Elizabeth shifted her legs under her. “He also liked…pranks,” was all she’d say.
“Did you have enough, Kit?” Miles asked, and as he reached for another piece of pork, she saw the long gash on the inside of his wrist. It had opened again and was bleeding.
Miles never seemed to miss even a glance of hers. “The bow string hit it. You may doctor it if you wish,” he said so eagerly, with so much hope, that she laughed at him.
She raised her skirt, tore off a long piece of petticoat and wet it in the rain. Miles sat cross-legged before her, his arm extended as she began to wash away the blood.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you smile,” he said. “Kit! Don’t climb on those beams. Take the cloth from inside the quiver and clean my sword. And watch that you don’t damage the edge.” He looked back at Elizabeth. “I take it as an honor that you smile at me. I’m not sure, but I feel that you don’t smile at many men.”
“Very few,” was all she’d answer.
He lifted her hand from his wrist and kissed her palm. “I’m beginning to think you’re as angelic as you look. Kit adores you.”
“I have a feeling Kit has never met a stranger, that he adores everyone.”
“I don’t.” He kissed her hand again.
“Stop it!” She pulled away from him. “You are entirely too free with your kisses.”
“I am doing very well at limiting myself to kisses. What I’d like to do is make love to you. Kit!” he yelled at his son who was waving the sword above his head. “I’ll have your hide if you even consider thrusting that at anything.”
In spite of herself, Elizabeth had to laugh as she thrust Miles’s cleanly bandaged arm back to him. “I think you should leave your son at home when you try courting.”
“Oh no.” He smiled. “Kit has accomplished more than I could have in months.”
With that cryptic remark, he moved to take his cherished sword from his son’s reckless hands.
Chapter 7
THAT NIGHT THE THREE OF THEM SLEPT TOGETHER AGAIN, Kit firmly wedged between them. Elizabeth lay awake for a long time listening to the breathing of Miles and Kit. The past two days had been so unusual, so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It was like a bit of sunshine after years of rain.
When she woke she was alone on the cloak, the plaid tucked about her. Sleepily she smiled, snuggled deeper under the covers, and for a second she wished she could always stay in this place, that each day could be filled with laughter.
Turning to her back, stretching, she looked about the little shelter, saw that it was empty. Her senses had dulled over the last few days. Usually, she slept with one ear open, but somehow, Miles and Kit had managed to leave without disturbing her. She listened now for any sounds of them, smiling when she heard slow, quiet footsteps not too far away.
Stealthily, soundlessly, she left the shelter and faded into the surrounding forest. Once inside, hidden, she heard the unmistakable sounds of Kit and Miles to her left. Then who was skulking about in the undergrowth ahead of her?
Using all her years of experience at escaping her brother’s friends, she slipped through the forest effortlessly. It was some minutes before she saw who was trying so hard to sneak up on them.
Lying on his stomach, his long, long body held immovable, was Sir Guy, only his head turning from side to side as he scanned the horizon where Kit and Miles scampered.
With no more sound than a breath of air, Elizabeth crept behind Sir Guy. Stooping, she picked up a small, elongated rock and clutched it in her fist. Roger had taught her that even her small, weak fist could carry some power if she held a hard object. With the rock in one hand, she bent and grabbed Sir Guy’s small dagger from its sheath at his side.
The giant stood in one fluid, quick movement. “Lady Elizabeth!” he gasped.
Elizabeth stood back, at arm’s length from the man. “Why are you following us? Did you betray your master and now you come to kill him?”
The scar across Sir Guy’s face whitened but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned his head in the direction of Miles and gave a high, piercing whistle.
Elizabeth knew Miles would come at the call, that it was a signal between them. If Sir Guy felt free to call his master, then Miles must know something of the reason for the giant’s hidden presence.
In a remarkably short time, Miles appeared, sword drawn, alone.
“The lady asks if I mean to kill you,” Sir Guy said solemnly.
Miles looked from one to the other. “How did she find you?”
Sir Guy’s eyes never left Elizabeth’s face. He seemed to be embarrassed and admiring all at once. “I didn’t hear her.”