The first one said, “She must not have any love for her kinsmen. She hardly batted an eye when Reginald told her he was promised a castle and holdings when Duke Wilhelm was dead.”
Margaretha gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
He went on. “She even told us the color of the horses the duke’s daughter and Lord le Wyse had left there on.” They chuckled.
One of the other men standing nearby laughed so loudly, he drowned out their conversation about Lady Anne.
Margaretha clenched her fist over her mouth as she stared out at the men.
Colin was still watching and trying to listen for the man who was in the forest and had passed so close to them. He suddenly emerged from the trees at the same spot he had entered, about ten feet from Colin and Margaretha, and joined the other soldiers. The loud talking and laughing must have covered up the soft sounds of the horses’ chewing, because it didn’t look as though he had heard or seen them hiding there.
“What should we do?” Margaretha whispered.
“I think we should go now before things get too quiet.” In the darkness, Colin took her hand in his, his heart pounding hard against the wall of his chest. He placed his lips against her hair and whispered, “Take your horse’s reins and we’ll lead them back, farther into the trees. Follow me.”
Margaretha nodded and did as he said. They led the horses away from Claybrook’s men. He tried to let go of Margaretha’s hand, but she clung to him.
Once they were far enough away that they could barely hear the men’s voices, Colin changed course, crossed the road, and walked into the cover of the trees.
“What should we do?” Margaretha asked.
“Are you too tired to ride?”
“No. I can ride.”
“I think we should put some distance between us and Claybrook’s men. We can stay in the trees until we’re past them, then ride for an hour or two. Then we’ll try to get a few hours’ sleep, get up, and be off again at dawn so they won’t catch up to us.”
“It is a good plan.”
She was standing very close and looking up at him. Her eyes were big and round, but it was so dark he could barely see anything. So why was he so aware of how near her lips were to his? Why did the thought of kissing her seem burned into his brain like a mandate from both the king of England and the Holy Roman Emperor?
What would happen if he leaned down, just a bit closer? Would she close her eyes? Would she stand on tip-toe to reach him? Would she put her arms around his neck?
He was an addlepated lack-wit. She would never want him to kiss her, because even if she cared for him, she would never want to leave her family. She loved them, and rightfully so. As far as he could tell, they were wonderful, loving people. And now they were dependent on them, Margaretha and Colin, to help save them.
Remember why you’re here.
Colin stepped back, then turned away from her and continued walking. He had told her the plan. There was no other reason for them to speak to each other.
“Colin, were you frightened?” Margaretha whispered as she grabbed onto his arm and walked close beside him. “I was so scared they would see us, I was afraid to breathe!”
She had no idea he had just been thinking about kissing her. She prattled on, obviously not feeling what he was feeling. That was as it should be. She was blameless and na?ve, a sweet girl who was incapable of scheming about making the most advantageous marriage for herself, unlike her cousin Anne, who would sell her own cousin and marry a heartless lout to gain wealth and position for herself.
And he was nearly as wicked, thinking about stealing a kiss from an innocent girl who was alone with him in the dark, far away from her family, when he knew he could never marry her.
He was worse than an addlepated lack-wit.
“Did you hear what they said about Anne?” she whispered. “I can’t believe she would agree to marry Claybrook’s captain! What a fiend he must be! She must know he is not a good man. Perhaps he threatened her and she had no choice. I know she has always desired to make a good match for herself, but even she couldn’t want to marry a brute like that Sir Reginald. And she told them the color of our horses, but you told her to tell them where we were going. But to tell them the color of our horses . . . She may have been afraid of them, but if she had wanted to help us escape, she could have lied about the horses. You may have already guessed this, but Anne has never been a very kind or loving cousin.”
They were getting closer to the place where Claybrook’s men were preparing to sleep. “I had better stop talking now,” she whispered.
The close proximity of danger certainly helped when one was trying to not think about the beautiful girl who was clinging to one’s arm.