goin’ after them,” Jack growled.
“Jack, no, wait!” Crispin called after him as
he sprinted for the stables. He wasn’t in the mood to be held
back
Several horses belonging to Derbyshire nobles
were being lodged in the stables, some already saddled and ready to
go. Jack mounted the first one he reached and kicked it to a run.
It was a good steed and shot him like an arrow past Crispin, still
yelling at him in the courtyard, and out of Derby Castle’s gate
into the city. Townspeople leapt out of his way as he charged
through narrow streets.
The cart was nowhere in sight by the time he
galloped through the city gates and into the countryside, but there
was only one place it could have gone. He leaned low over his
horse’s neck and charged along the road toward the Derbywood. There
was a fair amount of trade traveling the streets but none of the
carts resembled Ethan’s. By the time he galloped into the woods
itself the road was empty.
“Come out, you bloody bastard!” he reined his
horse to a stop and shouted when he was deep in the forest.
“Ethan!”
The creaking branches overhead blocked much
of the sunlight. The spring breeze whispered through the
undergrowth. Jack’s mount shifted with anxious steps as Jack turned
him this way and that, peering into the murmuring woods. The road
that wound through Derbywood was empty but Jack could feel eyes on
him from every direction.
“Bloody hell.” He swallowed, nudging his
horse to walk on. “I bloody hate the forest,” he told it, patting
its neck to soothe himself. “Ethan! You’d better show yourself, you
arse-sniffing coward!” Nothing like a good yell to give a man
courage under pressure. “What do you think you’re on about,
sneakin’ around the castle like that!”
A huge bird of some sort flapped its way
through the trees above and Jack flinched in spite of himself. The
swaying branches gave him the feeling that the canopy was closing
in on him. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but it
seemed to be getting darker.
“Oy, now I know why Crispin hollered at me,
mate.” He leaned over his horse’s neck and gave him another pat.
“Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Hello?” A high, echoing call further down
the road caught his attention. “Hello? Is someone there?”
Jack sat straight in his saddle and kicked
his horse to a trot towards the voice. Ahead on the road, by the
front feet of a tired gray horse, crouched a woman with long
honey-blonde hair. Jack’s eyes blinked wide as she stood, smoothing
her hands across the generous curve of her hips. Her hips weren’t
the only generous curves she had.
“Can you help me?”
He had to shake himself and force his eyes up
when he realized he was staring at the low-cut front of her bodice.
“Yeah, I can help.” He slid from his saddle, the rosary around his
wrist cinching tight as it caught the side of the saddle. Puffing
himself up more than he knew was good for him, he strode towards
the woman. “What seems to be the problem, mate?”
The woman stared at him with a furrowed brow,
giving him the same up-and-down look that every prissy nob in the
shire gave him when he opened his mouth. “My horse has thrown a
shoe,” she explained, gesturing to the natty old gray’s front
feet.
Jack glanced down and sure enough, the
horse’s left front foot was rough around the edges. “Bad luck
that.” He shifted his weight to one hip and sent the woman his best
saucy grin. “How long have you been stuck here?”
She met his look with a wicked smirk of her
own. “Hours. All day. Can you help me?”
“Depends.” He shrugged, crossing his arms.
“What kinda help were you looking for?”
The flirtatious twinkle in her eyes deepened
as she glanced down and sent him a look through long lashes. “I
suppose I need a ride.”
Jack grabbed his wrist, pressing the beads of
the rosary into his flesh until it hurt. Anything to keep him out
of the trouble that was standing right
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley