The Bride Hunt by Margo Maguire

the Scots’ village, and when we escaped, the river carried us…far out of our way.”
    “My father will have all his men scouring the north country for us.”
    Anvrai snorted. Lord de Neuville’s men were on their way to Lothian with King William, to challenge the Scottish king. The loss of one spoiled son would be a low priority. Lord Kettwyck might also be inclined to sendmen after them, but his forces had been decimated on the night of the attack.
    “What?” demanded Sir Roger. “Why do you scoff?”
    “The king has mustered his forces to attend him at the mouth of the River Tees. From there, he plans to march north to engage King Malcolm,” Anvrai replied. “De Neuville’s men would be en route even now.”
    “Why wasn’t I informed of this campaign?”
    Anvrai laughed at the young man’s indignation. ’Twas not as if he had any military expertise that would be required on the field of battle. His aptitude was that of a courtier, not a soldier.
    “Of course you would have been informed, Sir Roger,” Isabel interjected. “’Twas most certainly an oversight during the fete.”
     
    Roger’s stamina lasted only until late afternoon. Anvrai had set a reasonable pace, but Isabel’s foot ached, and Roger was exhausted by the time they stopped.
    “Set up camp,” Anvrai said when they stepped off the path and went into the cover of a dense wood nearby. He led them to a narrow stream, where Isabel knelt and gathered cold water into her hands for a drink. “I’ll see if I canget us some food,” he added, taking his snares and heading off into the forest.
    “Where are the bowls?” Roger asked. “We brought them, did we not?”
    “Aye, we did.” Isabel dug through the pouch and handed one of the two bowls to him, then went to gather wood for a fire. ’Twould become cold during the night, and they would need its heat. Besides, if Anvrai brought food, they would have to cook it.
    Making a fire circle, she noted Roger’s exhaustion. They had left the cave much too soon. He should have had another day or two to rest and gather his strength before setting out on their journey. Still, it felt good to take action. Idly wasting any more time in the cave would have tested her sanity.
    By the time Anvrai returned, Isabel had a fire going, and Roger was resting, wrapped in the fur shawl she’d made. She was proud of what she’d accomplished in the time Anvrai had been gone, especially in light of her ignominious behavior when they’d first set out from the cave. She did not know why she was so fearful of heights, but it had always been so. Had Anvrai not carried her down, Isabel had no doubt she would still be standing upon the ledge outside the tunnel at the start of their journey.
    Seldom had she felt so secure as when Anvrai had held her body close to his. She’d kept her eyes tightly closed during their descent to the dale and imagined ’twas Roger who carried her.
    Or, tried to imagine it. Unfortunately, she was all too familiar with Sir Anvrai’s powerful muscles and formidable strength to mistake him for Roger. She’d wondered how it would feel to press her cheek against the bare wall of his chest rather than the fur tunic he wore, or to touch her lips to his skin.
    Shocked by the direction of her thoughts, she unwrapped the last of their food from the cave and offered some to Roger, then to Anvrai. “If your snares yield anything, we can feast upon it tomorrow.”
    Anvrai raised an eyebrow at her words, and Isabel wondered if her statement had been taken amiss. Surely he did not believe he would trap enough food for them before nightfall?
    “Aye, my lady,” he said.
    “We have plenty for tonight, Sir Anvrai.”
    He took his portion and settled down near the fire to eat. Roger had already dropped into slumber, so Isabel packed their bowls away and hung the satchel on the branch of a tree.
    Darkness fell, and the flickering light of the fire cast ominous shadows in the surroundingwoods. “I