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thought. Not now! Not after escaping was she going back there, ever! She would kill herself before letting her uncle get his hands on her again. She didn't believe this was happening. Fate could not so cruelly place her back into the hands of her uncle.
    She was feeling panic. Nic saw the color drain and the emotions play across her face.
    Seabridge's stables were legendary. The horse was magnificent. It came together for him in a single thought: That horse belongs to Lord Brentwood.
    Yet, there would be a logical explanation besides theft, he reasoned. However, if the boy's a thief, there would be hell to pay. Stealing from Brentwood would be a death sentence for a boy like this one. Moreover, Nic bet such a death would be slow and agonizing. The pleasure would only be one sided.
    “You’re afraid aren’t you?” Nic knew it was an understatement. Terror poured off this boy in waves.
    Morgan nodded her head. Dropping her eyes to the forest floor, she squeezed them tightly against the very fear this knight so accurately and acutely saw in her.
    “Why? Surely, monsters do not live there, but only mere flesh and bone which can be conquered. I have met Lord Brentwood and even though his dealings are a bit severe for my taste, he has a reputation of being fair when dealing with his tenants.” Nic was not so sure that reputation was still accurate.
    Morgan shook her head slowly. How could he possibly know the monster that lurked under the surface of fine silk and velvet?
    Nic could still see the fear and took her by the shoulders.
    “If there is no just cause, Son, I will see to it he never touches you. But, I need to know and I need you to be honest. Did you steal that horse."
    Morgan shook her head again, placing her hand over her heart in a gesture of a promise to the truthfulness of her words and softly patted her chest as to say he's mine.
    "Alright, for some strange reason, I believe you." Nic looked at the gangly boy square in the eyes. “Will I be forced to surrender you or defend you?”
    It was rhetorical feeling deep in his bones; the former unthinkable and the latter almost a certainty.
    Nic dropped his hands from her shoulders. The day was not getting any younger. “Well, like it or not, I must go. Can you show me the way and trust that I will keep you safely out of the way?”
    Again Morgan nodded.
    Fate had stepped in for Morgan and she seized the opportunity. If he did not know the way, she would lead him as far from his destination as possible. Every step to the east was another step closer to true freedom. She had no idea what she would face on the journey ahead.
    More precisely, she did not care.
    The unknown was exactly that, it was the unknown. She knew for certain what she was leaving behind.
    For her it would be certain death.

Chapter 9
     
    The sun was low in the sky when Nic finally stopped to rest their horses. They had been steadily making their way inland. They were far enough inland that the trees were thickening, the underbrush growing to a dense mass of tangles. They had long since left the coastal region, moving on a steady path eastward.
    He knew it.
    He just did not care where they were heading because, neither one of them wanted to go to Seabridge for two very different reasons. So, yes, he knew. And if the fact, if the sun that was setting to his back had not tipped him off then the fact he could no longer smell the sea did. However, he continued to let this young lad lead the way. He was in no real hurry to meet his new bride. She had been in Brentwood’s care for seven years, what were a couple more days?
    He was also curious about this youngster. He was almost too pretty to be a boy with such long and graceful limbs. Nic had never had a passion for young boys. However, the boy inexplicably drew him. Something just did not feel right and time would tell, he felt certain. Time had taught Nic to listen to his gut when it spoke and that gut was telling him there was something he was