Ware shot the younger boy a hard glance. Why would Cadell be so foolish?
“Aye, I’ll cut them off, then feed them to the wolf, that I will!” Cadell said, his tongue working more quickly than his brain.
“Will you, now?” Strahan walked to the younger man, his knife still in his hand. “Think before you speak, son, for you’ve given me an idea.”
“No!” Ware cried.
Strahan ignored him and pressed his face close to Cadell’s. “Let’s start with you.” Swiftly he raised his knife and slashed at the fabric of Cadell’s breeches. They boy screamed and Ware struggled against his bonds, but no blood stained the severed fabric and Cadell’s bare flesh showed through, white and without a trace of blood. His face drained of color, and he nearly swooned.
“For the love of God, Strahan, leave him alone!” Ware cried. “He’s but a boy—”
“Next time I’ll do it,” Strahan snarled, and Cadell’s lower lip trembled. Seeing that he’d finally gotten the respect he wanted, Strahan turned, his knife still in his hand, no hint of blood on the sharp blade. “You’d best keep your friend in line, Ware.”
Ware held his head proudly, refusing to answer, his gaze holding Strahan’s. He didn’t blink. But in his peripheral vision, he saw a blur of black and brown fur streaking through the trees. Ware’s gut tightened. God be with you, Wolf, he silently prayed, hoping that the animal could reach Garrick and warn him before it was too late and all was lost.
Garrick was relentless. Upon deciding to return to Abergwynn, he’d pushed the men and horses to the extreme.
Every muscle in Morgana’s body ached, and she thought about a warm bath and clean clothes and a real bed piled high with fur coverlets. But she was worried. Though the storm had passed and the sun warmed the wet earth, she felt a tension in the air. Her visions had stopped again, and she was frustrated. Garrick asked her often if she’d seen into the future. Half the time he was teasing her; the rest of the time he seemed serious.
She was in love with him, she knew. This lighthearted giddiness she felt whenever he looked her way had to be love, though how her feelings had changed and how she’d come to care for the beast of Abergwynn, she knew not. Aye, he was handsome and powerful and his lovemaking caused a great tide of desire to rush through her blood, but there was more to the man than only these qualities. She’d seen strength in him, yet witnessed kindness; she’d observed his emotions, often held under tight rein, and knew that he would die to ensure the safety of his men. He was gentle with his horses, and he did not object to her wolf being at the castle.
He was desperate to find his child. His love for his boy was all-consuming. That alone caused her heart to ache for him, and that ache had evolved into a love so deep she would do anything for him. Aye, she would even, if need be, become his wench. That thought wounded her deeply, for she was beginning to want more than just his touch. She saw herself as his wife, as the mother of his children, as the woman who would hold and caress him in bad times and good.
“You’re as silly as Glyn,” she chided herself as she rocked in the cursed saddle. She was still pledged to Strahan.
They were close to Abergwynn now, and soon the hours of riding would end. At the memory of Abergwynn she smiled. Aye, she’d come to love the big castle and the servants therein. She missed not only Glyn and Cadell but also Lady Clare and Garrick’s impetuous younger brother, Ware. Never had she thought that any home other than Tower Wenlock would be hers, and yet … though she missed her parents and her grandmother, and the freedom at the tower, she had learned that she could live elsewhere, that she could become mistress of her own castle — if that castle was Abergwynn.
She patted Luck’s sleek shoulder and thought of Phantom, her own little mare. Once they returned and she had bathed, she would snatch the largest apple in the kitchen and take it to the stables. “And one for you, too,” she whispered to Luck, as if the horse could hear her thoughts.
In a flutter of wings, two startled pheasants flew in front of the company. Garrick’s horse shied and sidestepped. Another steed reared.
A wolf slunk into the road. Morgana saw him from the corner of her eye just as Sir Marsh drew back his bow.
“No!” she screamed, jumping off Luck and causing the horse to backstep into another animal. “’Tis my animal!” she yelled at Marsh as she flung herself onto Wolf. The beast wagged his tail and licked her face and jumped all over her. She giggled and buried her face in his thick, somewhat foul-smelling fur.
Garrick urged his horse closer and dropped to the ground beside her. “I thought the wolf was confined.”
“He must’ve escaped,” Morgana said, her joy pushing aside all her worries and fears.
“How?”
She glanced up and found Garrick frowning. “You think this is part of some trick?” she asked, her voice.
“’Tis unlikely, is it not, that anyone in the castle would get close enough to untie him?”
With a sinking heart, she understood the wisdom of Garrick’s thinking
“And there is no noose around his neck, as there would be if he had chewed his way through his bonds.”
“Why would anyone turn him loose?” she asked, though she was still grateful that he had found them. She ran her fingers through his coarse fur and tried to avoid the pink tongue that continued to wash her face. “Stop it,” she whispered, scratching him behind the ears.
“I know not why he would be set free.” Garrick scanned the surrounding woods, his eyes narrowing, his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if he expected to be attacked at any second.
Morgana shivered, and her frivolous mood seeped quickly away. The tension she’d felt earlier returned, and though she was glad to have Wolf with them, she knew that Garrick was right. Had she not convinced him that danger lay behind every tree in these woods, that there lurked in the forest dark eyes silently watching them? Quickly making the sign of the cross, she stood and Garrick touched her gently on the sleeve. Their gazes locked for an instant. “’Twill be all right,” he assured her. “I will keep you safe.”
“I’m not worried for myself.”
“But for your brother and mine.”