The Saxon Outlaw's Revenge. Elisabeth Hobbes

Gerrod tore himself from his son’s body and began growling for revenge. Only Osgood showed any approval. He finally let go of his swollen nose and moved his hands to their more usual position between his legs.

      ‘If that was her man he has no more use for her.’ He grinned, glancing at the corpse of the bodyguard. ‘She can warm our beds instead. Do you think Norman dugs taste as sweet as English when you suckle them? They feel similar enough beneath the fingers.’

      Caddoc moved to stand in front of Constance, blocking Osgood’s view.

      ‘She’ll not be used for that,’ he said sharply.

      ‘Not by us, you mean.’ Osgood’s expression darkened. ‘I saw the way you looked at her. You want her yourself.’

      Caddoc looked behind him to where Constance lay, his eyes roving from her feet to head. The tunic she wore was a man’s, cut to the knee and revealing legs that were shapely inside hose that were bound at the calves with cords. The foot sticking out at an awkward ankle was the final confirmation he needed that this was Constance Arnaud. Her cloak spread beneath her and the heavy tunic hinted at a figure that was obviously not male, cinching in by means of a belt at a narrow waist and rising over the swell of her breasts.

      Caddoc’s guts twisted with desire. She’d grown from a slender girl into a full woman in the years since he’d last seen her. Or touched her.

      Of course he wanted her. Who wouldn’t?

      He tore his gaze away.

      ‘She’ll not be used by any of us. No one touches her.’ He mustered a crooked smirk that he bestowed on Osgood. ‘Though I’m sure the sight of her will give us all the means to sweeten our nights.’

      He strode to the monk and guard who knelt by the horses, hands bound behind them.

      ‘Who knew you were travelling with a woman?’ he asked quietly. ‘Did either of you?’

      Both men nodded.

      Caddoc delivered a swift kick to the knee of the guard who cried out in pain.

      ‘And neither of you cared to protect her when we attacked?’

      ‘We were told to protect the contents of the box,’ the guard muttered.

      ‘By Lord de Coudray?’ Caddoc asked.

      ‘By the lady,’ the guard answered, ‘and she insisted on dressing like that despite Rollo telling her it was unfitting.’

      Caddoc raised his eyebrows. So the box was important to Constance, too. She had said it was her property. Jewels probably in that case. Constance could try buying her freedom with a bangle or two. She gave a sigh that drew his attention back to her. Her eyes were closed, but she was moving her head from side to side. Her skin was slick with a sheen of sweat, causing tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks.

      ‘Get some water from the river,’ he instructed.

      Ulf pulled the leather cap from his head and filled it. He returned and poured it over Constance’s head. Before Caddoc could protest that wasn’t what he had meant Constance’s eyes opened and her body convulsed.

      With a cry of shock she pushed herself to a seated position, scrabbling back on her heels. Her hand whipped to her waist, feeling the empty sheath where her dagger belonged. She stared frantically around her, then she paled at the sight of the four men standing over her.

      Caddoc pushed forward and knelt astride her. She opened her mouth to speak and he clamped one hand across it, pressing down firmly, the other behind her head, buried deep into her thick coil of hair to stop her twisting away. Constance’s brown eyes widened and Caddoc watched as the emotion in them changed from confusion to terror.

      ‘My name is Caddoc,’ he said. He lowered his voice low so only she could hear. ‘You don’t know me. If you want your throat to stay unslit, you will give no indication that we have ever met, much less were friends. Do you understand?’

      Her lips moved beneath his palm, her breath warm, and the movement making his skin tingle. It sent a shiver up the length of his arm. Constance gave a slight nod.

      ‘I’m going to let go of you now,’ Caddoc said, loud enough for the men to hear. ‘If you try to run as you did before, you won’t get three paces without a sword through your leg. Nod if you agree to be sensible.’

      Another nod, but now her eyes blazed contempt. Caddoc removed his hands and stepped away. Constance climbed unsteadily to her feet. She brushed her hands down her body and legs to straighten her tunic, then froze. Her eyes travelled round her audience and she pulled her cloak around her body protectively, reaching up to lift her cowl over her head.

      ‘We know you’re a woman,’ Osgood reminded her. She dropped her hands to her sides.

      ‘Who are you?’ Gerrod growled, stalking across to tower over her.

      Caddoc watched as the short, slender woman faced the giant bear of a man. He expected her to cower, but instead she straightened her back, raised her chin and looked him in the eye. In a voice that betrayed none of the fear he imagined she was feeling she answered, ‘I am Constance Arnaud. I am travelling to Hamestan to the house of Robert de Coudray. When he finds out what you have done he will have your heads.’

      She included Caddoc in the look of hatred she flashed around. He doubted any of them heard her threat because at the name of de Coudray they began shouting over her. He cursed his lack of foresight. He had warned her not to speak his name, but had placed no injunction on her not to reveal her own.

      Gerrod seized her by the arms and began dragging her across the path until he had backed her against the trunk of a tree.

      ‘Give me a sword,’ he roared. ‘I’ll send her back to the Pig a piece at a time.’

      Constance’s face drained of colour.

      The guard started to struggle to his feet, only to be kicked in the chest by Ulf. Osgood picked up his staff and advanced on the monk.

      ‘Enough!’ Caddoc roared.

      Gerrod spat an oath. He pulled the rope from his waist and began to bind Constance to the tree, overpowering her struggles with ease as he passed the rope around her waist and chest, pinning her arms to her side.

      ‘I said get me a sword.’ Gerrod turned to Constance and snarled, ‘My son died today. Your blood can join his.’

      ‘Please, no,’ Constance begged. ‘I have harmed no one!’

      Her lips trembled and Caddoc realised her self-possession was ice thin. She turned her wide brown eyes on her captor.

      ‘Please, have compassion.’

      ‘There is no place for compassion in the world you people have created,’ Gerrod snarled.

      Constance winced.

      Caddoc pressed his fingertips to his temples. He looked to where Wulf lay, his face serene in death. He was younger than Caddoc had been the year of the conquest. He would never reach the age when Caddoc had been whipped and mutilated by this woman’s brother-in-law. He brushed his finger over his lobeless ear. How could he deny Gerrod the revenge he sought when every day the same yearning for vengeance had consumed him for years?

      ‘Then you?’ Constance said. Her face was white and her eyes wide with terror. Caddoc’s heart thundered with an intensity that was painful. Perhaps she read it on his face because her expression changed, courage flowing into her face.

      ‘Will you intervene for me? Caddoc.’

      A spear of lightning coursed through Caddoc at the inflection with which she spoke his name. Was she threatening him? It sent an unexpected thrill through him. He came closer, masking the admiration he felt. He put a hand on Gerrod’s shoulder.

      ‘Let me speak to her,’ he asked. ‘I want to know what she thinks she has to bargain with.’

      Gerrod moved back to Wulf’s