Free Wildewood Revenge by B.A. Morton

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he said to her departing back. “If I tried, you’d be terrified. You can be sure of that.”
    He turned to Edmund and shrugged his bewilderment at her outburst. Edmund looked back at him uncertainly.
    “ Are yer still wantin ’ her to ride with me, my lord?”
    “Worried she’ll overpower you, Edmund?” laughed Miles. “Of course she may ride with you. It’ll give me a rest from her tongue.”
    Grace stubbornly limped past the tethered horses and kept going. She was headed back in the general direction of the way they had come the night before, though any tracks had been covered by last night’s snow and she quickly veered off course.
    “Will yer not go after her?” asked Edmund bewildered.
    Miles shook his head. “There’s no need she’ll not get far.” She stumbled and disappeared momentarily in a drift of snow. Edmund made to go after her and Miles caught his sleeve and held him. “Leave her.”
    Grace pulled herself up and took a couple more steps before admitting reluctantly to herself that it was madness to continue. Her thigh ached, she had no sense of direction and if her current run of luck was anything to go by, she probably would end up in one of Miles’ horse-eating bogs. She had no option other than to go with him. She chanced a quick glance, they were already mounted. They were leaving her. She sat down on a boulder and studied her boots, fiddled with the loose threads of her jumper and wondered about curling up in the snow and going to sleep. If she didn’t die of hypothermia maybe she’d wake up in a straight jacket on a psychiatric ward. She refused to call after them. How dare they leave her? She looked up when the legs of Miles’ horse intruded on her peripheral vision.
    “Mademoiselle?” He leaned down from the saddle and reached out his hand.
    Glaring up at him she struggled to her feet and held up her hand reluctantly. Miles took her small hand in his and swung her, none too gently, up behind him.
    “Hang on tightly,” he said gruffly, as she reluctantly slipped her arms around his waist. He kicked the horse and cantered back to where Edmund waited, before dumping her back on the ground and leaving her to Edmund’s ministrations.
    Grace glowered at Miles from the back of Edmund’s pony where she’d been swiftly transferred. Nodding back curtly, Miles turned away quickly before she could see the amusement in his eyes.
    “Okay,” muttered Grace. “So you’re not the man of my dreams. That just leaves weirdo - and no bloody nutter is going to get the better of me.”
     

    Chapter Nine
     
    “How did you end up with Miles?” Grace asked the boy as she sat behind him on the sturdy pony. Maybe Edmund could throw some light on the weird situation. Surely the boy wasn’t also in on the charade? Yet, he acted the part perfectly and had the rustic accent and due deference one might expect from a medieval page. It would be a simple task to find out.
    “I was in Palestine with Sir Guy; he was not a good lord, and Miles took me from him.” Edmund pushed the pony on in an effort to keep up with Miles who was some way ahead.
    “That’s an awfully long way from here. H ow old were you, Edmund?”
    Edmund turned to look over his shoulder, trusting the pony to follow without direction. “I’m uncertain, my lady.” Grace watched, amused, as he counted fingers trying to work out the answer. “I was seven or eight summers when Sir Guy took me from kin to pay me father’s debt. I spent mebbe one full year with him as page before we was off on crusade.” Edmund flashed a shy smile. “He is mean spirited when in his cups. Miles and he did not agree on many things.”
    Grace returned his smile. Why did that admission not surprise her? Her recent experience had already proven that Miles did not agree on much at all.
    “They fought at the tournament and Miles was victorious,” continued Edmund, his smile transformed into a wide grin as he added,