by Shea,Lisa
Laura was not about to provide him with that chance.
She filled her expression with haughty disdain. “I am Laura Walker, sole heir of the lands of the Walker clan,” she announced with a richly pitched voice. “My father will pay handsomely to have me returned.” She focused her stare, wiping all trepidation from her mind. “However, if you harm one hair on my head, my father will spare no expense to have every one of you run down, drawn, and quartered.” She eyed him with bravado; she knew better than to let her enemy sense her fear.
The horseman stroked his grizzled beard thoughtfully. “You might well be her,” he growled slowly, considering. “I have heard tell the wench is loud and obnoxious, and sadly lacking in all womanly charms.”
At Laura’s outraged look he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “You will need to learn patience, missy. This discussion will wait until we join the main party tomorrow night. However, Grimes,” he added to the pale guard who perched on a box behind Laura, “if she is being truthful, we want to make sure she has no complaints when we return her to her father. If you lay a hand on her -”
“Oh, I would not sir, you can be sure of that,” stuttered Grimes. “Never you worry.” He flipped his coin with more alacrity, watching the spinning object with furious focus.
Satisfied, the larger man turned his back. The curtain was thrown into place and the group rolled in motion again down the wooded trail.
Laura sunk in exhaustion against the side of the wagon. Hopefully she could trust that she would not have to worry about Grimes bothering her. Still, two days travel … that would bring her deep into Falcon territory. Were the Falcons somehow involved with the bandits? Who was it that this group had to discuss her fate with?
A more chilling thought suddenly occurred to her. After her recent behavior, what if her father told the bandits that he did not want her back?
Laura put that idea quickly out of her mind. Cold as he might be, her father would never abandon a strong position. Laura sensed that he had been working on her marriage plans for months. As long as he could get her back untouched, he would certainly have a use for her.
Laura sighed. It was just as well she would soon part ways with her father. He had ruled her life with an iron fist, and in the past few years his sole point of conversation with her had been the most profitable way in which to be rid of her.
His dismissive attitude was not a new one. Thinking back over her childhood, Laura felt a sense of regret. There were few good memories there. If she had been a boy, perhaps her father would have been more proud of her, but ...
She shook her head, dispelling the notion. There were too many “what ifs” in life to become swept up in them. She had to play the board as it lay. Her father cared little for her well-being, and was quite deliberate in frequently letting her know this. She was naught but a brood mare and game piece to him. She understood that.
Once she got out of this current mess, then she could begin to plan anew for a future free from his influence.
Laura settled herself into a more comfortable position. Well, she thought wearily as the cart bumped along the forest road, it could be worse. She was warm, reasonably clothed, and had a fair amount of assurance that she would get out of this unharmed. Now she simply had to wait out the two days until she could speak with the leader of the bandits.
If she stayed alert, she might actually find out enough to help her father or others against these scum. They would little suspect that she could perform reconnaissance, noting what she heard and saw.
It was time to play the foolish girl. She smiled up at Grimes and motioned to the ties on her wrists. “My head is awfully sore,” she purred in her sweetest voice. “Could I have the ropes loosened a little bit to rub the bruise?” She fluttered her eyes and put on a vapid smile. “I would be very thankful.”
Nodding, Grimes scurried down from his post to slightly release the knots in the ropes. Laura held in her relief as the bonds loosened. She gingerly reached up to probe at the injury to her neck. There was a little swelling, but nothing life threatening. She’d had worse in the courtyard practicing sword work with the guards. Still, drowsiness eased over her as the swaying cart rumbled its way down the path.
She knew she should try to stay awake, but her eyelids would simply not stay open, despite her best attempts. She lay back against the wagon side and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Laura woke to darkness. She glanced around in surprise, taking a moment to remember where she was. The wagon was stationary and silent, and her guard snored in one corner.
Fuzzy confusion swept over her. She was a valuable hostage – by all rights they should be hurrying her back to the safety of their camp. Why would they have stopped so soon? Had she slept through the next day entirely?
She felt for the bump on her head, and was relieved to find the swelling had begun to subside. She knew from experience that head injuries made one sleepy. If she had slept through a full day unharmed, then perhaps she would have healed that much more as a result. She would endeavor to find out in the morning how much time had passed.
She ran her gaze carefully around the wagon’s interior, seeking anything which might help her situation. To one side her captor tossed softly on a pile of rags. She inched herself forward, testing to ensure he was truly sound asleep. He muttered once at her motion, then slouched over and began snoring even louder.
Laura saw a glint near his hand, and leaned forward, intrigued. It was not a coin he had been flipping so determinedly, but a wooden token, painted with a golden rooster’s head. Her eyes focused on the item, and she gave a quiet gasp. She knew that token. She carried a brother to it in her own belt.
To see that token in the hands of a bandit …
She would have to confront her father about this later on. For now, she had more pressing issues. With effort, she pulled her eyes away from the token and wiggled clear of the grime-covered guard. She leaned back against the side of the wagon, settled herself into a shadowed corner, and began pulling methodically on her bonds one by one.
After over an hour of deliberate work, she was able to wriggle one hand loose from its loop. She glanced about the area sharply, pulling back further into the depths of the cart. Suddenly thoughts of talking with the chief were replaced with thoughts of her escaping on her own. Why wait to see if her father would be willing to pay a ransom?
She quickly slid the other hand free, then looked up to see if Grimes had noticed. He was still fast asleep. Laura exhaled in relief. If it came down to it, she was prepared to kill him. However, she only wanted to take that step if it was absolutely necessary. Even if they were bandits, she felt uneasy at the thought of slaying a man while he slept.
Laura reached automatically down to her hip – her dagger and sword were both missing. Laura’s heart skipped a beat. The weapons were so much a part of her; without them she suddenly felt vulnerable. If they were somewhere in the wagon, she did not have the luxury of time to search for them. She needed to focus on her escape. Hopefully she could get to a horse without being noticed. She moved toward the back of the wagon to take a look around.
Suddenly there was shouting from a short distance away. An alarm was raised and quickly echoed from all around her. Laura shrunk back in surprise. Who would be attacking the bandits? Had her father discovered her missing and come after her? Was it a Falcon force? She shivered – by all accounts a rescue by them would be worse than staying with the bandits.
Laura cautiously poked her head through the rear curtain to evaluate her situation. Mounted swordsmen were racing into camp, pursued by other riders. With the darkness it was hard to see any distinguishing characteristics on the pursuer or pursued.
She scanned the area with sharp appraisal. None of the combatants appeared to be looking toward the wagon. Laura did not hesitate - this was her opportunity. She moved over to the opening and prepared to jump down to freedom.
A hand grabbed her long, thick hair and yanked he
r backwards. “Not so fast, missy,” a reedy voice called to her in a sing-song fashion. She was pulled sharply down onto her back, and a leering face pressed close over her own. “God only knows what is happening out there, but I know what is gonna happen in here,” Grimes hissed with a grin.
The stench coming from his mouth was like an open sewer with decaying sludge. Laura reacted on instinct; she fought and clawed to get free. Grimes reached to his belt and brought up a sturdy cudgel. He hit her twice, solidly, in the side of the head. Laura’s world shimmered in and out of focus, but she willed herself to remain conscious. She had to escape!
Grimes’ slimy hands were now struggling with her pants. Laura’s training triggered instantly; she twisted, coiled, then landed a strong kick against his kneecap. Grimes howled in fury, then staggered, swinging his right arm back.
Lashing in rage, the bandit brought down his cudgel in a shattering blow against her temple. Laura’s world exploded into bursts of fiery lava. She cried out in agony, then slipped down a dark tunnel to unconsciousness.
Chapter 3
The world swam into fuzzy focus. It seemed that every part of her body ached with throbbing pain. Her eyes, barely open, closed again of their own accord. Her lids seemed impossibly heavy. Gathering her energy, she forced them to reopen.
The scene was completely unfamiliar. She lay in a large, four poster bed covered by a heavy robin’s egg blue quilt. One wall boasted two large windows, currently closed off by thick wooden shutters. She could hear the rain steadily hammering on them. Tapestries with pastoral scenes decorated the remaining stone walls. A fire blazed brightly in the large fieldstone fireplace.
The quality of the decorations and fabric were luxurious to her eyes; she had never seen creations like these before. This was nothing like her own bedroom, back home.
She tried to bring an image of her room to mind, but to her surprise she could remember nothing. There was a complete blank when she thought back to her room, her home ...
What was her name?
A sudden wave of panic threatened to overwhelm her, and she took a few deep breaths to regain her balance. It would not help matters any to lose control. She needed to think.
Despite the pain, she pushed off the covers and crawled to the end of the bed. She shakily swung her legs around to touch the ground. From there it was a short step or two to reach the polished oak dresser against one wall. Hands trembling, she picked up a silver-backed mirror which lay on the dresser’s top and critically gazed at her reflection.
Dark brown eyes, full mouth, long auburn hair.
She raised one hand to trace the curve of her face. It was so familiar and yet so strange. She smiled tenuously, and the reflection seemed to smile back.
Replacing the mirror on the dresser, she next looked down at her body. She was wearing a floor-length, intricately embroidered ivory-colored gown. She ran one hand along the length of the fabric, marveling at its smooth texture. It seemed so unusual that she knew this could not be hers. Perhaps that meant she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. If so, then where was she?
The door opened, and she started back against the wall, her hand dropping automatically to her hip, finding nothing there. The grey–haired woman entering looked first to the bed, and, finding it empty, swept her eyes around the room in surprise. She clucked disapprovingly when she spotted the figure huddled in the corner.
“This will not do at all, miss!” the middle-aged woman scolded as she came over to help. “Please get back into bed where you will stay warm!”
The older woman assisted her as she stumbled the few steps back to the bed. Her voice was creaky but warm. “I am amazed they got you back in one piece, what with that thunderstorm coming on and the fighting and all,” she continued as she tucked the quilt back into place.
This was all too much coming in at once. Struggling against the weariness which threatened to overwhelm her, she pressed the woman for answers. “What happened to me – who am I?”
A deep voice came from the doorway. “We were hoping you could tell us,” he countered. Turning her gaze, she saw the door’s opening was now filled by a tall, lean man. The figure wore finely crafted dark brown leather armor, well worn with use. A simple but well-made sword hung at his side in a quick release scabbard. The man’s face was rugged and clean shaven; he wore his dark hair in a shaggy mane down to his shoulders.
The man’s height and broad shoulders blocked the doorway. For some reason that image frightened her, and she shrunk back into the bed, pulling the covers up to her neck.
He seemed to immediately sense the reason for her reaction. He walked closer and stood at the foot of the bed, leaving her path to the door clear. “You are safe now,” he added in a softer voice, soothing her. “You have been through a lot.”
He paused for a moment, considering what she had asked. His brown eyes sharpened slightly as he looked her over.
“Do you remember anything of the battle?”
She slowly shook her head, fighting off the swell of miasma which accompanied the movement, trying to think back. “Nothing. I do not remember a battle or anything before this morning.” She paused, then pressed forward, figuring honesty would do her the most good. “I do not even remember who I am,” she admitted weakly.
It occurred to her that these two people seemed as curious about her as she was about them. Was she not a local to these parts, then? The thought made her more willing to ask further questions.
“Where am I? What town is this?” She glanced at the shutters, wondering what landscape lay beyond them. She paused a moment, looking back at the man’s face. He seemed so steady, his eyes full of concern and intelligence. Did she know him? “Who are you?” she asked with growing curiosity.
“My name is Lord James Falcon, and I am the owner of this keep,” he replied without inflection, giving a short bow. His sharp eyes stayed on her face, watching for a reaction. Finding none, he explained, “We found you in a wagon while pursuing a small group of bandits on the border of our land. They are a constant scourge in these parts, and we met up with this group near one of our outlying villages.”
He allowed a silence to drift for a few moments before asking, casually, “Were you with them?”
She sensed a change in the way he looked at her, and she retreated a little into herself. She tried as well as she could to remember, but she could find nothing in her mind to indicate one way or another. She slowly shook her head, her thoughts muddled and slow. “I am sorry, I honestly do not know,” she quietly admitted. “I would fervently hope that I was not.”
Falcon looked her up and down, his eyes critically scanning her. He thought for a few moments before responding. “The border you were on is with the Walker family,” he stated at last. “It may yet be that you are from their lands and were taken captive.”
His gaze slowly moved down her body, and she could almost hear him compiling her attributes, making the list to distribute to his messengers. Long, thick auburn hair. Deep brown, wide eyes. Barely in her twenties. Her face in the mirror did not have the emaciated strain she associated with the poorest of peasants, but she did not feel like nobility either. She ran her right hand in consideration along her left bicep. There was definition there. Whoever she was, she apparently led an extremely active lifestyle.
Falcon’s eyes came back up to meet hers, and he muttered softly to himself. “Neither noble nor peasant, and found with bandits.” It looked as if the thought bothered him.
He took in a deep breath, his voice becoming firm. “Let us start with the basics. If your memory does not return of its own accord in a few days, then I will send Thom to North Walsham. Thom has relayed messages there several times for me and knows the way well.” He glanced up at the shuttered windows before continuing. “It may be just as well to delay his departure for a week or so, with the storm that is wailing out there.”
He seemed to consider the situation for a moment, then added, “Walker’s response will at least hel
p us determine if you are from their stock.”
A weary look came upon Falcon’s face. “As cynical as it may sound, if you were indeed a new captive of the outlaws, this situation could help our standing in the upcoming truce negotiation. We could show that we are helping to save their womenfolk from the bandits’ camp. Yes, the Walkers have been our enemy - but their people have suffered from the predations of the bandits as much as ours have.”
She felt even more confused, and the throbbing in her head grew more insistent. “If you do not know who I am, and I was a captive of the bandits, why did you come after me?”
Falcon nodded and patiently explained. “We did not set out to find you; you were simply a bonus. Bandits are a constant plague on our lands. They kill the menfolk in our villages, abducting the women and children for slave labor.”
He gave a wry smile. “We were lucky in many ways last night. I was with a patrol to the far west when we got word that the mother of one of my men had fallen ill. Having no urgent plans, we rode eastward to check on her. Once we arrived in that area, we were alerted that a small group of bandits had been spotted heading toward a nearby town. We happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
His hand dropped casually on his hilt as he thought back to the previous night’s events. “We had killed or captured all of the bandits we could find. We were just about to head out when I heard your cry from the wagon. I went inside and found one of the bandits on top of you, trying to –”
At her pained look he held off, his eyebrow rising. “Do you remember now?” he asked neutrally.
“I remember struggling,” she slowly responded, recalling the feeling of the situation more than any visual image. Her body tensed as the sensations came back to her. “Someone was on top of me, and I was trying to get free. Then, I remember that he hit me -”