Warrior's Conquest by Elle James & Delilah Devlin

Author:Elle James & Delilah Devlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Publisher: 0
Published: 2016-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

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HOLY SHIT! This had to be one of the stupidest things she’d ever done. What had possessed her to raise her hand? Jacq held the reins like she’d seen it done in the movies. She didn’t know a thing about driving wagons or stubborn donkeys…or were they mules? Well, whatever the long-eared, bony creatures in front of her were.

She had almost fainted when Rufus approached her—sure she was about to be discovered. Although it was inevitable she’d be found out, she’d hoped it would be after they returned to their own camp…and after she had struck a blow for feminism.

Right now, she had a job to do, and she was determined to do it right. After all, the tainted ale had been her idea. She should be the one to deliver it. She just had to remember to breathe once in a while before she passed out, and not think about the dead man sitting behind her.

From one moment to the next, darkness fell. Light from a half-moon illuminated the rutted tracks. Lulled into a semi-trance by the steady rocking motion of the wagon, she was surprised when the lead cart drew to a halt. A quick glance around confirmed that sometime in the past minutes Rufus’s men had melted away from the trail, leaving only the two carts and the four guards in their borrowed armor.

Jacq watched as a man materialized next to Dudley up ahead and engaged him in conversation. Trying to hide her nervousness, she feigned a long yawn accompanied by outstretched arms as she peered more intently into the murky darkness around her. She nearly shrieked when another man suddenly appeared beside her wagon.

“And what are you doing here?” he asked, his sword drawn but pointing toward the ground.

“Paid to deliver ale to Lord Braxton,” she said, pitching her voice low.

Immediately, he sheathed his sword. “Ale, you say? Let us have a look.”

“You may look all you like, but that is all. It is to be delivered to Lord Braxton—a personal gift from King Stephen himself,” she said with an emphatic nod.

“Our men left days ago for supplies from Stephen’s quartermaster. I see only two carts and four of our men. Why have the rest not returned?”

Jacq snorted in what she hoped was typical male fashion before answering, careful to assume an appropriate accent. “They’re passed out drunk back at the last inn. Now, will you show me to Lord Braxton or will you answer to him when he doesn’t get his ale?”

“Those drunken fools will have the devil to pay when Braxton hears the tale. Who’s that behind you?” He prodded the shoulder of the corpse. “Hey, Harmon. Wake up, you bloody arse.”

Jacq held her breath as the soldier leaned over the side of the cart.

“Phew! Lord have mercy on his soul. This man reeks of ale. He’ll have the devil and Lord Braxton to pay for his condition.”

“You can say that again,” Jacq muttered beneath her breath.

The first wagon began to pull away, and Jacq looked askance at the guard.

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