Boadicea's Legacy by Traci E. Hall

vainly hoped she didn’t break one in the front.
    She never doubted that she’d find a way out of the trap she was in—if not by her father’s or Os’s hand, then by her own.
    Ela was resourceful, aye, and the dagger in her boot was sharp. Her eating knife was in her waistband, and her short sword tied to her garter beneath her tunic. The fact that the leather sheath sliced into her thigh with each jostle just assured her that it was there. She would eventually find a way to free her bindings and use her weapons on her captors.
    She couldn’t think about the sound poor Henry’s body had made when he’d hit the floor. Or Bertha’s stunned cryas she was hit. She stuck her head farther from the bag and looked around. Thomas de Havel’s army had torn the fields on this side of the manor, and the smell of horse manure streaked the air. How had he gotten so many knights willing to fight against her father? Did the king know? Were they mercenaries? Her father said that knights for hire were dangerous because they had souls that could be bought for coin.
    Ela ignored hearing her internal voice ask
what if
and concentrated instead on wiggling farther from the bag.
    Her captor’s horse slipped, and Ela accidentally bit her tongue. She tasted blood and her fury grew. She’d not been raised to be powerless at the hands of men.
    What type of cur was Thomas de Havel, to have her kidnapped from her own home? To go to battle against her father because she’d refused to marry him?
    She didn’t understand—unless he thought to kidnap her and marry her against her will. What had changed his mind? Ela couldn’t imagine being bound forever to him, especially now that she knew where his preferences lay.
    She had a feeling that he was a man who wanted rough sport, and a woman was too easy a victim—another thing she’d been taught to never be. Shuddering with revulsion, she squirmed until her shoulders were free from the bag. Unfortunately, her hands were still tied behind her.
    Eyeing the ground as it flew beneath the horse’s hooves, she swallowed hard and banished fear to somewhere it couldn’t touch her.
This is going to hurt
.

    Os leaned over Bartholomew, gaining great speed over the trail leading to the forest. He could see two horses up ahead and two men in de Havel’s black and red, almost at the tree line.
    His gut ached and his insides writhed with frustration, but he kept his head clear as a trained knight ought.
    Ela
. She had the power to make him lose his concentration.
    It had been her, God’s bones, that eve in the clearing. Naked and calling down the heavens’ magical thunder-filled power until he’d accidentally stopped her from completing her spell. What had she wanted? Thomas’s declaration of love and marriage?
    Os gritted his teeth, smacking the reins.
Faster
.
    Humiliated at being booted so forcibly from the manor, Os had raced Bartholomew to Norwich, fighting the desire for revenge. By the third day of his journey, he’d calmed down enough to admit where he’d gone wrong.
    If he had a daughter and someone foolishly said they were going to take her forcibly from home, he would not have been as kind as Robert Montehue.
    The problem wasn’t just being ousted—he could understand and appreciate Lord Robert’s reasoning. It was Ela who had him tied in knots. He would swear on the Holy Bible that something had passed between them—it had felt like love …
nay
. He wouldn’t even think the word. It wasimpossible. But intriguing.
    It defied logic. With his own eyes, he’d watched Ela, darling, sweet-faced Ela, call down thunder, lightning, and rain.
    â€œFaster, Bartholomew. Go!”
    Just then he saw what looked like a rolled rug fall from the back of the rear horseman. He felt a thud in his bones and knew that Ela had somehow gotten loose from her captors.
    De Havel’s men reached the