by Julia Latham
She gave a little choked cough. His deep laughter reverberated through her. Perhaps they’d exhausted this topic.
It was not long later when they reached the banks of the River Nyne. Even to Florrie’s eyes, she thought the bridge they’d meant to use looked unsteady. It was made of wood, not stone, and barely wide enough for the cart full of children. There were gaping holes in the planks where the horses would tread.
“The horses will need to swim the river,” Adam said.
Michael drew his to a halt at their side. “’Tis deep water here. We should go north.”
The two Boorde brothers obviously agreed with Michael, because soon the party headed north beside the Nyne. Michael offered to be the one to occasionally ride into the river to check the depth. After time passed, it was decided to take the risk and swim the horses rather than journey any farther out of the way. The cart would float.
Florrie found herself very nervous, which dismayed her. She trusted Adam to see her safely across to the other side, but she kept looking at the cart full of children. Only one mother rode in it, along with the three smallest children, who could not safely hold on riding with an adult. One was only an infant, held in her arms.
“We have done this before,” Godfrey Boorde said, as he exchanged places with one of his men-at-arms to take his turn driving the cart.
He was not as grim as his elder brother, who’d been so suspicious of Florrie and her companions.
“Can all of you swim?” she asked, knowing how few people ever learned.
“Nay.” He gave Florrie a cheerful gap-toothed smile. “But the cart is like a little boat.”
She nodded and smiled in return, but it felt forced. She watched the first of the riders cross, and saw that the horse kept to the riverbed for quite a distance out, then only had to swim for ten or fifteen yards. The horse labored successfully. Everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief when the animal touched ground again and began to stride through the current.
At last it was time for the cart. Robert rode north of it, to try to break the force of the water before it reached the cart. The woman riding in it eyed the river with wide eyes, but she gave Godfrey Boorde a grim smile before he began the journey across. The cart bobbled over the stone bed of the river, and the two children clung to her knees, while she gripped the baby. One started crying, then eased to little hiccups rather than sobs, when at last the cart’s labored progress eased as it began to float. The horse pulled strongly as it swam against the current, and Florrie knew it would only be another moment or two before the horse reached land again.
And then a little boy, with perhaps only two years, staggered from the women and leaned out as if to touch the water. The woman reached for him, the uneven current dipped the cart, and the boy fell in.
Florrie found herself dumped so quickly from Adam’s horse that she collapsed to her knees. And then he rode into the water. Ralph Boorde’s horse was in water up to his chest behind the cart, not yet swimming, yet resisting Ralph who tried to turn it downstream. Robert was already on the far side, and he and Michael, still on the near side, took off at a gallop along both riverbanks, outracing Adam. The two men-at-arms had also ridden their horses into the water, but it was Adam who flung himself from the horse’s back and started swimming powerfully for the child.
Florrie lurched to her feet and ran with her awkward gate, her breath soon coming in gasps. She could see the child’s head bob to the surface and then disappear. She frantically pointed, as if Adam could actually see what she was doing while he was swimming. Behind her there were screams and cries, and she knew that Godfrey Boorde had to get the cart to safety before anyone else was hurt.
And then Adam dove under water, and something inside her froze to ice. It was summer; the water couldn’t be too cold for swimming. Surely that wasn’t the problem.
And then he reappeared, and she realized he was looking for the little boy. He dove again.
She saw that farther downstream, Michael had already come to a halt. He had a length of rope in one hand, and was quickly attaching it to an arrow, which he fitted to a bowstring. He shot it across the water, the rope trailing behind.
Robert, on the far side of the river, flung himself from his horse to retrieve the fallen arrow. Without speaking, they seemed to know what each other would do. Had they been trained in even something such as this? Between them, they tightened the rope hard, then lowered it until it skimmed the uneven surface of the Nyne. Grimly, they faced upstream to await Adam.
One of the soldiers on horseback had already passed Robert and guided his horse right into the water, a fallback position should the rope not work.
Florrie saw Adam again, but she no longer saw the little boy. Her lungs burned from her staggering run. She could only imagine what Adam was feeling.
And then he surfaced again, and this time, she saw the dark head of the little boy cradled near his chest.
“He has the child!” she screamed to whomever could hear her.
She was getting closer to Michael now, who was squatting to keep the rope low, his gaze focused on Adam. Heart-stopping moments later, with one hand, Adam caught the rope, then positioned it beneath his arm. The water swirled around him, but slowly he made his way along the rope toward the near shore. Michael and Robert pulled hard, and she could see Michael’s grimace, even as his head fell back with the strain. If he dropped the rope—
But then Adam got his feet beneath him, sparing Michael and Robert some of the tension. Adam still held the rope until he was waist deep, and then he subdued the screaming, thrashing boy with both arms tight about him.
Florrie was laughing and crying at the same time as she approached. Ralph Boorde had already galloped past her, and now he flung himself from the saddle to take the little boy, who’d begun to scream, “Papa!”
Adam staggered, water dripping from him in sheets. He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, exchanging a relieved grin with the knight, then turned to wave to his brother on the far side of the river.
Florrie stood alone, hugging herself, her smile so wide it almost hurt. He’d saved that little boy, forgetting his sworn mission, regardless of the danger to his own life. And then she flung herself into his wet arms and just held on.
Adam tried to hold her away after a moment. “You shall be soaked through!” He spoke between gasping breaths, then bent over and began to cough.
She pounded his back. “You might have swallowed the whole river! You were beneath the surface so long, I thought—I thought—” But she couldn’t say what she thought, so much did those emotions terrorize her.
The little boy had stopped crying, and now was sucking on his thumb, breathing in little uneven breaths. He lay contentedly on his father’s chest.
Ralph Boorde put out his trembling hand, and Adam gripped it. “Sir Edmund, I will never be able to repay ye for what ye’ve done.”
Adam pushed his wet hair from his eyes. “No repayment is necessary. You would have done the same for us.”
“But whether we would ’ave succeeded or”—he eyed Michael—“thought of yon rope across the water, well, ye’ve taught us a fine lesson.”
“But we still have the rest to get across the river,” Adam said.
“We’ll tie the child to me. He screams somethin’ fierce, but he’s lost the choice.”
Not long after, the entire company reunited on the far side, and Ralph’s sobbing wife held her little boy, who looked like he had no idea why his mother was hugging him so tightly.
Florrie watched Adam’s chagrin as everyone praised him.
At last, he looked down on her. “You are crying,” he said in surprise.
She quickly wiped away a tear. “’Tis glad I am to see a babe reunited with his mother. I feel the woman’s fear, ’tis all.”
But that was partly a lie. She felt her own fear, and knew a profound confusion. She had not wanted to lose Adam. That meant he was becoming too important to her. She never allowed such a thing to hap
pen, not even with her own family.
They had their midday meal near the half wall of a sheep enclosure on the far side of the Nyne, and everyone was in good spirits. Adam wished they’d all stop thanking him. He felt so…exposed, as if these people would speak about him to others, and someone coming along would recognize him.
But it felt good to know he’d saved the child.
He found himself reluctantly entertained by Florrie’s antics. She offered to share some of their abundance of cheese with the other party, and as she limped to the two women, Adam knew that any suspicion on their part was long gone. She continued to play the part of his wife admirably, glancing at him occasionally as if he might need her, bringing him the choicest piece of cold pheasant offered by the Boordes.
If they were going to play man and wife, he might as well enjoy it. In dry clothes now, he put his arm around her when she reached his side, even as he took the meat from the linen cloth and began to eat. She smiled up at him and coyly batted her long eyelashes.
“So women flirt with their husbands even after they’ve gotten the marriage they want?” he asked with amusement.
“They should.”
She relaxed against him, one muscle at a time, almost reluctantly.
He let his fingers gently play with her earlobe, then his thumb rode up and down her neck. “Am I doing this correctly?”
“I—I think so,” she breathed.
“Come, let me walk you over to the trees where you can see to your needs.”
Arms about each other, they walked past the rest of their companions, who smiled or nodded, even as they went back to sharing food with their families. More than one person was walking about, easing stiff muscles, so Adam had to lead her farther away than he meant to. The voices faded behind them.
When she would have pulled away, he held her still, speaking softly against her ear, where he could inhale the sweet scent of her. “When I am courting, how close can I be with a woman?”
She didn’t look up at him as she spoke hesitantly. “You should hold her hand.”
He kept his arm around her shoulders. “Might I lean near to her, so that I can smell the way she perfumes her skin?”
She didn’t answer. He tipped up her chin, forcing those mysterious green eyes to meet his.
His mouth was just above hers. “Am I permitted to kiss a woman whom I am courting?”
She watched his mouth, her own lips parted. “Here? Only in moments of deep privacy, with a woman he is already betrothed to, should a man—”
“But now we are pretending to be married,” he interrupted.
And then he kissed her, not with the passion and need she’d aroused in him at dawn. Now he wanted her sweetness, her goodness, and he could taste them in the gentle trembling of her parted lips. For only a moment, he let himself imagine that they were other people, not separated by warring families and revenge and opposite destinies. He was supposed to be a married man, with a child on the way, and he took full advantage, sliding his hand over her stomach as if to feel the babe—but letting his fingertips briefly brush a bit too low. She jerked in his arms.
He didn’t care who watched, for all thought them newly married, caught up in the joys of impending parenthood. But not Robert and Michael. That thought doused his passion, made him glance up and see both an amused Robert and an impassive Michael watching them. Did Adam look as much the fool as he was suddenly feeling? Teasing Florrie served no purpose except his own amusement. She didn’t need this from him; she was only trying to help out of the goodness of her heart.
A wife, indeed. As if he were even thinking of such a thing, when his loins were overruling his head.
Or was he thinking about it because of Florrie? That was an unsettling thought.
Florrie put a hand on his chest, and he looked down at her once more. Her expression was be-mused, troubled, and he knew he’d done that to her.
“Ad—Edmund,” she corrected herself, then whispered, “I know not what you want of me.”
He didn’t know either, so he only kissed her hand, and led her back to their traveling companions, who were preparing to depart.
Chapter 15
Adam tried to devote his attention to the dangers of the road. According to Michael, they were entering Huntingdonshire, and they would soon cross Ermine Street, begun by the Romans over a thousand years before. It was the most heavily traveled highway in the country—the last place he wanted to be. If someone had spies looking for them, this road to London would be the perfect place to keep watch. But all they had to do was cross it quickly, and head farther east.
As they approached it, with its old Roman mile markers, Adam debated pulling up the hood of his and Florrie’s cloaks. But it was summer, and that might be even more suspicious. Going north or south, he could see several lone riders, perhaps messengers by the speed they rode, and a line of mule-driven carts loaded with covered goods. He felt tense as they rode onto the packed earthen road, letting the horse pick between the holes that pockmarked it from centuries of use.
Since they were nearing the wet fens, the ground here supported an abundance of trees. Someone could be hiding anywhere to watch the travelers. Adam felt like he had a giant target on his back. He must have held Florrie too tightly, for she looked up at him with a confused expression.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, looking up and down the road, then feeling relieved to leave it behind.
“’Tis very busy here,” she said. “Do you think we’ve been seen?”
He shrugged. “I hope the size of our party is misleading.”
But it must not have been, for an hour later, in broad daylight, Robert came riding up fast behind their party, chased by four men, their swords raised.
“To arms!” Robert shouted.
There were gasps and cries among the Boordes, and almost immediately, as if they’d known to prepare for robbery on dangerous roads, Ralph, Godfrey and their men-at-arms began to draw around the women and children, protecting them. Adam only had a moment to release Florrie to their care. He looked down on her anxious face.
“Oh, do be careful!” she cried.
He gave her a grim smile. “Others have more to fear. Trust me.”
She nodded.
He, Michael, and Robert, along with the two men-at-arms, rode away from the party to meet the assault head-on. With a slash of his sword, Adam turned aside the first man, who lost his own weapon before tumbling to the ground.
Another villain avoided the main defense and headed for the women and children. Adam chased him, saw the man vault from the saddle, elude one of the Boorde brothers, and raise his sword as if he meant to harm innocents. To Adam’s shock and fear, Florrie came forward with her dagger raised. Adam was trying to get near, but with his focus on her, he didn’t notice that one of the attackers had come too close. He heard the movement of air as the sword slashed at him, and he flung himself from the saddle, feeling a sharp sting along his ribs.
But he was on the ground now; between the Boordes and him, they killed the coward who’d threatened the women.
Adam turned back to the rest of the battle. Michael had already sent his opponent fleeing on horseback. Another attacker fought Robert on foot with both sword and dagger. The last villain realized that he faced two men-at-arms and Michael. The element of surprise was obviously lost. He yanked hard on his reins, fleeing the scene while riding low over his horse’s neck, even as Robert buried his sword in the final man.
“Should we give chase?” one of the soldiers shouted.
Adam started to speak, then remembered he wasn’t in charge.
Ralph Boorde shook his head. “The cowards be dead or gone. We must flee this place soon before they return.”
In fury, Adam drove the point of his sword into the dirt and leaned on the hilt. How could such villains be from the League of the Blade? One had targeted the women and children, perhaps even Florrie herself! Or would her own father instruct his men to do such a thing? He had to know on
e way or the other.
“Master Boorde, take your families and move on,” he said. “My men and I will see to the bodies.”
“We cannot ask ye to bear such responsibility alone!” Godfrey Boorde replied.
“I would feel better if you were all safe. We needed to turn away from this eastern path eventually, and will take the opportunity now. If we split our party, this might confuse any returning villains.”
“But after all ye’ve done for us—”
“Nay, please go with God, and know that we have appreciated your company.”
Though the children cried and the women looked wide-eyed with shock, at last the Boorde families rode away. Adam turned to Florrie, who stood with her arms about her and looked almost lost.
She looked at the two dead men and shuddered. “Thieves?” she asked weakly. “Surely they could not be Bladesmen.”
Michael and Adam searched the two bodies, then shook their heads to Adam.
“What were they looking for?” Florrie demanded.
He sighed. “Identifying tokens that mark them as Bladesmen. They carry none.”
She put a trembling hand to her throat. “Then they’re from my father…?”
“Nay, we cannot say that for certain. They could very well be thieves.”
“And with all the travelers just behind us, they choose us?” she demanded bitterly.
“The road was crowded, but we had left the safety of its numbers.” He put an arm around her shoulders, and she let him draw her against him, though her body remained stiff with tension. “You know not their purpose, Florrie. Even if they work for your father, they are far from London and his control. They might not care who they killed as long as they were paid, and he could have no say in that.”
Biting her lip, she nodded. Suddenly a frown lowered her brows, and she stepped away from him, looking down at a smear of blood on her upper sleeve. Adam stiffened. How had she been hurt?
“What is—” she began, then touched his side. Her fingers were stained red. “You are bleeding!”