Passion's Exile Read Free Page A

miles from the haven of Stirling.
    She spared her pursuers one more glance, and in that instant, her worst fears were realized. Even at this distance and in the meager light of the waxing moon, she could see that the men wore Sir Gawter’s colors.
    She stared straight ahead, her heart in her throat. If they were Gawter’s knights, they’d be riding warhorses—strong, powerful animals that could easily outrun the palfrey. ‘Twas useless trying to lose them.
    She considered turning around and bargaining with them, doling out a generous portion of the coin she’d brought with her to ensure her freedom and their silence. But Sir Gawter had far more wealth to barter with than she, and if they’d come to slay her as she feared, they’d simply steal her silver when she lay dead and bleeding on the road.
    Shivering, she peered ahead to the place where the curve of the road dipped and disappeared beyond a thick stand of trees. ‘Twas a good furlong away, but if she could make it as far as that bend…
    Rose tucked her falcon into her cloak so the bird wouldn’t startle. What she planned was mortally perilous, but she had little choice. Wrapping her hands tightly in the reins, she whispered a prayer and silently counted, one…two… Wink ruffled her feathers abruptly, almost startling Rose from her mount, but ‘twas too late to delay. Three!
    She dug her heels sharply into the horse’s flanks. But instead of bolting forward, the animal reared in protest.
    “Come on, come on!” she commanded, struggling to stay atop the unruly beast and hauling sideways on the reins. Finally, the horse turned and surged ahead, galloping down the road, while Rose leaned forward over the horse’s pumping neck.
    “Faster!” She kicked at the palfrey. “Faster!”
    The horse’s hooves thundered on the hard-packed dirt, and Rose’s hair whipped against her cheek as her hood fell back. The scenery jerked by, and shadows raced past her head like veils in a frenzied dance.
    She dared not look back. She knew they were coming. And though she rode with the speed of a coursing river, the bend in the road still stretched far before her, an eternity away, while the menacing storm behind loomed closer and closer.
    What she proposed was hopeless. She knew that now. But ‘twas too late to withdraw, and she had no intention of surrendering. Now the curve seemed to rush toward her at breakneck speed, and she searched desperately for an opening in the dense woods. But the moonlight was shining on the wrong side of the road, and the trees flew by so rapidly, ‘twas nearly impossible to find a break in the forest.
    When she turned at the bend, she saw she had no options, for beyond the curve, the road extended in a straight line away from the haven of the forest. ‘Twas now or not at all.
    She hauled back hard on the reins. The palfrey whinnied in complaint, skidding in the dirt. Its hindquarters dipped low, and it took all of Rose’s strength not to tumble backward over the croup. She slid down, unmindful of the way Wink’s panicked talons dug into the tender flesh of her arm as she flung her hand to release the bird into the air and toward the safety of the woods. With trembling fingers, she unpinned the cloak from her shoulders and whirled it over the palfrey’s withers.
    The cloak pin tumbled to the ground. Rose dropped low, still clinging to the reins. She patted the ground desperately for the pin, unable to find it, fearful the horse might spook and charge off at any moment, dragging her down the road.
    She glanced frantically back over her shoulder. In another instant, the riders would turn the corner and run her down. She had to escape. Now! Where was the cursed pin?
    At last her fingers closed around it, earning her a painful prick. She snatched up the piece and, with hopelessly clumsy fingers, finally managed to stab it through the wool of the cloak, securing the garment about the horse’s neck. Then she gave the palfrey a hearty slap to