Free Spectre of the Sword by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

Edward
bickered, the earl moved to Elizabeau and Rhys.  She could see by the look on
his face that he was a man with a good deal on his mind.
    “I suppose our most
recent clash has indicated that John’s spies have located you once again,” he
said quietly. 
    “Do you know that for
sure, my lord?” Rhys asked.
    “There can be no other
alterative. Who else would have taken a shot at her?”
    Rhys shrugged. “There
are those who believe I am a wealthy baron. It could be robbers.” He looked
around. “I see that our merchant friend has vanished. Perhaps he is behind the
attack.”
    Christopher lifted an
eyebrow in thought. “It is possible, but we cannot take that chance. You will
leave at once, ride south, then change direction and ride back north and west
into Wales. Take refuge at your mother’s home without further delay. No more
inns, no stopping. You must ride hard for safety. I will meet you when I can,
either at your mother’s home or at Ogmore.”
    Rhys was well aware that
it would be a difficult trip for the lady.  His mother’s home was at least four
days away, and that was at a normal rate of travel.  What the earl was asking
him to do would tax the heartiest of men.  Yet they had no choice.
    “Aye, my lord,” he
replied, taking the lady’s elbow. “I shall not fail.”
    The earl clapped a big
hand on Rhys’ shoulder but his eyes were fixed on Elizabeau.  He regarded her
carefully.
     “You have done well so
far, my lady,” he said quietly.  “Pray continue to listen to Rhys and to do
what he tells you.  He will keep you safe.”
    Elizabeau merely nodded,
unsure what to say to him. She was coming to feel increasingly guilty that all
of these men were risking her life for her. She was a reluctant heiress at
best; now she was wondering if she was worthy of this devotion.  Before she
could formulate a proper response, Rhys gently guided her back to their
unturned table and collected the satchel with her new things.  
    In silence, he picked up
the bag, made sure her cloak was fastened snuggly, and escorted her back to the
door.  Elizabeau kept watching his face, trying not to look him in the eye but
wanting to just the same.  Seeing him fight had been a revealing experience and
oddly impressed her.  Now she was coming to understand more about the man and
remaining objective was increasingly difficult. He was an escort and nothing
more; she had to keep reminding herself of that.
    Before they went outside
into the new morning, the earl sent several men out before them to make sure
there were no assassins waiting. One of them was a broad knight with pale blue
eyes and white-blond hair by the name of Lawrence de Beckett.  He had fought
side by side with Rhys and the earl throughout the melee but had remained
largely silent; Elizabeau vaguely remembered seeing him at Hyde House and she
averted her gaze when their eyes met; there was something about the man that
was intimidating, frightening even. But Lawrence paid little attention to her
as he led the earl’s men outside to scout for the enemy.  Rhys and Christopher
held Elizabeau at the door, their experienced eyes scanning the world beyond.
    “My lord?”
    It took Christopher a
moment to realize that Elizabeau was addressing him.  “My lady?”
    She cleared her throat
softly, seemingly grasping for words. “I just… well, I want to thank you for
what you are doing,” she said after a moment. “You are risking your life for a
woman you do not know and I find that a strange and noble sacrifice.”
    Christopher’s sky-blue
gaze moved over her before his bearded lips began to twitch with a hint of a
smile.  “I see much of your father in you,” he replied quietly. “And I see some
of your grandfather in you as well. But what I see the most of is your
grandmother, Eleanor.”
    The gaze from her dark
green eyes was like a vortex, consuming and intense. “How is that, my lord,
when we are not even related by blood?”
    He cocked