Free The Heart of the Phoenix by Barbara Bettis Page A

the hurried pace, but good manners prevailed. No reason to strike out at this knight simply because his captain was an unfeeling rock.
    “Thank you, yes, Sir Macsen.” Evie managed a smile. “This rest came at just the right time.” She tucked down her skirts and took the reins. Lying was coming much easier these past few days. Travel had, indeed, been a great teacher.
    Another mount drew close and without turning her head, she stiffened. Her heart thudded, and her breath hitched. Her body hadn’t learned to lie at least. It reacted when Stephen was near, even when she didn’t face him.
    He rode for a time without speaking. From the corner of her eye, she watched him stare ahead, as if determined not to look her way. Best that he did not, after his disgraceful behavior yesterday. Surely he didn’t expect her to speak. The silence grew, and with it, an unwanted quickening of her pulse. Her palms began to tingle. Not a good sign.
    The side of her mouth twitched, and she clenched her jaw. All the good manners in the world couldn’t stop her from lashing out if he didn’t move soon. Much easier to give vent to festering anger than to reveal any other emotion.
    “Macsen says we’re traveling too fast for ladies,” he finally ground out. “I fear we’ll be caught by rain as it is. I want to reach port before nightfall. The sooner we arrive, the sooner I can secure passage to England.”
    He turned to her, expression blank as an effigy. “If luck holds, we’ll be in England very soon. That should please you.” Without waiting for a reply, he touched spurs to the bay and galloped away.
    She wanted to shout. She wanted to—well—throw something. Until Stephen of Rively reappeared in her life, she had not resorted to violent thoughts. The cursed man had the power to provoke her into behaving in ways she wouldn’t. Thinking in ways she shouldn’t. Her dreams of him, waking and sleeping, ought to make her ashamed. They simply made her angry.
    Her shoulders slumped. And sad.
    The wind picked up throughout the afternoon, and the men often checked the darkening sky. Evie had no doubt they’d be drenched before any town appeared, yet Stephen made no attempt to find shelter among the thinning tree cover. He acted as if the approaching rain held no threat.
    The fat, charcoal-bellied clouds rolling in left no doubt in her mind. This would be more than a gentle spring rain. At home, storms at this time of year could be devastating. Not so many years ago, Chauvere’s village lost its blacksmith shop when winds uprooted a giant oak and flung it across the structure’s roof.
    She twisted in the saddle to check the surroundings. Nothing close that would provide any kind of protection should a storm become vicious. Stephen’s insistence on speed this day suddenly seemed very wise. But it might all be for naught.
    She made out a few large rocks to the west. That might be the best bet if they couldn’t outrun the coming weather. Marie’s pony trotted up, the maid’s round face creased in alarm.
    “Davy says we should stay together, milady,” the maid called. “In case that cloud means business.”
    Evie smiled at the girl’s words. They sounded straight from Davy’s mouth, all right. It seemed the squire had developed an ardent admirer.
    The words proved prophetic. Thunder cracked in the distance. The latest scout appeared, waving to Stephen. Macsen joined them, and they consulted briefly, then Stephen galloped her way.
    “We can’t make it farther today,” he called as he pulled his mount to a sharp halt. The gelding tossed its head and blew, as if agreeing. “William has found a place where we can stop. It’s ahead, away from the coast. If we hurry, we should be able to make it before the brunt of the storm hits. Hand me your reins and hold on. I’ll direct your mount.”
    His outthrust hand hung in midair as Evie glared. “You must be jesting,” she said. “I’m not a child. No one needs to guide me. I can