Her heart thundered until it felt as though it would leap from her chest "I saw something in my mind."
His gaze dropped to her chest "The Stone you wear makes it possible."
Izzy clutched her waist with her hands as a chill swamped her. Her father had done this to Wolf. She gasped and jerked backward, nearly unseating herself with the force.
"My lady?" Brahan reached for her arm, offering a steady anchor for her to cling to.
"I must find Wolf."
"Where?"
"I have no idea. Only that he is in a forest somewhere." She twisted away from the table, then stood on legs that were less than steady. "He needs me." She didn't wait for Brahan's response. As quickly as she could, she headed toward the huge doorway at the opposite side of the hall.
When she reached the knights, she paused, then straightened as she assumed a great lady would. "Your lord and master needs your help. Come, follow me."
Without hesitation the men set their game aside and obeyed as though she commanded them every day. Once she knew they followed, Izzy didn't look back. She had to find Wolf. She had to protect him from her father.
Chapter Nineteen
Brahan stood, staring after the Lady Isobel as she hurried toward the castle door with seven strong knights in tow. He should follow, and yet he hesitated.
Mistress Rowley hastened to the table as Lady Isobel left. "Where is she headed?" The housekeeper wiped her flour-covered hands on her muslin apron. "The master will have our heads if she disappears for hours as she did yesterday, or worse yet, is harmed."
"She's had a vision," Brahan said with a mixture of displeasure and awe.
"How could you know that?" Mistress Rowley asked, untying the garment and placing it on the table, ready to follow her new mistress.
"She says Wolf is injured."
"Injured?" Mistress Rowley's eyes went wide. "Well then, what are you waiting for? If he is hurt, he needs your help."
"And what if she is wrong?"
Mistress Rowley's mouth thinned with displeasure.
"You said yourself she'd had a vision. Can you take the risk that she is wrong?"
"Nay," Brahan agreed. "I shall follow her vision just as I would my own. We will know the truth if we find Wolf safe."
"Let us pray she is wrong then," Mistress Rowley said, lines of worry etched deeply into her face.
Brahan caught up with Isobel in the courtyard, where he heard her quietly command Hiram to help her into her saddle. A second horse stood empty at her side, and a legion of knights gathered behind the two horses.
"Where are you going?" Brahan asked as he came to a halt beside her, his mouth falling open in surprise at how quickly she'd managed to rally Wolf’s troops.
"To find Wolf—to find my husband." She perched precariously upon the saddle, looking terribly uncomfortable. She shifted her weight back. Too far back. Off the saddle she slid. She hit the ground with a thump. The green damask of her gown tangled about her legs as she tried to stand. Briefly, Brahan caught a glimpse of a shapely calf.
His irritation shifted to amusement mixed with a bit of envy. Wolf might not have done such a bad thing by marrying the girl. A shapely and very appealing package lay beneath her voluminous gown.
Brahan extended his hand to her. "Milady."
She accepted his assistance and gained her feet She batted at her gown as she approached her horse. "Please, help me up."
"You should stay here at the castle, where it is safe. The men and I can verify the truth of your vision for you."
She arched a brow, and for a moment he thought she might actually laugh. "Safe? Can you honestly say I am more protected behind these castle walls than I would be out there?" She pointed beyond the large wooden portcullis that remained closed.
He would like to have responded, aye, but he knew better. Already she'd been attacked twice since her arrival. "Nay."
A look of determination crept over her delicate features. "Then help me into the saddle and command the gates open."
The strength in her voice surprised him. Where had the timid and meek creature they had taken from the isle gone? The knights seemed to agree with her sentiments. They brought their horses into a tighter formation around her. They had gathered under her direction, but they awaited Brahan's nod of approval to make their next move.
"Do you know how to ride a horse?" Brahan asked.
"How difficult can it be? You sit upon the beast's back and hold on." A renewed spark of determination flashed in her eyes.
"How difficult, indeed," Brahan replied. He grasped her about the waist and tossed her into the saddle.
She settled herself in the center of the saddle and appeared every bit as uncomfortable as before. Brahan patted the edge of the saddle with his hand. "Place your hands here and 'hold on,' as you said. It will help you balance."
She did as he suggested and instantly appeared more at ease. "Much better, thank you."
Brahan mounted the horse beside her, inspired by her transformation. Her chin came up, her shoulders went back. Confidence and poise seemed to settle around her, regardless that this was only her second attempt at mounting a horse. She sat atop the beast as if she should be dressed in mail, brandishing a sword instead of her long, flowing gown. She wore no protection and carried no weapon.
With no thought for herself or her own safety, and for the sake of another, the girl from the isle had vanished, transformed into a woman with the spirit of a warrior. Wolf’s warrior bride.
"Open the gates," Brahan shouted. At his command, the portcullis rose, and she urged her horse forward, heading toward the forest lands. The knights fell into formation around her and would protect her with their lives.
Brahan kept his senses on alert as they crept ever closer to Grange's land on the other side of the forest. Slender needles of sunlight pierced the boughs overhead, stabbing the earth with brilliant pinpricks. Beneath the horse's hooves crunched the remains of accumulated yew needles, their fragrance sharp and pungent.
He hadn't been back to this part of the forest for years. Not since he was a little boy, hiding from the men who had raided his village and murdered his kin. Memories of blood were everywhere, blood that had seeped into the ground from the dead long ago, their discarded weapons useless against the force of the attack. They were all dead—everyone he knew, everyone he loved. He had searched through the bodies until he'd found his mother's lifeless form.
The next thing he remembered, he'd woken up to a gentle touch. It hadn't been his mother's touch, or even the sharp prick of his enemy's sword, but an understanding, compassionate nudge. Wolf had found him there, alone among the dead, and had taken him away from the nightmare. The young boy had begged his own mother to offer Brahan shelter in her household.
Lady Marion had given him a job as squire to her son. She had incorporated a bedraggled orphan into her home right along with her other children. He and Wolf had been inseparable companions ever since.
"You're very quiet" Lady Isobel coerced her horse to fall in step beside him.
Brahan started. He shook off the memories, as he always did of those darker days in his early life. "Merely considering what you said about Wolf needing help."
"He does need our assistance. I know it."
"Your visions are that strong?"
"I have no desire for this talent. Only bad things come of such a skill." She turned toward him, her color high. "Even so, what I saw leaves no doubt in my mind. It is Wolf someone is trying to harm and not me." Fear filled her eyes.
"You do not wish to be a seer?"
She shook her head. "It is not the path I choose."
"We don't choose the path, milady. The path chooses us."
Lady Isobel stared at him. Her expression betrayed a momentary puzzlement, and then realization dawned and hot color flooded her cheeks. A slight mist came to her eyes. "You?"
"Aye, milady." An odd tension came to his throat at the relief he saw in her gaze.
He re
membered what it had felt like the moment he realized what magic and what evil he held inside him. The turmoil of strange, unsettling, and frightening emotions mixed with the headiness of power. "The visions are both curse and gift."
"You know what it is like? To bear the burden?"
"Aye." He knew what it was like. The gift of sight had cost his family their lives. His whole village had suffered when his mother had foretold a future the receiver did not wish to hear.
He had learned through his mother that often it was best to leave the future untold. And yet, their very quest today could help save a man he cared about more than himself. If her visions kept Wolf safe, then that was worth any risk, or any price. He returned his gaze to Lady Isobel. "When you have your visions, does anything happen to you as a result?"
Fear crept back into her eyes. "What do you mean?"
He pointed to the white patch at his temple. "Whenever I use the Stone to foretell the future, I lose a bit of my essence. The whiteness of my hair indicates the cost to myself. So tell me, Lady Isobel, what do the visions drain from you?"
She looked down at the reins she clutched tightly in her fists. "I do not know." Her horse reared its head, protesting the tension against its mouth.
"Relax your grip and the horse will settle down." Brahan sensed she lied.
Lady Isobel did as directed and the horse calmed.
"Tell me the truth," Brahan challenged. "I might be able to help."
Her brow furrowed. "I do not know for myself. My mother paid for the visions with her sanity."
He frowned. "Explain yourself?"
She shook her head. "I've told you more than I should have already."
"Milady, your secrets are safe with me. For my lord's sake you must know I could never hurt you."
Her back went stiff. "My father said words very like those to my mother," she paused, "each time he struck her."
Brahan frowned. "Not all men treat women that way."
Her gaze remained fixed before her. "The risk is too great. I—" She pulled her horse to a stop. Just then, the bark of a dog cut through the air. Her horse pranced at the noise, which came from the other side of a rocky outcropping that shielded their view of the forest beyond.
Brahan tensed, bracing to leap for her horse's halter, afraid that in her inexperience her horse might get away from her. But she managed to put just enough pressure on the reins to keep the animal in place.
The acrid scent of burning wood came to him, as did the sound of raucous laughter and coarse jests. He cursed himself for letting down his guard. He, a creature of these very woods, had been so intent on discovering Lady Isobel's secrets that he'd inadvertently endangered them all.
Brahan came to a sudden, silent stop, signaling the others to do the same. He scanned the area. A curl of smoke floated up from a smoldering campfire just ahead. He searched for guards at the perimeter of the camp, finding none. All the men must be around the campfire, then.
"Stay here," he commanded as he slipped off his horse and crept forward. He peered over the rock, his body stiff with tension, every nerve stretched.
Half a dozen men lounged before the fire. They laughed uproariously and shouted suggestions to four bedraggled villagers, who scooted around a nearby tree, their legs bound by thick ropes. With unbound arms, they reached up, trying desperately to free a man who swung upside down from a stout tree branch, the chain of an iron trap clamped tightly about his left leg. The man's right leg was curled around the chain, absorbing the weight of his body, protecting his captured leg from being shredded by the trap.
Blood obscured the man's face, but Brahan still recognized his friend.
Anger heated his blood as his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword. Forcing his mind to go completely blank, Brahan reacted with what years of practice and repetition had taught him. His sword left its scabbard. He plunged over the rocky outcropping, killing two men before the others gained their feet.
The clashing of swords mixed with the frenzy of the horses' hooves as they met their enemies head-on. No more than a moment passed since the first stroke of the sword, but already the ground was red underfoot, the air was choked with dust and smoke. Horses reared, their shrieks of fear adding to the general chaos that erupted. Brahan slashed his sword, relieving his opponent of his life as he made his way to Wolf. A heartbeat later, Brahan released the pin on the trap. The villagers caught Wolf in their outstretched arms, gently lowering him to the ground.
What torture would the guards inflict upon him now? He would not reveal the information they wanted. No one would ever learn the location of the Seer's Stone from his lips. It was Brahan's secret, and his alone.
Wolf rolled onto his side. He pressed his cheek into the soft earth of the forest floor. The heady combination of musty leaves from last season and sweet mulch filled his nostrils. Blessed ground. The earth beneath him meant he no longer swung from the tree with the jaws of the metal trap lashing into his leg. His arms and legs tingled as the blood returned to his limbs.
"My lord." The words came softly.
Isobel? Impossible. He lifted his cheek and tried to focus on the shape that came in and out of focus. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swept over him. His innocent bride would never come here. Only evil lurked in these woods.
A feather-soft touch caressed his cheek, startling him. How long had it been since he'd felt such tenderness?
His body shifted without his assistance, and he found himself on his back, staring up at the forest canopy overhead. Pinpricks of light forced their way through the trees, casting an eerie greenish-gold light that filled the space between sky and ground. Shadows moved about him. Most likely the guards, ready to further their torture. He tried to sit up, only to be pushed back against the earth. It startled him to find the hand that forced him back lingered on his chest. A delicate stroke moved to his arm, then down to his hand, twining about his fingers.
His mind played tricks on him. Unimaginable pleasure flowed through his fingers, like a warm salve against the pain. He coiled his fingers, trapping the sensation, never wanting to let it go.
In the next instant a lash of red-hot pain shot through his leg. He tensed, prepared to take whatever new torture they offered. But the pain ceased as quickly as it had come. His boot slid from his leg.
"His boot is mangled, and the flesh around the mouth of the trap is bruised. The skin is broken, but the muscle appears intact," a voice said from near his feet A familiar voice. Brahan?
"What of the bone?" a softer voice queried. "Did it snap the bone?"
"Miraculously, nay."
"There is so much blood."
"I've seen worse and so has Wolf. The damage to his leg looks worse than it is. We need to get him home."
"My lord." Isobel's voice filled his mind. "You're safe." The voice sounded thick with emotion. "We are taking you away from here."
He struggled to will the darkness out of his mind, to see if it truly was Isobel who spoke to him, or some new trick. In the last hours of this torture, he'd discovered he could will his mind to do things when his body seemed to fail him. If he channeled all his energy into the effort of opening his eyes he might discover the truth. Slowly his lids lifted and his eyes focused on the face above him.
Dark eyes glittering with moist brilliance gazed down at him. Isobel's eyes. She looked scared, and another strange, darker emotion lingered there as well. He had seen that look somewhere else recently. He struggled to pull the memory into the front of his mind. If he could only remember where ... .
Her gaze fixed on his face and something connected. He saw Grange's image reflected there. He clenched his eyes shut, sure his mind failed him.
As if his own senses meant to prove him wrong, he became chillingly aware of the damp earth beneath him, the scent of decaying leaves that surrounded where he lay.
Why would he see Grange in Isobel's face? Was it some sort of sign, like the ones Brahan saw with the assistance of the Seer's Stone? Was there som
e sort of deception here? "How did you find me?" Wolf asked, turning toward where he had heard Brahan's voice.
"It was not I who found you. For that you can thank your wife."
"Isobel? But how? How could she know I was here?" Wolf turned back to the image he had seen. She was here. She was real. He searched her pale, drawn face. She looked as delicate as the most fragile blossom. And yet even the deadliest of nature's poisonous plants yielded flowers.
With an effort he forced the thought away. Nay, it was all the years of his father's deception that led his thoughts on such dark paths. He would not believe such things of Isobel. She could only be what she appeared.
He wanted to communicate his belief in her, yet he did not know exactly how to do so without scaring her further. He decided the simplest course of action was best. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss there, squeezing her fingers gently.
A blush crept into her cheeks, warming her face, chasing away the fear. "We must get you home, my lord."
Her fingers slipped from his. "Isobel?" he forced the words from his dry, parched throat, the words sounding as though they belonged to someone else.
"Beside you, my lord. I'll stay beside you."
Despite the darkness that entered his mind he forced a slow smile. Beside him. He liked the sound of that. He would hold her to that promise, just as soon as he was able.
Chapter Twenty
Izzy watched the smile fade from Wolf's face. She eased his head into her lap, cradling him, sheltering him as much as she could. A groan escaped him at the movement. Tears sprang to her eyes at the knowledge that she continued to hurt him as her own father had done.
"I'll bandage his leg," Brahan said. "Then we will have to move him."
"He's lost so much blood," Izzy said, suddenly realizing that she knelt in soil made wet from her husband's blood.
"He is strong." Brahan tied his own shirt about Wolf’s injured leg. Almost immediately, the saffron-colored linen sprouted a patch of red. But after a moment the seeping ceased as the bleeding stopped.
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