What a Scoundrel Wants by Carrie Lofty

Author:Carrie Lofty
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ZEBRA
Published: 2013-11-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

But all in vain we have sought about;

Yet none so bold there are

That dare adventure life and blood,

To free a lady fair.

“Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragon”

Folk ballad, seventeenth century

Robin had taught him to trust his brothers in arms. Will had lived by that mandate for years, gathering the benefits of protection, spoils, and friendships forged in the heat of battle. Yet months spent teamed with corrupt soldiers and traitors and thieves had shaken that faith. And never had he thought to trust Meg, not like this. She was no one’s ideal fighting companion, but she stood ready.

Will pushed the few remaining explosives into her hands. “These are for you.”

She scampered away. A fog of detached purpose collected between them, blanketing the closeness they had fostered.

Footsteps sounded along the corridor. He could no more tell one striking boot from another, blending into a tangle of echoes, but Meg said, “Four men.”

“Are you certain?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Metal keys clicked against the outside lock. They scrambled into position. Meg pressed into the corner near the entrance. He crouched beneath the low ceiling, poised with his feet wide apart and his back to the entry. Anticipation throbbed in his veins.

He closed his eyes.

The tumbler turned. The door swung open and struck Will’s back. The hissing song of a torch invaded their cell, sizzling at his ear. Thrusting, he gnashed his heels into the stone floor and trapped the guard’s forearm.

“Now Meg!”

A thunderous crack split the air. The guard screamed. Sharp smoke singed Will’s nose, but he kept his eyes clamped tight. He ground his upper back into the plank wood. His thighs burned. He pushed, finding scant purchase along the smooth dirt. Meg fled her corner and joined him, her back against the wood. The sickening crack of splintering bone and another scream proved their prize.

Will released the pressure, only slightly, until the guard yanked his arm out of the entryway. The door slammed closed.

“Can you see?”

He opened his eyes, blinking. The flickering tease of light from the guard’s discarded torch played along the walls. The room began to materialize.

“Yes.” Crouching, he grabbed the torch and pushed it into Meg’s hands. She skittered away. “Ready for another go?”

A hard thump severed her reply. Will nearly lost his balance at that renewed assault, but he recovered and held fast.

Valuable moments allowed his eyes time enough to align the grays and oranges and shadows. Vision clear, he saw Meg huddled in a corner, knees pulled close and the torch in her outstretched hands. Flames obscured her face.

His legs trembled. The guards’ onslaught against the door became rhythmic, two or three men fighting to open what Will kept closed. His teeth jolted together with every renewed attack. He bit his tongue, spitting blood onto the cursed dungeon floor. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He jumped away. The door crashed open, two guards falling into a writhing heap. Their swords remained concealed within scabbards, useless to everyone. Will stripped a man of his helmet and grabbed the torch from Meg.

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