He didn’t answer.
Christina hadn’t spoken of what Will had said or done to the prioress, but his efforts had protected her. “Apparently, you also wield your power freely?”
She meant for her question to tease, but his body turned rigid around her. “I would that my power be used for good and not evil.” His tone was brittle. “Was I mistaken to assume your punishment was undeserving?”
“No. The prioress had no right to my money. I only took back what was mine in the first place.”
“It was not meant for your dowry?”
“Not to St. Sepulchre. My jewels and money are my own.” Although she doubted she’d ever see them again.
At the eerie quietness of the countryside, a strange foreboding began to churn within her. Who knew what lurked in the shadows, behind the boulders, or in the patches of shrubs and trees they passed?
“If your kin did not give you over to the priory”—his voice less menacing, more curious—“then perhaps they wished to wed you to a man you could not abide?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to deceive Will, yet what could she say that wouldn’t make her seem utterly crazy? For now, she needed to keep the pretense of amnesia. “I wish I knew what happened after I was separated from my traveling companions, but my mind is blank.”
Once she spoke the lie, she loathed herself for it but figured it wouldn’t matter too much since she intended to leave just as soon as the opportunity arose and would never see him again.
“Mayhap you have a husband and children waiting for you somewhere.” His tone took on an edge again, and she knew he hadn’t believed her.
“I remember a few things.” She attempted to keep her voice steady and confident. “And I know I’ve never been married.”
“At your age?”
“I’m not that old.” She supposed for the Middle Ages, twenty-eight meant she practically had one foot in the grave.
“A widow?”
“No. I’ve told you, I’ve never been married.”
“Then you must be escaping from a betrothal to someone you do not wish to marry.” His statement came out an accusation.
“And if I am, perhaps it’s for the best.” Before he could pry further, she decided to change the topic. “What demons are you trying to escape?”
“Lady?” Surprise tinged his voice.
“I imagine you’re running away from something that happened in your past?” When he stiffened, she realized she’d landed upon the truth and suspected his wounds went deep. “You’ve been hurt by someone or something, haven’t you?”
Several heartbeats passed before he responded in the low tone that told her he was angry. “You speak too boldly, lady. Let us ride in silence.”
* * *
Through the darkness, Will surveyed the surrounding area, noting every stray cat, every overturned stone, and every moving shadow. Although they were almost past the Canterbury town walls, he remained vigilant. The circuitous route he’d chosen had taken them away from the city, away from rebels who might be camped outside the town gates. Even so, he wouldn’t rest until they were back within the confines of Chesterfield Park.
The anger within his breast swelled again as it had earlier when he’d first received news of the attack against Canterbury, specifically against the cathedral and abbeys. All the ride into town, he’d mentally lashed himself for leaving Christina and Lady Marian there, could only picture them the way he’d found Thomas.
He’d wanted to crush something—or someone—and was glad he hadn’t encountered any rebels on the trip to the priory, or he would have taken out his rage upon them.
Even now, remnants of the terror still pumped through his blood. Thank the Father in heaven, Christina always obeyed him and had acted quickly to hide in the woods, taking Lady Marian along as he’d bidden her.
His stallion caught a dip in the road, jarring them. Lady Marian released a stilted whimper, and he suspected she was attempting to disguise her pain, that the ride was much more difficult on her battered body than she was allowing.
He eased the reins, trying to gentle the pace.
From the moment he’d seen her in the woods with Christina, his pulse hadn’t stopped its strange rhythm. Even now, his body betrayed him with the whisper of desire whenever he considered how close she was and how beautiful.
On the other hand, her bold way of conversing vexed him. She was much too forthright. Maybe she wasn’t running away from an unpleasant betrothal as he suspected. Maybe her intended had sent her away for unleashing her tongue too oft.
“I’m sorry.” The sound of her voice startled him. “I shouldn’t have asked you about your past.”
He’d expected her to remain silent, to follow his command, or at the very least to be intimidated by it. But his stern mannerisms obviously failed to frighten her.
“Perhaps we can both agree to let the past remain in the past. After all, it has no bearing on our current predicament.” Her back inadvertently brushed against his chest.
He could sense she was losing the strength and stamina to maintain a semblance of distance from him. As a lady, of course she was concerned about propriety, but with her wounds, he ought to give her leave to recline and assure her she had nothing to fear from him, that he was a man of honor.
“Let’s start again,” she said before he could speak. “I’ll only ask you questions about your present, like how old are you? What you do for a living? Those kinds of things.”
Another jostle of the horse sent her against his chest altogether, and this time she didn’t attempt to reposition herself and instead relaxed lightly against him.
The pressure was a form of torturous pleasure.
Strands of her hair had come loose from the simple plait she wore down her back. The silky threads brushed his cheek. Ere he could stop himself, he leaned his nose into her head and breathed in her scent. He caught the faint whiff of something sweet, almost fruity.
He couldn’t deny this woman of his dreams fascinated him even more so now that she was real. And he was relieved all over again that she’d been with Christina during the attack on the priory.
“So how old are you?”
He shifted so that his nose now touched her ear. “You will not do as I bid and stay silent?” His whisper surprised him by coming out more teasing than menacing. His reaction would have embarrassed him except she responded with a rapid intake of breath that stirred the desire already coursing through his blood.
“It would be more fun to pester you with questions.” Her answer was low and breathy.
He moved his mouth to her ear. “Nine and twenty.”
She drew in another sharp breath but didn’t move. Instead, she leaned in almost imperceptibly, enough for him to sense he affected her as much as she did him.
A grin twitched at the corners of his lips. But then, just as suddenly, he scowled. He hadn’t smiled in over two years and didn’t deserve a moment’s happiness. Not after what he’d allowed to happen to Thomas.
He lifted his head and scanned the road ahead as well as each passing landmark.
“So you’re twenty-nine. What do you do for a living?”
“A living?”
“Your occupation.”