Madeline awakened to find Rhys’ gloved finger against her lips and his lips against her ear. Her eyes flew open and she realized that he had braced his weight upon his elbows over her, shielding her from some threat. He was dressed and wide awake, his watchful gaze flitting across the camp. Gelert was alert, as well, and a faint growl escaped the hound’s chest.
Rhys whispered a single command which must have been in Welsh and the dog fell silent. The hair still stood on the back of the hound’s neck, though, and the creature was nigh as watchful as Rhys.
It was only then that Madeline heard the sound of hoof beats echoing through the forest. They were distant but drawing closer, the pace of the horses indicating that they trod the path she and Rhys had followed the day before.
“Destriers
