“See?” Nicolas says. “Even the doves are disappointed with you, crécerelle. Impressed by your pluck, but in the end, disappointed.”
“Mypluck?” I glower at him. “If the next adjective from your mouth isfeisty, you may need your sword.”
“I was going to sayspirited. Is that acceptable?”
I’m about to answer when I catch a noise. I lift as high as I can on my tiptoes, bringing me close to his ear. “Something startled the birds, and it was not me. I heard a horse whinny.”
“A horse. Near a barn.Quelle surprise!”
I frantically motion for him to be quiet.
He tilts his head. Then he must hear something. His mouth sets, and he strides toward the wall. I follow as fast as my injured leg will allow. He presses his eye to a knot in the wood. I find one lower down and do the same.
At first, I see nothing but an old stone wall and a lone sheep. Then, beyond the wall, I spot a trio of horses. They could be simply grazing... if they were not wearing saddles.
Nicolas pulls back sharply, only to hiss through his teeth when I am not where he left me. He glances about and stalks over to me.
“We must hide,” he whispers.
He wraps his fingers around my forearm as he glances about. I look up into the hayloft. He presses his lips together and shakes his head.
“You are too badly injured,” he whispers.
I tug from his grasp and hurry to the ladder where I start to climb, ignoring the pain in my arm. I am prepared for him to grab my leg, in which case I would be required to climb faster, but he seems to have already realized such restraint is unwise... or simply futile. He settles for helping me up, which seems to require putting his hands on my bottom to steady me, and I have to bite back a laugh thinking of how Portia would react to such a familiarity. I also must admit that when one is wearing men’s trousers, one can actually feel someone’s hands on one’s bottom, and it is quite pleasant, at least when that someone is a handsome young man.
Nicolas prods me up, and soon I am scrambling across the hay just as something creaks below. Nicolas scampers after me, grabbing my ankle to stop me. As I turn, light floods the dark barn. Someone is holding open a door.
“It’s a barn.”
The man’s voice echoes through the cavernous space. Is it one of the duo who confronted Nicolas the day before? I believe so, though I cannot be sure.
“An empty barn,” he continues.
“Which is why we are looking for him here.” Thatdoessound like the first man from the day before. “He has gone to ground in some hole or other. He is injured and in hiding, and I am not telling his lordship that we lost him again.”
I glance at Nicolas. He has settled in beside me, both of us stretched out on our stomachs. His hip presses against mine, and while I realize it is not the time for such thoughts, I must reflect that if this is how things were in the past, I wish they were so again. It is lovely to be with a man and not need to worry about—gasp!—touching, even in the most innocent way.
“There is no sign of him here,” the second man from yesterday says.
“No? Then explain this half-eaten apple, not yet browned?”
Nicolas closes his eyes in a wince. I whisper an apology, but he waves it off.
“I thought we were safe,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “They do not usually pursue with such vigor.”
I turn my mouth to his ear. “It will not take them long to come up here. There is a hole in the roof behind us. We ought to climb out.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because it is the only escape route. Unless you would like to fight our way out.” I perk up. “There are only two of them. You have your sword. I have...” I pat my pockets and brandish one of my knives.
He shakes his head. “First, crécerelle, there are three horses. That means three men, presumably also the one who shot you. While I have my sword, I am never eager to fight. It is too easy to kill a man, and then I shall hang. As of now, a trip to the gallows is only a possibility. I would hate to make it an absolute.”
Below, the men are searching. A third has indeed joined. We are fortunate that the barn is both large and in poor repair, meaning there are many places for them to search.
We creep to the hole. It is not overly large, but we should be able to fit through. I grab both sides. Nicolas clamps a hand on my uninjured arm.
“Have you looked first, crécerelle?”