Twas true, of course. The burly threesome was getting more obnoxious by the moment. The balding man had thumped the straw-haired man on the chest, knocking him clear out of his chair. Will was laughing uproariously, but the smaller one didn't seem to think it so amusing.
"Drink," Boden repeated. "I doubt if one drink will change you into the likes of them."
She smiled, but worry was in her eyes. Still, she drank. And finally, when their meal arrived, they ate, though the food was dubious at best, making their night of venison seem like an elaborate banquet.
A short time later, Birney wobbled in, followed by a woman. She was slightly bent and very thin, the leanness of her condition evidenced in her face, her hands, the birdlike bones of her wrists.
"I found her," said Birney, tugging the woman forward and giving Boden a much-needed excuse to break from his meal.
The woman bobbed them a quick curtsy, her eyes too large in her gaunt face, her bony hand clutched about a small hide. "You wished to see me, sir?"
"What's your name, mistress?"
"Garnet, sir."
"We've a need for a milk bladder, Garnet," he said, coming right to the point.
She lifted the small hide slightly, looking nervous as her gaze skimmed to the babe in Sara's arms. "I've..." She swallowed nervously and glanced toward Birney who stood behind her. "I've no need of it any longer."
"I am sorry." Sara's words were very soft.
Finding kindness in this place seemed to startle the woman. She turned toward Sara. The echo of a smile shown in her eyes, and she nodded her thanks.
"Tis no need to mourn," she said. "M' youngest is long past the need for milk."
"Oh."
Boden could feel Sara's relief.
"I don't have a great deal to offer," he said. "But I'll give you half a deer in trade for it."
Garnet smiled. "Your lady will need the meat to keep up her strength."
His lady.'l The words wore a sweet, painful path to his heart. He glanced at Sara, feeling the path burn deeper.
"We wish to give you the meat," he said.
Garnet bobbed her thanks. ' 'My babes will be grateful, and it will do m' heart good t' know the bladder is well used."
The decision made, Boden rose, and with a glance at Sara, stepped out to make the exchange.
Birney, he decided, would carry the meat for Garnet. Once outside, he found a chance to slip her a coin, not simply for the bladder she had given them, but for her kindness as well.
When he stepped back inside the inn, the tension emanating from Sara was palpable. The men!
he thought. But nay, they were still by the fire, and their attention was not directed toward Sara, but at a huddled scrap of a figure near the stairs. It was a child, thin and ragged.
"Ah, so there's little Princess Margaret," Leoma said. "Come on over 'ere, girl, so's the lady can see y'." Her voice was a strange croon.
The child shook her head. She had huge brown eyes that seemed to consume her face and a scar that sliced a diagonal path across her forehead.
Leoma's expression darkened. "Come over 'ere."
The girl cowered back.
Leoma gritted a smile at Sara, but her hands were clenched into fists when she turned back to the child. "What y' be doin' down 'ere?"
The tiny figure said nothing, only shifting her slight weight as if wishing to disappear into the floor.
"I asked what y' want!"
As the woman walked toward the child, the girl backed away, then bumped into the wall where she stood frozen for a moment before opening a palm and showing a crust of dark bread.
"Ahh." Leoma chuckled. "So y' want something to eat. And what for? That rat of yours?"
The child shook her head wildly.
"Y' know I don't like it when y' lie t' me!" Leoma said and snatched the child's arm. "Y' wanted ta be down 'ere so ya might as well come on out in the open," she ordered, dragging the child forward.
"So, Leoma, who's this?" asked the one called Will.
"This..." said the woman, pinching the girl's arm in a clawlike grasp. "This is my daughter. The princess," she said, but the word sounded ugly. "Birney's brat! Ain't that right Birn?"
The man snorted as he shambled past.
"Yours?'' asked the blond man as he shifted his gaze swiftly from the mother to his friends.
"Didn't know whores could 'ave children." He laughed rather like an ass with his tail caught in a door.
"Guess she ain't filled out so good like her mother," said the other man.
Leoma snorted and sneered a smile toward the speaker. "Y've always 'ad an eye for the women, 'aven't y', Danny," she said and shook the girl. "Aye, she's a skinny thing she is, and y' know why? She takes the food I sweat t' earn and she feeds it t' the rats! Ain't that right, girl?"
The child didn't answer, but scrunched away to the far end of her mother's reach.
"Ain't that right?" gritted Leoma, shaking her, but in that instant a furry something streaked out of the girl's sleeve and onto the mother's arm.
Leoma shrieked like one insane, shaking madly to rid herself of the vermin.
Panicked, the brown creature dropped to the floor and streaked beneath the men's table.
A hiss of pure horror escaped from the girl. A wild fear lit her eyes and she lunged after the animal. In a second, her hand was on it and it had disappeared inside her ragged clothing again, but just as quickly the smallest of the men had grabbed her by the arm.
He pulled her from under the table. "'Ello girlie."
She leaned away like a cornered colt, all eyes and tangled hair.
"She's a witch!" Leoma shrieked, her face twisted. "A witch! Taking in vermin and doin' all manner of nasty things with 'em."
"Nasty things, huh?" chuckled Will. "I can think of a few nasty things myself."
Danny snorted, seeming to read his companion's mind. "The girl don't even have no titties yet."
"Nay," said Will. "But she will and till then... we can learn 'er some things. Sides, Lang likes 'er, don't y' Lang?"
The smallest man bobbed a quick nod and licked his lips. Will turned his gaze to Leoma. "Want me t' take 'er off your 'ands?"
The woman narrowed her eyes. "What would ya want 'er for?"
Will chuckled. Lang grinned, his eyes bright.
"Could be we'll think of something," Will said.
Leoma scowled. Boden could almost see the ragged thoughts lumbering through her mind. "Y'
don't think you're gonna get her for nothing do y'?" she asked.
"Y' said yourself she's a skinny thing."
"Aye." Leoma set her hands on her hips and pushed out her generous chest. "But she'll grow."
Will chuckled. "If she lives so long. How much do y' want for 'er?"
"A sovereign."
"Yer daft," Will said. "I'll give y' a half angel."
Leoma laughed. "You'd be lucky if'n y' 'ad a farthing."
Will reached into a pouch. The girl jumped at the motion, but Lang held her tight and chuckled at her fear. Then, Will pulled out a gold piece and tossed it to Leoma. She caught it in one hand, then raised her brows at her good fortune.
"Nay!" Sara lurched to her feet. The lump in Boden's stomach turned over. "Nay," she said more softly. "Ye cannot sell her."
Leoma turned slowly toward her, her eyes deadly flat, her mouth sneering. "And why is that, mother earth?"
Sweat popped out on Boden's brow. His leg ached, and he'd be lucky to get the three of them out of this hellhole alive. "Sara." He kept his voice low and level. "Think of Thomas."
At some point, she had strapped the babe to her back. She stood now, her face pale as lily petals, her eyes as wide as the heavens. "I am," she said.
"I'm wounded," he reminded her, and cautiously shifted his attention to the three men.
Silence filled the place, and then she turned toward him. He could feel her gaze smite him, but refused to look up, refused to be drawn in by the weight of her emotions.
&nb
sp; "Come 'ere, girl," growled Will.
"Please!" Sara's whisper filled Boden's head. In his mind he could see her eyes, wide and blue as God's heavens.
"I'll give you a sovereign," he said.
Chapter 19
Big Will turned slowly toward Boden. In his eyes there was malice and in his oversized hands, the power to squash a small village, "She's ours." His tone was as flat as his eyes.
"I'll give you a sovereign," Boden repeated, not taking his gaze from Leoma.
"Deal's already been made," said Lang. "Tell 'im, Will."
"Don't rush me," said Leoma. "I ain't said for sure. M'lord 'ere says 'e'll give a sovereign. What will you gents give me?"
"We ain't got that much t'throw away on no scrawny brat!" hissed Will.
"She's mine," whined Lang.
"Then give me the coin," said the mother.
"She ain't worth no sovereign. What with Lang's 'ands on 'er and Danny's love of knives, she won't last out the week, skinny as she is. Now you..." He chuckled, slowing his words and turning his bloodshot gaze to Leoma's cleavage. "You'd do me fine, but I guess you ain't good enough for 'is lordship."
Leoma stiffened and glanced toward Boden.
Will smiled, showing teeth as rotten as his soul.
"Y' offered yourself t' 'im after all," he continued. "But 'e'd rather 'ave the whelp."
"Give me a sovereign for 'er and she's yers," insisted Leoma.
"We gave y' a angel," said Danny. "That was the deal."
"And y' know we'll be back, giving y' more business," added Will. "This gent..." He turned his eyes to Boden. "'E can't barely wait t' be shut o' y', what with 'is fancy bitch on 'is arm."
Leoma turned toward Sara, her eyes mean.
"I got me a shilling," Lang said, digging into his pouch and drawing forth the coin.
"She's yers!" spat Leoma. "And good—"
"Please!" Sara stepped forward a pace, her fists clenched at her sides. "Please, for God's sake!" she whispered. "You're her mother!"
"You wanna come too?" asked Will. He rose to his feet, his gaze on Sara, his thoughts clear as death in his eyes.
Panic tasted bitter in Boden's mouth. "Sara, step back!"
"Maybe she be lookin' for a man what can satisfy 'er," suggested Will.
The panic settled slowly in the pit of Boden's stomach, like motes of fine dust on a forgotten road. "I recommend you keep your hands off her, friend," he said.
Will stepped forward. "Or what?"
Boden paused a moment for effect—and to wait for his trembling to cease. "Or you'll die where you stand." It was a good threat—stated flatly, level, with an almost flippant tone. His sword sang as he removed it from its sheath and swung it into the air.
There was a moment of silence and then, like a gust of hi^ vind, Will threw back his head and laughed. "Fuck my ass! Tis a good thing y' didn't screw 'im, Leoma, 'cause his wick probably ain't no longer than 'is blade."
The other two men joined in the mirth, and in a moment Leoma too was laughing.
Boden stared at them, then turned his attention to his sword and swore. Dear God, he'd forgotten its pitiful state. He turned to Sara in horror. Her eyes were wide, but her expression said quite clearly, sword or no sword, there would be no backing down.
Wulftic's sainted wart, he was in trouble. "Let the child go," he said, hoping against hope that there was still a modicum of aggression in his tone.
"I don't think so, yer lordship."
There was no way out now, he knew, for if he didn't do something soon, Sara would take matters into her own hands, and the devil take the hindmost. "Let the child go," Boden repeated. "Or your next meal will be in hell." Not bad as hopeless, last ditch threats went, he thought, but just then, Will drew his sword.
"To hell yourself," he swore and lunged across the floor with a roar of rage.
Boden yelled back, though whether in fear or defiance, even he couldn't have said. Still, there was no time to delay, and in a moment of indecision, he flung his blunt sword at his opponent. It clanged against the other's, knocking it aside. Will sped on, and in the instant before he brought his weapon back to bear, Boden grabbed a dinner knife from the table and whipped it overhand.
It sunk into the soft hollow of Will's throat. The huge man staggered back a pace, dropping his sword. Grasping the knife in both hands, he yanked it from his throat and tossed it to the floor with a gurgled snarl of rage.
"Y' bastard!" shrieked Danny and launched himself forward. Boden glanced wildly about for a weapon. A ladle? A milk bladder?
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sara whip a hot kettle forward. The contents sprayed outward in a boiling arc.
Danny screamed as the blistering stew struck his face. Sara stood frozen in horror just as Leoma lunged forward, hands like claws.
Sara swung the kettle like a deadly mace once again.
It struck Leoma in the temple. She staggered to a halt, then crumpled like a broken doll.
Boden stal ed in fascination.
"No!" Sara screamed.
Boden snapped his attention forward. Will was barreling down on him, his gory throat frothing with blood.
"Mettle!" Boden yelled, and in an instant went down beneath Will's tremendous weight.
"Get 'im, Will! Get 'im!" Lang shrieked, forgetting the child in his excitement.
"Boden!" Sara screamed, but just then a movement caught her eye. The girl! Without another thought, Sara lunged after her, catching her by her rags and swinging her into her arms.
"Get Mettle!" Boden yelled again, grappling wildly with Will, and there was nothing Sara could do but run from the inn, the baby on her back, the child in her arms.
The stable was at the back of the inn. Sheer panic drove her until she reached Mettle. She tossed the child into the stallion's saddle. In the second stall, another horse was tied. Sara grabbed the animal's rope and yanked out the knot. In an instant, she was seated behind the girl, and dragging the smaller horse along behind.
They left the stable at a dead gallop and careened around the corner. Boden staggered out the door and threw himself at the trailing horse.
Sara tossed back the rope, and they were gone, thundering out of the village as if the hounds of hell were after them.
By midafternoon, Boden thought he would die from his myriad aches and pains. By evening, he hoped he would. Except for one stop, they kept moving at a steady trot, putting a good deal of distance between them and the hellhole they'd left behind.
Finally, unable to suffer in heroic silence, Boden slipped off the mare's bonny back and fell in a heap on the ground, quietly hoping to die before Sara discovered him there.
But luck seemed to have abandoned him completely.
"Boden!" She turned Mettle back. "Are you hurt?"
"Nay. Nay." He stayed where he lay. It was surprisingly pleasant there, beneath the nag's belly, half in the shade, half out, with his mind floating like umbrella seeds in the wind. "Never better, really."
Slipping from the saddle, she hurried to his side. "Where are ye hurt?"
"Me?" He shifted slightly, trying, without much success, to dislodge a stone that was pressed into the small of his back. ' 'Tell me, Sara, why did you choose those men?"
"What?" She touched his brow, apparently feeling for fever.
"There are a lot of men in England, lady. Evil men, even. Why must you choose the largest of them?"
Her hand slipped from his forehead to cup his cheek. "Ye were very brave, Sir Knight."
Flattery. While it may soothe a scraped knee or a split lip, it would do little good for a leg that had been hacked in two, even when delivered in her melodious tones, with her expression showing a wealth of concern, and the softness of her hand reminding him of the unearthly smoothness of the skin of her breast, with her heart beating soft and strong and her hair like thistle down, and her eyes... He sighed.
"We could have been killed, tortured, mutilated. Did that ever occur to you?'' he asked.
r /> "I am sorry," she whispered. "But the child. You couldn't have left the child."
"I couldn't?"
"Nay," she said, and smiled. The expression warmed him like sunlight on his skin. "Ye are much too kind to leave her, Sir Knight."
"Kind?"
The mare shuffled away a few paces, careful not to step on him, and thus assuring an improved opinion on Boden's part.
"Aye. And good," she whispered, and leaning forward, kissed his mouth.
Contentment shifted through him. ' 'Good?'' he asked.
"Aye, and..." She leaned forward again. He closed his eyes for her kiss, but instead, he heard her gasp of horror as she drew away.
He wrenched himself to his feet. "What is it?"
"Margaret!" Sara cried, and in that instant, he saw the tiny, ragged figure scrambling off into the woods.
"Jesus!" he ground out.
"She'll be lost," Sara moaned.
With a curse, Boden launched after her. It took a good fifty rods to run the child to ground, but he finally did, hauling her to a halt by the back of her scruffy gown.
She turned like a cornered wildcat, swinging at him. One small fist glanced off his thigh. He sucked air between his teeth and dropped her gown to grab her arm.
She sunk her teeth into his hand. He shrieked in pain and let her go and she was off like a race horse.
He lunged after her with a curse, caught her gown again and careened to the earth, dragging her beneath him. Pain shot out in lightning lances of agony as he tried to suck air into his lungs.
"Boden. Boden." Sara's voice finally reached him. "You're squashing her."
It was then, for the first time, that he realized he was lying on top of the child. He rolled off, wondering what body parts he would leave behind.
"Are ye well?" Sara asked.
"Well, my—" Boden began, but Sara interrupted him.
"Are ye well, little one?"
The child lurched onto all fours and scrambled wildly forward. But in an instant, she twisted about with a small shriek of dismay and began digging frantically about in her clothes.
She stopped suddenly, and from her bodice, dragged
forth the sleek, limp body of her weasel. The girl stared at it for a frozen moment, then placing it to her heart, rocked slowly back and forth.
The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides) Page 23