The Brat

Chapter Seventeen

Ash-keys and ash leaves were both considered lucky, but the best ash leaf was an even one - which is how Murie found herself up an ash tree when she first heard the sound of hoofbeats. Pausing in her hunt, she glanced down curiously, her eyes widening as her husband charged past on Lightning.
He was riding quickly, and looking rather upset, she noted, and decided not to trouble him by calling out. Obviously the chore he was on was an important one. Besides, she had no doubt he'd have fits if he knew she was climbing trees so soon after an injury.
The moment the sound of hoofbeats faded, Murie turned her attention back to the leaves around her. She'd just found an even leaf when she heard hoofbeats again. Letting go of the branch she was holding, she glanced down to see Balan charging by once more, this time headed in the opposite direction. She took a moment to wonder if he'd accomplished whatever chore he was on, then turned back to the branch where she'd spotted the even leaf moments ago. Of course, it had bounced back in amongst the other branches, and she could no longer tell which one it was. Muttering under her breath, she began to examine each leaf of each branch again in search of the even leaf and had just found it when the sound of a charging horse drew her attention once more.
This time, unwilling to lose the leaf, Murie tugged it free before glancing down. Her husband charged past once more. Wondering what on earth he was doing, she shook her head as he disappeared into the woods, then quickly climbed down from the tree, collecting some ash-keys as she went.
She was on the ground before it occurred to her to wonder where his guard was. One man was supposed to be watching him at all times - either Erol or Go-dart. She would have to have a stern talking-to with the men when she got back to the castle. Her husband should not be out on his own. His would-be killer had only narrowly failed several times now, and they would not continue to be so lucky.
She pondered the last attempt as she made her way to the large clearing with clover she'd spotted, wondering why Osgoode had thought it was her in the village earlier that day. Had it been a woman who lured the two cousins? She found it hard to believe it was a coincidence that Malculinus and his henchman had been at Gaynor not long before this latest attack. On the other hand, Malculinus couldn't know when Balan was expected back. .. unless Cecily or Estrelda had mentioned it while Baxley was flirting with them.
She supposed that was possible. But Osgoode would hardly mistake either man for her. She'd have to ask him why he'd thought it was her.
Reaching the patch of clover, Murie tucked her precious ash leaf and keys carefully under the belt of her surcoat, wishing she'd thought to bring a basket, then dropped to her knees to begin her hunt for one of the four-leafed variety.
She was there moments later when the hoofbeats returned. Wishing she were still up the tree, Murie remained on her hands and knees in the clover patch, hoping her husband would not notice her and simply ride past. A foolish hope, she knew.
"Wife!"
Murie sat back on her haunches with resignation and peered around as Balan drew his mount to a halt in the clearing. He quickly dismounted. She smiled at her first sight of him, but then saw the scowl on his face and scowled in return, knowing he was annoyed with her.
Still, she watched him walk toward her and enjoyed it. He was a fine figure of a man - tall, well-built, muscles as sleek as a cat's moving under his clothing.
Despite how busy she'd kept herself, she'd missed him while he was gone, and the nights had been the worst. She'd lain awake long into the evenings recalling his touches and kisses and the pleasure he gave her. And she'd wondered if she gave him the same pleasure in return.
It was hard to imagine she might, not when he did all the touching and kissing, but Murie was unsure what to do herself. She'd run across men and women coupling at court, in dark hallways and corners: From that, she knew there were all sorts of ways to do it. But she'd also come across women on their knees, as she was now, doing unknown things to lords standing before them with looks of ecstasy on their faces. It had appeared to her as if the women were kissing or suckling on the man's shaft, but they'd been only a few quick glances she'd got before turning away with embarrassment and heading in another direction. Murie had thought that on Balan's return she might ask him what the women were doing, and if he might like her to do it to him, but now, faced with the prospect, she was not sure she had the courage. Though, it would certainly be a distraction to make him forget he wished her back in bed recuperating.
"Wife." Balan came to a halt directly in front of where she knelt. He was still scowling, and she almost scowled herself, but managed a smile instead.
"Good afternoon, husband," she greeted. "'Tis a lovely day for a ride. Are you on a chore?"
"Aye. Looking for you," he announced with irritation, propping his hands on his hips. "You should be in your bed."
"Bed is boring, husband," she said quietly. Then she added in a husky voice, "At least it is when you are not there." That seemed to make him pause. He closed his mouth on whatever else he'd intended to say, his gaze flickering over where she knelt. Some of the anger slid from his expression. "Aye, well, that's as may be, but. .."
"Husband?" Murie murmured when his voice trailed away. His eyes had caught on the neckline of her gown. Their positions gave him a lovely view down her top, she noted, glancing down, but the realization did not make her stand up. Instead, she reached out a hand to his upper leg as if to steady herself. The muscle under her fingers tensed.
"Aye?" he asked. His gaze slid over her once more. For some reason her position seemed to fascinate Balan, and Murie wondered if it was suggesting certain activities to him. Like those activities she'd glimpsed at court.
She slid her hand tentatively up his legging until it disappeared under his doublet, and said, "I was wondering..."
"Aye?" he growled, but did not push her hand away. Murie moved it to the left until she felt his sex pressing against the gathered leather of his leggings. He was already semi-hard, but at her touch seemed to harden further, and she saw as well as heard him suck in a sharp breath.
"I was wondering if you would enjoy me doing the things to you that you do to me with your mouth," she whispered. His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and worked briefly with nothing coming out as she ran her hand slowly along the length of him through the bunched cloth. Taking that as a yes, Murie pushed up his doublet with her other hand. She found where the cloth of his leggings was gathered together, which she parted to allow him to spring free. The moment he did, Murie caught him in her hand. She stilled as her husband groaned. Glancing up, afraid she'd done something to hurt him - indeed, his eyes were closed, his face tight with what might have been pain, but it was also the expression he got when making love to her - she then ran her fingers gently over him, relaxing a bit when his hips bucked in response. She leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip, but curiosity got the better of her, and she ran her tongue up his length tasting him.
Balan's reaction was most encouraging, she decided, when he clasped his hands in her hair and groaned again. Recalling that the maids had seemed to suckle at the shaft, Murie held the base to keep him still and took him into her mouth, running her lips up as far as she could and then drawing away again. She hadn't a clue what she was doing and was judging her success or failure by his reactions, but as far as she could tell from the groans and moans issuing above her head, he seemed to be enjoying it; so she was quite startled when he suddenly pulled himself free, stopping her.
"Did I do something wrong, husband?" she asked with concern as he dropped to his knees.
His answer was to kiss her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with purpose, and he urged her back onto the bed of clover and lay himself on top of her. Tearing his mouth from hers, he began to press kisses along her jaw and growled, "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Oh." She blushed. "I saw one of the maids at court doing it, and seeing as how I like it when you ..." She paused and blushed as his head lifted and he peered at her. She rushed on with embarrassment: "I thought mayhap you would like it if I did the same for you, but I only caught a quick glimpse and was not at all sure how. Was I doing it right?" she asked anxiously.
"Aye," he growled, and kissed her again, his tongue thrusting in and forcing hers to duel. Murie slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, moaning as he tweaked her nipple through the cloth and rubbed his upper thigh more firmly against the apex of hers. Then he shifted away, and she felt his hand slip beneath the hem of her skirt and ride up her inner leg.
Murie shifted her legs restlessly under the caress, her own response becoming more frantic as his hand ran along her upper thigh. She cried out into his mouth as his fingers reached her core, and suddenly his mouth was gone. She blinked her eyes open with confusion. He moved down her body, but she never got the chance to ask why; she had her answer when his head ducked beneath her skirt.
"Oh!" she cried out, clawing at the clover on each side of her as his lips moved over first one thigh and then the other. She felt his hands slide beneath her bottom to lift her as if he were about to bite into a quarter slice of melon, and his mouth settled on her, drawing another cry of pleasure from her throat.
Moaning, Murie twisted her head to the side and then blinked as she found herself staring at an elusive four-leaf clover not an inch before her eyes. Reaching out she grabbed it, then squeezed her hand tight closed around it, crushing the leaf as her husband set to work in earnest. Within moments she'd forgot all about the clover and had her eyes crushed shut as she twisted her head back and forth on the ground.
When her husband's teeth lightly grazed the core of her pleasure, her eyes popped open on a gasp, and she bucked against him; then she blinked as a droplet of water fell into her eye. When a second fell, she blinked again, her mind slowly registering that it was raining and apparently had been for some moments. Turning her eyes skyward, she noted dark, heavy storm clouds gathering overhead and caught her breath.
Murie instinctively reached down to find her husband and warn him, since he was under her skirt and would not realize it, but in the next moment she was clawing at the ground again as he slid a finger inside her, adding to the sensations already assaulting her. Murie wasn't aware she was making a long ululating sound until her body convulsed with pleasure and the noise became something of a shriek, echoing in the clearing.
Balan rose as she was still shuddering with pleasure and started to shift to his knees, but then paused and glanced skyward, his hands reaching out to the sides as he realized that, yes, indeed it was raining, and his wife hadn't said a thing and now lay half soaked and trembling.
Murie heard him chuckle; then he was scooping her up in his arms and running for the cover of the trees. She kissed his neck, his ear and anything else she could reach as they went, then happily opened her mouth for him when he turned his head to cover hers with his own.
Once under cover, he broke their kiss as he set her down on her own two feet. He then reached for her surcoat, lifted it off over her head and tossed it to the ground before bending to kiss her again and work at the lacings of her gown. Unwilling to be the only one undressed, Murie immediately set to work at the buttons of his doublet. She was working blindly, her eyes closed as he kissed her, but they shot open with a start as a crack of thunder sounded overhead.
Balan finished undoing her gown and immediately began to tug it off her shoulders and down her arms, forcing her hands to stop work on his clothing. Murie shivered as the gown pooled around her feet, leaving her naked in the storm-chilled breeze. Balan broke away to finish working the buttons of his doublet. He then shrugged it off. His boots and leggings soon followed the gown and doublet to the ground, and he drew her into his arms once more.
Murie sighed against his chest as his warm body encompassed hers, and then Balan bent to trail kisses down her throat. Moaning, she turned her head to the side to give him better access, but stilled as she caught the flash of lightning in the sky. Thunder rolled right behind it, and alarm claimed her. The storm was close.
Tugging free of Balan's hold, she grabbed his hand and turned to run through the trees, pulling him behind her. She thought she heard him ask where she was going, but another roll of thunder drowned out the question, and then they were at the tree she wanted. She'd spotted it earlier as she'd looked for an ash. Tugging him under the safety of its branches, she turned and threw her arms around him, seeking the warmth of his body again.
"What - ?" Balan asked, glancing around with bewilderment, obviously not understanding why this tree would be better than the last.
" 'Tis an elder," she explained. " 'Tis safer. Lightning never strikes elders. 'Tis the wood they made the cross - " Balan cut off her explanation with a kiss, his body herding hers against the tree. She could feel him still hard and hot against her thigh, and she sighed into his mouth, her breasts pressing eagerly against him. They kissed. His hands caught the soft orbs of her breasts and kneaded gently, and then he broke away to suckle at one as his hand slid between her legs. Finding her warm and wet for him, he left off her breast and kissed her again as he carried her down to the ground.
Murie felt the cool, dry earth beneath her back, and then his warm body pressed down on her, and he used a knee to urge her legs apart. She opened for him at once, clutching at his arms in anticipation and then arching and crying out as he entered her. All the excitement and passion he'd stirred earlier in the field of clover was immediately back, her body humming with eagerness and desire as she drew up her knees to cradle him, and she pressed her feet flat to the earth to be able to push upward and meet his thrusts.
The storm raged as they made love, their passion meeting nature's fury and surpassing it. Murie felt the familiar tension drawing tight within her, and then Balan caught her ankles and drew them up to hook them over his shoulders. He then leaned forward so that he rested against the backs of her legs and his hands were free to touch her. He squeezed and caressed her breasts, then continued to fondle with one hand while the other dropped lower to touch her again.
Murie cried out and covered his hand at her breast, clutching at it as her hips danced against him. Then the tension broke, a dam allowing the floodwaters to flow, and she screamed as her body convulsed. Balan thrust into her one more time, and then he cried out as well, his body stiffening against hers as he spilled his seed into her.
"The storm has passed."
"Mmmm," Murie murmured, and opened her eyes to see that the sky was now clearing and late afternoon sunshine was pouring down, though it wasn't reaching them where they lay under the elder tree. She turned to peer at her husband and offered a smile as she rested her chin on her hand on his chest. He'd rolled them so that he was on the bottom immediately after they'd finished making love, leaving her to rest in comfort above, Balan smiled back, his hand lifting to catch and caress her bottom. Then his eyebrows drew together with concern. "You are cold."
"Only my back," she assured him with a grin. "My front is very warm indeed. You are better than a fire, husband." He chuckled and sat up, forcing her to let her legs slide to the side so that she sat up as well, straddling him, her body sliding over his. The surprise on his face told her there had been no intent behind the action, but now that they were in this position, his hands slid to her waist and he kissed her. Murie moaned into his mouth as she felt him grow hard against her.
"We need to dress," he muttered.
"Aye," she agreed, her fingers sliding over his shoulders, then scraping into his hair. Balan moaned as her nails dragged across his skull, and then both of them stiffened at the sound of a distant shout. They broke apart and peered at each other in dread.
"Was that Osgoode?" Murie asked.
Balan nodded slowly as a second shout sounded. He said, "And that sounds like Anselm. They must have worried when we did not return and started a search party once the storm ended." Osgoode shouted again, this time sounding closer. Murie and Balan scrambled to their feet.
"Our clothes - they are still under the tree by the clover," Murie realized with alarm.
"Which way to that?" Balan asked, his mouth pulling into a frown as she glanced around uncertainly. The word was almost a warning growl: "Murie?"
"Do not 'Murie' me, my lord. It causes me distress, and I cannot think when distressed." Huffing out a breath, she tried to recall where the clover patch was from there, then pointed and said,
"That direction, I think, husband."
"You think?" he squawked. There were at least six different voices shouting for them now, drawing closer all the time. Ignoring his scowl, Murie headed in the direction she thought the clover patch lay, aware from the muttering that trailed her that her husband was following.
They had gone quite a ways, and she was beginning to think she'd chosen wrong when her husband suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a tree.
"Really, husband!" Murie said as his body covered hers. "I thought you wished to dress. We do not have time to - " Balan silenced her by placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened incredulously at the rude action, and then she became aware of the sound of hoofbeats drawing nearer until they seemed to be right on top of them.
"Balan! Murie!" she heard Osgoode shout somewhere behind her, and then the sound of hoofbeats began to fade again. The next shout sounded more distant.
Balan did not answer either call. He did, however, remove his hand from Murie's mouth, and he stepped away and gestured for her to continue.
Murie took his hand in hers and continued on. It seemed they had covered more ground in their run than she'd realized, for she was just about to stop and confess to Balan that she must have chosen the wrong direction when they broke out into the clearing where the patch of clover grew. Sighing in relief, Murie rushed toward the pile of clothes under the tree, but then glanced anxiously back toward Balan. The sound of hoofbeats began to grow again, this time sounding like more than one horse. Balan cursed, tugged at her hand and dragged her to the side and behind a large bush on the edge of the clearing just moments before two horses broke through the trees. She and Balan watched through the leaves as Erol and Godart appeared and -
quite unfortunately - decided to stop. It appeared everyone had been called out for the search.
"Where the hell have they got to?" Erol asked with bewilderment, sitting up straighter on his horse to peer around.
"Perhaps the killer has got them," Godart said unhappily.
"Surely his lordship would have returned by now if not." The two men began to debate the subject, and what would become of them if their lord and ladyship were gone, but Murie wasn't paying attention; she was peering about the clearing, wondering where Balan's horse was.
"Lightning is gone, husband," she whispered by his ear.
"Osgoode was pulling it behind him," Balan murmured back, his attention shifting from the two men in the clearing to the clothes on the ground under the tree behind and a little to the side of them.
"How did he not see our clothes?" Murie asked with surprise, but then supposed it was a foolish question. Erol and Godart hadn't yet noticed them. Somehow, thankfully, Osgoode has missed the garments as well.
Balan quickly disabused her of the notion. "He did see them, Murie. Do you not notice they are all in a nice little pile rather than strewn around the clearing as we left them?"
"But why did he take the horse and not the clothes?" she asked with confusion.
"No doubt, because he expected us to return for the clothes," he pointed out. "Osgoode piled them under the tree with my green doublet on top to make them less visible, then led my horse away so that none of the others would see him and stop to investigate the area. He did it so that we could return and dress," he explained. "My cousin was no doubt hoping to preserve your modesty."
"Oh." Murie sighed. She seemed to have little enough of it lately. It was just days ago that she'd been forced to walk back to the castle naked, dragging her unconscious husband on the makeshift litter. Now she was standing bare-arsed in the bushes.
"Wait here."
She glanced around sharply at that whisper to see Balan already moving away. Holding her breath, she watched him slink along the edge of the clearing, sometimes crouching behind trees, sometimes crawling behind bushes and once running from one tree trunk to another; but finally he made it to the tree where their clothes were. He paused behind the trunk, peered around at his men, and then, assured that they weren't looking, ducked quickly out to snatch up the pile of clothes and hurry back behind the tree.
Balan did not return at once but dressed very quickly, tugging on his doublet and then his leggings and tying them up before donning his boots. Then he paused and glanced toward Murie, and glanced toward the clearing and frowned. His expression made her examine the two men in the clearing as well, and she bit her lip when she saw that they were now facing the direction of the tree. There was no way Balan could sneak back without being seen.
Biting her lip, she glanced at her husband. The moment she did, he laid the clothes on the ground behind the tree, then straightened, pointed at his chest, then toward the two men in the clearing, then to her and finally at the clothes.
Murie didn't have a clue as to what he was trying to pantomime, but she didn't get a chance to clarify; Balan was already moving into the clearing.
"My lord!" Erol cried happily. "You are well!"
"Aye." Balan smiled as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was only then that Murie became aware that his doublet was tucked into the back of his leggings. Groaning inwardly, she closed her eyes.
"My wife. . . will be along soon."
Murie's eyes popped open as Balan almost shouted that comment, and she peered out into the clearing to see that he'd moved past Erol and Godart, forcing them to maneuver their horses around to face him. Their backs were now to the part of the clearing where she was. Her gaze slid to Balan again, and he gestured for her to get moving and dress. She suspected he'd done it once already, and only said "wife" so emphatically when he'd realized she wasn't paying attention.
Murie began to move along the edge of the clearing, crouching here and crawling there as he'd done. This seemed to annoy her husband, however, and she noticed his hand gesturing impatiently for her to get a move on. He was doing his best to distract the men, and so it was probably safe to run straight over, naked as she was - but what if one of the men glanced over his shoulder?
"Is there something wrong with your hand, my lord?" Godart asked. "You keep flicking it about."
"Nay," Balan growled, and flicked it impatiently again. Sighing, Murie gave up her crawling and made a straight run for the clothes. She'd nearly reached them when the sound of more hoofbeats sounded. Biting back a squeal of alarm, she dove for the clothes and rolled behind a tree just as Anselm rode into the clearing.
Murie listened absently to the men talk as she dressed, but she wasn't really paying attention. The moment she had her gown and surcoat on, she paused to run her fingers quickly through her hair. Then she tried for a serene expression and walked out of the woods just as Osgoode rode into the clearing with Balan's horse behind him.
"Thank you, cousin," Balan said, moving to take the reins and tie the animal to the exact same tree he'd tied him to earlier. He turned back and spotted Murie standing uncertainly on the edge of the clearing and immediately walked to her side. Osgoode dismounted.
"Oh, my lady!" Anselm smiled at her. "We were just telling his lordship that we became quite worried when the two of you did not return before the storm and set out to find you once it ended. He explained that you took cover under a tree and waited it out."
"Aye." Murie managed a smile, leaning weakly against her husband's side.
A distant shout made them all glance toward the woods, and Anselm frowned. "I should go round up the others and tell them you are both found and well."
"Aye," Balan said agreeably.
The man-at-arms glanced to Erol and Godart, and gave them meaningful looks. "You can ride back with Lord Balan and his wife." The two men nodded, and Anselm turned his horse and rode to find the others.
"Well," Osgoode said, laughter dancing in his eyes. "We should head back to the keep, should we not?"
"Aye. Come." Balan started to lead Murie toward his horse, but she dug in her heels, forcing him to stop and turn to face her.
"I still wish to gather some clover and elder, and perhaps-some birch branches," she told him.
"Nay. You are going back to the castle to rest. You have sustained a terrible injury and are too weak to be doing anything strenuous yet."
Murie's mouth tightened. "Surely it is no less strenuous than what we were doing a moment ago," she said archly. "I should think it would be less so."
The laughter that had been dancing in Osgoode's eyes suddenly burst from his lips. "Whatever could that be, I wonder."
"You may wonder silently," Murie told him tartly. Osgoode nodded. "Aye. By the way, cousin, your doublet is caught in your leggings. And Murie, your lacings are all tangled." Murie flushed bright pink as she saw that was true. It seemed that none of them had been left wondering. Grimacing, she and Balan straightened their clothes. He turned and said firmly, "I do not want you out here alone, wife."
She scowled. It seemed that loving each other did not automatically resolve all conflicts and ensure everything ran smoothly. Some compromise was needed.
"If you would just send Cecily back with a basket, then 1 shall not be alone and need not leave," she suggested reasonably. Balan did not look pleased. Still, he seemed to realize that he could not prove her too weak to pick up branches after the rather energetic activity they'd just enjoyed. And, as having Cecily with her would mean she wasn't alone, he gave in.
"Very well. I shall ride back and fetch her to you," he promised. Turning to the two soldiers who were still mounted, he said, "Erol. Godart. You are to stay here with my wife until her maid returns."
"Aye, my lord," they said, but neither man looked pleased by the order.
Murie understood why, and she wasn't all that pleased either. These were the two men who were supposed to be keeping an eye on her husband. "Surely you need leave only one man with me, husband. Why not take Erol with you? Or leave Erol and take Godart. Two are not needed."
"Nay," Balan said firmly. "They shall both stay."
"But - "
Her husband silenced her with a quick hard kiss, then turned and strode to his horse. Murie released a little sigh, her gaze dropping over his back as she watched him walk away, then blinking off the contentment he'd induced and scowling after him. The stubborn man was going to get himself killed.
Which reminded her of the question she'd wanted to ask Osgoode. Murie glanced to him just as he settled back in the saddle. He picked up his reins, preparing to ride over to where Balan was untying lightning, but she stepped to his side and raised a hand, placing it on his boot to stop him.
"A moment, my lord?" she murmured.
Balan's cousin paused at once and glanced down at her in question. "Aye?"
"One of the guards with the wagons said that you were the one to see me in the village as you came over the rise. Is that true?" she asked.
Osgoode blew out an exasperated breath. "Oh, pray, Murie please do not say you still think I am trying to kill your husband. That I lied to lure him to the burning cottage and - "
"Nay, of course not, my lord!" she interrupted.
"Oh." He smiled faintly. "Good."
"I was just wondering if you would tell me exactly what you saw?"
"What I saw?" he repeated with confusion.
"Aye. What made you think it was me? Malculinus and his man Baxley had just left ere your return. Could it have been a man dressed up as a woman?"
"A man dressed as a woman?" Osgoode considered the question with interest, but then shook his head. "Nay. She had a woman's figure, full and - " He started to hold his hands up to indicate large breasts, and then caught himself and offered an apologetic grimace. "Nay, it was a woman."
"Could it have been Lauda, do you think?"
He thought even less time about that before shaking his head.
"Nay. Not Lauda. She is too tall and ... flat.
"So the woman was shorter?"
"Aye, and rounded like you," he said, glancing toward Balan who mounted Lightning. He turned back, suspicion glinting behind his eyes. "In fact, I was sure it was you."
"Why?" Murie's eyebrows drew together. "Why were you so sure it was me? There must have been a reason. You were very far away, my lord."
"Aye, but I have good eyesight," he said stiffly. And she could tell by his expression that, while she no longer thought him the attempted killer, he once again thought she was.
Exasperated, she said, "You could only have seen the shape and perhaps hair color. Was she blond like me?"
"Aye." He nodded with a sudden realization. "But that is not why I was so sure."
"Are you coming, cousin?" Balan called out. Mounted and apparently impatient to be away, he scowled at the pair of them.
"Aye," Osgoode said, and shifted in his saddle. As he urged his mount into a walk, Balan turned and rode out of the clearing. Osgoode would have put spurs to his mount, too, Murie was sure, but she still had her hand on his boot and was walking beside him.
" Why were you so sure?" she repeated as he glanced down at her.
"It was the color of the dress she wore that made me think it was you," he answered. "Now let me go. I wish to stay close to Balan until this is all cleared up."
"The color of her dress?" Murie asked sharply. "What color was it?"
"It was that burgundy and black surcoat you favor. I recognized it at once." He frowned. "But you were not wearing it when we charged out of the cottage and ran you over... and could not have possibly changed so quickly." He shook his head with a sigh, deciding, "It was not you."
"Nay," she whispered.
"Well, I am glad to hear it," Osgoode assured her. "Balan loves you, and I would not have him hurt knowing you were trying to kill him. Now, if you will excuse me, I truly do not want him without someone to watch his back."
Murie released the man's leg and stepped back from his horse. Osgoode was away at once, hurrying into the woods after Balan, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was taken up with wondering why Cecily was trying to kill her husband.