Lancelot was bent over a mug of ale and nibbling at some bread when Gawain found him. "Lancelot," the other man addressed him guardedly. Lancelot turned and looked up at him.

"What?" He asked gruffly.

"When last did you see Laney?" Gawain asked softly.

"I saw her yesterday on the archery field. Why do you ask?" Lancelot asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gawain sighed, fighting the urge to look down at his feet. "Achilles is gone."

"She could just be out riding." He stated matter of factly; his gut tightening.

"I woke the guard who had taken the watch this morning, he said he saw someone ride Achilles into the forest before sunrise." Gawain explained.

"Why didn't he stop her?" Lancelot asked irritably.

"He thought that someone was going patrolling due to the fact that the Scots are 3 days away."

"They're what?" Lancelot's voice rang out against the stone walls.

"I didn't know either." Gawain answered, keeping his voice low trying to deflect the attention Lancelot's outburst may have caused. " Merlin is here speaking with Arthur right now. Apparently the guard assumed that one of us already knew."

"Damn!" Lancelot cursed under his breath as he walked from the tavern and toward his chambers. Gawain hard on his heels, "I'll get the others."

Lancelot held up his hand, "Don't bother. I'll get her. I got her into this bloody mess I'll get her the hell out of it! Damn woman!"

He had disappeared into his quarters when Tristan opened his door. Gawain shrugged, "Delaney's gone."

Tristan gave a nod and closed his door behind him. He put a reassuring hand upon Gawain's shoulder, "I'll keep a watch on them. Don't worry the others. Tell Arthur I'm scouting ahead because we heard that the Scot's were close." He would stay a step ahead of Lancelot and close in on Delaney. Making sure that both of them survived their own stupidity.

Gawain stared after the scout, "How does he do that?" He whispered to himself, "I didn't even tell him about the bloody Scots!" The man had the ears of a mouse.

Delaney slid off Achilles and looked about. What the hell was she thinking? She didn't know how to scout. Heck she barely even knew how to ride. When she woke up this morning all she could think of was that she wanted to prove her worth. She rubbed Achilles' nose, "I'm sorry, boy. My stupidity I fear has gotten us lost." She settled by the tree, picking some berries as she looked around. Achilles casually munched on the berry bush next to him. Everywhere she turned looked the same. A shiver coursed through her, she heard something, almost like a branch crackling but not as loud. She squatted down, peering through the bushes. And just as she caught Achilles movement from the corner of her eye, a hand had wrapped itself around her mouth and another arm jerked her up from the ground. She kicked with her feet at the man's knee as well as elbowed him in the ribs. Achilles was giving his attacker as much problems. Rearing up and stomping down. Just one well placed kick and the man was on the ground out cold. Delaney twisted, and got a good jab into the man's ribs. He let go of her and she kicked at his knee. He went down with a wail. She then barreled onto Achilles. "Come on boy," she huffed. He started at a full run; before she had a chance to get her leg over him. Next thing she knew she was sitting in the mud, a few feet from where she had started. "Damn it! Achilles!" The horse was gone. She turned around and stared at the two men. Their long hair was in braids, and they wore a combination of skins that reminded her much of the pictures she had seen of the early Native Americans. She had nothing to tie them up with. The one man wasn't going anywhere on the busted knee, but she didn't know how long the other one would be out. She felt for his pulse and was glad to find one. However, he could still have a severe head wound. She felt over his head, nothing seemed to be caved in. The man with the hurt knee sat back regarding her. She moved over and scooped up a dagger which had fallen out of his reach. "Do you have anymore of these?" She asked holding up the blade. He looked at her blankly. She didn't even know if he understood her or not. How many wars had started due to language barriers she wondered. Now wasn't the time for such in-depth thoughts.

Lancelot saw Achilles go tearing through the forest, just barely missing him. He stayed still; listening. He then looked up and grinned, "You might as well come down Tristan, I know you're up there."

The scout looked down, putting the arrow that had been notched in his bow away and slinging the bow across his back, "Only you would know."

"Yes, well, it would be stupid of me to go alone and get Delaney; knowing how close the Scots are."

"You did anyway."

"No, I knew you'd follow me." Lancelot got down from his horse, "What do you make of it."

"I think our lady friend has gotten herself into trouble."

"I think you're right." Lancelot muttered. They cautiously made their way further into the forest.

Delaney braced herself against the huge base of the mighty oak tree and watched the man watching her. He hadn't made any effort to run, or come at her. He just sat there. The other man was still out, and felt feverish to her touch. She took handfuls of water from the stream and used it to try too cool him. The whole time talking soothingly to him. She knew others would be here soon, either someone from the Fort or more Scots. All she had was time. And now she knew why Tristan said she wouldn't do in battle. One on one she might be able to hold her own. If Achilles hadn't knocked out the other man; she would have been captured and returned to their encampment. The dagger stayed by her side; it was too big to put in the waistband of her jeans, so she kept it in her hand or sitting next to her. Probably still not the smartest thing to do but she had no other choice. She kept watch over both the men, the one still very much in pain and watching her every move. With a sigh she shrugged off her button down shirt, the tank top still covering what it could being that it was soaking wet. She wrapped her other shirt around the man's leg in an effort to keep the knee braced; mindful of how close she was to him. He didn't make a move for her, and for that she was most grateful. She slowly backed towards the dagger and the tree stump and found herself being roughly grabbed into a chest. "Are you okay?" Lancelot whispered tersely into her ear. She nodded. He motioned to Tristan, "You have those two taken care of?" At the scouts nod Lancelot turned, pulling Delaney with him.

Tristan smirked to himself as he tied the man's hands together then boosted him upon Achilles. He then flopped the unconscious man over the other's lap. He made sure the tied hands were able to grasp Achilles mane, then he too got up on his mount. With a click of his tongue, the horses rode side by side back towards the fort.

Lancelot grasped the horses reigns tightly in one hand as he tugged Delaney through the trees until they were in a semi enclosed area. He tied his horse to one of the trees and then turned on her, "What fool thing were you thinking!"

Delaney felt herself shrink back, "I wasn't." She stammered out.

"Do you have ANY idea what could have happened?" He brushed a hand through his hair, "Never mind of course you do." He snapped.

Delaney watched him silently. He was pacing back in forth with in the copse of trees, running his hand through his wet curling hair. He kept opening and closing his mouth, looking at her, shaking his head, and then pacing some more. "You're right." She managed.

"Excuse me?" He softened his tone, staring at her, "Right about what?"

"I wouldn't be much good in battle." She took a deep breath, "I can do okay one on one, but if it hadn't been for Achilles, I would have been taken. I'm of no use to you." She bent her head down, hating to admit she was wrong.

Lancelot watched her crumbling in front of him. He stepped up to her, holding her tightly, "What do you mean you are of no use to me?"

"If I can't fight what good am I? I am what I detest, a wilting flower. Something delicate that needs to be taken care of. I'm not good enough for you Lancelot." Her voice broke.

"Whoa, Delaney, what nonsense are you going on about?" He cradled her face with in his hands; brushing her cheekbones with his calloused thumbs. "You aren't that kind of woman. You aren't useless and you sure as hell are way too good for me."

"What good am I to you?"

"You can shoot almost as well as Tristan and Bors. Which means you can out shoot me. I'll worry about you to no end, but you have made me feel, Delaney, for the first time in a long time. I have not laughed as much as I did the other night. You had me laughing so hard I was crying; not a dry chuckle but really laughter. You have that affect on everyone. Tristan was running around chasing you like a kid. You make us forget the bad stuff."

"Great so I can make you laugh, and I can shoot decently. But here and now I would do nothing but be something for you to worry yourself over. I'd be a burden. You don't need to go riding into battle worrying about me."

"Delaney, you could be right beside me and I'd worry about you." He had paused in front of her, brushing her wet hair away from her face; tracing her cheekbone with his finger tips. Her eyes were wide and red from crying. Her cheeks sunken. She was biting her lip to keep from crying and his body tightened in response. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, whispering how brazen she could be, how stubborn she was; all in his native language.

Delaney buried her hands in his wet hair, drawing his face closer trying to deepen the kiss but he kept talking to her in what she assumed was his native language and all she could do was listen and feel her body craving his touch.

Lancelot had managed to move them against a large oak tree. He pulled back enough to be able to stare into her eyes and ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying how it made her eyes flutter. "Now why did you really run?"

"You said you loved me."

"And that's a bad thing?" He couldn't help the smile that ghosted across his lips.

"What do you consider love?" She couldn't meet his eyes. She took refuge in burying her face in his chest.

"Total acceptance of another and both their strengths and weaknesses."

"I can't promise you much, Lancelot."

"Did I ask anything of you in return?" He ran his thumb against her chin.

"No." She muttered.

He bent down and gently brushed his mouth to hers. She met his gentle touch with passion in return. She pulled him closer to her by his tunic, her lips feverishly covering his, her tongue seeking entry. She groaned when she felt his face move away from her mouth, moving up towards her cheek, then onto her temple. She kept trying to stand on her tip toes and touch her mouth to his lips and only succeeded in brushing the underside of his chin. She twirled her tongue around the base of his neck between his collar bones and she smiled when she felt him shudder.

Lancelot tangled his hand in Delaney's hair and tilted her head back, while his other hand tightened about her waist. He slowly, deliberately laid butterfly kisses from her jaw line down to her pulse, and then retraced the path with the very tip of his tongue. Her soft sigh made him smile. He then nibbled her earlobe and heard her sharp intake of air. "I love the sounds that you make, Laney." He whispered in a low voice.

Delaney felt the hard bark of the tree against her back and the unyielding knight in front of her. Her body was on fire where ever his hands or lips touched. Lancelot took her hands and held them above her head. She felt panic begin to rise and suddenly he was nibbling and caressing her mouth with his tongue, soothing her while his other hand stroked her side, grazing the side of her breast and coming to rest upon the waist band of her jeans. She began to shake. The only thing holding her up was Lancelot's grip upon her wrists above her head and the pressure of Lancelot's body against hers.

Lancelot felt her shivering violently. He let go of her wrists and clasped her hands, "I'm not going to hurt you." He reassured her as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

She smiled weakly at his worried face, "I'm nervous." She ended with a small chuckle.

"Don't be." He stood for a moment, looking into her eyes as he traced her cheekbones, lips, arms and side tenderly with the lightest of touches.

Delaney tried to maintain his soul searching gaze but soon felt as if he was seeing too much. She turned her head and nipped at his jaw.

Lancelot quickly changed their positions, bracing himself against the tree as he pulled her into him. The moment their bodies met they both moaned softly. Her body shaking with need against his. He grabbed her buttocks and pulled her against him, loving the friction their clothing created. He kissed her shoulders and upper arms, pausing to once again nibble at her pulse and then flick it with his tongue. Delaney dug her hands into his hair and pulled his face down to hers, exploring his mouth with a soul rending kiss; leaving them both breathless.

"I–want–," Delaney bowed her head a moment and took a ragged breathe. In the meantime Lancelot gently caressed her bare arms and face. She finally looked up at him through her bangs, "I want to make love to you." She said in a rush.

Lancelot braced himself. He knew she wanted breathing room so he tried not to push; just give her time to tell him what was on her mind. The way her body was trembling against his now; finally calming from the violent tremors of before. When she finally looked at him shyly through her bangs it caused something low to tighten. He wasn't going to ask her to repeat herself. He knew what she had said. He also knew what she had meant, even if she didn't say the words. He remembered the heated discussion between sex and love. His heart beat heavily against his chest. He should protest. He should be a gentleman for once and tell her not here because it was cold and wet. He should be making love to her for the first time in his bed.

Delaney felt his body pause; as if gathering his wits and be logical. Delaney tugged at the fastenings of his over tunic as she kissed him passionately; almost in desperation to change his mind.

Lancelot lay his head back against the tree, gasping for air as she nibbled at his throat; still undoing the leather lacings. "You're taking to bloody long," he growled at her. As he gently nudged her away he quickly divested himself of his over tunic and boots. He watched as Delaney shrugged out of her own shoes and was fumbling with the buttons of her jeans.