David nodded, apparently satisfied, and took a step closer to Rhys. “I came to warn you to be vigilant about Eleanor. We have reason to believe that not only did she capture Arthur, but that she was behind his death as well. If that is the case, then she will be after the lady as Richard’s heir. It is not only the king you must worry about; now it is the both of them.”
Rhys absorbed the information without a reaction. But Elizabeau had heard it as well and she lowered her gaze, staring at the ground, digesting the fact that both her uncle and grandmother wanted her dead. Even though, in her heart, she already knew the truth, still, it was difficult to comprehend.
“So it is true,” she murmured. “She killed my brother.”
David and Rhys looked at her. “We do not know that for certain,” David said, somewhat gently. “But we believe it is the truth. We have information that suggests it.”
She looked up, her attention between Rhys and David. “She will stop at nothing; you know this,” she said frankly. “If she is on my scent, then she will keep on and on until I am dead.”
“Not if we can prevent it,” David replied steadily. “The key is getting you out of England. We must get you away from here.”
“Her betrothed is at Whitebrook,” Rod stepped from between the chargers, knowing his brother was probably cursing him for divulging the information to David. “We are returning there this moment. Once they are married, we can escort them to the ports of Sudbrook or back to Caldicot and gain them safe passage out of England.”
David looked surprised. “He’s at Whitebrook? What is he doing there? He’s supposed to be at Ogmore.”
“He said that his ship was forced off course and they landed at Portsmouth,” Rod replied. “Once they became land-based, the king’s men tried to capture them and they were forced to flee. They went to London, found de Burgh, and he told them where the lady was. So they traveled to Whitebrook.”
David stared at him a moment before shaking his head. “That was stupid,” he rumbled. “If John’s men were following him, then he would lead them straight to the lady. He put both their lives in jeopardy by going to Whitebrook.”
“They have been there for two days and we’ve seen no sign of John’s men.”
“Even so, it was foolish,” he snapped. “You will not go back to Whitebrook with the lady. Rhys and I will escort her on to Ogmore and you will return to Whitebrook alone and escort the prince on to Ogmore. We will have the priest waiting when he arrives.”
Rod didn’t dare look at his brother. He did the only thing he could do; he acknowledged the command, mounted his horse, and made way for Whitebrook. David watched him ride off, oblivious to Rhys’ tense body language and the fact that the lady was staring at the ground. When Rod was nearly out of sight, he tossed his helm to one of his men.
“I am famished,” he said to Rhys. “Attend me inside. I need something to eat before we continue.”
Rhys’ jaw was ticking furiously as David walked past him, into the tavern. He took a couple of steps to follow before realizing that Elizabeau wasn’t moving with them. He turned to look at her, seeing that she was staring at the dirt. He knew what she was feeling without benefit of words. He could feel it radiating off her like rays off the sun. Silently, gently, he reached out and took her arm and pulled her back into the inn.
David was already seating himself, bellowing for food, when they entered. Before they came within earshot of him, Rhys whispered to Elizabeau.
“Ease yourself, angel,” he said softly. “You must not give anything away with tears or actions.”
“I am fine, truly,” she murmured in return. “’Tis you I am worried about.”
“No need.”
She did look at him, then, her deep green eyes locking with his brilliant blue. “Are you sure?”
His reply was to wink at her and escort her to David’s table. He helped her to sit before taking the chair next to her and lowering his bulk. As David tore into the food before him, odd sounds radiated from outside. There was grunting, a few bangs, and suddenly David and Rhys were on their feet. Startled, Elizabeau stood up quickly just as Rhys unsheathed the dual blades strapped to his back. Then the door flew open, men rushed in, and all was chaos.
Rhys swung the blades with deadly precision, killing the first man who rushed at him with barely an effort. But his primary duty was to protect Elizabeau and he sheathed the sword in his right hand, grabbing her.
“Come on,” he shielded her with his big body as they ran to the rear of the tavern. “We need to get out of here.”