Free Awaken My Fire by Jennifer Horsman Page B

will see to it single-handedly. Are ye hungry, milady?"/ :
    "Hungry? I've a notion of solving both my problems by getting off this horse and roasting him!"
    Potiers laughed, for the lady's appetite was almost as famous as her gifts. Which was a problem with the poor foodstuffs of the castle and villages. They kept the horses at a walk as Potiers handed her an apple and a piece of cheese wrapped in bread, which she hungrily devoured. "A maid gave me these, saying 'twas the least she could do as her thanks."
    "Aye," Roshelle said. "In all my years I've never seen such gratitude as tonight—"
    She stopped in mid-sentence and reined the horse to a stop, turning him around. Instantly Potiers checked his mount as well, abruptly cautioned by the sound of riders coming up fast behind them. "Curse the heavens! A scouting party of the duke, I wager!" He withdrew his sword. "Quick, into the trees."
    With heels to her horse, Roshelle went quickly through the trees. Tossing his head back for control, the startled horse raced up the hillside at a gallop, Potiers at her side. Too late.
    "Halt, ye trespassers! Halt! In the name of the glorious and grand Duke of Suffolk!"
    Neither Potiers nor Roshelle heard the ribald laughter that followed the command. All Potiers knew was that his horse was long spent; he'd never beat a chase. He brought his horse up sharp. Seeing this, not understanding, Roshelle, too, pulled on her reins with all her strength. The stallion neighed furiously, raising himself high in the air. Roshelle screamed as she flew through the air, landing hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her hip hit a hard rock. Pain shot through her side, but she ignored it, scrambling up quickly. Potiers jumped off his horse, careful to keep his reins in hand as he came to her aid. "Get on my horse. Quick."
    "Nay! You are outnumbered—"
    "Get ye on my horse! I've seen worse odds in my day, but I have no chance if I have to defend ye as well! Now—" Five riders broke through the trees. With one hand holding the reins and his sword, Potiers reached down to lift her to her feet, throwing her over the horse and slapping it hard. "Go, milady, go!"
    The horse leaped into a gallop.
    "Catch the bastard! To the chase!" An anguished cry of distress sounded mute against the wind of her flight as she heard the furious clang of steel. She stole a glance back to see Potiers fighting two men while one circled the fight on horseback, laughing menacingly as he cost Potiers a safe retreat. Two men raced toward her, scaring her nervous horse senseless. The tired mount gave the chase his last legs, but in the wrong direction, the creature so frightened that he no longer responded to the bit in his mouth.
    Roshelle cried out as the horse carried her west at wind speed—directly toward the full regiment of the Duke of Suffolk.
    She didn't think, couldn't think how to save herself. Darkness sped past her, the wind whipped her face and tears raced down her cheeks. The spooked creature raced past the forked road where she had just waited for Potiers. She clung tightly to the wild beast's side, more afraid of falling off or treacherous rocks and gullies hidden in the dark landscape than she was of the quickly approaching riders. Breathing dangerously hard and fast, and lathered white, the horse suddenly broke into a fast trot.
    A small cluster of four or five farmhouses appeared off the road ahead. Roshelle did not hesitate. She flew off the horse as it slowed more, her feet running before they touched the ground. She raced off the road, turning to see the riders speed past on the road. She ran up to the first small cottage, and practically into the door, pounding furiously to wake the occupants.
    "Mercy! Mercy! In the name of God and by all that is holy, open the door!"
    Several seconds passed before a kindling stick struck a tallow candle, then another. The door opened. With sinking dismay, Roshelle viewed the man she would ask to save her. "Wits,