The Wife Test by Betina Krahn Read Free Book Online Page A

his hands. Such calluses came only from wielding a blade, and often. He sensed Graham’s presence beside him and pointed to the exposed armor and the man’s hands. As he rose, he examined the sword, then handed it to Graham.
    “Not your ordinary brigand,” he observed.
    “No indeed.”
    “He’s not dead …” For the first time in several days he had a rational thought. “We’ll take him along and question him when he wakes.”
    They turned and there stood Chloe of Guibray, with her face pale and her brow knitted into a frown.
    “What do you mean, ‘not an ordinary brigand’ ?”
    The sound of men crashing through the trees all around set the maids screaming and running for him. Hugh and Graham drew their swords, and their men rushed to help them form a shield around the women.
    The rest of the escort party burst from the trees, their blades drawn and their battle-honed bodies primed for action. It took a moment for the two groups to realize that they were in fact on the same side.
    “What the devil are you doing here?” Sir Hugh demanded of his men.
    “Tho’t ye might need help, sarr,” Withers declared, lowering both his sword and his chin.
    “Be the li’l Sisters safe?” old Mattias asked, moving toward their huddle but halting in his tracks at Hugh’s fierce expression.
    “Safe enough. Now, get your worthless hides back to the wagons!” He motioned the rest of the company to join them. “All of you!” Then he turned to the rattled maidens. “You, too. These woods are not safe, and we still have many miles to go before we reach the coast.”
    He should have known better. Whatever made him think they would climb blithely back aboard their cart and continue on as if nothing had happened?
    “Absolutely not.” Chloe stepped forward, her determination growing as the others crowded together behind her. “My sisters have survived an ugly shock. They need rest and nourishment, not more jostling in that awful cart.”
    “You can rest along the way.”
    “We will do no such thing.” She straightened her shoulders and glanced up at the lowering sun. “We must make camp and continue on tomorrow.”
    “Camp?” For a moment that was the only word he was capable of saying. Frustration choked off all others.
    “That might not be a bad idea, Hugh,” Graham mused, looking at the one called Margarete, who stood nearby, as pale as her wimple and starting to sway.
    “Not you, too.” He glowered, then caught the concern in his lieutenant’s face and turned just in time to see little Margarete hit the ground.
     
    A lone figure watched from high in the canopy of trees as the wagons and cart left the road and the drivers pulled them into a circle. He quietly shifted branches and then squinted to make out the fact that the women were hovering in concern over one of their number. The soldiers hurried to fashion a makeshift tent for them from the felts used to cover the goods in the wagons, while the tall, black-clad knight sent a detail of men into the trees. He held his breath as they neared his perch—but only to gather firewood.
    Camp. The watcher smiled. They were making camp for the evening.
    As twilight fell and fire bloomed in the middle of the circle, the observer climbed down to join the shadows on the forest floor and slipped from tree to tree, pausing, listening for signs of detection. But there were none. The arrogant English hadn’t pursued the “bandits,” and, now that they were camped, hadn’t even posted sentries. If only Edward’s men had been so careless at Crecy!
    Keeping to the edge of the trees, he made his way toward a wrecked stone cottage at the far edge of the woods and a horse that had been left for him. Soon he was riding, charting his course by moonlight toward the ordained rendezvous.
    After some time in the saddle, he approached a set of ancient ruins, slowed, and whistled into the silence. Men materialized from among the scattered stones to greet him, and soon he was