Page 9 of The Warrior's Innocent Captive

‘She’s not hurt,’ said another voice nearby. A hard hand gripped the back of her dress and hauled her to her feet.

The world spun and she staggered again, but the iron grip on her clothes forced her to remain upright. From the stench, she guessed she was being supported by the same man who had slung her across his horse with ease. Nausea caused bile to rise once more. She bent over at the waist and braced her hands on her knees.

Slowly the world came back into focus.

‘She is hardly in the best of health,’ said the original voice. He sounded cross and Linota held on to that. At least one person here wanted her to remain well.

‘You didn’t say nothin’ about her being in good shape. She’s in one piece, ain’t she? I think me and me men did well, considerin’ we snatched the girl in front of the Earl and all his sword-carryin’ cronies.’

Around her, men jeered in agreement.

Linota’s stomach settled and she forced herself to stand up straight. She would meet her foes face on. If this was where her life was to end, then she would face it with dignity. Not one of them would know how violently her knees were trembling.

She took a slow look at her surroundings. Four men were seated atop their horses. A tall, thickset man was next to her, gripping her cloak tightly. She recognised him as the man who had been riding towards her as she had tried to get to Erik. It was evidently his horse she’d been unceremoniously dumped across.

She took a small step away from him, but he roughly pulled her back until her body was flush with his. The pungent stench of his sweat mixed with the sourness of his breath overwhelmed her. She turned her face away. Her whole body convulsed as she retched again.

Somebody nearby laughed. She closed her eyes tightly, willing her body under control.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked towards the man who appeared unhappy about her condition. He didn’t look much of a threat, short and rotund with a straggly beard—a strong shove would probably knock him over. Despite his appearance, he seemed to be the leader of this ragtag band of men.

He caught her gaze and sketched a short bow. ‘Mistress Leofric, I apologise for your rough treatment. Please believe me when I say that I mean you no harm.’

She licked her lips. They were so dry. She longed for a drink, but she would be damned before she asked these men for anything.

‘Who are you?’ she croaked.

‘I am Simon de Bevoir, my lady.’ The portly man bowed again and a bubble of laughter rose up her throat. He looked ridiculous. She’d been abducted, thrown unceremoniously over a horse and hadn’t been able to stop gagging since they’d stopped moving, but the man responsible was acting as if they had met at a grand feast.

De Bevoir paused and she wondered what he was waiting for her to say. Perhaps he thought she would say that she was pleased to meet him, but she was most assuredly not going to do that.

De Bevoir ran his hand down his straggly beard. ‘You will be staying with us for a while, I’m afraid. But you don’t need to be frightened. Neither I nor my...’ de Bevoir waved his hand at the men as he searched for a word to describe them. ‘None of us will hurt you. I swear it on my honour.’

Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand firm. ‘If I’m not to be hurt, why am I here?’

De Bevoir sucked on his teeth. ‘That I will not tell you. You’re a small part of a much wider plan. You may as well make yourself comfortable. We won’t be moving from this place until tomorrow. Gamel—’ he addressed the man who held her in place ‘—see to Mistress Leofric’s comfort.’

Gamel gripped Linota’s arm painfully hard and pulled her in the direction of a fallen log.

‘Sit there and stay out of our way,’ he grunted.

Linota stumbled as he shoved her away from him. She managed to right herself before she fell. By the time she was stable Gamel had moved away from her and was fiddling with the bindings on his saddlebag.

Now she wasn’t moving the cold of the day began to creep through her clothes. She shivered and pulled her arms tightly around her. None of the men turned in her direction. Would they notice if she ran away?

She took a small step away from the log and froze before she could take another one. Riding slumped over the horse had robbed her of all sense of direction. She would surely starve or freeze to death if left to her own devices. De Bevoir had promised her no harm would come to her. Was she the naive little girl everyone thought she was to believe him?

Her limbs were locked, seized with indecision. Although she made no movement it sounded to her as if her heart was beating so loudly everyone in the clearing must be able to hear it.

‘Please sit, Mistress Leofric,’ said de Bevoir, appearing at her elbow. ‘It’s going to be a long couple of days. It would be best to conserve your energy.’

The decision made for her, Linota sank, almost gratefully, on to the moss-covered log.

De Bevoir nodded and walked away from her, but now she knew that she wasn’t as unobserved as she’d first thought.

Once the horses had been seen to, the men relaxed slightly, slumping down on the ground or leaning against some of the trees at the edge of the clearing. After a while she stopped listening to their talk—there was nothing to be gleaned from their conversation, which seemed to focus on women and horses. No reason was given as to why she had been taken.

Her teeth started to chatter in earnest as the men passed around a flagon of ale. She was seemingly forgotten. As the evening wore on the men slouched as the alcohol took effect. Even de Bevoir, who had initially held himself aloof from the others, began to join in.

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