Elisabeth Hobbes - The Saxon Outlaw's Revenge

‘Wulf was right,’ Ulf muttered, breaking his reverie. ‘It was a bride the Pig was bringing.’

Caddoc flinched and looked at Gerrod who was still cradling his son’s body, oblivious to everything that was happening around him. Wulf’s name was too raw to be spoken without grief drowning him.

The boy had been wrong, though. If this truly was Constance Arnaud she could not possibly be a bride for de Coudray. He couldn’t tell the men that without revealing he knew her identity. He’d worked hard to be accepted in the group and if he revealed himself as a friend to Normans he’d put that in jeopardy.

‘Do you think the baron’s bride would travel in such a manner? This could be anyone,’ he said. ‘Probably the knight’s whore.’

Constance—until it was confirmed otherwise he could not help thinking of her as that—was beginning to stir. A hint of pink was returning to her cheeks, giving them an alluring blush. Caddoc pushed himself to his feet.

‘This changes things,’ Osgood said. ‘She changes things.’

‘It changes nothing,’ Caddoc answered. He frowned at the enormity of the lie. The plan had been simple. They had come for the contents of the box, yet here he stood with two dead bodies, his companion beside himself with grief, and a woman he had never imagined seeing again. The cur that now lay dead had ignored the lady’s plight in preference for saving the strongbox. Whatever it contained must be important to de Coudray if the bodyguard was willing to risk the life of his charge to protect it.

‘We take the box and anything else with us as we planned. Tie the prisoners together. Hurry, there’s no guarantee the road will be empty for long.’

‘Let’s just kill them and be done with it,’ Gerrod snarled.

‘No!’ Caddoc said sharply. ‘I wanted no killing in the first place and I don’t want any more now.’

‘What about her?’ Osgood asked. ‘What do we do with this Norman bitch?’ He glared at Constance, still cradling his nose between his hands in a manner that promised trouble.

Caddoc pursed his lips. He was happy to leave the men to take their chances, but leaving a woman undefended in the forest to whatever might befall her was wrong. Besides, a sister could be as useful an instrument to use against de Coudray as a bride.

‘She might be useful. We’ll take her, too.’

Chapter Four

Caddoc.

That was his name now. He had worn it so long that his old one sounded false in his ears and he laid claim to no other. When Constance awoke he would impress that on her. By whatever means it took. He placed Constance’s dagger in his belt alongside the sheath containing his own.

As he expected, his declaration they would be taking her was met with mixed reactions. Ulf began protesting about the dangers of letting an enemy into the camp, Gerrod tore himself from his son’s body and began growling for revenge. Only Osgood showed any approval. He finally let go of his swollen nose and moved his hands to their more usual position between his legs.

‘If that was her man he has no more use for her.’ He grinned, glancing at the corpse of the bodyguard. ‘She can warm our beds instead. Do you think Norman dugs taste as sweet as English when you suckle them? They feel similar enough beneath the fingers.’

Caddoc moved to stand in front of Constance, blocking Osgood’s view.

‘She’ll not be used for that,’ he said sharply.

‘Not by us, you mean.’ Osgood’s expression darkened. ‘I saw the way you looked at her. You want her yourself.’

Caddoc looked behind him to where Constance lay, his eyes roving from her feet to head. The tunic she wore was a man’s, cut to the knee and revealing legs that were shapely inside hose that were bound at the calves with cords. The foot sticking out at an awkward ankle was the final confirmation he needed that this was Constance Arnaud. Her cloak spread beneath her and the heavy tunic hinted at a figure that was obviously not male, cinching in by means of a belt at a narrow waist and rising over the swell of her breasts.

Caddoc’s guts twisted with desire. She’d grown from a slender girl into a full woman in the years since he’d last seen her. Or touched her.

Of course he wanted her. Who wouldn’t?

He tore his gaze away.

‘She’ll not be used by any of us. No one touches her.’ He mustered a crooked smirk that he bestowed on Osgood. ‘Though I’m sure the sight of her will give us all the means to sweeten our nights.’

He strode to the monk and guard who knelt by the horses, hands bound behind them.

‘Who knew you were travelling with a woman?’ he asked quietly. ‘Did either of you?’

Both men nodded.

Caddoc delivered a swift kick to the knee of the guard who cried out in pain.

‘And neither of you cared to protect her when we attacked?’

‘We were told to protect the contents of the box,’ the guard muttered.

‘By Lord de Coudray?’ Caddoc asked.

‘By the lady,’ the guard answered, ‘and she insisted on dressing like that despite Rollo telling her it was unfitting.’

Caddoc raised his eyebrows. So the box was important to Constance, too. She had said it was her property. Jewels probably in that case. Constance could try buying her freedom with a bangle or two. She gave a sigh that drew his attention back to her. Her eyes were closed, but she was moving her head from side to side. Her skin was slick with a sheen of sweat, causing tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks.

‘Get some water from the river,’ he instructed.

Ulf pulled the leather cap from his head and filled it. He returned and poured it over Constance’s head. Before Caddoc could protest that wasn’t what he had meant Constance’s eyes opened and her body convulsed.

With a cry of shock she pushed herself to a seated position, scrabbling back on her heels. Her hand whipped to her waist, feeling the empty sheath where her dagger belonged. She stared frantically around her, then she paled at the sight of the four men standing over her.

Caddoc pushed forward and knelt astride her. She opened her mouth to speak and he clamped one hand across it, pressing down firmly, the other behind her head, buried deep into her thick coil of hair to stop her twisting away. Constance’s brown eyes widened and Caddoc watched as the emotion in them changed from confusion to terror.

‘My name is Caddoc,’ he said. He lowered his voice low so only she could hear. ‘You don’t know me. If you want your throat to stay unslit, you will give no indication that we have ever met, much less were friends. Do you understand?’

Her lips moved beneath his palm, her breath warm, and the movement making his skin tingle. It sent a shiver up the length of his arm. Constance gave a slight nod.

‘I’m going to let go of you now,’ Caddoc said, loud enough for the men to hear. ‘If you try to run as you did before, you won’t get three paces without a sword through your leg. Nod if you agree to be sensible.’

Another nod, but now her eyes blazed contempt. Caddoc removed his hands and stepped away. Constance climbed unsteadily to her feet. She brushed her hands down her body and legs to straighten her tunic, then froze. Her eyes travelled round her audience and she pulled her cloak around her body protectively, reaching up to lift her cowl over her head.

‘We know you’re a woman,’ Osgood reminded her. She dropped her hands to her sides.

‘Who are you?’ Gerrod growled, stalking across to tower over her.

Caddoc watched as the short, slender woman faced the giant bear of a man. He expected her to cower, but instead she straightened her back, raised her chin and looked him in the eye. In a voice that betrayed none of the fear he imagined she was feeling she answered, ‘I am Constance Arnaud. I am travelling to Hamestan to the house of Robert de Coudray. When he finds out what you have done he will have your heads.’