“Of course,” she said, keeping her voice modulated. He was likely as embarrassed as she at finding his wife dancing and leaping about like a child. After all, had he not mentioned—more than once—of his desire for a meek and mild wife? Oh dear. Under the guise of pointing in the general vicinity of her maid’s whereabouts, she managed to stifle a giggle by half turning away and covering her mouth. “Tabatha should return in a moment.”

“As your maid is not leaving with us, it matters not to me when she returns.” He strode into the chamber, once again making it seem smaller and closer. “Where is your baggage? I warn you, it must be small and able to fit on the back of your horse. And if you are not yet ready, we shall leave it all behind.”

“’Tis only this packet here,” Judith told him mildly. “I am ready to leave.”

Malcolm nodded, then swung up the large cloth bundle. “Let us quit this place.”

Judith very nearly held her breath during the last few moments of preparation. She had no opportunity to bid her friends or acquaintances farewell, and though it saddened her, she knew she could write to them. But, just as Malcolm seemed to be tense about their departure, so she understood his worries. Until they were out of the walls of Clarendon and well on their way to Lilyfare, she would feel a prickling on the back of her neck as if someone waited to stop them.

But when, only a quarter of an hour after leaving her chamber for the last time, Judith and Malcolm rode beneath the portcullis and onto the road, surrounded by their men, she could nearly believe they were free.

THIRTEEN

Malcolm wasn’t certain when to expect it, but he knew it would come. And it did, just as twilight fell on the second day of their journey.

He rode next to Judith, who had disdained traveling in an enclosed cart in favor of a saddle on her new mare Socha.

“I’ve traveled with Eleanor for years. I ride on horseback,” she had informed Malcolm pertly, just as they started out from Clarendon.

He had no issue with this decision, for that meant they journeyed faster and more efficiently. At the front of the party were his man Lelan and five other men-at-arms, and at the rear were another four, including the trusty Holbert. These were men Mal had chosen for their intelligence and prowess with a sword, as well as their ability to follow orders. Five were his own, and the others were from Lilyfare—picked with just as much care by Holbert.

They were trotting along in the falling darkness, another hour from the hidden Lock Rose Abbey where they intended to stop for the night. On either side was deep, heavy forest—the perfect place for an ambush. Thankfully, Judith was becoming tired after her first full day of travel, and she had lapsed into a stretch of silence. This allowed Mal to focus on their surroundings while attempting to ignore his other dark, guilt-ridden thoughts.

The only sound was the clip-clop rhythm of hooves along the beaten-dirt road, and in the distance, the hoot of an owl. Though Malcolm watched, listened and even sniffed the air, ’twas Alpha’s ears going sharply forward that called the warning. Then the destrier snorted, and Malcolm needed no other signal to draw his sword.

“To arms!” he cried, just as a group of shadowy figures on horseback emerged from the thick forest in front and behind them. Another cluster of silhouettes dropped from overhanging branches.

All at once, the still night was filled with action and sound: shouts, whinnies, metal clashing and sliding, grunts and groans and one female cry.

One of the silhouettes had landed on the back of Mal’s horse, and even as Mal drew his sword to fight off a mounted attacker at the fore, he swung his shield around sharply. It connected with the man behind him, who’d gripped the back of Mal’s hauberk as Alpha reared and snorted at the unexpected weight.

With a shout of fury and effort, Mal slashed down with his blade at the man at his front, and slammed his head back into the face of his rear attacker. At the same time, he whirled to look at Judith, who was the single unarmed, unprotected person in the group, even as he slammed his shield into the stunned man behind him. “Ride!” he shouted. “Judith, ride! Lelan! To her!”

She was holding onto her reins, bent over Socha’s neck and gripping tightly as the mare reared then kicked, sidestepping and rearing again. But the horse was penned in by the wild melee and had nowhere to go. Socha screamed and whinnied in terror, for she was not a warhorse and was unused to such activity. Mal watched in terror as he fought off another attacker, praying Judith would hold her seat and keep from tumbling beneath the group of furious, lethal hooves and that a stray blade wouldn’t strike her, even as he fought to get near enough to strike Socha on the flank and set her off.

“The woman! No harm to the woman!” cried a male voice in front of Malcolm. One of the attackers.

“Seize the lady!” cried another.

That was when his worst fears were confirmed, and a red haze settled over Mal’s vision. The king’s revenge. He struck out blindly, his sword slamming broadside against a mailed torso, sending the man flying from his saddle. Rage drove Malcolm—rage and fear—as he fought through the assailants, his mind blank as he focused on the fury.

Though there were nearly two dozen attackers, they were not as well-armed nor as practiced of fighters as the men from Warwick and Lilyfare. Still, it was a well-matched battle.

Malcolm slammed the flat side of his sword against someone’s skull, and the man fell away…and suddenly, Judith was there.

“Mal!” she cried, and all at once, she seemed to be scrambling through the air toward him.

He cursed at her disobedience, but snatched her up in mid-launch as she flung herself from Socha’s saddle toward Alpha’s. Slamming her into position in front of him, he curled his shield arm around her. “Stay down!” he ordered, spinning to greet another flash of sword. It whaled into his shoulder and bicep enough to send a shuddering pain through him. Mal grunted, but he didn’t hesitate as he brought his agonized arm up and out with a strong return blow.

The man cried out when the tip of Mal’s sword found the unprotected spot beneath his arm. With a sharp jerk, Mal thrust his opponent away and the man tumbled off his horse.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, all was quiet again except for the whuffling and agitated dance of hooves of their horses, and the gasps of exertion and pain from those men left standing or mounted.

“Judith. Are you hurt?” Mal asked, pulling his shield away from where he’d crushed her between it and his body.

“Nay,” she said, her eyes wide and her breathing rapid as she came out of the safe cocoon of arm and metal. “But you—”

“Holbert!” cried Mal, his mind still blank—though blind fury curled at the edges. “Lelan! À moi! To me!” He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak to her…not now. Not at this moment.

The men clattered over, and the others surrounded them. “Casualties?” Mal demanded, looking about, counting heads as well as he could in the dim light of dusk. Damn Henry. By God, he might be my king, but I damn him to the bowels of Hell.

“No dead of ours,” Holbert told him, his face streaked with something dark. Probably blood. He was holding his arm as if in pain. “But some injuries.”

“Any of their survivors?”

“Duncan went after one who slipped away,” said Lelan, speaking of another man from Warwick.

Mal nodded sharply. “Aye. Good. I want answers and Duncan is one to get them. Though I suspect I already know all I need to know.” Judith, still clutched in his arm, tensed and he knew she was about to speak. “Be still, woman,” he snapped, tightening his grip enough to squeeze the breath from her. “My lady and I will go on now. The abbey is an hour’s ride. Holbert, Ulreth, Robert—you attend to this here. The rest of you, close in tightly. Can everyone ride? I expect no further problems—but I am not such a fool as to be careless.”

Malcolm could have put Judith on Socha for the ride to Lock Rose Abbey, but he found he could not release her. Instead, Lelan led Socha behind and Mal pushed Alpha into a steady canter on the road. Aside from increasing their speed, it also made it difficult for Judith to speak.

He didn’t want to hear her talk, ask questions, wail about her fears, sob over the terror of the battle. He needed to calm himself, keep his thoughts clear, and praise God that he still held her—this woman who’d turned his mind inside out—in his arms. Living, warm, soft and safe.

This woman who cried after coupling with him. Whom he’d come upon crying again in her chamber the morrow after, hiding her face from him as he came upon her in preparation for their departure.

And now she disobeyed him.

Anger over her foolishness teased the edge of his mind, threatening to flood into his thoughts. But he kept it at bay for the whole of the ride to Lock Rose Abbey. They would be safe there for the night, for even if those who’d come after them were still determined to have Judith—

He drew in a deep breath, aware that his knees were shaking and his grip around her was iron-tight. He exhaled, retraced his thoughts. ’Tis done. For now.

They’d be safe in the abbey, for not only was it well protected, it was well-hidden in the depths of the forest. Few people knew of its existence—and the only reason Malcolm knew of it was because Gavin Mal Verne had told him. It was there that Judith’s cousin had come upon Lady Madelyne, who eventually became his wife. She’d been hiding there for a decade, protected and safe until Gavin discovered her identity and brought her to the king.

Indeed, even though he knew ’twas there, Malcolm would have ridden past the stone wall if Gavin had not given him explicit direction. It was well-hidden with ivy and climbing roses, shrouded by thick trees with low-hanging branches. Yet, when he rang the bell and used Mal Verne’s name, they were immediately given entrance. The nuns didn’t wait to be asked, but instead ushered the injured off to their infirmary and gave direction to the others—where to put the horses, where to get food, where to lay their pallets.