presented to him. Reginald would never have run from the mission. Thomas Becket had been doomed from the moment the king uttered the words ’What a parcel of fools have I nourished in my house, that not one of them will avenge me of this upstart clerk!’.
With a sigh, William knelt in the dirt, as he did every night, and said a prayer for the archbishop’s soul.
Sleep came sporadically for Grace. She sat in a corner, as far away from the door as possible. The mattress had bugs and moldy straw in it. Her stomach grumbled. The uncertainty of her future haunted her. How was she going to get out of this? Her thoughts shifted to William. What of that murderer? He was cursed for what he had done, doomed to hell, excommunicated. Why would her father have betrothed her to him, knowing his grandchildren would be cursed as the spawn of evil? She didn’t understand her father. Not his sudden hatred of her, nor his decisions. Had her mother’s death driven him to insanity? She lowered her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. He would be furious that she ran away, that she had defied his order. He had commanded her to marry William and she had defied him. He wouldn’t tolerate it. Maybe Curtis was lucky to be dead.
She slept little that night, fitfully tossing and turning. Having come up with no plan for her future, despite her praying, she remained in the cottage when morning came. She paced, desperately trying to come up with a plan of escape.
The sun was high overhead when William called to her, “Lady Grace. Are you hungry?”
She rubbed her stomach. Yes. She was hungry! She and Curtis had eaten very little on their trip. She hesitantly moved to the open doorway, her hunger overriding her caution. She had to keep her strength up for the coming ordeal.
Sir William stood over a small fire, roasting something on a spit.
Grace lifted her chin, debating whether to refuse him. But the smell of the meat made her mouth water and she left the safety of the cottage to approach the campfire.
He didn’t look at her as she approached. He bent to turn the spit.
She sat across the fire from him where she could observe him while pretending to look at the food. His dark hair hung in waves to his shoulders. He knelt on one knee, the other bent before him. He wore a simple green tunic and black leggings. His sword was strapped to his waist.
He reached across to her, holding out a small loaf of bread.
She took it with a mumbled, “Thank ye.” She told herself to go slow as she bit into it. She didn’t know when she would eat next. The bread was fresh and flavor erupted in her mouth. Her eyes almost rolled in enjoyment. She finished the loaf in only a moment. It was delicious!
“I thought he kidnapped you, but I see I was wrong.”
Grace lifted her gaze to him. “Why would you think Curtis kidnapped me?”
“Your father told me.”
Her father thought she was kidnapped? Maybe he would be relieved she was safe. Maybe... But she didn’t think so.
“When you disappeared, your father was concerned. You are lady of Willoughby Castle. You would make for a fine ransom.”
Ransom? That had never been their plan. She and Curtis were going to build a future together. She shook her head and looked back at the spit and the meat William was roasting. It looked like rabbit. “I paid Curtis to take me away.”
William snapped his gaze to her in surprise, raking her from head to toe thoughtfully. “You must have been very desperate to get out of the marriage.”
It wasn’t just the marriage. She wanted to be away from her father. “We were going to make a home here.”
His gaze shifted to look at the cottage before turning back to her. “It didn’t occur to you that this would be the very first place your father would look?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. It hadn’t.
“It must not have occurred to Sir Curtis, either. Although any soldier would know that.”
“What are you saying?” Grace demanded.
William