nowhere near full strength. Erik’s wound would be torn open with his first swing, and she doubted even he could last long after that.
If the men got in …
Josiah kicked again, shouting out in anger. “You fiend, are you in there?” he bellowed. “Come out and face me, you coward!”
He spun on his men. “You – Sander - go around back and see if there’s any other way in.”
The flaxen haired man blanched, then nodded and headed off at a trot. Mary glanced at Erik in concern. The bars on the other window were old and rusted. If the men made a concerted effort to pull them free …
There was a squeal, and a scream, and Sander came running back toward the group, limping heavily. Blood spurted from a wound in his calf.
“Damn beast jumped me when I wasn’t looking!” Sander cried out in fury. “Look what he’s done!”
He plunked down on the steps, and Bronson cut some cloth from his cloak, tying it around Sander’s leg.
Josiah shook his head. “Did you find anything?”
Sander lurched to his feet. “Give me a moment.”
Mary’s heart thudded in her chest, and Erik glanced toward the door, his eyes settling for a moment on the bar which sat securely in its channel. His lips pressed into a thin line as he ran a hand along the bandage at his waist.
Sander stumbled his way to his horse, moving his hands to the saddle, yanking off the crossbow that hung there on a loop. He slipped a bolt into its groove and cranked the winch back as he moved again toward the tower. He vanished from sight below them. Mary found she was holding her breath.
There was a sharp pop, a whistling noise, and then a high pitched scream of pain which cut off into silence.
Sander came into view again, a satisfied look on his face.
Josiah growled in exasperation. “God’s teeth, Sander. Was there another way into the tower?”
Sander shook his head. “Nah, just one tiny window. Barred. No way in.”
Josiah turned to the door and slammed his fist hard into its center, causing the tower to shudder. “Cursed,” he spat.
He stepped back, looking around the desolate courtyard. “I ain’t wasting another drop of blood on this place. The man is in Gaul, and if Caradoc wants to seek him there, good luck to him.” He turned on his heel, striding out through the gate. Bronson looped an arm under Sander’s shoulder, helping him back to his horse. In only a few moments the foursome was streaming south.
Mary found her hand was still intertwined with Erik’s, and she folded against him in relief as the hoofbeat faded from hearing. His arms came up around her, and nothing else mattered.
* * *
Mary blinked her eyes open, stretching in relaxed comfort. For the first time since the battle there wasn’t a throbbing pain in her leg; she relished the peace. She rolled on to her side, unsurprised to find Erik standing by the shutters, his eyes watching the road.
She wondered how hard it was for him to climb out of bed each morning, if he felt the same hollowness she did when their warmth was separated. Every morning she woke to find him gone, and he would not join her at night until after she had fallen asleep. And yet she sensed the moment his body was there against her – and she ached the moment he left.
She pitched her voice to be gentle, but she heard the note of longing which traced through her words. “Are you sure you won’t rest just a little while longer before we have to rise?”
He turned at that, eyes smoky, his gaze tracing along her hair, which hung loose about her face. “Better not to,” he murmured. He moved to the shelves, busying himself with gathering a loaf of bread, a small plate of butter, and a mug of ale.
He returned to sit cross-legged at her side. He waited patiently for her to prop herself up to sitting before handing over the items.
She leant back against the pillows, taking a bite of the bread, washing it down with the ale. A sense of loss swam through her. This was day seven. Would he
If the men got in …
Josiah kicked again, shouting out in anger. “You fiend, are you in there?” he bellowed. “Come out and face me, you coward!”
He spun on his men. “You – Sander - go around back and see if there’s any other way in.”
The flaxen haired man blanched, then nodded and headed off at a trot. Mary glanced at Erik in concern. The bars on the other window were old and rusted. If the men made a concerted effort to pull them free …
There was a squeal, and a scream, and Sander came running back toward the group, limping heavily. Blood spurted from a wound in his calf.
“Damn beast jumped me when I wasn’t looking!” Sander cried out in fury. “Look what he’s done!”
He plunked down on the steps, and Bronson cut some cloth from his cloak, tying it around Sander’s leg.
Josiah shook his head. “Did you find anything?”
Sander lurched to his feet. “Give me a moment.”
Mary’s heart thudded in her chest, and Erik glanced toward the door, his eyes settling for a moment on the bar which sat securely in its channel. His lips pressed into a thin line as he ran a hand along the bandage at his waist.
Sander stumbled his way to his horse, moving his hands to the saddle, yanking off the crossbow that hung there on a loop. He slipped a bolt into its groove and cranked the winch back as he moved again toward the tower. He vanished from sight below them. Mary found she was holding her breath.
There was a sharp pop, a whistling noise, and then a high pitched scream of pain which cut off into silence.
Sander came into view again, a satisfied look on his face.
Josiah growled in exasperation. “God’s teeth, Sander. Was there another way into the tower?”
Sander shook his head. “Nah, just one tiny window. Barred. No way in.”
Josiah turned to the door and slammed his fist hard into its center, causing the tower to shudder. “Cursed,” he spat.
He stepped back, looking around the desolate courtyard. “I ain’t wasting another drop of blood on this place. The man is in Gaul, and if Caradoc wants to seek him there, good luck to him.” He turned on his heel, striding out through the gate. Bronson looped an arm under Sander’s shoulder, helping him back to his horse. In only a few moments the foursome was streaming south.
Mary found her hand was still intertwined with Erik’s, and she folded against him in relief as the hoofbeat faded from hearing. His arms came up around her, and nothing else mattered.
* * *
Mary blinked her eyes open, stretching in relaxed comfort. For the first time since the battle there wasn’t a throbbing pain in her leg; she relished the peace. She rolled on to her side, unsurprised to find Erik standing by the shutters, his eyes watching the road.
She wondered how hard it was for him to climb out of bed each morning, if he felt the same hollowness she did when their warmth was separated. Every morning she woke to find him gone, and he would not join her at night until after she had fallen asleep. And yet she sensed the moment his body was there against her – and she ached the moment he left.
She pitched her voice to be gentle, but she heard the note of longing which traced through her words. “Are you sure you won’t rest just a little while longer before we have to rise?”
He turned at that, eyes smoky, his gaze tracing along her hair, which hung loose about her face. “Better not to,” he murmured. He moved to the shelves, busying himself with gathering a loaf of bread, a small plate of butter, and a mug of ale.
He returned to sit cross-legged at her side. He waited patiently for her to prop herself up to sitting before handing over the items.
She leant back against the pillows, taking a bite of the bread, washing it down with the ale. A sense of loss swam through her. This was day seven. Would he
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