Betrothed Read Online Free Page A

her.
    Quickly
she rolled up her old clothes, attached the bundle to the quaddle, and mounted,
urging Meadowlark back to the road, allowing her a swifter pace now. She
resisted the temptation to go full gallop, for she had a long trip and it would
do her no good to spend her horse on the first leg of journey.
    The
sun was directly overhead when she reached the first fork in the road. The
right led to Sir William’s holdings and the left road led to Mandrake. Beyond
Mandrake was the convent.
    She
knew the crossroad near Mandrake would hold the most risk. It was at the edge
of the village proper. At least the junction was on her side of the village and
she wouldn’t have to go through or around the settlement to continue her quest.
But people would be nearby. Some might remember Malak passing through not many
days before.
    Isabeau
leaned closer to Meadowlark’s mane and urged a swifter pace. If she could find
a place to rest the night just before Mandrake—some place safe and out of
sight—she might be able to circumvent the village in the early morning before
many stirred.
    With
that stratagem comforting her tired mind, she sat straight in the saddle with
renewed determination. She had devised a plan, she had begun the execution of
it and now she was only a day away from completion. With any luck, Simon hadn’t
even noticed her absence.
    Her
energy began to lag a few hours later as she fell into a doze and nearly
slipped from the saddle. She awoke with a jerk and caught the pummel before she
completely lost her seat. Only her skilled horsemanship prevented a serious
tumble.
    The
hollowness in her belly reminded her that not only has she deprived herself of
much needed sleep but that she had forgotten to break her fast in the
excitement of her escape. She passed a couple of fields before the line of
trees again paralleled the road. She found a small break in the greenery where
she thought she could rest—safe from any travelers’ eyes.
    The
scrub was thigh high when she slid from the saddle but it didn’t seem to be
filled with thistles and prickles so she gamely led Meadowlark off the road.
She thought she heard something and stopping, hushed Meadowlark long enough to
listen. She almost let out a whoop of joy when she recognized the sound of the
babbling of a stream.
    Cool
water. Isabeau hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she heard that welcome
sound. She watered Meadowlark and tethered her near a patch of tender grass
before tending to her own needs.
    Not
wanting to dig too deep into her supplies, she ate only a small meat pie. The
light meal seemed to suit her for the time. If the hunger pangs returned she
could nibble later. Kneeling on the water’s edge, she splashed water on her
face and then cupped her palms for several draughts.
     “Are
you lost, lad?” A deep voice with a touch of humor boomed from the break in the
tree line she had used.
    The
unexpected intrusion startled Isabeau. She nearly tumbled headfirst into the
creek. Catching her balance, she slowly turned to the large man dressed in
black striding towards her.   
    “Nay.”
Her voice cracked and she tried again, this time remembering her role and tried
to deepen her tone. She pulled her hat even tighter on her head. Praise be, she
hadn’t taken it off. “Nay, sir. I know my way.”
    “Then
what are you doing here?  What are you about?” Now, a scowl twisted the
firm mouth. The scar marking the side of the interloper’s face from temple to
jaw-line was difficult to ignore. The white line did not make his countenance
hideous; just fierce.
    “I
am about the business of the Earl of Bennington.” she stated with false
bravado.
    “Are
you now?” The man—heavens, he was big—took two more lengthy strides, placing
his bulk between Isabeau and her horse. His gauntleted hand rested securely on
the hilt of his sword.
    “Aye.”
Her voice cracked again. “ ’Twould be unwise to
interfere with Bennington’s messenger. His revenge