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breathing your last.’
Gregor snorted. ‘You believed them?’
‘No, but I couldn’t wait to hear this tale so I came looking for you.’
That made more sense since Simon, like the rest of his guard, loved nothing more than a good tale. Especially one they could embellish and then share with others. Gregor’s reputation was partly owed to their retelling of tales. A fact he’d discovered too late to do anything about.
‘There isn’t much to tell. I rescued the woman those three men had thought to abuse.’
Simon’s eyebrows rose. ‘Do tell.’
‘I just did.’
His man looked around the inn. ‘Where is she?’
‘Above, in a chamber.’
‘And you are down here?’ Simon leaned forward, to ask in a near whisper, ‘Did you let the Wolf frighten her so quickly?’
‘Quite the opposite. The maiden above is Beatrice of Warehaven.’
Simon’s cup hit the table. It teetered, then fell, letting the remaining contents spill across the wooden plank. ‘You are jesting.’
Gregor waited until the owner finished cleaning up the mess Simon had made. Once he replaced his man’s drink with another and left, Gregor said, ‘I wish I were.’
‘Which Warehaven lass would this be?’
‘The young, as yet unmarried one.’
‘Dear Lord above. How did this happen?’ Before Gregor could respond, Simon raised his hand. ‘Never mind. Only you could have such ill-fated luck.’
Not able to disagree with the obvious, Gregor shrugged. ‘I know. Sometimes it is truly amazing.’
‘Does she know?’
‘Well, of course upon discovering who she was the first thing I did was to tell her that right after I kill her father and take command of his keep and ships, she is going to become my wife.’
‘So, you left the chamber without saying anything?’
‘Yes.’ There was no need to lie about it, not to Simon. The older man had been his father’s captain-at-arms and his older brother’s captain until Elrik decided he could no longer deal with the man’s tendency to play nursemaid. The man might be old, he might also be a frightening-looking nursemaid, but he had been with the Roul family since before Gregor could walk and there was no one more worthy of his trust.
‘This one is going to make a fine retelling.’
‘The only retelling that is going to happen is that you are going to go back to camp and tell the men to keep their mouths shut about this entire mission. I am escorting her to Warehaven and I don’t want her to discover what is going to happen ahead of time.’
‘And how are you going to handle that?’
‘I don’t know as yet. But I have until the sun rises to make a plan.’
‘Well, then, you’d best hurry, because—’
‘Yes, I know.’ Gregor cut him off. ‘The night is half over.’
Simon stared down into his ale. His forehead creased, his eyebrows pulled together making a long grey caterpillar above his eyes.
Gregor sighed. ‘I recognise that look well. What are you wondering about?’
‘What is she like, this Beatrice of Warehaven?’
The memory of her laughter ran through Gregor, leaving him warm and wanting. Finally, he admitted, ‘Someone who would probably make a fine wife for someone in want of one.’
‘Ah. So she didn’t cringe and cower at discovering your name?’
‘No. She bluntly told me that I wasn’t who she expected to be David’s Wolf.’ Before he could stop himself, he added, ‘And she laughed at me.’
Simon frowned for a long few moments, then asked, ‘My lord, is it necessary to kill Warehaven?’
‘Do you think he’s going to let me take his keep and ships from him without a fight?’
‘No.’
‘Then, no, I see no way around it. Given the order came from his family, it would be a waste to take him hostage as I doubt they would pay ransom.’
He didn’t add the simple fact that he had no choice in completing this mission. His future and that of his brothers depended on him doing precisely as King David and the Empress wanted.
‘She will hate you, lad.’
‘Tell me something I don’t already know. But there is nothing I can do about it except to sleep with one eye open the short time I’ll be at Warehaven.’
Simon frowned, then asked, ‘The short time?’
‘King David ordered me to take Warehaven and marry the heiress. He said nothing about living there with her. Once the island is under my control it shouldn’t take long to install enough of my men to keep order, marry the woman and get her with child.’
‘And then what? You’ll just leave?’
Gregor shrugged. ‘I can either take up residence at the shipyard on Warehaven, or at the one back home. It doesn’t matter to me.’
‘Are you sure it will be that easy?’
Easy? No, he wasn’t sure, but it was the only plan he could devise. ‘The only thing I am sure about is that the night is wasting. You need to gather the men back at camp and give them the order to keep their mouths closed. The first one who so much as whispers a word about our mission will find himself lacking a tongue.’
Simon rose. ‘And you?’
‘Need to devise some lie to cover why I bolted upon learning her name.’
After his man left the inn, Gregor talked the owner into supplying him with some lukewarm stew, bread, cheese and a pitcher of water for a price. He then headed back up to the bedchamber with the food.
He pushed against the door with his shoulder, only to find it blocked by something weighty from the other side. Apparently she’d already found reason to mistrust him and had used the bench, since it was the only thing in the chamber with any weight besides the bed to keep him from entering.
Setting down the food, he shoved the door open, hearing the sound of wooden legs scraping against wood floor. Once the opening was wide enough, he slipped through, moved the bench back to its original spot alongside the wall, retrieved the food and came back into the chamber.
Gregor placed the food on the bench and then secured the door. He turned to glance at the woman on the bed. She must have been exhausted, because she still slept even after he’d made so much noise getting into the chamber.
He walked further into the room. She’d been busy during his absence. Her wet gown was a lump on the floor near the brazier and he noticed a hastily made pouch on the small table near the bed that hadn’t been there before.
Reaching out, he touched the chemise she’d hung over the bedpost nearest the brazier. He removed the now dry garment, noting the square hole cut from the hem, folded it and placed it on the foot of the bed. Retrieving his still-damp cloak from a peg by the door, he hung that from the bedpost. She would need something to keep her warm and dry during their journey over the next two or three days and his cloak would have to do.
Warehaven’s maiden mumbled something he could barely make out. A step brought him to the side of the bed. She still slept, but her shivers would soon have her awake. He leaned over her, reaching across to pull the free side of the covers she slept upon over to cover her body.
She turned in her sleep. The warmth of her breath brushed lightly across his cheek, sending a tremor of nearly forgotten