A Knight's Captive by Lana Williams

Author:Lana Williams [Williams, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2018-12-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Chanse rode through the night with Arabela in his arms, a bright moon lighting the way. Though tempted to venture to Berwick or the convent, the closer he drew, the more convinced he became both would be watched. No other towns were nearby, narrowing his choices.

If he knew that, their pursuers would as well.

Then where? He’d already pushed Arabela more than he’d intended. She stirred restlessly in his arms. The pain would keep her from truly sleeping. If he stopped to try to take out the arrow, he risked the possibility of the shaft coming free, leaving the arrowhead behind. The heads were often attached to the shaft with sinew or tendon that could loosen and stretch when damp. That would mean he needed something with which to dig out the head. He needed to remove the whole damned arrow, head and all, as quickly as possible, let her rest, then find some food.

And hope she healed.

But where?

The answer came to him as dawn cast a hint of rosy light along the horizon, making the fading star-filled sky look endless. He’d followed the river for a time, but now that daylight threatened, he took to the trees as he rode toward his destination.

Berwick called to him since ’twas close and familiar and Braden was there, but he knew this was a better option. The men who chased them could very well have taken shelter at the convent, regardless of whether the prioress wanted them to. Riding there could prove to be a fatal mistake, and he refused to risk it. He hoped Matthew came to that conclusion as well and remained hidden. His friend had spent the last few weeks in the area and knew it well.

Chanse stopped his horse at the edge of the clearing and studied the small cottage nestled on the opposite side. It looked much as it had last spring when he and Braden had brought their cousin, Garrick, here. Smoke curled out of the hole in the thatched roof. Hilda must be home.

Relief filled him. He glanced down at Arabela, whose head rested against his shoulder. “Nearly there.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, something he’d done frequently throughout the night. Then he guided the horse into the meadow, watching the trees to make certain no one waited for them.

The healer was an odd sort, but she was the next best thing to having Braden assist Arabela. Even as his horse entered the clearing, the cottage door opened to reveal Hilda who stared directly at him as if his presence was no surprise.

Chanse could only shake his head. How the old woman knew the things she did was beyond his ken. But much like his brother’s gift, there were some things in this life one didn’t question, for there was no logical answer.

Hilda waved him forward as if to suggest he dallied overlong. Her long gray hair was plaited, leaving several strands around her wrinkled face.

“Good morn, Hilda,” he called softly when he drew close, wondering if she remembered him.

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