Page 12 of Peregrine's Call
“No other solution is needed,” Robin said, “because I’m most useful with you. You need to go through the Ardenwood, and you need to know what to expect there. Cecily didn’t know much, but it was enough to make me think that you needed someone you can trust in the north.”
“And you followed me all the way from Cleobury?”
“I actually left the manor before you did,” she corrected, her tone defensive. “I didn’t technically start following you till after you rode through Bournham.”
“Alric will never forgive me.”
“Leaving wasmychoice,” Robin insisted. “And whether Alric will forgivemeis the question. You’re in the clear.”
Tav doubted that. Whether or not the idea was Robin’s own, the moment Octavian realized she was here meant he was responsible for her.
But he had no choice in the moment. Retrieving their horses, and a few supplies from the bandits’ own stock—Robin proclaimed they were ill-gotten gains and therefore the bandits had no better claim to them—they rode on.
As they went, Tav realized that Robin must have been concealing herself from everyone while she traveled. He asked, “You spent these past nights sleeping alone in the forest?”
Robin gave a shrug of her shoulder. “Obviously.”
“You could have been killed!”
“Only if someone had found me,” she said in far too calm a manner. “And I know where to camp so that no one will find me.”
“The fire…”
“Just attracts attention. I can survive without one.”
Tav shivered at the mere idea of a long, cold night without any heat source at all. “It’s been far too cold these past few nights. And it will get colder when—”
He turned to look over his right shoulder, but winced as a sudden pain coursed through his arm, and he unconsciously let out a hiss.
* * * *
Robin flinched the moment she heard Octavian. She looked back, expecting some archer behind them, but saw nothing.
“What is it?” she asked. Robin’s gaze went to his arm, catching the sheen of blood on his right sleeve.
He put his left hand over the spot, shaking his head. “Nothing.”
“You were struck during the fight!” Robin said, aghast. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s a minor wound.”
“Which will become a major wound if it’s not tended to. We need to dress it.” Goodness, she soundedexactlylike Cecily now. “Follow me.”
She edged in front of him on the path and started forward, watching for any sign of water. Fortunately, this part of the forest was filled with little streams, and it wouldn’t be long before she found a suitable place with fresh water to clean the wound.
At Robin’s direction, they rode a little way off the trail. She dismounted and tethered her horse, and he did the same, favoring his right arm.
Octavian was talking to himself in French, and Robin only heard a little of what he said. He was cursing his own inattention to the fight, as if it hadn’t been one man against many.
A few moments later, Robin had gathered several items from her own pack. She pointed Octavian to a place near the stream. “Sit. I’ll get some fresh water.”
She filled an empty leather skin with icy cold, clear water. When she looked back, she found that Octavian had already taken off his surcoat and the chain mail, and was in the act of pulling the linen shirt over his head.
Well, then. Robin blinked. Had the air been cold before? Now it felt like a furnace. She’d seen men half-naked before. Whether it was the men-at-arms training at Cleobury in summer, or the servant boys who ran straight to the pond for a swim, stripping off clothes as they went—despite censure from Agnes.
She knew what men looked like. And they didn’t look as perfect as Octavian, with a chest that broad, or shoulders developed from years of training. Why had she not thought of how awkward it would be to travel with him?
Nonsense. He was just a person, in need of her help. She knelt down near him, wet cloth in hand. The water was cold, giving him goosebumps as soon as the cloth touched his skin. Robin chuckled in spite of everything. “The gash didn’t upset you but a little cold water does?”
