like a Saracen?
What was it about his eyes that seemed so familiar? She puzzled over it in her mind but, though the answer seemed close, it lay behind a curtain of mist. She could never have met him, for surely she would remember?
Zander looked down from the rise on the man and two women as they began to load their belongings on to the packhorse. Then the man came to help the woman who claimed to be his sister up to her horse before seeing to his wife. There was something reverential about the way he assisted his sister—but of course that was merely a disguise.
The lady was a lady, not a person of the yeoman class. He’d known when he heard her voice and as time passed grew more certain that she was Elaine Howarth—the woman he had pledged to return and marry. Her face had been a little brown for she’d always had a true English-rose complexion—but mayhap she had stained it with walnut juice. Some of the knights had used that ruse when trying to infiltrate the Saracen’s camp.
His thoughts led him to the same conclusion; she and her companions were hiding from someone—someone who meant them harm. Zander watched the two horses and their riders move away and then let his horse wander down to the water’s edge. They had ridden hard and could afford to let their quarry go on a little. It had been easy enough to discover their route, for they had stopped in a nearby village to take water from the well and buy bread and cheese.
Why would Elaine choose to ride with so few escorts? She must know that she was at the mercy of unscrupulous men. Even with her face stained she was lovely—and there were many that would want her dower lands. Why would her father allow it?
Perhaps her father had died and she was at the mercy of some unscrupulous guardian.
Of course! The solution came to him in a flash. She was hiding from someone who wished to force her into marriage and take her fortune for himself.
Zander frowned. She needed his protection, but she had refused to trust a stranger, fearing that she would be led into a trap. He must either reveal himself to her—which he was reluctant to do yet—or he must follow behind and watch over her.
He was not yet strong enough to fight for her himself, though Janvier would do his best if asked to lend his protection. Zander knew that when he sought revenge on his enemy he would need strong men to fight for him. He must recruit them—and they would soon be at the estate of his uncle, his mother’s brother, Sir Roderick Harvey. There they would find friends, but if he stayed with them he might lose sight of Elaine.
‘You must follow the lady and her companions,’ he told Janvier as he brought food and wine from their packhorse. ‘This night I shall stay with my uncle and follow in the morning with all the men I can muster.’
‘Leave you to travel alone?’ Janvier looked at him uneasily. ‘If you should faint again…’
‘I shall not, for I feel a little better. Give me some of Elaine’s herbs and I will brew them this night.’
Janvier frowned. ‘You place much trust in a lady who would not trust you with her name or destination.’
‘I know where she goes. We have been heading steadily south-west all day. She means to try to reach her dower lands. I fear that rogues are pursuing her.’
‘It is your wish that I follow and do what I can to protect them?’
‘For the love you bear me, protect her whom I love if you can,’ Zander said. ‘In the morning we shall follow and in good time I dare say we shall come up with you.’
‘I am only one man, perhaps against many. Yet I will seek to do as you ask, my lord.’
Zander frowned—he did not wish to lose his friend. ‘I think if this man desires her in marriage he will not seek to harm, only to capture—it may be best if you simply follow and observe. Should she fall prey to some rogue’s perfidy, follow her to see where he takes her and then come for me. I shall not be long behind you.’
Janvier nodded. He lifted his flask and drank deeply. ‘If I believed it possible, I would help her, my lord—but I shall do as you order me.’
Zander nodded. The two men clasped hands and set off in their different ways. Zander’s head was aching again, but he ignored it, determined to reach his uncle’s house before nightfall. His mother’s brother would do all he could to supply him with men he could trust—good fighting men who would stand by him.
He had thought to wait until he reached his father’s lands, but now he had no choice. If Elaine was in danger, he must protect her somehow.
Elaine glanced over her shoulder. She had an odd feeling that they had been followed from first light, when they left the barn that had sheltered them from the night. A willing farmer had supplied food and a place to rest after Bertrand gave him most of their money. She touched the silver cross that hung beneath her tunic. It was precious to her, but they would soon need more funds; she must sacrifice the necklace, if need be. Her friends had already done much for her and she could not ask them to go hungry when she had the means to ease their predicament.
Looking round again, she thought she saw a man riding a horse, but he was hidden in the trees that bordered the track on which they rode. Her spine tingled and yet she did not feel that the presence of her shadow was menacing.
When a little later they left the woods behind, she caught sight of the man again, and this time she knew him. He was the knight’s servant.
Was the knight with him—and why was he following her?
Elaine was considering whether she should stop and let him come up with her, then demand an explanation or tell Bertrand and try to throw him off. Before she could decide, she heard a shout from ahead and suddenly saw a party of six horsemen bearing down on them. They wore the yellow-and-black colours of the Earl of Newark and Bertrand signalled to her to ride away into the trees.
‘You must hide, lady,’ he said. ‘We shall go another way and hope to draw them off. From this distance they cannot see us clearly. Go back into the woods and hide. If we escape them, we shall return to look for you—if we do not…you must go on alone somehow.’
‘You risk your lives for me.’
‘Waste no time in regrets—go now, my lady, before they come up with us and see you.’
Reluctantly, Elaine turned back into the woods. Her throat hurt and she was close to tears. Her darling Marion and Bertrand had already done too much for her. For a moment she was tempted to turn back and let the earl’s men take her rather than risk the lives of her servants. Yet she knew that Bertrand would never stand by and see her captured. She must hope that they managed to outrun the earl’s soldiers.
Leading her horse further into the woods, she dismounted and sat down on a fallen tree. Bending her head, she covered her face, feeling close to tears. If they did not return, how would she ever manage to reach her home?
‘Your friend is a brave man, lady.’
Elaine’s head came up as she heard the man’s voice and knew it for that of the knight’s servant.
‘You have been following us,’ she said. ‘You are alone—where is your master? Is he ill?’
‘My lord went to the house of his uncle to recruit men to ride with us,’ Janvier said. ‘He sent me to watch over you, for he feared that you were in danger.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Elaine said. She saw with blinding clarity that she no longer had an option: she must trust the knight and his squire. ‘I am pursued by the Earl of Newark, because he wishes to capture me and force me to be his wife. I am…heiress to some lands he covets because they run close to his own. My father would never listen to his offers to buy the land and now he seeks to take them for himself.’
‘Come, lady, mount your horse and let me take you to my lord. He cannot be far behind us now. Once you have his escort you will be safe—we should give our lives to protect you.’
Elaine hesitated. Her instinct had been to trust the