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She prayed they wouldn’t notice, at least long enough to give her a good start. She had only gained a short distance when Rhodes yelled out, ordering her to stop.

“Willow, stop!”

She paid him no heed. If she could get to the woods, she might have a chance, or so she tried to convince herself. As soon as she heard the thunderous beat of horses’ hooves pounding the ground, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Willow!”

She turned recognizing the voice. It was Slatter and his horse was bearing down on her. She stopped and stood where she was and watched with amazement and shock as he leaned over the side of the horse, his arm extended out as he drew near to her.

She raised her arms, realizing what he intended, and in the next moment she was scooped up and deposited on her stomach to hang over the horse face down in front of him.

“Stay still,” he said, his hand pressed against her back, and headed for the woods.

Once there he hurried her off the horse, depositing her on her feet, and pulling her into a tight hug that she welcomed. It was a relief to feel his arms snug around her, holding her like he never wanted to let her go and to feel how their bodies melded together as if fearing they’d be parted again.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered and brushed her lips with his before he eased her away from him when he wanted nothing more than to hold her close.

Her lips tingled and wanted more, but all she could do was stand there speechless. Had she heard him correctly? Had that been fear in his voice? Had he truly been worried that she had been lost to him? Had that also been her biggest worry all along… that she would never see him again?

“We have little time,” he warned. “You will go with Walcott.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. His hands went to her waist and with one quick lift, she was deposited behind Walcott already mounted on a horse.

“Hold on tight and I will see you soon,” he said to her and gave her leg a squeeze, then looked to Walcott. “I’ll lose them. You know where to take her.”

Walcott nodded and took off before Willow could speak.

She held on tight to Walcott as he raced the horse through the woods while she sent silent prayers to the heavens to keep her husband safe.

It was dusk when they finally stopped and he sheltered the horse behind high bushes and hurried her into a small cave-like dwelling.

“No fire,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We can’t chance being found. We’ll leave at first light and be home by dusk tomorrow.”

“The others?” she asked.

“They left as soon as the chaos started.”

Afraid to ask, but needing to know, she said, “Slatter?”

“Worry not about him. He’ll lose the warriors and meet us, though he shouldn’t have taken such a chance,” Walcott grumbled, while sounding confident that Slatter wouldn’t be caught. “Now rest. We have a long ride tomorrow.”

Walcott had been right about the long ride. It had taken all day with a few brief stops until near dusk they had finally entered a village, if it could be called that. There were maybe two, habitable cottages and some hut-like structures worn from age and weather. There was no main structure, no longhouse, no place of leadership, and it struck Willow then that this was no clan. It was a group of people brought together by circumstance.

People hurried around Walcott as soon as he brought the horse to a stop.

“Where is Slatter?”

“Is he all right?”

“He wasn’t caught was he?”

“Who is she?”

“Does she bring trouble?”

“Willow, here, is Slatter’s wife,” Walcott announced and everyone turned silent.

He dismounted and assisted Willow off the horse. She kept a pleasant smile on her face, but it wasn’t returned. All they did was stare at her.

“Where is Slatter?” someone asked, breaking the silence.

“He will be here soon,” Walcott assured them

“Does she bring harm?” another called out.

“She is his wife, and Slatter would expect you to welcome her and treat her well,” Walcott said. “Now get some food and drink and bring it to his cottage. She is tired and hungry as am I.”

The people began drifting off and mumbling among themselves.

“We don’t have much, but we share what we do have,” Walcott said and handed the reins of his horse to a young lad. “Follow me and you can settle yourself in Slatter’s cottage.”

Willow had been concerned for her clan with the approaching winter, but seeing this small group with few sturdy abodes and, what looked to be only one shed to store food and small at that, she couldn’t help but think that they’d never survive.

It also made her wonder about Slatter and the small group of people. Were they people of misfortune or liars and thieves who had banded together? If so, where had they gotten the coin to ransom him?


Tags: Donna Fletcher Mcardle Sisters of Courage Romance