Return of the Rose Read Free Page B

them.
    The horse’s gait made it hard for her to speak. “L-let me go. I’m not who you th-think I am.”
    “Is that so, my lady? And who might you be?” Hugo asked, clearly exasperated.
    She glanced over her shoulder, back toward the forest for any sign of Otgar, deciding she still had no desire to be left alone. “Oh, never mind. Where are you taking me? And could you please tell me where I am?”
    The horse stumbled, forcing her to clutch at the man to keep her balance. “You’re not that Lord Vanguard guy they were talking about, are you?”
    The man slid the helmet from his head and hooked his visor to the front of his saddle. “Nay, I am Emmon McBray, the very knight who escorted you from Silverwood two days ago before you ran off and left me looking the fool. But go ahead,” he said in a clipped tone, “play your ill-advised game. For when you meet your betrothed, you will regret such foolish sport.”
    “Wonderful,” she muttered. He wasn’t a man at all, but an adolescent. Much too young to be dressed up in armor and playing with swords.
    The man-boy looked over his shoulder and lifted a youthful brow. “I want to know what you put in my drink to make me sleep? And my horse. A finer stallion there is not. What did you do with my horse?”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hugo,” she called over her shoulder, deciding she liked him better. “I bumped my head before you came to my-uh—rescue. Where exactly are we?”
    “I warned you we should not have gone after her,” Emmon growled. “She is dimwitted, unfit to marry Lord Vanguard.”
    Hugo ignored Emmon and focused on her instead. “We are in England, my lady, a short distance west of Braddock Hall.”
    “And the year is 1444,” Emmon added sarcastically.
    “That can’t be right,” she said.
    Emmon’s fist curled about the leather reins and spasms of irritation crossed his face. “I will tell you what is not right. It is not right that you ran away, making fools of us. Nor is it right that you speak suddenly like a jackanapes and lie about who you are. And lastly, it is not right that Lord Vanguard be bound to a wench such as you.”
    Morgan’s stomach clenched. Not because of what Emmon was saying but because things like this just didn’t happen. The trees looked the same. The sky was blue, the grass green. But the conviction in Emmon’s voice told her he was speaking the truth.
    “Too bad you may not live to see the year of Our Lord 1445,” he added almost gleefully.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Lord Vanguard frowns heavily upon the betrayal of his people. No telling what he might do when he hears of your running away.”
    “I didn’t run away. You’ve got the wrong woman.”
    Emmon regarded her with cold speculation.
    She sighed. “You’re only trying to scare me because you think I stole your horse.”
    Emmon laughed. “Think what you will. Too bad, though, that the rumors you’ve surely heard about Lord Vanguard are all true.”
    Shivers crawled up her spine. “They are?”
    “Aye,” he said. “Lord Vanguard has the countenance of a dragon monster. No,” he amended, putting a gloved finger to his chin. “I would say he more resembles a humongous, long-haired ogre. But that is not the worst of it.”
    She rolled her eyes, wondering how it could get much worse than that.
    “My lord’s poor temper is very nearly as hideous as his misshapen face and when he learns that his betrothed tried to run off…”
    “What will he do?”
    “Emmon, what are you saying?” Hugo cut in from a distance.
    Emmon pulled back on the reins. “I was merely telling her ladyship what to expect when she arrives at Braddock. Are we stopping soon?”
    Hugo exhaled. “Nay, we have been delayed too long. If we keep up this pace we should reach Braddock before morning.”
    The hairs at the back of Morgan’s neck stirred. The year was 1444 and not only was she being held against her will, but she was mistaken as the bride-to-be