Wildewood Revenge Read online

  Guy laughed. “Why you horny toad, she played you and you gave it up didn’t you?”

  “Shut up you fool,” snapped Gerard. “What did you say, Mayflower? That she bewitched you?”

  “Yes, my lord...I...I was not in my right mind.”

  “No your mind was in your codpiece I’ll bet,” said Guy.

  Gerard glared at him. “And you would be prepared to testify to that?”

  “To what, my lord?”

  Gerard gave a sly smile. He knew his tendency to incarcerate people at the castle, was well known. He had even given the toad Mayflower a guided tour of the dungeons despite his reluctance. He knew the man would not choose to join the current inhabitants. “To testify that she is a witch,” he retorted.

  Guy snapped to attention. “Miles is bedding a witch? No wonder I couldn’t kill him.”

  Gerard swung his gaze from the jibbering fool Mayflower to the arrogant knight at his side.

  Of course. How else could Miles have survived a fatal blow, seduced the king and ended up with Wildewood. He turned back to Mayflower and smiled, his mind becoming clearer.

  “Make haste, Mayflower we will soon have you warm and dry at Ahlborett. You have done well. You may rest and eat your fill tonight. Tomorrow you have a long journey ahead of you. You must carry a message to the bishop.”

  “My Lord?”

  “You must inform His Eminence that Sir Gerard de Frouville’ requests his attendance here at Ahlborett Castle for a forthcoming witch trial.”

  Mayflower paled and dropped his eyes. His hand strayed to the cross hung from his neck.

  “Can I rely on you, Guy, to bring me the witch?” asked Gerard, turning to Guy.

  Guy nodded his agreement. “Now that’s what I call a good days hunting!”

  “Well don’t let me stop you, Guy,” said Gerard as he turned his horse for home, “The day is still young. Your men will show you the way.”

  Scowling at the weather, Guy scanned the sky. The clouds were moving in the direction of Ahlborett away from Wildewood and the sun was struggling through. He turned to his men.

  “How far to Wildewood, Percy?” he asked the first who sat slouched in the saddle.

  “A half day, there and back, my lord.”

  Guy narrowed his eyes in consideration. “What militia does he have?”

  “None to speak of. A number of peasants, women and children,” replied Percy “He still has the boy,” he added.

  “Does he now...” Self-interest flickered across Guy’s face. “Were you recognised?”

  “Miles did not give any sign of recognition,” replied Percy, “but the last time we met, he was not at his best.” The man smirked.

  “And what of the boy?” He turned to the second of his men “Do you think he recalled you, Simon?”

  “Possibly, he did not speak, or reveal anything to us, but he was with you, for some time and would have seen us around camp often.”

  “He feared you, my lord, I do not think he would risk himself by revealing anything,” added Percy.

  Guy shook his head. “You would be surprised what the little brat is capable of. By all accounts it was he who sought help for Miles after we failed to kill him. Do not underestimate him or Miles.” He looked again at the sky. If Miles had been warned it was even more important to strike quickly before he could prepare. He turned to Mayflower.

  “What does she look like? How will I recognise her?”

  Mayflower swallowed nervously. “She is small, and her hair is as short as a boy.”

  “What colour?” asked Guy.

  “The colour of sun ripened corn, my lord, streaked red with the devils blood.”

  Guy smiled and turned his horse.

  “Come boys; let us catch ourselves a witch.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Miles was reluctant to leave Wildewood. Gerard was unstable at the best of times and Grace’s little performance with Mayflower would have inflamed him further. However, Gerard was no fool and Miles doubted he would show his hand without considerable thought to the repercussions. It would not do for him to get on the wrong side of the king permanently.

  What concerned Miles more was the fact Guy was suddenly part of the equation. Unlike Gerard, Guy believed he was untouchable, his father’s wealth and standing providing protection to him regardless of his actions. Miles had seen first-hand, his cruelty and his unsavoury fancies. Guy was the child who pulled legs off spiders and he had yet to grow up. The biggest threat, however, with Guy, was to those who knew no better, he appeared so plausible, likable and sincere. Miles could not take the risk of Grace falling into his hands. She was so incredibly reckless, despite what he’d already revealed about Guy, she might not recognise the danger he presented.

  Leaving John to keep watch, he’d intended to seek out Alex Stewart with a request for help, but the further he got from Wildewood his sense of alarm grew. Finally when he could ignore his unease no longer, he detoured onto the high moor and sought out Berryman, who was still tending his sheep away from the risk of rustlers. Berryman would take his message the rest of the way. The old man was fearful of the Scottish war leader. He knew of his reputation, but Miles assured him he would be safe and Wildewood needed his help. The man subsequently secured his flock and set off for the Two Tups. Miles headed back by way of the moor which was quicker though less travelled. With the weather still ever present on the high ground he was careful as he guided his horse at a pace marginally faster than was safe for the conditions.

  He arrived back at Wildewood to discover Grace had gone.

  No one had seen her leave, though the girl Belle suggested she’d been desperate to take the pony out. John was mortified he had failed in his duty to keep watch, but Miles waved him away. The man could not be blamed, he did not realise that as well as keeping intruders out; his role should also have been to keep Grace in.

  Had she really gone, escaped? She’d confided her intention; made it clear she wanted to go home and he couldn’t keep her against her will. But that was before they’d lain together. He assumed things had changed, stupidly perhaps. He found he couldn’t speak to John and turned away from Edmund. He couldn’t bear to look at the fear on the lad’s face. Leaving them in the great hall, he took the stairs two at a time. Had she taken her things? The things he knew she kept in the chest? He lifted the lid. They were gone. Why take them if she intended to return? He sat on the edge of the bed amid the rumpled sheets, inhaled her scent and rested his head in his hands.

  Edmund stood for a moment in the doorway watching, before knocking and waiting to enter.

  “Not now, Edmund,” said Miles wearily.

  “My lord, she has not left yer.”

  Miles raised his head and looked at the boy. “What do you mean?”

  “She would not have left the grounds without good reason. Something caused her to leave.” The boy looked Miles squarely in the eye, and Miles thought distractedly how he had grown over the past few days.

  “She is clever, ye said so yerself, she understood the risk of leaving the protection of the grounds. She wouldn’t have taken that risk unless it was necessary.”

  “You’re right, Edmund, why did I not see that?” Miles stood.

  “Because yer concerned for her,” said Edmund.

  A commotion on the stairs drew their attention and John entered with Linus’ hand clasped tightly in his.

  “My lord, Linus saw her leave.”

  Miles took a calming breath and crouched before the little boy. He’d never interrogated a five year old before.

  “Linus, we have mislaid the Lady Grace. You like, Grace, she plays with you, doesn’t she?” Linus nodded. “We need your help to find her, can you do that?”

  Linus nodded again, and Miles hoisted him into his arms. It felt strange carrying someone so small. “Can you show us where you last saw her?” again Linus dipped his head and Miles wondered if he ever spoke.

  He carried the child outside accompanied by John an
d Edmund and when they reached the courtyard Linus pointed to the walled garden.

  “Yes, that’s where you made the snowman with Grace, but where did she go?”

  “Through the door,” whispered Linus and he pointed to the far wall where the ivy had been pulled back to reveal the door in the outer wall. Miles recalled it now from his childhood, it led to the river. Why would she have gone out there?

  “Belle shut the door,” added Linus and everyone turned to look at him.

  “Belle! What has Belle to do with this?” asked Miles. He controlled his voice with difficulty he didn’t want to scare the child, but he had a growing sense of unease.

  “She led the pony and locked the gate,” said Linus.

  “Linus, you are a good lad.” Miles ruffled his hair and nipped playfully at his nose, before turning away, his expression hard. “Edmund, take him to the kitchen and bring Belle back with you.” He turned to John, “What has gone on here, John, what has happened to her?”

  The girl, Belle, was high spirited. Miles was aware of that, and he knew Martha despaired of her at times. He also knew she had a youthful eye for Edmund. He’d caught the sly looks she’d sent his way, even if Edmund hadn’t. He pulled back the bolts and flung the door open. Outside in the mud were the unmistakable tracks of a pony.

  “Fetch my horse, John,” said Miles impatiently as he stood and looked at the trail. She’d headed across the park into the woods; she should be easy to follow. But why had she gone? She’d promised she’d stay till he got back.

  Before John could return with the horse, Martha arrived, dragging Belle by the wrist. Tom and Edmund followed at a safe distance. Martha was puce with rage and Belle, white with fear.

  “Tell his lordship what ye did, yer ungrateful wretch.” The girl whimpered but Miles had no time for sympathy, let her grandmother deal with her.

  “I thought Edmund and Linus had gone out,” she lied. “The mistress was worried, she went to fetch them. I only showed her the way,” she pouted.

  “How long ago?” demanded Miles and Belle shuddered.

  “Not long, the sun was high.”

  John arrived with the horse, and Miles swung himself into the saddle, the horse danced in anticipation of the ride. He turned to Martha, his rage barely contained.

  “Deal with your granddaughter madam, or I will do it myself.”

  He pushed the horse on through the gate and warily along the narrow river path. Once the path widened he forced the horse on as he took the expanse of parkland at a gallop, one eye on the tracks she had left, the other on the tree line ever watchful. He had another few hours of day light. He needed to find her before dark.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Grace was lost in the woods for the second time, and the irony of the situation did not escape her. Once again she’d thrown caution to the wind and was unprepared for the consequences. She found the filly increasingly difficult to handle, her own anxiety transmitted through the reins and caused the pony to jump and skitter. Grace struggled to control her. With no sign of the boys she began to wonder whether Belle was playing a game.

  With a determined effort she tried to turn the pony and follow her own tracks back to the park, but the pony baulked and began to rear and spin. The commotion created uproar in the slumbering forest as all manner of woodland creatures vacated the proximity in fright. The pony’s stamping hooves and squeals of frustration raised a pheasant which flew out beneath its nose, and no amount of skill on Grace’s part could hold her fast. She did well to stay in the saddle as the pony reared and bolted.

  * * *

  The commotion alerted more than just the pheasant. Nearby, Guy and his men halted their horses to listen and strained their eyes to see through the tangle of trees. Whatever was causing the disturbance, it was coming their way. Percy, standing tall in his stirrups, was the first to catch a glimpse of the runaway pony and rider, but it was Guy who kicked his horse and raced to head them off. He was an accomplished rider and the thrill of the chase was a welcome release from the monotony of the ride through the damp forest. He quickly levelled with the grey pony. Leaning over he grasped the rein with one hand, pulled his own horse to a shuddering halt and the pony along with it. Only when both beasts finally stopped did he turn to look at the rider.

  Good Lord above, he was the luckiest man alive, for sitting atop the runaway pony was the very girl he’d been sent to catch. Miles’ witch girl had literally landed in his lap. She was as Mayflower had described: petite and fair with the peculiar devil’s hair, but he had neglected to mention how young and attractive she was.

  “Thank you,” she cried, breathlessly. “Thank you so much, I thought she’d never stop.” He watched as she attempted to catch her breath. She was shaking, her hands almost frozen to the reins she’d been hanging on so tightly. She beamed her gratitude at him.

  He returned the greeting with a wolf-like smile. Nudging his horse closer he looked down on her from the taller beast. “Are you hurt, Mademoiselle?” He spoke with the slight French accent of a Norman lord.

  “No, just a little out of breath,” she replied. “The filly is young. I thought I could handle her. I was wrong. She’s stronger than she looks.”

  She was an unusual little package, thought Guy, as he took in her petite features and heaving bosom. He could see how Mayflower had been seduced by her and he could easily appreciate what Miles saw in her too. She was different from the women he knew from court with their elaborate coiffure, their silks and dazzling jewels. She was unfinished. The wind and rain caused her pink streaked hair to stick up, and her fringe to flop untidily over one eye. Her clothes were a crime but there was no contrived coyness, no fluttering of lashes.

  She may have been scared atop the bolting pony, but she certainly wasn’t the quivering wreck he expected. She was alive, vibrant, exhilarated and he found her very tempting indeed. He wondered how she would feel beneath him. She pushed her fringe back from her face with an unsteady hand and an almost apologetic look. As if regretful of any trouble she may have caused. He found that even more tempting, in the way that a wolf is tempted by the succulence of a fresh lamb. He licked his lips and leaned closer.

  She had beautiful eyes and long lashes, and when she smiled openly at him again he knew she was his. She’d absolutely no idea who he was. Edmund had not alerted Miles. This was going to be the easiest job he had ever undertaken.

  “You are a long way from anywhere, here in these woods. Where are you headed, my lady? I would escort you to ensure your safety.”

  Grace took another breath. “I’m meant to be at Wildewood, only I’ve managed to get myself lost. I was looking for the children and I’m afraid I’ve got a terrible sense of direction.”

  “You’re a long way from Wildewood, my lady.”

  “Am I?” Grace looked about her, taking notice of her surroundings for the first time.

  “It will soon be dark,” said Guy. “We are headed for Ahlborett Castle, it is not far. I suggest you accompany us. We can have a message sent to Wildewood if you’re concerned they will miss you.”

  Grace faltered, one hand straying to her damp hair as she twisted the strands nervously. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea actually.”

  Guy raised his brow questioningly. “You will be made very welcome.” He thought of the very special welcome awaiting her and smiled.

  “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just there’s been a bit of a falling out between Wildewood and those at the Castle and I’m not sure Miles would be happy for me to visit.” She stopped herself with a hand across her mouth, “Oh dear, you’re not Gerard are you?”

  Her rescuer smiled again, genuinely amused now. “No, I am not Gerard. I hear he can be a little tyrannical, but as a host he is second to none.” He thought of Gerard’s most recent guest. Walter de Sweethope had complained rather loudly about his incarceration. He nudged his horse onward through the wood taking Grace’s pony with him.

  Grace looked around her. “Be
that as it may, I think Miles would rather I went straight back to Wildewood.”

  Still the horses continued.

  “And Miles is your...husband...brother...?”

  She paused and he watched as she struggled to find the correct term. “Miles is my friend...my protector.”

  Guy wondered if she really was as naive as she appeared. If he kept her talking they would be at the castle before she realised it. “In that case I’m sure Miles would want you to be safe.”

  Grace leaned away from him and attempted to look back over her shoulder at the way they had come. “Well that’s the thing, I’m not sure I would be, not at the castle, you hear such stories.”

  Guy nudged his horse closer causing the filly to skitter sideways and ensuring Grace’s attention on their forward progression. “You do, my lady. Stories to titillate the masses, some folk lead such drab lives they feel the need to spice them up. Rest assured I will be there to protect you, should the need arise. However, I’m sure any difference of opinion between Miles and Sir Gerard would not extend to you. They are both honourable men and have a code to uphold.”

  The horses continued and Grace tried again. “All the same, I wouldn’t like to intrude unannounced.” She glanced behind her again and his men slunk some way back. She shifted her gaze to the surrounding forest warily. Guy saw the growing apprehension on her face.

  “My men are good honest soldiers. We will ensure you are returned to the safety of your home, once you have rested.” He waited with heightened anticipation, for her reaction when she finally realised the situation.

  Grace hesitated. “I really am very grateful for your help but I’m fine now, and I do think perhaps it would be best if I just made my own way home, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Perhaps you could just point me in the right direction.” She attempted to take back her reins but he held them fast.

  Cocking his head to one side, Guy smiled at her. For a long moment he said nothing and let the uncomfortable silence hang between them. “I’m afraid that’s impossible...Lady Grace,” he finally said. He studied her face, the widening eyes, confusion and then the fear and he felt the warm glow of satisfaction ignite in his belly.