Page 36 of Raven's Rise
Rafe watched Angelet walk along ahead of him, noting the unsteadiness of her steps. She would be thinking about him all night, which was fair, since his thoughts were increasingly dominated by her. God, he wanted her. Every time he looked at her or got close to her, his need increased. Something about her tantalized him, and he couldn’t name what it was. All he knew was that if he didn’t get to touch her again, and soon, he’d lose his mind.
She was obviously interested in his offer, yet she still put an end to their encounter. Not surprising, he told himself. Angelet wasn’t the sort of woman to give herself to a virtual stranger out in the woods in the middle of nowhere. She had too much dignity for something like that. And then there was that lock of hair she carried with her, a sign that she still clung to some memory too strong to put aside for a short diversion like Rafe.
At the very edge of the camp, he told her to walk ahead and go directly to her tent. “Don’ttarry, don’t speak to anyone, and if anyone asks where you were, tell them not to worry, and you didn’t have a fit.”
He waited a few moments, then moved around in an arc so he would appear to be approaching the camp from the east rather than the north.
A few men saw him come into the circle of firelight.
“Where were you?” Simon asked, looking up from the food he’d been eating.
“Scouting around,” Rafe lied easily. “Just making sure no one else was about.”
“Did you see anything?”
Rafe shook his head.
Laurence, who just happened to be sitting on a log next to Bethany, now chimed in. “I never like the forest. I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Watched?” Rafe asked, remembering his sense of being watched along the road, the feeling that kept recurring even though he never saw any hard proof to confirm it. “Have you seen someone?”
“No,” Laurence said. “It’s just a feeling in my gut.”
“Collywobbles,” Tad said knowingly. “The fairy folk do it to keep Christians away from their homes.”
A few of the others made noises of agreement. Rafe chuckled and sat down to eat, while the others lay back, joked, and generally relaxed. Bethany excused herself to attend to Angelet, and Rafe took a long breath, realizing how tense he was, for all sorts of reasons.
The incident with Dobson disturbed him far more than he let on. Rafe felt personally responsible for failing to see what the man had planned, though in all honesty, he couldn’t have known. Dobson cleverly waited, using the first few days to let the group settle into a routine, a routine he then exploited. Rafe hadn’t thought Dobson was that smart, actually. He shifted, willing himself to forget about the vicious fight that resulted in Dobson’s death. He needed to relax.
Perhaps a need to relax was driving some of the men’s jollity that night.
Simon set up a makeshift target range, and in the flickering light of the fire, he and the other men took turns flinging knives into the soft trunks of the pine trees. Bets were placed, naturally, and the men shouted and joked and laughed as wagers were won or lost.
Rafe took note as Simon won more bets. The young man had a talent—his aim was steady and he struck the center of his target nearly every time.
“I think Simon ought to stand ten paces back from the others,” Rafe called out from his comfortable spot by the fire. “Let’s make this fair.”
Simon grinned. “I could do that. Or someone could fetch me more wine!” He nodded toward the empty wineskin on the ground.
“I’ll find another,” Rafe said. “Least I can do.”
He walked to the supply wagon, where a few spare wineskins were stored along with some food.
There he found Bethany, who was rooting among the boxes.
“Grab a wineskin, will you?” he asked. If she was already inside, no need for him to clamber up.
But she jumped in surprise and looked back at him with an expression that could only be described as guilty.
“Did…did you say wine, sir?” she asked, her voice higher than usual.
“Yes, wine,” he repeated. “What are you doing? What are you looking for?”
“Oh, my lady wanted something after her supper. Dried fruit or nuts. I couldn’t find them in the dark…” She made a sound of discovery. “Here, sir. A wineskin.”
“And the nuts?”
“I just found them. Or dried apples, anyway. Here’s the sack.”
