God’s truth. And you’re worth naught to me if you’ve been harmed.”
Orders? What could anyone want with her—harmed or not?
She didn’t intend to go along with him to find out.
Despite his avowal that he would leave her alone, his touch made her stomach clench with fear. She had to get away from him, soon. She lay quiet and listened, hoping to hear William or Siwardson—any friendly voice—move closer to this side of the clearing.
But it sounded as though everyone was far away, busy with the aftermath of the attack. Why hadn’t they realized she was missing?
Because she’d been told to stay put, away from the battle, a traitorous little voice taunted.
It seemed she’d have to rescue herself.
Anna took stock of her surroundings. All the activity seemed centered too far away to be of any use, so there was no sense trying to make noise to attract attention. What else could she do?
The darkness enclosed them. Anna could see nothing of her captor’s face, couldn’t judge if she might be able to reason with him. She knew from the feel of him that he was tall and muscular, pressing heavily against her and holding her down with ease. He stank of onions, horses and old sweat, the stench so strong she wished he’d covered her nose instead of her mouth.
She drew a shallow breath and let it out slowly. ‘Twould be a miracle if her heaving stomach didn’t decide to erupt at any moment.
Anna tried to open her mouth to bite him, but his palm pressed too tightly over her lips. She squirmed beneath his hold instead.
“Enough!” he snarled. He slipped his leg over hers and eased his weight atop her, then lifted his arm from her waist.
A wave of loathing gave her the strength to jerk her right arm free. She’d managed to keep hold of the rock she’d carried; she swung with all her might at his head.
The rock connected with his helm with a resounding thump and he jerked back and released her. “Bitch!” he snarled, lunging for her.
“William!” she cried as loud as she could. She scrambled away from him on her hands and knees, tripping herself up on her trailing skirts.
When a hand grabbed her ankle, she kicked out with her other foot and struck metal, hard, with her soft leather boot. The jolt shot up her leg, but she ignored her throbbing toes and drew back to do it again.
Her captor held on until her foot connected—this time with something with more give to it. His face, perhaps?
He released her abruptly, then crashed through the bushes as he hurried away.
Anna sat back with a thump onto the hard ground. She’d be a mass of bruises on the morrow, she had no doubt. Already she ached from head to toe.
Siwardson raced toward her, William hard on his heels. “What’s wrong? Mistress, what do you here?” he demanded.
She leaned against a tree, her head lolling wearily against the trunk until her hair caught in the bark and pulled on her bruised scalp. She sat up straight. “There was a man…You need not go after him. He ran so fast, he’s long gone.”
“Someone bring a light,” William called.
“And send two men into the forest,” Siwardson added. “Mistress Anna’s been attacked.”
William and Siwardson debated sending anyone after her assailant, finally deciding it would be useless in the dark.
Siwardson hunkered down beside her. “What happened? Why are you out here, away from the camp?”
William took the torch a guard handed him and joined them. “Are you all right, lass?” He leaned closer, the torch illuminating the concern on their faces.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, smoothing her hair back and wincing when her fingers brushed against the lump on the side of her head. William scowled, but Anna avoided his questioning look. “How did we fare? Are there many hurt?”
“Two of ours dead, and another two wounded bad enough that they might not last the night, God rest their souls,” William told her, his voice grim as he crossed himself. “But I think we got the better o’ that mercenary scum, thanks to Siwardson here.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Siwardson reached out and gently stroked near the bump on her temple. “Will you tell us now what happened, milady? Who did this to you?”
She had to gather her thoughts before she could answer; though she’d felt some pain at his touch, it was overlaid with a trace of that same tingling awareness she’d noticed before he rode into their camp.
She didn’t understand it, but ’twas a pleasant sensation. It flowed over her again as she met his gaze, distracting her from her aches, their surroundings…
’Twas too tempting to sink into that feeling, so she looked away.
“The lump is my own fault. I backed into a tree.” She looked down at her disheveled bliaut and focused her attention on smoothing out the fabric. “Then a man grabbed me and dragged me down into the bushes.”
“By God, ’twas a ruse to take you.” William slammed his hand against the trunk of a tree. “Are you unharmed, lass?” He handed the torch to Siwardson and stomped away. “The abbot’ll have my ba—” he coughed “—my head for this, and with good reason.” He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, then halted before her, staring at the ground, his ruddy face a deeper red than usual. “He didn’t touch you, did he, lass? I mean—”
“Nay, William,” she cut in, taking pity on his plight. Her own cheeks felt hot. This was not a conversation she’d wish to have under normal circumstances, but now, with Swen Siwardson at her side, watching her with the avid stare of a hawk…
This bone-deep embarrassment was yet another, unusual sensation he’d caused.
“I am…” she began, her voice weak. Find your backbone, Anna, she admonished herself. She forced herself to meet Siwardson’s gaze. “He did not touch me, other than to drag me to the ground and hold me captive.” Siwardson’s eyes darkened. “He treated me roughly, so no doubt I’ve bruises aplenty, but I’ll survive.”
“William, perhaps he simply saw this as a chance to take a woman,” Siwardson said. “We were otherwise engaged. If he’d been watching the camp before the attack, he could have seen Mistress Anna. She is beautiful. What man would not want her for his own?” he asked with a rueful smile. Anna’s pulse beat faster at his words, at the admiration in his eyes. “While his fellows fought with us, he decided he’d rather wrestle with a woman. ‘Tis a far more pleasant pastime.”
William shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis too easy an explanation. What I want to know is why they attacked us. We’re far from any keep, easy prey, I guess. But these lands belong to the Church. Robbers don’t usually bother us out here. There’s naught but wilderness between the abbey and the village. Look you, our road is traveled so seldom, it’s little more than a track through the forest. Keeps the rabble away, suits us fine.” He paused, hitched up his braes. “I can only think of one reason for an armed troop to be out here.” He looked at Anna. “We’ve never been attacked before, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’re guarding the abbey’s most priceless treasure, after all.”
“What treasure is that?” Siwardson asked.
William hesitated, then with a shrug, he nodded toward Anna. “Her.”
Swen stared at William. “What do you mean?” he asked. A tide of heat washed over his face as he considered how his words might be taken. “I beg your pardon, lady. I did not mean that you