Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades

by Laurel O'Donnell

“You are safe.”

  “I think they would see it differently. You kidnapped me, stabbed Brother Nicolas.” She held up one of her hands in supplication. “Even if it wasn’t your intention to do so. It doesn’t look good for you.”

  Marcus shrugged. “It never does.”

  Sage touched her stomach where the book rested. “How did you know Christian had the book?”

  “I followed him from Paris. He received the book from Jacques de Molay.”

  Sage’s mouth dropped in surprise. “The Grand Master of the Knights Templar? Christian doesn’t know him!”

  Marcus narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “You don’t know him well, do you?”

  “Christian? He is an old family friend.”

  Marcus nodded. “And loyal to the Knights Templar. Molay is a good friend of his.”

  “Christian?” Sage echoed in doubt. She glanced at the ground, her eyes moving as if she were searching for the answer. “Why would the Grand Master give Christian, a trusted friend, this book?”

  “For safekeeping?” Marcus mused. He shrugged. “I’m not certain. You might as well ask why my cousin wants the book.”

  “The only way we’ll know is by deciphering it.” Sage leaned back against the tree, gazing up at the starry night sky. She absently twirled a strand of her shortened brown hair in her finger thoughtfully. “Your cousin is close to the king, isn’t he?”

  Marcus didn’t know Guillume’s relationship with the king. “He works for him. That’s all I know.”

  “From what I’ve heard, he is the king’s lackey. He would do anything for him.”

  Tension raced along Marcus’s shoulders. “What are you getting at?”

  Sage licked her lips, drawing his attention to their wetness. “How well do you know your cousin?” she asked.

  “We are family,” Marcus answered. She should understand that.

  “Are you close?”

  “We were at one point. When we were growing up. We went our separate ways after our training.”

  “And after all this time, he summoned you to get the book? It seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”

  Marcus didn’t like what Sage was inferring. “He wouldn’t try to kill me. I am going to give him the book. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Who else could it have been?”

  Chapter 15

  Marcus’s lips tightened in irritation. “It could have been anyone. Robbers, perchance?”

  “Robbers wouldn’t dress as Templar knights to attack us,” Sage responded.

  “And that’s another thing,” Marcus protested, disliking her reasoning. “If Guillume was going to try to kill me, why would he have his men dress as Templar knights? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Sage nodded. “Unless he didn’t want to be connected to the attempt. He would have his enemies to blame for his cousin’s death.”

  It was sound reasoning. Lord, he hated her analytical mind sometimes. “He is my cousin,” Marcus insisted, angered at the idea. “We are family.”

  Sage looked away from him, pursing her lips in an attempt to keep silent.

  Marcus inhaled to calm himself. “Guillume would never do that.” And yet, even as he proclaimed his cousin’s innocence, doubt festered at the corners of his mind. Guillume had become the king’s pawn. He was ruthless. But surely, not against his cousin. Marcus had gone after the book without question. He had defended Guillume’s innocence in killing the pope to many people, including Sage. And for her to insinuate that his cousin was responsible for the attack on his life was repulsive. He shook his head. “Maybe they weren’t after me. Maybe they were after you.”

  Sage shrugged, a grin curving her lips. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe they weren’t after the book. I mean, they never asked about it.”

  Sage bobbed her head patiently.

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed. She was placating him.

  “If they knew we had the book, they wouldn’t need to ask,” Sage stated.

  He clenched his teeth. Everything she said made sense. Still, he refused to believe his cousin would try to have him killed. Guillume was family, the closest thing to a brother he had. He ground his teeth, incensed at the thought, infuriated that she had put the idea in his head.

  She sighed. “Marcus, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want you to be aware of all the possibilities.”

  “What would you do if I suggested one of your family wanted to kill you?” he demanded.

  She considered his words silently for a moment, her finger pausing in the lone lock of long hair at the side of her face. Then, a smile bubbled on her lips, and she fought to keep a straight face. “Laugh.”

  Marcus sighed. Her grin was contagious, and he couldn’t help but answer her amusement with his own grin. “Granted. It wouldn’t happen for you. I am envious.”

  “Envious?” she echoed in surprise.

  “To have a family that you could depend on like that.” Marcus paused, glancing at his horse near a tree. His horse was the only constant family he had interacted with in years. And he hadn’t even named him. “It must be nice.”

  “Nice?” she scoffed. “You don’t know what it is like to have so much pressure on you. You have to learn to fight. And you have to be good. Father’s skill was the level we endeavored to attain.” She shook her head. “I just couldn’t live up to it.”

  Marcus scowled. “I heard he is an admirable fighter.”

  “Admirable? He is the best. Raven and Willow idolized him. But not me.” Sage leaned back against the tree. “I was different. I wanted to learn. I wanted always to know why. And they looked at me…” She turned to him, and anguish shone on her face in the light of the moon. “As though they couldn’t understand me.”

  Marcus’s gaze swept her. A thin girl. Looking at her, one would think she needed protection. But they would be wrong. Still, her admission of feeling as an outsider in her own family made him want to put his arms around her and console her.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love them. I do. I would do anything for them. They’re my family,” she clarified.

  He stood and moved to her side to sit. He rested his shoulder against hers and bent his head to whisper, “But they’re not like you.”

  “No,” she admitted with gratitude. She swiveled her head, and her breath washed over his face.

  His gaze skimmed from her eyes to rest on her lips. Such full, kissable lips. It was a mistake. He had no place with her. She would return to her family, and he would continue working as a mercenary. He knew he should stay far away.

  But he couldn’t.

  She leaned forward and wrapped her fingers in the hair at his nape. She tilted her lips toward his.

  Instinctively, Marcus bent to her, meeting her halfway. So dangerous. But at that moment, he didn’t care. He wanted to comfort her as much as he needed to be comforted.

  Her lips slid over his, igniting a burning inside him. A burning for her. She ran her tongue along his lips, and hunger surged through him as though he had been starving his entire life and finally found the food that would satisfy him. He tugged her closer until their bodies came together.

  When she parted her lips, their tongues met and warred.

  Desire flooded through him. He wanted her. All of her. He felt a bond with her that transcended physical need. She matched his strength, and he admired her. They were both outsiders in their families, and they needed to be a part of something special.

  He peppered kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

  She gasped slightly.

  Her soft pant was an enticing drug that he longed to have more of. His hand trailed down her back and over her rounded bottom.

  Oh, Lord. He wanted her so badly. More than he had ever wanted any woman. But she was a Hawke. He would have to let her go. He paused and pulled back to look down at her. Beneath the pale moonlight bathing her face, passion filled her lidded eyes. Her fully kissed lips were succulent, and she leaned up for more.

  A Hawke, he thought
again and hesitated. Her family would kill him. Her father would destroy him. He had to think of Rose. Of caring for her and supporting her.

  Staring down at Sage, he realized she wanted this as much as he. It had nothing to do with her family. Still, he knew she was innocent. He didn’t want to hurt her. With a low groan, he separated from her. Every instinct in him wanted to return and sweep her up in his arms. And never let go.

  He quickly stood and took a step back, his mind screaming she was dangerous.

  The passion disappeared from her eyes, and she looked at him in confusion. She rose, looking to him for answers.

  He was no monk, that was certain. He wanted to make love to her beneath the stars right now. And why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t pure. He wasn’t a saint. But he knew he had nothing to offer her. He already had one person to care for, and it was all he could do to keep enough jobs to give coin to Rose. What if Sage got pregnant? What if she turned him away as Cassandra had?

  He had no one in his life. No one to trust. And he didn’t want to depend on her, only to have her abandon him. “We shouldn’t…”

  She immediately shook her head. “No,” she agreed but quickly turned away.

  He wanted to explain; he didn’t want her to leave, and he reached out to seize her arm. She yanked her arm free.

  A beige, small item floated from her pocket to land on the dark ground. It gleamed in the moonlight.

  Perplexed, Marcus reached for it.

  Sage snatched it up and closed her fingers around it, preventing him from seeing the item.

  He gazed at her. Her eyes were wide and round as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “What is that?”

  “Um…” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She pocketed the item.

  Marcus followed her. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.

  Startled, her hands balanced on his chest.

  His gaze moved over her face, searching for answers.

  She licked her lips.

  His hand dove into the pocket in her breeches before she could protest or move away. His fingers closed over some thick, small contents, and he pulled them out, releasing her.

  She stumbled back and reached for his hand.

  He pulled it away from her grasp and opened his fingers to glance down at the contents. Many small pieces of beige parchment glowed in the moonlight in his palm, very bright beneath the rays of the moon. Bewilderment washed over him amid tingles of familiarity. He had seen one of these before. At Gareth’s smithy. In the doorway. In the mud. His gaze snapped up to Sage, pinning her with fury.

  She straightened. “I, um...I use those for ideas.”

  His stare hardened. “You were leaving a trail.”

  Chapter 16

  “You wanted your family to find us,” Marcus accused.

  Sage opened her mouth to put forth an excuse and then closed it, swallowing heavily. Caught. “That was before we decided we were working together.”

  He clenched his fist around the pieces of parchment and whirled, storming toward the horse.

  “Where are you going?” Sage asked as panic brewed inside of her.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?” she echoed, trailing him. “Leaving where?”

  He spun on her, his form as imposing as a dark cloud. “Leaving you.”

  Her stomach fell. “But we’re working together,” she said weakly. “You said you would teach me to read.”

  He held up his clenched fist with the parchment in it. “Not only did you leave a trail for your family, but for those men who attacked us. They followed your trail. That’s how they found us.”

  Surprise washed over Sage. He was right. She had led those assassins right to them. She had almost gotten them killed.

  He tossed the parchment aside in disgust and held his hand out. “Give me the book.”

  “Marcus,” she said softly, pleadingly.

  “Give it to me,” he commanded.

  She jumped at the anger in his voice. She had never seen him so furious. She reached into her armor and pulled the book out, handing it to him.

  He snatched it from her and continued to the horse.

  Sage stood despondently. It was her fault they had been attacked; she didn’t blame him for wanting nothing further to do with her. Stupid, she berated herself. She should have known better. She should have known others would be looking for the book. She watched him walk away, his back stiff with anger, his fists clenched. He could have been killed.

  She inhaled a shaky breath. He should leave her. She had endangered his life with a foolish decision. And yet, she didn’t want him to. She walked up to him as he saddled the horse.

  She watched his quick, angry movements for a moment, knowing this was the last time she would see him. “I’m sorry.” She bent and picked up one of the saddlebags, handing it to him.

  “I don’t want your apology,” he snapped, ripping the bag from her hand to attach it to the saddle.

  She bowed her head, allowing his fury to wash over her.

  He growled quietly and whirled, tying the saddlebag to the saddle.

  She truly didn’t blame him for being so angry. She should have known others could follow her trail. But the thought had not crossed her mind. She was leaving the trail for her sisters. She should have thought of the danger she was putting them both in. Now, it was too late. She stepped back, giving him room to prepare to leave.

  He finished attaching the saddlebags and mounted the horse.

  Sage took another step back, twisting her hands before her. He was the first man to kiss her. And she had betrayed his trust just as she was beginning to like him. The pain in her chest and the extreme disappointment in herself was worse than any physical wound she’d ever had—even when Willow had accidentally sliced her arm with a sword. She stared up at Marcus, trying to memorize his features. His short blond hair jerked with his harsh movements. His jaw was stiff with rage. His eyes snapped fire as he stared at her. There was nothing she could say to him. Because if it were her, she would feel the same way.

  He reined in the horse and charged away from her.

  Marcus was furious as he urged the horse toward the road. He couldn’t believe she was the reason those attackers had found them! How was he supposed to depend on her? Depend on her? he scoffed. She was only supposed to decipher the book, and she couldn’t even do that. He clenched his fists around the reins. She had endangered her own life as well as his. His jaw tightened so hard it hurt. How could she not have known others would track her trail? She was a rational, intelligent, clever woman. She should have known better.

  And still, a nagging urge to return to her filled him. Why did he think he should not leave her alone in the middle of the forest? Why was he convinced he was doing the wrong thing?

  She had stood, not arguing, not professing her innocence. Just standing in the moonlight with tall shadows that could hide assassins or rapists lingering all around her. Her hands had been nervously wringing, her uneven hair hanging around her face. She could have been killed as well as him.

  God’s blood! With numerous muttered oaths, he turned the horse around and rode back to her. She still stood there with her shoulders hunched, watching. So small, so...damned alone. His heart twisted despite every effort to stop it, despite every effort to tell himself he was right. He reined the horse in before her, glaring down at her.

  She was so tiny in this big forest, so...

  Untrustworthy. And still, he couldn’t leave her. He uttered another curse and dismounted. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Yet, that thought didn’t stop the silly, honorable notion that whirled inside of him. He needed to protect her. Four men had attacked them. Even she could not fight off four men. Besides, who knew what else lurked in these woods?

  He could not leave her alone.

  She said nothing as he paused before her. And that was a good thing. She watched as he took the saddlebags from the horse and removed
the saddle. She followed as he stalked across the clearing and sat heavily beneath the tree where they had just kissed.

  He closed his eyes.

  “Marcus…” she said softly.

  “No,” he said, holding up a finger to stop her. “No. Not another word.”

  She nodded and retreated, almost folding in on herself.

  Guilt slammed down on him. Damn! Why did he feel guilty? What did he have to feel guilty about? She was the one who left the trail for those men who meant to kill them. No. No, he refused to feel an ounce of remorse. He crossed his arms. Not one ounce.

  He opened an eye slightly and stared as she settled beneath the trunk of a tree across from him.

  Not one ounce, he repeated, ignoring the heaviness on his shoulders.

  The next morning, they rode to the road. Sage knew Marcus was watching for anyone following them, as he should be.

  She had barely slept the entire night. She had been certain she would wake to find him gone. But he had not left her.

  He hadn’t said a word to her all morning. He had handed her half a loaf of bread and indicated the horse without looking at her.

  It made her sad that she had betrayed his confidence. Now, they travelled together, and it was torture. She could feel his arms around her as they gripped the reins. She could feel his strong thighs along hers.

  Torture.

  She didn’t know how to make it up to him. She didn’t know what to do to make it right, what to say.

  It wasn’t long after they set out that the horse started to limp on its front right hoof. Sage noticed the change in gate immediately. Marcus pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted. Sage slid from the horse as well.

  He walked to the front of the horse, running his hands down it and over the knee before lifting the leg to inspect his hoof. “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “What is it?” Sage asked, worried but hoping she could somehow help. These were the first words they had spoken all morning.

  “The shoe has come off.” He stood up and looked first one way and then the other. “We’ll have to walk to le Carla and have the blacksmith reshoe him.”

  Le Carla. Tingles raced up her spine. She and her family had been to the town many times. She knew people there. “Marcus,” she started to admit the fact.