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rewarded, settling the idea of taking her into the woods once and for all.
    "The lie was a sin, but told for noble reasons," he conceded, his manner once again arrogant, his expression closed. "Women cannot always be held accountable for their actions."
    Tess bit her lip, willing the sharp words to stay in her mouth. This was not the time to start an argument. Especially when she wasn't exactly armed with overwhelming proof to argue his opinion of women. Instead she nodded stiffly and turned her back to him, hoping the wretched man would be sensible enough to realize why she was angry. There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask him, to find out anything she could to make her escape easier. But the man needed a good dose of silence to think over his rude remark.
    Had she actually imagined Baron Montague a fit man to judge her sin? Accountable, indeed. Any kind ideas she'd harbored about him were pushed aside. He thought her inferior, a child who could not be punished for failing to recognize the difference between right and wrong. Hah! That was a good one. As if the Butcher of Wales could distinguish between the two.
    Kenric smiled over the top of his wife's head, satisfied by the stiff set of her shoulders that said he'd hit his mark. He spurred the horse forward, more anxious than he'd ever been to reach Montague Castle .
     
    The first sign of trouble came less than an hour later. A twelve-man patrol rode straight toward them, each soldier wearing a MacLeith plaid.
    Kenric and Fitz Alan quickly assessed the situation and decided the chances were good that the patrol didn't know of Tess's disappearance. The band was riding north, probably returning from a courier mission to London. Kenric guided their horses to the side of the road and slowed to a walk. He'd wrapped Tess securely beneath his cloak to shield her from the biting wind, but quickly threw the edges over his shoulders where the garment wouldn't be in the way of his sword arm.
    "Wake up, Tess."
    The words were softly spoken, but Tess responded to the urgency in Kenric's voice and the sudden tension in his body. She quickly pushed aside the lingering grogginess, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. Kenric leaned down to whisper in her ear.
    "A MacLeith patrol is approaching but I doubt they know you are missing. They ride from the south. Keep your face covered and do not let go of my waist no matter what happens."
    Before she could nod in agreement, Kenric lifted her from his lap and swung her around to seat her behind his back. She pulled her hood low, wrapped her trembling arms around her husband's waist, and began to pray.
    The soldiers approached quickly, but slowed to meet the travelers. The sound of hooves, the jingle of harnesses, and creaking of leather faded until there was silence, interrupted again as a horse nickered, answered by another.
    "Greetings," their leader called out. He was a coarse, insolent-looking man with a full, bushy beard that seemed an attempt to make up for his thinning hair. His gaze shifted between the two knights, his gaze plainly curious. "What brings honest men out on such a miserably cold day?"
    "We travel from Revensforth to Montague," Fitz Alan lied glibly, a look of utter sincerity in his warm brown eyes. He rubbed the dark stubble of his own emerging beard. "Baron Montague has returned from the king's wars and 'tis rumored he seeks warriors to replace those lost in battle. My cousin and I have fulfilled our service to Baron Revensforth, and hope to enlist our services with Montague."
    The leader's small eyes traveled slowly over the mercenary knights. His horse pawed the ground nervously, as if awaiting a decision. A bad sign, that. A skittish horse was often the sign of a nervous master. The man grunted and nodded toward the road.
    "We travel to Remmington. The road is clear ahead?"
    "Aye," Fitz Alan answered. "We've met with no trouble."
    "Then I'll bid you good day." The soldier began to turn his horse