Page 10 of Lord of the Forest

“I shall fetch those eggs. Anon.”

To his annoyance, she watched him closely as he departed, with an intensity that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He sensed danger, but what danger was she to him? Ah, yes, she’d want to know the way out of the ring of holly trees surrounding his small clearing.

That was a secret he wasn’t prepared to share. “Turn your back, or I shall bind and blindfold you.”

“Then you won’t get your fire lit or your water boiled.”

He put his hands on his hips and scowled.

She stood for a moment, testing his will. Then, with a huff of annoyance, she stepped into the hollow oak and turned her back.

Swiftly he chased around the grove, setting the holly branches bobbing on every bush, before diving hurriedly through his hidden entrance. He would come back via the brook, for he couldn’t trust her not to be on the alert for his return.

Half an hour later, with a clutch of duck eggs cradled against his chest, he lay on his back in the water and pushed beneath the swathe of brambles and honeysuckle that obscured the water’s path into his clearing. He’d be soaked, but no matter—from the taste of the air, it would be fine today, and his doublet and hose would dry easily.

Clemence’s expression when he emerged, dripping, from the brook, almost made him laugh. He might have lost his memory, but he still had enough wit to deceive. The fire was going well but making too much smoke. It made him uneasy—he wouldn’t usually have a fire in daylight lest one of the foresters spotted it. His usual custom had been thwarted last night with the arrival of Clemence.

He added the eggs to the water, then tamped down the fire until it was naught but embers. Preferring not to sit around in his damp clothing while the eggs cooked, he peeled off his doublet, hung it over a stump, then unlaced his hose and stepped out of them.

A sudden shriek erupted next to his ear. Horrified, he grabbed the woman, thrust his hand over her mouth, and clamped her close to his body. This girl had a scream that could wake the dead and was highly likely to attract unwanted attention.

She squirmed frantically in his grasp, but he refused to let go. Was that a shout in the distance? Dragging her with him, he kicked over the pot containing their breakfast, dousing the fire in a gout of steam. Then he held still, listening intently.

There it came again, another shout—a man’s voice. And it was closer than before. His damned stupidity in rescuing Clemence had given him away.

Now, he would be forced to face the consequences of his actions.

And that meant death.

Chapter Five

Clemence was too surprised and shocked to struggle any further. The sensation of being pressed up against Lancelot’s firm, naked body was overwhelming—and not nearly so unpleasant as she might have expected. He certainly didn’t smell of cony grease now.

But what man in his right mind stripped in front of a lady like that? Only a wild man of the woods—one separated from society and the mores of his fellows—could do so unforgivable a thing.

Yesterday, she’d thought herself rescued. Today, she felt as if she’d been saved from the cauldron, only to be cast into the fire. Her virtue was definitely at risk if she couldn’t either escape or control this dangerous creature. Hah! One might as well try to fly through the firmament as control a man like him.

He gripped her tightly but made no move to attack her. He was listening for something, every sinew in his body stretched taut. She listened, too, and heard the yapping of a dog.

A dog? That was what he was afraid of? Ah, but dogs meant hunters, didn’t they? Perchance it was her father, come looking for her. Her heart beat in her throat, and she struggled again, tempted to bite the meaty hand pressed over her mouth.

Suddenly, he released her and turned, placing his hands on her shoulders and capturing her attention with his emerald-green gaze. “No sound. Not a whisper, or you’ll betray me. Swear it.”

The breath heaved out of her. An invisible fist of fright seized her in its grip—she felt his fear, sensed his alarm.

The voices were closer now. If it was her father searching for her, would it be wrong to keep silent? He’d refused to listen to her, wouldn’t accept her ambitions, and insisted she marry Walter de Glanville. Mayhap Father should wait. Mayhap he ought to worry just a little—then he’d appreciate her far better. Of course, Mother would be frantic—which was a pity—but a day or so’s further delay before returning home couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

She looked into Lancelot’s eyes and nodded.

Then he did something that completely unsettled her. He fell on all fours, crawled across the grass, and let out a loud grunting noise. She heard a dog whimper, and a male voice—not her father’s—calling it away. Gradually, the forest fell silent again.

The sight of a naked man crouching close to the ground and imitating the sound of a wild boar was something she’d never expected to see in all her days. Aye, this was definitely a tale for the ear of Queen Bess. She’d love it! By the time Lancelot was upright again, her eyes were watering, and her shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Are you laughing at me?” He sounded angry.

She risked a glimpse at him. How could one laugh at so impressive a specimen of masculinity? He looked like a statue of the young Hercules; his muscles were smoothly rounded, not sinewy, his hips narrow, and his stomach was flat. She tried not to look any lower, but he’d already given her the opportunity to admire his perfectly-rounded behind.

“For the love of Moses, put some clothes on, you ridiculous man.” She kept her voice to a whisper, not wanting to attract any more outside attention, and turned her back to him.