Free So Speaks the Heart by Johanna Lindsey Page B

she asked simply.
    â€œI have no choice.”
    So that was it, Brigitte thought miserably. Hildegard had lied—he did not want to take her at all. But Druoda was adept at forcing people to her will, even a man like this. She felt more of a burden than ever, but she really had no option but to go.
    She took his hand again, and he lifted her effortlessly to the back of the horse. His own provisions were in packs there, slung on each side of the large gray stallion. It made for a very uncomfortable seat, especially with her possessions pressed between them.
    She settled herself as comfortably as she could and pulled her skirts down as far as they would go, which was not nearly far enough because she was sittingastride. She straightened herself slowly because of her sore back, ready now. She waited for Rowland to ride out, but he seemed also to be waiting.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked hesitantly when he still made no move to leave. “I am ready.”
    He sighed. “Are you as ignorant as you seem, or do you provoke me intentionally?”
    â€œProvoke you how?”
    â€œYou must hold onto me, damosel, or you will find yourself in the dust.”
    â€œOh!” Brigitte’s face reddened, and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her. “But I cannot reach my arms around you. My sack of clothes hinders me.”
    â€œGrab hold of my hauberk,” he said cuttingly, then looked over his shoulder and said even more harshly, “And I warn you, do not let go. If you fall from your seat and break any part of your body, I will not be detained to attend you.”
    â€œAnd if my injuries make riding impossible?” she asked, shocked.
    â€œI will put you out of your misery.
    She gasped. “I am not an animal, to be destroyed when injured!”
    â€œDo not put it to the test.”
    Brigitte was too shocked to pursue the subject. With great reluctance, she took hold of his mail shirt. The second she did, he was off. He rode swiftly through the open gate and on through the village. Holding fast, she could not wave at the serfs who waved at her as she galloped by.
    Rowland’s pace quickened when they reached the road. He seemed to want to leave the area as quickly as she did. Her spirits rose when he turned north toward Orleans, for Maine was north. It was unfortunate that Arnulf was not in Berry, for the less time she spent with this knight the better. Maine was many days away, and there was nothing she could do about that.
    Ah, but it would be good to see Arnulf again. The old knight was truly formidable, but Brigitte was not intimidated by his brusque manner, for she knew he had a heart of gold. He would weep over Quintin’s death, and she wished it was not up to her to tell him, for she knew she would feel Quintin’s loss all over again.
    The road took them through a valley which was rich with crops all during the summer and fall. Cypress trees had been planted as windscreens some three hundred years before, for the valley was a treeless plain. These cypress trees were now bent and gnarled, and gave the Rhone Valley a bleak and lonesome look.
    While Brigitte anticipated her reunion with Arnulf, Rowland brooded. His anger was mounting steadily. The unwanted baggage behind him would cost him, yet she would give nothing in return, for he wanted nothing from her. There would be food to buy or hunt on the way, and her passage on the Loire River between Orleans and Angers to pay for. Worse, she would delay him, for his horse was burdened by the extra weight. Rowland’s homecoming would be hard enough, but this delay was going to make it much more difficult. He sighed with irritation and bad temper.
    The wide road cutting through central France was much more frequently traveled than were the numerous dirt tracks. There were many people going south, but only a few traveling to the colder regionsof the north, so Rowland was not slowed by other travelers. But Gui was surely