Page 41 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 12
Ryland had to admit the description he’d been given of his runaway bride was of little help. But surely there weren’t that many wenches loose in the woods.
“I’ve seen no one like that,” Gray told him. “But perhaps ye’d like to come to my camp and question the others. It may be they’ve crossed paths with the lass.”
Her suggestion stirred up instant conflict among his men, who scowled and grumbled at the idea of venturing into what Laurence referred to as “a den of thieves,” what Godwin called “a trap,” and what Warin claimed might be full of “feckin’ faerie folk.”
But he lifted his hand to silence them. “We’d be grateful.”
There was a risk itwasa trap. Her people probably knew the woods well. They could easily waylay the knights.
But Ryland didn’t have much choice in the matter. He had to find his bride before something happened to her. Not only did her life hang in the balance. But the king was depending on this alliance.
Besides, he knew how to mitigate the risk.
“I’ll just hold onto your hounds while we travel through the forest.” His eyes twinkled with a knowing half-smile as he took a firm grip on their collars.
“O’ course,” she said, answering with a knowing half-smirk of her own. “Follow me.”
The journey through the woods was breathtaking.
Gray led them along winding trails just wide enough for deer and past tiny streams that glistened between the pebbles like silver chain. Mounds of moss dressed the trees in skirts of emerald velvet. Luxuriant ferns brushed their legs with feathery caresses. More ribbons of water trickled down shelves of rock, disappearing into the soft earth. Mushrooms lay like tiny discarded caps on the forest floor. The smell of damp soil and fertile life filled the air. And there was a curious stillness over everything, a silence that absorbed all sound as they passed.
It was enchanting and unsettling all at once.
Indeed, he found it remarkable how the lady forged ahead with confidence through the virgin woodland, even without the help of the hounds. He was certain, without her guidance, he and his knights would have lost their way.
He hoped he could trust her to lead themoutof the woods as well.
He thought he could.
Still, he’d been surprised at first when she’d shown no interest in helping him. Most women leaped at the opportunity to lend assistance to a noble knight.
This wench was not like the other women he knew. Maybe it was because she was Irish. Or maybe it was because she was an outlaw. But she was definitely unpredictable.
They’d hiked a few miles when they entered a shadowy downward dip in the trail. Gray gave a low whistle. His men clapped their hands to their hilts as they heard someone unseen whistle in response.
“M’lord?” Warin nervously whispered.
Gray replied to his unasked question. “I’m lettin’ ’em know we’re approachin’ the camp.” She cheekily added, “If I meant ye harm, ye’d be caught by now. They’ve been watchin’ ye for the last quarter-mile.”
Ryland wondered if that was true. If so, he was impressed by the outlaws’ stealth. It was little wonder the Irish thought their forests were populated by faerie folk and spirits.
As they traveled onward, the path gradually widened. Then it opened out onto a flat, roughly circular expanse bordered on one side by a natural wall of vine-covered stone. Dense greenery surrounded the clearing. Towering yews made a leafy canopy overhead. In the center was a ring of blackened rocks where ashen coals slumbered, surrounded by several small boulders and tree stumps that were probably makeshift stools.
“Welcome,” their guide announced with a somewhat insincere lift of her brow.
One by one, like bark peeling off the trees, woodkerns seemed to appear out of nowhere. Then, as if emerging out of the mountain itself, two women brushed aside the vines and stepped into the clearing. Ryland thought if he stayed in the forest much longer, he might start believing in faerie folk himself.
His men braced to face the oncoming threat.
But the outlaws showed no aggression. They didn’t need to. The knights were intheirdomain now.
The same jolly woodkern who’d interrupted them at the stream greeted them now. “Well, well, if ’tisn’t the ‘noble’ fellows we met yesterday.”
A pretty red-haired woman stepped out from behind an elm, frowning. “Why have ye brought them here, Gray?”
“They need information. They’re searchin’ for someone. And they’re willin’ to pay.”
