The Red Wolf's Prize (11 page)

“’Tis a good idea,” mumbled Morcar, wondering how it might
be accomplished.

“Do you remember that the old thegn was known for
entertaining artists and those skilled in crafts and fine wares?” asked his
brother.

“Aye. We were well entertained when we were there and Serena
was always lavishly gowned. What do you suggest?”

“Let us send a man disguised as one of them,” offered Edwin,
“and you will have the information you seek without anyone aware who is asking,
save this woman Aethel.”

“Aye, ’twill serve. Soon I will have Lady Serena here in
Mercia, and mayhap information from her brother.”

* * *

It was dark when Serena woke. With haste, she donned the
clothes Rhodri had given her the night before as he told her of Eadric the Wild
and his alliance with King Bleddyn of Wales. What did it bode for their chance
to regain England?

Only a day had passed since she had talked with Maugris at
the edge of the river, and the words of the old man continued to haunt her. The
desire to be with Steinar pulled her toward Scotland at the same time her fear
of discovery and her growing attraction for the Red Wolf prodded her to go.

Her people would survive. Though he might be arrogant and
demanding, she was convinced the Red Wolf would do nothing to harm them.

As she made ready her escape, she told only Cassie, Rhodri
and Aethel, who for her own reasons, had offered to help. Though the Welsh bard
had counseled against it, Serena had decided to take no one with her. She would
risk no one save herself.

Securing her long plait on top of her head, she pulled the
brown cap over her ears. With great care, she stole from the servants’ sleeping
quarters, waking no one. Her soft boots made no sound as she crept into the
kitchen and took her bow and quiver of arrows from behind the cabinet where
Maggie had hidden them. Jamie had recovered her seax and once more the blade
was secured at her waist. The bread and cheese saved from yesterday’s meals
would last her a day and then she would hunt. It was early summer and there
would be plenty of game.

Keeping to the darkest shadows, she crept through the door
leading to the kitchen garden. As she stepped over the threshold, she was
startled to find Rhodri waiting for her.

“Serena, I would go with you,” he whispered. “Steinar would
expect it.” The Welshman carried a small sack and his bow was slung over his
shoulder.

“Nay, Rhodri,” she insisted, “I would go alone. You are
needed here.”

His black curls fell onto his forehead and he frowned as he
stepped back and bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”

Serena could feel him watching her when she slipped silently
to the stables. He still had his doubts, she knew. As Serena had expected, the
stable boys slept soundly in the loft above, and the groom in his own alcove,
so her soft footfalls did not wake them. Elfleda whinnied softly. Serena
quickly walked to her stall and saddled the mare, leading her from the stables
while keeping to the edge of the yard. Soon she was through the postern gate.
The loud snores coming from the guard gave proof to the sleeping draft Aethel
had supplied him the night before with his ale. He would not wake to stop her.

Once the woods engulfed her, Serena mounted her mare and
rode north, slowly at first, winding her way through the dense stands of trees,
and then at a gallop in open country. The rising sun painted the sky with gold
streaks and she smiled with her success at getting away unnoticed. But she was
less certain of her feelings at leaving the Norman whose very presence pulled
her to him. She did not want to like the knight for the man he was, to remember
the way he had kissed her, to see his gray eyes in her dreams. She wanted to
remember only the Norman king he served. But in her heart, she already missed
the Red Wolf.

She rode all day, stopping only briefly to water her horse
and eat some of her food. The night brought her to a copse of trees near a
large boulder. Exhausted, she drew her warm cloak around her, and with her
arrows and seax held close, she curled up with the rock at her back and sought
sleep.

Renaud stormed down the stairs of the manor and seeing Geoff,
drew the knight to one side. “Have you seen the servant girl Sarah? This time
of day she is usually above stairs, but she has not yet come.”

Although the morning meal had ended long ago, Renaud had not
observed Sarah around the manor. Without realizing it, he had become familiar
with her pattern of work, looking for the brown plait and violet eyes, pleased
when he spotted her. He had noticed when the boy Jamie, now his page, walked to
the stables alone that morning. Most days, Sarah would have been with him. And
now she was absent from his chamber when she should have been freshening the
linens.

“Now that you bring her to mind,” said Geoff, his brows
drawing together, “I cannot recall seeing her.”

Renaud frowned but did not answer immediately. “I sense
something is awry. See if Maggie knows of the girl. She may be unwell. I will
be working in my chamber.”

As he ascended the stairs, he could hear Geoff in the hall
talking to Maggie while she and the serving girls cleared the trestle tables.
“Maggie, have you seen Sarah? The lord is asking for her.”

“M’lord, I know not where she is keeping herself. I’ve nay
seen the girl all day. Ye might ask the boy Jamie.”

A feeling of unease settled over Renaud as he entered his
chamber. He was not able to concentrate on the drawings of the castle on his
work table. Could one of his men have defied him and taken the girl? Certainly
none would be so foolish, not after Sir Hugue’s banishment. More likely she had
gone to hunt rabbits and lay in the woods harmed by some beast. The image of
Sarah’s crumpled form lying still in the woods made him mad with anxiety.

By the time Geoff appeared at his door, Renaud was beside
himself.

“Ren, the housekeeper has no knowledge of the girl, and the
others we’ve questioned have nay caught a glimpse of her all day.”

“Take some of the men and search the village, the woods.
Find her!”

His friend knew him too well to question the order. “As you
wish.”

It was later that afternoon when Renaud sought distraction
in swordplay with some of his men, taking out his frustration and his worry on
the clash of metal against metal. Seeing Geoff approach with a worried look,
Renaud waved off Sir Maurin with whom he’d been sparring and sheathed his
sword. He knew immediately they’d not found the girl.

“She is not in the manor or the outbuildings. The village
and the woods have been searched and she is nay there. On my way here, one of
the stable lads came to tell me the mare belonging to Lady Serena is missing.
Assuming the servant took the horse, she has stolen a fine one.”

“When did the lad notice the horse missing?”

“He told me it was when he was feeding the horses this
morning.”

“And he said naught of it?”

“He assumed one of the men had taken the horse and would
return it. He said he would have reported the horse missing if it had not been
brought back. I think he felt badly he had not done so earlier.”

His mood somber, Renaud wiped the sweat from his brow and
chest and donned his tunic. “Let us return to the manor.” Once bathed, and
still brooding over the girl’s disappearance, he joined the men in the hall
where they were beginning the evening meal. She was only a servant, albeit a
comely one. Why should he care if she took to the road? Mayhap the loss of the
palfrey should concern him more.

Renaud could summon no appetite, so he strolled out to the
yard, gazing through the gate to the dark green of the forest. She was gone. He
had known in his heart it was so, but had hoped he was wrong.

Had she left on her own or had she received help from
another?

After a few minutes, Geoff joined him.

“Have you seen the Welshman today, Geoff?”

“Nay, I have not.”

Renaud wondered if they’d left together. He had never
trusted the bard.

But why would she leave? The answer came quickly. It had
been his attempts to woo her to his bed. She had made clear her hatred for
Normans and likely feared he would force her. Or, mayhap it was more. Did she
fear her own desire, that in time she would, of her own accord, come to his
bed? After all, she had surrendered to his kisses. Even she could not deny the
passion flowing between them when their lips touched. Because of her disdain
for Normans, she would try and deny that passion.

“I am going after her.” Renaud spoke his intention aloud.
“There is still sun enough to travel for some hours yet.”

“I’ll gather some of the men and be ready to leave
immediately,” Geoff proffered.

As Geoff turned back to the hall, Renaud said, “Nay. This I
do alone. The young fool left to avoid me. Without knowledge of how to ride,
she may be lying hurt somewhere. It must be me who brings her back.” His tone
had been harsh though he was not angry with Geoff; he was angry with himself.
And if, as he surmised, she had chosen to leave him because of what lay between
them, he’d be angry with Sarah. And Rhodri if he aided her.

“When last she fled,” Geoff said, “she rode north. She might
have done so again. I doubt she has traveled far.”

“I will ride the night if I must, but I will find her. Of
that you can be certain.”

As Renaud rode out of the gate, he passed the bard Rhodri
coming in. They exchanged a slow look as Renaud rode past him.

So, she rides alone.

* * *

Serena shivered where she lay on the cold ground and pulled
her blanket more tightly around her as the dream faded. The morning brought a
pale sun and cold air nipped at her face. She had managed to sleep a few hours,
but from the dull ache in her head, it was not enough. When night had fallen,
she had listened for sounds that might warn her of men in the woods or beasts
that would see her as prey. Thankfully, there had been none, but she’d listened
all the same as she lay shivering in the night.

When she had slept, it was only to wake with the image of
the Red Wolf in her mind. There was anger in his gray eyes, as she knew there
would be when he learned of her escape. But it was needful she leave before she
succumbed to his masculine lure, before he could claim her as his. If he took
her maidenhead, she would belong to him forever, no matter the priest had said
no blessing.

A rustle of leaves drew her gaze, but when she cautiously
surveyed the woods around her, she saw nothing unusual, and heard only the
birds greeting the morning.

Rising from the hard earth, she dusted off her clothes. She
would ride for a while before breaking her fast. Mayhap it would clear her
mind. Today she must hunt.

She had traveled only a few hours when, seeing a fast
flowing stream, she decided to stop. If the stream was bountiful, she might
catch some fish. But first she would hunt rabbits. She could cook the meat, eat
some and carry the rest with her for her evening meal.

Leaving her horse tied in the sheltering oaks, she crept on
silent feet, making her way through the sun-dappled forest in search of her
prey. Long ago Rhodri had taught her to move as one of the creatures of the
woodland, confident none would hear.

* * *

Renaud had ridden Belasco through the night, determined to
find the girl. Before he lost the light, he had identified a trail heading
north. When the sun sank and its glow of scarlet and gold gone from the sky, he
gingerly made his way by the light of the moon. His body was now crying for
rest but he was used to ignoring its demands. As a knight in William’s service,
he had gone days without sleep.

All during the night, thoughts of Sarah had run through his
weary mind. Why was he so fascinated with the girl? All he had wanted at the
end of war was peace, to find his joy in the land, as had his father and grandfather
before him. Though, in truth, he knew little of the demands of a
demesne
such as Talisand, as Sarah in her impudence had informed him. But he could
learn, and he would. And beside him he wanted the English girl, no matter she
was a servant. He was certain he had been right in thinking she left because of
him. Telling the women he would allow none of his men to force them was a
truth. But he would never have to force Sarah. She had softened in his arms and
returned his kisses, no matter how it shamed her to do so. She was only a
servant and he was a Norman knight, now made an earl by his king. How much
longer could she have refused him? Not long, he thought.

Anger warred with worry as he plodded on, concerned all the
while what might have befallen her for her reckless leave-taking. Would he find
her lying hurt somewhere? Thinking the worst, with the rising sun, he urged
Belasco to a faster pace.

The sound of the running stream shook him out of his musings
and reminded him both he and his horse were sorely in need of water and rest.

He led the gray stallion toward the sound of the gurgling
water, and loosely wrapped Belasco’s reins over a log near the stream’s bank.
But he walked on some distance until he spotted a large flat rock near the edge
of the water. Kneeling, he leaned over the edge and brought the cold water to
his mouth.

A snapping twig brought his head up. He stilled, searching
the forest for the source of the sound. Brown and yellow leaves strewn about
the gray rocks beneath the trees soaked up the sun’s rays. A labyrinth of
fallen logs and tree trunks lay before him. Anything could hide there.

The cause of the snapping twigs soon became apparent when he
spotted movement. A slim lad, dressed in the colors of the forest, crouched at
the edge of a small clearing, focused intently on the broad base of a tree
where three rabbits foraged, as yet unaware of the lad’s presence.

Without a sound, the lad nocked an arrow and pulled back the
shaft. The first arrow flew with a whooshing sound. Then, so fast Renaud could
not see the movements clearly, the lad nocked the second arrow, and fired off
another shot, then another.

At the base of the tree, three rabbits lay dead.

He had never seen an archer so fast or so accurate. In
truth, such skill was unknown to him. Mayhap he could recruit the young man to
join his archers for he doubted if any of them could match the lad’s speed.

Renaud watched as the lad walked to the base of the tree and
leaned down to gather his kill. As he reached to pick up the first animal, his
cap fell from his head and a thick brown plait tumbled toward the ground. A
curse escaped Renaud’s lips in a low hiss.

Sarah!

Then, into his mind came unbidden the words spoken by Jamie
at the archery contest.

Her arm is so fast ’tis as if the bow is part of her, as
if they are one.

Not Sarah.
Serena!

With sudden clarity, he realized he’d been played the fool.
Rage filled him as he slowly rose. The lady had deceived him, living beneath
his nose disguised as a servant, determined to thwart his claim to her. Well,
her deception was at an end.

Uncaring if she heard him, he boldly stomped toward her.

* * *

Startled by the sound of heavy footfalls crushing leaves and
rattling stones, Serena whirled drawing her seax. Like an angry beast robbed of
its kill, the Red Wolf stalked toward her, his hands curved into fists at his
side. Fear gripped her as his cold gray eyes made clear his intent. Rising, she
retreated until her back hit the broad trunk of the tree. Like a doe held in
the fixed gaze of a wolf, she froze.

Knocking the knife from her hand, he clasped one arm around
her waist and the other under her legs, sweeping her into his arms, and carried
her toward the stream. The tension in his hard muscles and the set of his jaw
shouted his anger. The force of his hold told her to struggle was futile.

“Where are you taking me?” she cried, aware they were alone
in the forest.

“To prove to both of us just what I have found.”

Without another word, at the edge of the stream he tipped
her head down, causing her plait to splash into the flowing water. Holding her
fast to his chest, the Red Wolf stared beyond her to the stream. Fearful of
falling, she wrapped her hands tightly around his neck and looked back, her
head only a foot above the rippling swirls. Her long brown plait drifted in the
water. A feeling of dread came over her as she saw the brown color running from
her hair to be carried away by the swift current. Parts of the plait were now
flaxen where the walnut dye had deserted the pale strands.

Slowly she turned to look at him, his face mere inches from
hers. Realization and anger glared from his cold gray eyes like a storm about
to break.

He knows.

Setting her on her feet, he clamped his hands around her
upper arms. “What is this deceit you have wrought? You are mine, Serena, by
William’s decree!”

“Never!” She pushed against his chest. “Never will I accept
your claim or your king’s decree.” Though she knew the Normans counted women
only as possessions, something to be bartered and given away like her lands, she
was determined to fight. Within her raged a battle between dread and desire.
But to give in to the desire seemed a betrayal of her father, her brother and
all she held dear.

As if she weighed but a
sou
, he lifted her into his
arms and carried her the short distance to the clearing. Setting her once again
on her feet, he threw his cloak on the ground and forced her down upon it.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” She tried to stand, but his
hand on her shoulder held her down. Squirming, she tried to fight off his hands
but he fell upon her, his heavy weight pinning her to the ground. He captured
her hands in his and held them above her head, as he looked into her eyes.
Captivated by the desire she saw in his darkening gaze, both fear and
excitement rose within her.