Page 31 of Arrows and Gems
“Pampered noblewoman? Hardly,” Helena snorted. “IfCapwould give me my bow, I would be more at home here than I was at home.”
Her comment elicited a snicker from Rouge. “Until you have to cook, clean up, or mend a tear in your clothes.”
“You can squabble on the way, children.” Jean-haut’s merry voice greeted them as he strolled over to the rough table. “We need to be off.”
Laurent and Rouge hurried ahead, leaving Helena to limp along at the back of the pack. Gritting her teeth, Helena began the arduous task of walking with a broken ankle. The cane helped, but both hopping and putting a little weight on her foot were painful. Adrien noticed and dropped back to join her.
“Would you like some help, Margit?” He offered his arm with a fatherly smile. “You haven’t had long to heal, and we have a lengthy journey ahead of us.”
Her ears perked at that. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Cap knows where he’s taking us, and that’s enough forme.” The fondness with which he always spoke of their leader crept into his eyes. “But we never move to someplace near our last camp.”
Even Adrien. What had the bandit done to earn such unwavering trust from these people?
“You should walk with Alanna,” she finally replied, looking away as if she had no interest in leaning on his arm. “She likes the buffer from Tucker, and you have enough to carry already.”
His gaze darted to the strap of the heavy pack on his back before traveling to Alanna and then returning to Helena. “Noticed that, did you? What else have you seen in the last few days?”
Blowing some stray hairs out of her face, Helena kept her eyes focused ahead and hid her wince. She hadn’t meant to reveal that; it wouldn’t help the belief that she was a spy.
“I’ve had experience with unwanted suitors,” she finally admitted. “Your daughter doesn’t mind being around him, but she prefers not to be alone with his exuberance.”
Adrien continued to study her curiously. “Perceptive, indeed. Is your experience your own, or observed?”
Disliking the personal nature of that question, Helena looked away. Her eyes caught on Le Capuchon and Jean-haut, each leading a horse at the front of their group. The head bandit looked over his shoulder, his invisible eyes seeming to seek her out. Confounded hood.
Helena glared back.
After a moment, he faced forward again. Nudging his horse sideways, he stepped out of line and waved the others along. As the column passed, his attention drifted back to her. When she and Adrien reached him, he nodded to the older man.
“Thank you, Adrien. You may join Alanna if you wish.”
Chuckling, Adrien lengthened his stride. “That’s a dismissal if ever I heard one.”
Helena turned stiffly away from him. She would rather be alone so she could hide her weakness, but Adrien was preferable to his silent captain.
As expected, Le Capuchon said nothing, simply matching her slow pace and walking beside her. His refusal to talk grated on her nerves. Was he ensuring she didn’t slip away to find General Valentin? As if she could with her ankle.
His hood rankled her again. She couldn’t watch his face for clues to his thoughts if she couldn’t see it.
But she didn’t need his thoughts to rile him.
Smirking, she fixed her eyes ahead. “My brother had a friend who always hid her face. Itwasrather shocking, but I’m sure yours can’t be worse.” Fighting to keep an innocent expression, she turned to him and added, “If it is, I promise not to scream in terror. Or laugh.”
She could almost hear his teeth grinding in annoyance. “I do not wear my hood from shame.”
“If you aren’t ashamed, then why wear it?” Feeling a spark of mischief, Helena maneuvered a little closer to him. “You should let people see.”
Then taking advantage of its blind spot, she lunged for his hood.
Le Capuchon jerked back, throwing up his arm to block her. Laughing, Helena balanced on her good foot and tried again, but he grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her arm down.
“Whoop!”
She toppled forward, scrambling to catch herself with the cane—and suddenly found herself firmly pressed to a very solid chest. With her left wrist still locked in his hand and a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
For a moment, she forgot this was the grumpy man who had put an arrow in her shoulder. Helena was only a few inches shorter than him, but she’d fallen such that her head was at his chest. It was a very nice, warm chest, and a very nice arm holding her up.
