Chapter 3 #2
She opened up his other bandage, and gasped as she saw the blood that had already soaked the cloth.
“I am so sorry for this. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
He cocked a chiding brow at her. “Might I point out, milady, that when one picks up a sword in offense or defense, it can pretty much be determined that someone will get hurt.”
That rose blush returned to her cheeks as she reached for her needle. “This needs to be stitched.”
“It will heal on its own.”
“It will leave a scar.”
Sin looked down at the multitude of scars marring his bare chest and arms. “Think you, it matters?”
Callie looked up at his words. Even now she couldn’t read the emotions buried there in those deep, dark eyes. What agony he must have suffered to be able to shield himself so completely.
Normally, she could read even the most careful of souls. But this man was a complete enigma to her.
“It will matter to me.” She wondered why it was so. Yet it was.
As gently as she could, she made four short, tiny stitches in his arm.
It amazed her that he didn’t cry out or tense.
It was almost as if he didn’t even feel what she was doing, but then given the severity of some of his larger scars, she could deduce he had been hurt so much that this tiny wound meant nothing to him.
But it meant a great deal to her conscience, for she had never been one to cause pain in others. Though her father had been a mighty warrior, her mother had been a healer, and it was her mother’s love of life she subscribed to.
She cut a fresh bandage from the linen and wrapped it over her stitchery.
Lord Sin remained silent as she worked and yet she could feel his eyes on her. Searching.
There was something different about this man, though she couldn’t say what. And it wasn’t just the fact he seemed to delight in making people fear him.
He’s the devil’s own, Aelfa’s voice whispered in her ear. They say he has murdered over one hundred people just for the pleasure of it, and killed thousands more in battle. When he was first brought to court, he was wearing the robes of a heathen and spoke in tongues no one knew.
They say he sold his soul to the devil to make him invincible.
Callie didn’t know how much of that was true, but from the looks of his body, she would say he was far from invincible.
Still, he possessed a strength and power that was undeniable. Never had she seen his equal.
For the first time in her life, she felt herself drawn toward an Englishman.
What are you thinking?
She blinked. Indeed, what was she thinking. She was the daughter of a laird who had spent his entire life trying to rid their precious lands of the English! Her father had died while fighting them, and she would never betray his memory.
Looking at Lord Sin’s chest, Callie wondered how many of the scars on his body he had received while fighting her own race. And how many of those thousands killed in battle had been Scots?
No doubt, too many.
“There.” She finished wrapping his arm.
Sin frowned at the sudden veil that came over her face. He didn’t know what thought had descended, but he grieved the way it had robbed her serenity.
She gathered her supplies, mumbled a goodbye and quickly left the room.
His frown deepened. He should be thrilled she had finally gone and yet...
Why, all of a sudden, did the room seem colder?
Shaking his head, he banned the thought. He had more important things to do than to dwell on a woman who wasn’t his concern.
Henry would just have to find another of his men to marry her.
The next morning, Sin had finally succeeded in pushing the wench from his thoughts.
Of course, it had taken a cold bath to help, and he had spent an agonizing night tormented by dreams of rose-red lips and sweet green eyes.
But after he broke his fast and stubbed his toe so severely he feared the digit broken, the pain of it had driven the woman right out of his mind.
Now, he was heading toward the stable where he intended a brisk ride to further keep his mind and body under heel.
“Sin?”
He paused mid-stride. The voice sounded strangely familiar, and yet he couldn’t place it.
Looking over his shoulder, he spied a man with dark auburn hair who stood a few inches shorter than him. Again, there was something familiar about the face, but it wasn’t until the stranger smiled that Sin knew his name.
“Little Simon of Ravenswood.” Sin extended his arm to Simon as he stopped by his side. “How long has it been?”
Simon shook his arm and patted his sore forearm with brotherly affection. “Nearly a score of years, I think.”
Aye, it had been. The last time Sin had seen Simon was on the day Simon’s father had ridden to Ravenswood to claim the boy from Harold, the former Earl of Ravenswood.
“Your brother?” Sin asked, thinking of Draven of Ravenswood. The two of them had often been partners in their protection of Simon. “I trust he is well?”
Simon nodded. “Aye, he married Emily of Warwick two years past.”
Sin almost smiled at the news. “Old Hugh finally allowed one of his daughters to marry?”
“Aye. Can you believe it?”
Sin shook his head. “Nay, I can’t. I’m sure there’s quite a story to that.”
“Join me in a drink and I’ll tell you of it. But what of you? Are you marri—”
“Nay!” Sin said, interrupting him. “Don’t even breathe that word lest you jinx me.”
Simon frowned. “Jinx you, how?”
“Henry has been making matrimonial threats. As yet, I’ve avoided it. My hope is to stay the execution.”
Simon laughed. “Then may you continue to elude the marital noose.”
Before Sin could respond, something flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he tried to see what it was that had attracted his notice.
At first, he saw nothing unusual. Courtiers and servants moved freely about the yard, attending their pleasure and duties. There was nothing unusual.
Nothing that was except for a strangely shaped man who was hobbling near the far wall of the inner bailey. No one seemed to pay any heed, but something about that stranger didn’t seem quite right.
Sin held his hand up to Simon in signal that he’d be right back, then took a step forward to catch a better look at the man whose cloak was just a bit too thick for the unusually warm day.
And as he closed the distance, Sin noticed the strangest thing of all.
The old man had four legs.
Arching a brow in disbelief, he watched as the four-legged man made his way, unchallenged, toward the stable.
“Tell me, Simon,” Sin said as his friend drew near. “Have you ever seen a four-legged beggar?”
“Is this a riddle?”
“Not a riddle, but a puzzle. A puzzle to see just how far she can get before someone stops her.”
“She?”
Sin pointed toward the dark figure entering the stable, then quickened his steps to catch up.
He told Simon to wait outside an instant before he slipped into the darkness of the stable to see the figure separate into two halves.
In spite of himself, he smiled as he snuck along the stalls to watch the Scotswoman lead the boy to a cart and cover him with hay.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” the boy asked.
“Aye. I overheard the lad saying he’ll ready the cart for the carter to get extra supplies in town. We’ll just lie quietly until he stops and then we’ll disappear into the city.”
She climbed up and covered herself.
A few minutes later, an older boy entered and started hitching a team to the cart.
The woman had ingenuity, Sin would certainly give her that. And if not for the fact he had assumed responsibility for the boy and woman, he would allow her to flee.
But he couldn’t do that.
The only question was, should he thwart her now or wait?
He decided to wait. He wanted to see how far she could get on her own.
Leaving the shadows, he quickly saddled two horses, then led them to where Simon waited outside.
“Feel up to a bit of adventure?” he asked Simon.
“Always.”
They mounted their horses, then waited until the carter entered the stable. A few minutes later, he took the cart out.
“What are we doing?” Simon asked as they followed the cart across the castle’s bailey and into London.
“We’re following yon wagon.”
“Why?”
“Because it is in front of us.”
Simon snorted irritably. “Well, that certainly answers that. ‘Twould be difficult to follow the cart if it were behind us.”
Sin smiled. “Be patient, Simon, and you will see why we follow it.”
The carter headed into the merchant district which was thick with activity and people.
When the carter stopped outside a small cluster of shops, Sin spied a straw covered head peeping over the side of the wagon.
Once the man disappeared from sight, the woman scrambled from the cart with the boy one step behind.
No one seemed to notice her peculiar activity or if they did, they ignored it.
She took a moment to dust the straw off them, but somehow she missed a piece that hung in the midst of one coppery curl. It bobbed as she moved.
Simon laughed as she took the boy’s hand and led him through the crowd. “Why was she hiding?”
“She seeks to escape royal custody.”
Simon arched a brow at that as the mirth faded from his eyes. “Should we notify the guards?”
“Nay. I think we can manage to retake her.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“I have no idea. I simply like watching her maneuver.” He did, too.
From his horse, Sin could follow her easily through the crowded streets as she wended her way through the town.
She kept her head lowered with one hand on her brother the entire way.
Every few steps, the boy would pause and get distracted, slowing her down, all the while he chattered away about everything and everyone they passed.
No doubt, she would be free if not for him.
“Halt!”
Sin jerked his head to see Roger of Warrington in the crowd. The knight was staring straight at the Scotswoman.
She met Roger’s gaze over the heads of those surrounding her, then grabbed her brother’s hand and started running through the crowd in the opposite direction.
“Halt, I say!” Roger shouted louder.