For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2) by Charlene Newcomb

Author:Charlene Newcomb [Newcomb, Charlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1530674360
Amazon: B01EX5VB78
Publisher: Charlene Newcomb
Published: 2016-04-26T23:00:00+00:00

The road from Boston to Lincoln snaked alongside the River Witham. Henry slowed to watch for a marker showing the way to Cartholme. He swatted at insects buzzing around his head. Despite the brush of their scabbards against leather chausses and the clop of horses hoofs, noises of the river-trade rang clear. Barge captains shouted orders; oars slapped the water.

Henry spotted the weathered stone post. Deer antlers etched on it were half-hidden by dried mud. “Not far now,” he told Stephan. He urged Soleil westward along the narrower, wooded road. The sounds of the river faded behind them. A few miles further and the trees thinned becoming no more than a border edging fields of corn and beans. Peaceful, tranquil, and far from war and politics.

Stephan tapped Henry, pointing to dark billows rising against the blue sky. “Smoke?”

Without a word, Henry kicked his stallion to a gallop. The two knights charged to meet a different enemy. Fire.

Henry looked to the stone manor and tower as they approached, relieved to see them untouched. But so many other buildings were ablaze. He slowed to cut across the courtyard, shouting, “Where’s the Lady Bea?” The place looked like a disturbed hornet’s nest. A bucket brigade struggled to douse the flames.

Through the chaos, Henry saw Little John hovering over Elle. This cannot be… There was a sudden shout and he turned. Bea was herding three stallions from the stables. Running loose and frightened, the high-spirited animals cut a trail through the firefighters.

“Bea!” Henry shouted as she swept around and headed back into the blazing building.

Stephan had seen them too. “Go to Elle. I’ll help Bea.” Both men reined in hard and flung themselves down from their horses.

Henry ran to Elle’s side. Kneeling, he looked from her still body to Little John. “Is she—”

The younger man coughed hard and couldn’t respond.

Henry pressed his ear near Elle’s face. Nothing. He rubbed her cheeks, calling her name. He parted her lips, pressed his mouth to hers. Can I give you my breath? He blew, felt air escape through her nose. Touching the corner of her mouth, his hands trembled, but he bent over her again. He blew hard, willing her to breathe.

Elle drew a shuddering breath. Her eyes fluttered.

“Thank God,” Little John managed to murmur.

Henry pulled back as Elle took a deeper draw of air. She choked, a grating dry hack. It was a sweet sound to Henry’s ear. He started to smile, but noticed the blood on Little John’s face and clothing. More blood than would have come from the cut on Elle’s forehead.

“The man…who did this…” Little John swiped at sweat stinging his eyes. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

Henry heard him, but the sound of cracking timber made him turn. A deep rumble echoed through the yard. Flames whipped at the stable door. Stephan…Bea…where are you?

Elle tried to speak, but couldn’t find her voice. Henry helped her sit up. He dabbed at the seeping gash on her head. Little John watched her, watched Henry. Though she was cradled against Henry, she reached for Little John and twined her fingers through his.

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