A princess on the run, Briar Aldrich has no choice but to take on the role of scullery maid when Lord Sterling Huntington stumbles upon her in the woods and doesn't recognize her. But how safe is she actually in his home? And how safe is her heart?
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"The boss will be pleased with us," the leader of the group was saying as they rode on through the woods at a canter. Darkness had fallen not long after they had reached the treeline, plunging the woods into a blackness in which the shapes of tree and rock only became discernible once you were upon them. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the outlines of her closest captors and the leader of their group who rode on at the front of the procession was never quiet long enough for her to lose track of his position.
"It was a good plan," a man on her right spoke. If his voice was any indication, he was quite young. She shot him a look of hatred that she knew he could not see as he continued. "Though I have to say I am a bit impressed with the lord's dedication. Thought he was gonna let us slit his brother's throat right in front of him."
She lowered her head. In truth, she had too. She had seen it in his eyes. Lord Huntington had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to protect her no matter the cost but his brother's life was not a price that she was willing to let him pay. Maybe these men would kill her and maybe they wouldn't. Maybe Lord Huntington would be angry with her for her decision but at least he would not have to live with the burden of sacrificing his own brother.
The man on her right was distracted now by the conversation with his leader. The others were in a celebratory mood. All but the man holding her horse's reins. He was close enough to see even in the dark. His expression remained serious despite their Lucieny and he stared straight ahead with the solemn countenance one might expect of a jailor.
Briar felt her long unused training returning to her slowly. She had a blade in her boot, the small paring knife that she had lifted from the kitchens. If she could somehow get to it, she could free herself of her bonds. But it was impossible to reach the contents of her shoe from her bound and upright position on the horse. And even if she did manage to get the knife and free herself, what then? There were at least a dozen men surrounding her and these were not like the commoners who had ambushed her wagon on the way north. These were men of the army, lord's men, trained and under a command. Even if she managed to cut a few of them down, the rest would overtake her quickly enough and men were known to forget their orders when angry.
She could run. It seemed the best of her limited available options. But even if she managed to outrun a horde of trained soldiers on horseback, where would she go? It was so dark she couldn't see a few feet in front of her. They had been winding through unseen forest paths for hours. She would never find her way back to Northbrook and who was to say that whatever she did find wouldn't be worse than her current company. At least, they hadn't killed her yet. They seemed to be keeping her alive for some purpose and, as much as she hated to admit it, it seemed that her best course of action would be to sit tight and wait to see what that purpose was.
So she settled in for what the leader promised would be along night of riding and thought of all of the possibilities and of how she could be prepared for them. She would have to get to her blade as quickly as possible, that much was certain. She was sure she could fight any of them with her fists but not with her hands tied like this and not so many of them.
