Wildewood Revenge by B.A. Morton Read Free Book Online Page B

reckless to admit indifference to the wants of your captor. Better by far to feign interest until you are more favourably placed.”
    Grace squared up to him, hands on hips, lips pursed indignantly. “Oh, so now you’re admitting you’re not actually helping me. You’re kidnapping me. Well, you can forget that; it’s not going to happen.”
    “How do you propose to stop me?”
    “I’ll think of something,” she replied haughtily.
    “We need to make haste, you can think on the way.”
    He offered his hand, the skin was tanned, the knuckles scuffed. Had he been fighting, she wondered? Or suffered injury digging the grave of his last victim?
    She felt control of the situation slipping away and couldn’t think of a way to recover it. He was waiting and the horses stamped their hooves impatiently.
    She briefly considered the option of escaping, of evading his outstretched hand and starting to run. But the desolate moor stretched endlessly in all directions and she’d no idea where she was or how to get back. She tried to get her bearings, looked in vain for the unmistakable shape of Simonside , or the more distant Cheviot, but the low cloud obscured her view. Even with two good legs it would have been a foolhardy venture to set out into the unknown in this weather. Incapacitated as she was it was simply ridiculous. Even the short walk to the horses had brought tears to her eyes. She accepted reluctantly that for the time being she was tied by necessity to her battle-scarred captor. Perhaps she was overdramatizing. Maybe when they reached Wildewood , wherever that was, she would be able to get help; someone from the village would no doubt come and get her. Until then she would just bide her time, feign interest as he’d suggested. She could feign interest with the best of them.
    When it became obvious to him that her resistance had crumbled, Miles affected a courteous nod, took her firmly by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the front of the saddle.
    “Are you in pain?” he asked as he tied his pack to the horse. He looked up when she failed to answer and for the first time since their initial meeting they looked each other in the eye. “Pardon?” he asked in response to her expression.
    “Quite frankly, I don’t know where to begin,” she said, bewildered and frustrated. “Yes, of course I’m in pain, what do you expect? I have a hole in my thigh, you put it there. However, I’ll manage and when we get to Wildewood , will you tell me what’s really going on?”
    “There is nothing more to tell. I will send a message to the bishop and when he acquiesces to my request you’ll be returned.” He smiled again and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Think of it as a little adventure, Mademoiselle.”
    An adventure! The man was mad. “But I don’t know the bishop and he doesn’t know me.”
    “No matter,” said Miles, as he swung up behind her and clasped one arm firmly around her tiny waist. “He will not leave one of his little lost nuns in the clutches of a wayward knight. Who knows what might happen.”
    Grace tried to loosen his grip, but he merely tightened it further and she felt the shudder in his body pressed hard against her back. He was laughing, laughing at her. This wasn’t really happening, it couldn’t be. Knights and nuns, what on earth was he talking about?
    It must be a dream. That was the only plausible explanation. She must have bumped her head and at some point when she was good and ready she would wake up, hopefully in her own bed in her own home, but waking up in the forest where she’d fallen, would also be acceptable if need be. Anything would be better than this.
    Trouble was , if this wasn’t a dream then she’d hooked up with a weirdo. So maybe she should hedge her bets and feign away until things worked themselves out. She wanted it to be a dream. It was definitely her preferred option when the alternative reality involved weirdoes who thought they were knights