Married to Her Enemy

‘We can’t find her anywhere, sir. It looks like...’

‘Like what?’ Svend fought the urge to grab his squire by the throat and shake the words out of him.

Renard gulped. ‘Like she went with them.’

‘The night watchman saw her leave the tower this morning.’ Bertrand interceded quickly. ‘She was alone and heading for the barn.’

‘That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘He saw her speak to the guards before she went inside.’

‘They let her in?’

‘That’s what he says. He thought it was strange at the time, but since they opened the door he assumed everything was in order and moved on.’

‘Where are the guards now?’

‘In the infirmary. They’re alive, but they won’t be able to tell us anything for a while. There are no other witnesses, but from all appearances...’

‘She helped them escape.’ Svend finished the sentence for him.

‘That’s what it looks like.’

He shook his head, snippets of conversation from the evening before coming back to him. She’d asked him to free the prisoners, but when he’d refused she’d seemed to understand what was at stake. She’d asked what would happen to them, had seemed upset by his answer, but that didn’t mean that she’d helped them escape...did it? But why else would she have gone to the barn?

Edmund.

She’d mentioned Edmund. His insides twisted with jealousy before the rational part of his brain took over. Why would she have told him about Edmund if she’d been planning an escape? Why risk arousing suspicion? Besides, she’d said that Edmund had scared her, that she only wanted to warn him...

Hell and damnation! He swung his legs off the bed and stood up determinedly. She was just as headstrong and reckless as ever—going to warn the rebels because she thought it was the right thing to do, simply assuming she was safe because they were Saxon. Damn it all, it wasn’t as if she’d ever followed his advice before. Why the hell had he expected her to start now?

‘Get my horse ready.’

‘Sir, you can’t!’

‘Now!’ He fixed Bertrand with a hard stare. ‘She didn’t do it. She’s not a rebel. Make sure the men understand that.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And tell them I’ll cut the hand off any man who touches her.’

He grasped hold of the wall, steadying himself as the others departed the chamber. Renard was right, he shouldn’t be out of bed, but he had to go after her. If she’d gone, she’d done so against her will. He refused to believe otherwise.

But that meant she was in danger too.

His heart stalled at the thought. If he lost her it would be the end of everything, all his hopes and plans for the future. He had to find her. He’d told her he trusted her and he’d meant it. He was going to keep on trusting her until she looked him in the eye and told him otherwise.

And if she did that he’d never trust the evidence of his own senses again.

* * *

Aediva twisted her neck, looking for any sign of pursuit, but there was nothing—not so much as a cloud of dust on the horizon. She had no idea how long they’d been riding, but the sun was already past its zenith and the weary horses had slowed to a walk. They must be miles away from Redbourn by now—so far that she didn’t even recognise their surroundings.

She heard her name and pricked up her ears to listen. One of the other rebels seemed to be arguing with Edmund about her.

‘She’s weighing you down. Better to leave her behind.’

She held her breath, hoping that Edmund would agree, but if anything his voice only grew harder.