Read Online Exile’s Bane by Nicole Margot Spencer - Free Book Online

arm was covered to the elbow by a metal bridal gauntlet, much like the one Duncan wore. A tri-bar helmet with thin vertical bars, similar to the Roundhead helmets, protected his face, and a segmented tail covered the back of his neck. I noted a limp red sash tied across his chest, but remained unsure of this deadly image before me. It could easily be a Roundhead trick. His face bore an extensive mustache and a goatee, like King Charles wore, his long hair hanging down beyond his helmet onto metal-clad shoulders.
    “I stand for the King,” I called out, announcing my position, whatever it might bring. He did not move, did not seem to hear me. To me, no response meant he was no Roundhead. “I’ve come to see Captain Comrie. ‘Tis a matter of life and death,” I added, hoping to be taken seriously, rather than treated like a heart-sick strumpet, which in some ways I surely was.
    “I heard shots, men’s voices,” he rumbled, unconvinced.
    “Take me to Captain Comrie. There is little time.”
    “This way.” He sneered, advancing, still holding the pistol on me.
    Kalimir took offence at his proximity and reared, neighing loudly. His hooves thundered down. We raced past the imposing soldier directly into a line of cavalry coming up the hill behind him. Kalimir circled, waiting for my command, which never came, for a tall, broad-shouldered officer in a red cloak rode up beside me.
    “Lady Elena?” came a shocked voice.
    He dismounted and doffed his plumed hat, exposing a familiar head of red locks.
    I reached down to this mist-blurred cavalier who had Duncan’s hair and Duncan’s burr on his words. He extended a gloved hand.
    “Oh, thank God,” I cried, taking his hand and sliding off Kalimir, my ruined slippers useless in the stirrups anyway.
    He put a protective arm around my shoulders, flipped his cloak over me, and hugged me close to his armored side. Under other circumstances, it would have been a great liberty for him to take, but I was too pleased to have found him to object.
    I responded instead with an arm around his weapon-clad waist.
    “I am surprised to see you here, Lady Elena,” he said formally, aware of the gawking men around him.
    “I have come to warn you. You must stop your advance immediately.”
    He looked down at me, perplexed. “How did you find us?”
    Expecting appreciation and interest in what I had to offer, I let out a loud, frustrated breath.
    “I did what I had to do. Roundheads are massed at Bolton. It looks like Rigby’s entire force. You must go back. You must return to Tor House.”
    “My lady.” A grim smile settled on his face. His arm remained around my shoulders, though he moved away slightly. “How do you know what is in Bolton?”
    “The moors are generally the most direct route to Bolton, though hardly the safest. And so I came down the Sheffington Road.” Not to be treated like a child, I shrugged off his arm and his warm cloak. “At the rise above Bolton, I could see them. Hundreds upon hundreds of round helmets streaming through the streets. Should you not believe me . . . .” I pointed toward the fog hovering at the crest of the hill. “There is a Roundhead cannon transport about a mile into that fog bank, headed for Bolton. I barely avoided them.”
    “How many?” The cautious expression on his face changed to eager interest.
    “That I could see, one gun, maybe eight men.”
    “We heard gunfire. They shot at you?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re not hurt?” His gaze moved down my body, then returned to the reduced bump at my temple.
    “No.”
    “You are very brave.” A smile deepened the dimple in his chin.
    “Duncan, you must retreat.” I ignored the guarded amusement in his stance and looked him square in the face. “They may have seen or heard your men.”
    “We will not retreat. The general and I have our orders,” he said rigidly.
    I pulled my cloak tight around me, hands stiff and painful in the misty cold. Yes, I remembered Prince Rupert’s