“Take whatever you want,” he said.
My breaths came in short gasps as the leader strode toward us. He was even taller than Royce. His hair was cut very short, and his eyes were black. Like the rest of his men, even in the cool evening, he wore an open, sleeveless vest with no shirt beneath, exposing long, defined muscles in his arms. Looking to Trey, he began to say something and then saw me.
The words never left his mouth. He stared, and I drew back against the side of my horse. He looked at me with the same startled quality of most men, but then his expression shifted to something else. Even amid my fear, I could see it: a searching recognition.
I did not know him.
Royce stepped in front of me.
Another of the masked men came striding toward us. This one was of average height for a man, perhaps a head taller than me. His build was solid, and his hair hung halfway down his back.
He gripped the hilt of his sword. “Everyone stay where you are,” he called to our guards. “We won’t be long. I’d rather not kill anyone, but I will if I must.” Turning his head, he said to the other two men who’d attacked us. “Get the wagon and horses.”
As of yet, Royce hadn’t said a word. His body was rigid. The man with the long hair moved to one side to take a quick of view of me, but he merely nodded to me once, and I swear I saw humor in his eyes.
“My lady,” he said lightly.
“Just take the horses and wagon and go,” said Lord Trey.
“We intend to,” the man answered. “Along with that silver ring you’re wearing.”
At first, I’d thought the tall man was the leader, but now I wondered. The longhaired man appeared to be giving the orders.
Without hesitation, Lord Trey removed his ring and handed it over.
The tall man moved to the left to continue studying me.
“Do you know who we are?” Royce asked quietly, and the rage in his voice made me shiver. I hoped he would not take some foolish action. “I am Lord Royce Capello, and this is my father.”
“I don’t care who you are,” answered the longhaired man. “Just another rich noble.” He watched his other two comrades as one gathered our horses and the other climbed up in the wagon to take the reins. Then he turned back to us.
“Any other jewels or metal trinkets?” he asked as if we were conducting a business transaction.
But when he took a step closer to inspect my neck and ears, Royce moved between us. “Keep away from her!”
“The girl has no jewelry,” Trey said, his voice calm.
The longhaired man gripped his sword tighter and studied Royce but then stepped back. Though I couldn’t see his mouth, I sensed he was smiling.
“All right, then,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure.” He turned away, walking toward our gathered horses. “We’re done here.”
Although I was still frightened, I was beginning to understand these men were thieves—who’d taken pains not to kill our guards. They would take anything of value and leave.
After a brief hesitation, the tall man began to walk away as well, but suddenly, his head swiveled back toward me.
“We take the girl,” he said.
His companion spun around, and all traces of joviality vanished. “What?”
“Lay a hand on her, and I’ll have the king’s army hunt you down,” Royce said.
Pointing his sword at Royce’s chest, the tall man ordered, “Step away.”
My fear turned to terror as a roaring began in my ears, and I heard an echo of Royce’s voice back at the manor.
I want the girl.
Again, the man motioned with his sword, but instead of stepping aside, Royce rushed inside his guard, shoving him with one hand and grabbing his sword arm with the other.
I had never seen men fighting, and I could not seem to breathe.
But the struggle didn’t last long. The tall man used one foot to sweep Royce’s leg, and Royce went down. The man kicked him in the head twice. Both times, as his foot connected, I heard a thud.
“What are you doing?” his longhaired companion nearly shouted.
“Get back,” the tall man ordered Trey.
Royce’s eyes were closed, and for the first time, Lord Trey looked alarmed as he stepped away. His alarm grew when the man reached out and grasped my wrist.
“No!” I cried.
His longhaired companion stood in shock. But I was dragged forward, and the roaring in my ears grew louder. Before I understood what was happening, my wrist was free and two strong hands grasped my waist, lifting me onto a horse. Then the tall man was up behind, reaching around and taking the reins with one hand. His other arm encircled me.
“Go!” he called.
A clatter of hooves and the rolling of wheels sounded. Darkness was falling, and I was aware of nothing but the movement of the horse, the arm around my waist, and the roaring in my ears.
Then I lost awareness of anything at all.
* * * *
I remember hearing the sound of an angry voice.
“Stop.”
I could still feel the arm encircling my waist. Our horse slowed. Full darkness had fallen, but I had no idea how much time had passed as I tried to take in my surroundings. The longhaired man was on Royce’s horse. He nudged the animal so that it blocked ours from moving forward.
“Caine, what are you doing?” he demanded.
Caine.
That was my captor’s name.
“Raven, we don’t have time for this,” Caine answered.
“No one can follow us…yet. Get down. Right now.”
The arm around my waist tightened as Caine swung his leg over, and a moment later, I was on the ground. We were in the forest, but the moon shone through the trees, and I had my first clear look at both men, as their cloth wraps were gone. They appeared in their late twenties or early thirties. Caine’s features were narrow and his cheekbones were high.
Raven—as Caine had called him—had a broader face with a solid jaw.
The other two men in the group were now off their horses and came to join us. These men appeared in their late thirties with weatherworn skin. Their black hair hung to their shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Raven asked again.
“She’s coming with us,” Caine answered.
“Do you want the king’s army hunting us down?” When no answer came, Raven pointed at me. “Look at her! Have you ever seen anything like that?”
Anything.
They spoke as if I were not a person.
“No,” Caine answered slowly. “I have not.”
Raven turned to me. “Who are you?”
I dropped my eyes to the ground, not knowing how to answer. Who was I?
Reaching out, he lifted my chin with his finger. “Look at me. Who are you to those two nobles back there? A wife? Sister?”
This was an easier question, and I shook my head.
“Then who?” he demanded.
“I…belong to Royce,” I whispered.
“Belong?”
“My