

“Oh, Garrett.” Moisture glistened in the depths of her huge eyes.

A heaping of gratitude was all he needed to serve her up to him. “Beatrice”—he stroked her cheek—“you know I can deny you nothing.”

“You will do it?”

“I will do it.”

She released a long breath. Her smile near blinded him. “Thank you, Garrett. You will not regret this.”

Nay. Garrett turned to dress. He would not regret this one jot.

“Make haste,” Beatrice said. “I will meet you at the edge of the village.”

Garrett hurried to meet Beatrice.

A tall form emerged from the dark.

Garrett stilled. The cur was back. He balanced on the balls of his feet. He wouldn’t find it as easy to take Garrett this time. People had mocked him when he wanted to train as a knight, but there were other ways of fighting. Garrett made it his business to be good at those.

“At last.” Beatrice waved Garrett forward. “I want to be far away from Anglesea before first light.”

This big brute was not from last night. “Who is he?”

“Tom.” Beatrice dropped her head. “He is helping me. As you are.”

She’d lied to him. Garrett balled his fists by his sides. Tom was tall, but Garrett liked his chances against him. Garrett felt the weight of the other man’s stare. He lifted a brow in challenge.

Tom tensed.

“What are you two doing?” Beatrice hurried between them. “Did you not hear me? We need to cover a large distance before it is discovered we are gone.”

“You forgot to mention your friend.”

“Did I?”

“You know you did.”

“Aye, well—” She dragged in a quick breath, ready to come up with more lies and half-truths.

“If he goes, I go.” Tom spoke to Beatrice, but glared at Garrett.

“Fine,” Garrett said. “Go without me.”

“Nay.” Beatrice whirled toward him. “We cannot go without you. Tom does not know the way.”

“What is he doing here, then?”

“Protecting Beatrice.” Tom locked eyes with him. Not as stupid as he looked.

“I can protect Beatrice.”

Tom stepped toward him, his chest squared, arms braced. “Who will protect her from—”

“There is no time for this.” Beatrice shoved at Tom’s chest. “You can both protect me. I will be doubly safe.”

Garrett weighed his options. A heaven-sent opportunity on the one hand, a zealous boy on the other. The boy would be trouble. Garrett would lay his life on it. But at the first sign of an approaching army, Beatrice would be locked up in Anglesea and out of his reach. He motioned Beatrice to precede him. “After you, my lady.”

“Right.” Beatrice clapped her hands. “Let us go before we are found here in the morning, still arguing amongst ourselves. Come along.”

Garrett grit his teeth. He was going to rid her of her habit of leading him around like a trained bear.

Beatrice approached a leggy, chestnut mare with a white blaze on her nose. “Mount up.”

Garrett froze. A hulking brute stood beside two other horses. One leg was cocked and its head hung, as if it might expire from boredom at any moment.

Beatrice lithely pulled herself onto her mount.

“Ah, Beatrice.” He grabbed hold of his belt and twisted. “I think it would be better if we went by foot.”

Her soft laughter floated toward him. “Why should we walk, when we can ride?”

“Do you not ride?” Tom looked down on him from atop a large horse, more plough beast than anything else.

“I ride.” He would be damned before he admitted his weakness before these two. “Only, I have not had much opportunity to do so.”

“Oh,” Beatrice gasped. “I did not think.” She sounded genuinely distressed. She swung her leg over the saddle, and slipped to the ground.

Garrett’s chest burned as she walked toward him. He should know how to ride. He should have his own horse. It was his birthright. His mother had said so since he was old enough to understand. But serfs couldn’t afford horses, could they?

He owed Sir Arthur for this, as well. When he’d approached his local baron for sponsorship, the man had seemed amenable. Garrett was, bastard or not, the son of a knight. Until Sir Arthur poured his poison in the man’s ear. Then, he’d become a joke to them.

“I beg your pardon, Garrett.” Beatrice touched his arm.

A fine tremor racked him as he fought the urge to shake her off.

“I have been most thoughtless,” she said. “Tom, you must ride Badger. You are more accustomed to riding and you know him. Let Garrett take Parsley.”

Parsley? It shook Garrett out of his bitterness.
Parsley?

Tom snorted. The smug dog crossed his arms over his saddle and smirked down at Garrett.

Garrett bunched his fists. He wanted to smash Tom’s face. “Nay.” Garrett would rot in hell before he had them take pity on him and put him on a horse called Parsley. “This one will suit me well.”

Beatrice’s teeth flashed as she smiled at him. “His name is Badger.” She stroked her hand down the horse’s forelock. “And he is a sweet boy. Aren’t you?”

Garrett didn’t mind horses. He’d shooed his fair share of them, but he’d never ridden in his life.

Beatrice remounted.

Garrett studied how it was done. He would hack off his arm before he let either of them know he couldn’t ride. He approached the horse.

It stared down its long nose at him.

“Hello, Badger.” He put one foot in the stirrup.

Badger shifted away.

Garrett was forced to hop after it.

Badger shook his head and whickered softly, as if the bloody thing was chuckling at him.

Beatrice and the boy were looking at him. They were laughing at him.

Humiliation crawled up his neck and lifted his hackles. He hopped closer to the sodding horse.

Badger shifted again. Slightly farther away this time.

Garrett yanked his foot from the stirrup to keep from falling on his face.

“Badger is a bit tricky,” Beatrice said. “Let Tom take him.” The sympathy in her voice exacerbated his shame.

“Here, take Parsley.” Tom dismounted.

“Nay.” Garrett stomped after Badger.

The overgrown donkey shook his head and trotted away.

Right toward Tom, who grabbed Badger’s reins.

The horse turned obediently toward him.

“I will ride Badger.”

Garrett’s words fell on deaf ears as Tom swung his leg over Badger’s back. The hell horse stood still as a post for the other man to mount.

“Ride Parsley.” Tom’s eyes glittered down at Garrett. “We do not have all night.”

Garrett stalked toward Parsley. Tom would pay for the insult. And as for Badger? He glared at the horse. The first, the very first opportunity he got, the bloody horse was dog meat.

Garrett’s ass ached and his balls were bruised black and blue. All through the night and, barring a short rest to break their fast and water the horses, all day, he’d sat on this bloody horse. Beatrice stayed slightly in front of him, as they went east.

The road stayed empty as it followed the sheer drop of the cliffs to the ocean below.

He envied Beatrice’s absolute ease in the saddle. He also admired the way her shoulders tapered to a waist so tiny he could span it with his hands, before flaring to the sweet curve of her hips and ass. It was all that kept him from obsessing about the pain in his own saddle.

Soon, he’d be able to explore with more than his eyes. The prickle of sensation at his nape warned him Tom had his eyes on him again. He was a leery one, Tom. Like a bad-tempered weasel, he watched Garrett constantly. What ever he said, Tom listened keenly, narrowing his eyes as if assessing every word.

“Look.” Beatrice turned her head to appeal to him. Her cheeks were flushed with enjoyment. “Do you see that tree? I swear I have never seen one quite that size. Have you?”

It looked much like any of the countless trees they’d passed since the sun had risen. “The tree is large.”

“See how the branches are perfect for climbing?” Beatrice clasped a hand to her throat, enraptured by a blasted tree.

Garrett wanted to shake his head.

Beatrice talked, almost constantly. He’d not noticed that about her before. Mayhap because he’d kept her mouth busy when she was with him. Everything she saw required commentary. Every new sight became a thing of wonder that needed to be chattered about at great length. Were the hills not the most wondrous green? Had he or Tom ever seen a sky so blue or as endless? What was that bird? Was that a rare blossom?

Tom had the knack of knowing which of her pronouncements required a reply and when Beatrice was happy to burble on to herself. Garrett hadn’t mastered Tom’s trick yet. Every time she turned to him, her face alight with her new discovery, he couldn’t stop his response. This would earn him a beaming smile before she was off again.

They kept a tough pace and Garrett struggled to keep up. It was getting harder to hide as the miles wore on.

Beatrice, however, thrived. Her big aqua eyes sparkled like gems, her cheeks rosy with excitement. It caused an odd twinge in his chest. Or the twinge could be a result of not chewing his bread properly when they’d stopped to eat. Except it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. It was like the sun on your back, warm and comforting.

She turned to talk to Tom.

Those two were thick as pease pottage. There was the sort of ease between them that came of years of knowing each other. It irked him. The couple didn’t mean to exclude him, but there were times when neither of them would complete a thought before the other took it up. Not that Tom said much. He left the speaking to Beatrice, which suited the lady perfectly.

He’d stopped sulking around the time he noticed Tom was no more adept in the saddle than he. From the pained grimace on the boy’s face, Garrett guessed Tom ached almost as badly as him. It cheered him immeasurably. It also proved impossible to hold onto his anger in the face of Beatrice’s relentless enthusiasm.

She turned and smiled at him.

He forgot the pain. His mouth tilted up in answer. She had one of those smiles. It invited you to join in. The moment was over in a blink, and she turned away. It was the strangest thing. He hadn’t thought her beautiful when he first engineered their meeting. Not plain, precisely, but her face was too strong and the lines too definite for feminine beauty. As the days had passed and their meetings grew more numerous, however, he started to notice other things. Her smile, for instance. Beatrice smiled with her entire being. It lit her from within. Her eyes, too, drew him in. They changed constantly. It was like watching the quick flowing current through a stream. Her eyes reflected the ceaseless ebb and flow of her thoughts.