The Warrior Knight and the Widow Page 4

  She took a deep breath and began to remove Eluard’s tunic. Blood had soaked through the fabric. She shuddered, but carried on. No matter how bad it was for her, it was worse for him, and she didn’t want him to be frightened by waking up and seeing a look of horror on her face.

  The tent flap opened behind her, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see her maid right now. She had been useless when the attack had happened. If it hadn’t been for the sake of propriety she would have sent her maid back to the castle, but she knew she was stuck with the tiresome woman—at least until they arrived at Ogmore.

  ‘Merrick tells me you tried to protect Eluard,’ said a gruff voice behind her.

  She jumped at Braedan’s words. She hadn’t expected him to return.

  ‘I probably did more harm than good,’ she murmured, remembering her very brief battle with a blond-haired stranger. ‘I merely used Eluard’s sword to block the man from striking Eluard again. Merrick took over before I really knew what was going on.’

  He didn’t respond but neither did he leave the tent.

  She heard him inhale as she finally exposed Eluard’s wound—a deep, long cut across his chest.

  ‘Here,’ said Braedan, handing her some strips of fabric.

  His callused fingers brushed hers as she took the offered material. She ignored the tingle the contact made and pressed the cloth to Eluard’s wound.

  ‘Stitch him up as best you can,’ said Braedan abruptly. ‘We’re leaving as soon as the tents are packed up. It won’t take long.’

  Ellena stood quickly and turned to face Braedan. Only a whisper of air separated them in the confined space of the tent. She knew she wanted to argue with him but his proximity had momentarily robbed her of coherent thought.

  She took a small step backwards and cleared her throat. ‘We can’t move him.’

  ‘We must. We can’t stay here. Copsi knows where we are and he’ll attack again once his men have rallied.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to fight them off again. We cannot move Eluard now. He will surely perish if we do.’

  ‘If we stay here then more of us will die.’

  Braedan turned to leave but Ellena grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. The tight band of his muscles moved beneath her fingers and she quickly let go as a strange heat seared through her.

  ‘I will not leave,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, you will,’ he answered, and he swept from the tent, that gentle side of him vanishing as if it had never existed.

  Chapter Four

  Ellena stood next to her horse, gripping the animal’s reins tightly. The skin on her face was a worrying shade of pale but her back was ramrod-straight and her blue eyes flashed angrily.

  Braedan rubbed his forehead. She hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction since her tent had been dismantled and Eluard had been strapped to a makeshift stretcher. And if she was angry now then her mood was going to be a lot worse when she found out where he wanted her to travel for the next part of their journey.

  Copsi had fallen back, but he knew their location and he knew their direction. They would have to move quickly as they were especially vulnerable right now.

  ‘I’ve decided we need to split up into two separate parties,’ he said, the sound of his voice cutting across the low rumble of his men’s voices and reducing them to silence. ‘Tanner and Walden, you will take Eluard to the nearest town. Seek a medic; I don’t care what it costs.’

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ellena twitch in surprise and she finally turned her head towards him.

  ‘Aldith, you will swap cloaks with Ellena and ride with Merrick on his horse. Instead of following our planned route we will cross the River Burcoed and take a more circuitous course to Ogmore’s land. It will take us longer, but it will give us the element of surprise. Ellena, you will ride with me. Nilson will take care of the riderless horses.’

  He heard Ellena’s gasp of surprise but didn’t turn to look at her. He knew she would hate being in such close proximity with him, but he wouldn’t be swayed on this matter.

  ‘Won’t Copsi and his men expect Lady Swein to be with you? It would make more sense if she rode with me,’ Merrick argued. He was the only one of his men brave enough to contradict his orders.

  Braedan nodded. That did make more sense, but he would be damned if Ellena sat between Merrick’s thighs—besides, he was the one who had sworn to keep her safe. He was better placed to do that if they were close.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I hope we’ll throw enough doubt on the situation to split their forces. We’ve already depleted their numbers so there can’t be many of them left.’

  Merrick nodded, although he was clearly unhappy.

  No one else raised any objections and he was pleased that Ellena hadn’t argued. He’d half expected to deal with her strenuous objections and he didn’t want to put her down in front of his men. She deserved their respect after the way she had treated Eluard. Not many noble ladies would put a young orphan’s safety and comfort before their own, kneeling in the mud and carefully dressing his wounds.

  ‘We leave now. Lady Swein, please swap your cloak with Aldith’s.’

  The two women didn’t glance at each other as they exchanged clothes, the transaction allowing Braedan a brief glimpse of Ellena’s hair. Her dark locks were tightly bound in an elaborate plait that was gathered at the nape of her delicate neck.

  Ellena pulled the rough woollen hood of her maid’s cloak over her head, while Aldith fixed Ellena’s veil over hers. It wasn’t the best of disguises—Ellena was much taller than Aldith—but it was better than nothing. Her rich dark green cloak clearly marked her out as a noblewoman and made her an obvious target.

  The rigid set of her shoulders suggested she wasn’t happy with him. He sighed quietly. If only she was as soft and as gentle with him as she was with Eluard his life would be a lot easier.

  The image of her tending to him while he lay in bed sprang suddenly to mind and he pushed it away forcefully. That would never happen.

  ‘Lady Swein.’ He held out a hand towards her, hoping that because she hadn’t argued she would be willing to join him on his horse.

  ‘I don’t think this is necessary,’ she said, turning to face him.

  ‘You’ll be safer if we ride together.’

  ‘No... I...’ She looked around the group of assembled men, who were already on horseback and watching their exchange.

  Although none of them betrayed any emotion at her obvious distress, he could sense a subtle shift in their allegiance. These men had willingly followed him into many battles, but by helping Eluard she had gained their support. They would defend her to the death—possibly even against him. Luckily he meant her no harm.

  ‘Please,’ he said, trying to soften the demand, despite the fact he had no intention of letting her ride by herself. He would tie her up and throw her over the back of his saddle if he had to.

  She nodded quickly and the muscles in his back relaxed. If anyone tried to get to her they would have to come through him—and he wasn’t easy to kill.

  He swung into his saddle and then pulled her up to join him.

  He immediately regretted his decision.

  It had been torturous, imagining what her curves would feel like against his body. The reality was far worse. As they began their brisk trot through the trees the saddle pushed her thighs against his and every movement Stoirm made jolted their bodies together.

  By the time they’d cleared the forest all his focus was on the parts of his body that touched hers. He should have been concentrating on the surrounding countryside, but nothing could distract him from the direction his mind was taking him.

  He wanted to tug the hood of her cloak from over her hair and unbind the pins that held her plait in place. He wanted to run his fingers through the long tresses and touch his lips t
o her slender neck. He imagined her sighing with pleasure as his beard tickled the sensitive skin there, until she relaxed against him and allowed him to touch his mouth to hers. His kiss would be soft and gentle until...

  ‘Sir,’ said Nilson, bringing him back into the moment. ‘There’s a small group of men following us.’

  Braedan twisted in his saddle. Behind them a tight group of riders followed at a brisk pace. He cursed under his breath; he’d hoped they’d get further than this before Copsi’s men caught up with them.

  Once their pursuers realised they’d been spotted they nudged their horses into action and flew towards them, quickly raising their bows and pointing them in the direction of him and his own men. With Ellena in front of him he wouldn’t be able to reach his own bow and arrow.

  Braedan kicked Stoirm into action. ‘Hold on tight!’ he yelled to Ellena as an arrow hit his chain mail and bounced harmlessly off.

  His men rode hard next to them, providing a protective shell around Ellena. He heard Aldith squeal, but Ellena remained silent.

  More men appeared at the top of a rise to the right of them. Copsi and his men must have been following them more closely than he’d realised.

  The new group began to charge towards them, their weapons drawn. He had only a split second to make a decision.

  ‘Men!’ he shouted. ‘Hold them off. You know the route I plan to travel. Meet with us once you’ve drawn them off our trail.’

  He pushed Stoirm into a faster gallop and they flew away from the scene. Behind him he heard the sounds of a battle taking place but he didn’t look back. He needed to get Ellena to safety, whatever the cost.

  Chapter Five

  Ellena held tightly to the saddle as the wind whipped past her face and the countryside passed by in a blur of greens and browns. She wanted to know if they were being followed, and if their companions were safe, but she didn’t dare turn round or distract Braedan. One false move at this moment would bring death to either one of them.

  Stoirm ate up the distance, but even so she was surprised at how quickly the wide River Burcoed came into view.

  Through the layers of fabric that separated them she felt the rumble of Braedan muttering something, but she couldn’t make out what over the noise of the rushing river.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she called out, and then clarified, ‘Apart from us being attacked and chased, that is.’

  ‘The bridge is down.’

  ‘Is there another one?’

  ‘Yes, but we’ll have to go into the village of Ferwalt to cross it.’

  Her legs trembled with exhaustion. She wanted to lean back and shelter against his comforting solid body, but she forced herself to remain upright. She was still humiliated at the way he had ignored her request to stay at the encampment and tend to Eluard, and the way he had insisted she ride with him. It was frustrating that once again she had so little control over her own life, even if she knew his actions had saved her life.

  ‘What of your men?’ she asked, schooling her voice to remain calm despite her growing panic.

  ‘We must assume that they have lost and that Copsi’s men are not far behind.’

  Her heart gave a thrill of fear. ‘But your men are the best fighting force in the land. We cannot give up hope.’

  ‘I am sure that they will defeat Copsi, but without seeing it happen I must act as if they have failed. If they do not catch us up then we will regroup before we reach Ogmore Castle.’

  Ellena twisted round to look at him. ‘You mean we are alone now?’

  A muscle twitched in his jawline. ‘For the time being, aye.’

  She turned her attention back to the path in front of her. She could not be alone with this man. Not for an afternoon, let alone for the four days it would take to get to her father’s castle. Her reputation would be ruined and she’d be forced to marry him.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  Not because he was The Beast, but because she wouldn’t remarry. He’d expect things from her she wasn’t willing to give, and she never again wanted to be a man’s plaything. She would fight for her independence with every resource that she had or she would die trying.

  ‘No one need ever know,’ he said roughly, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  She nodded once and said nothing. She would ensure that they didn’t. Being forced into marriage was not something she was going to let happen.

  He pushed Stoirm back into a gallop and they raced along the river’s edge.

  They passed a crofter’s cottage, and then shortly afterwards another one came into view. Ellena felt Braedan’s muscled arms tighten around her as he brought Stoirm into a gentler trotting motion.

  ‘It won’t do for us to enter the town as if we are on the run. We’ll only draw attention to ourselves. In fact...’ He tugged a signet ring off his right-hand little finger and pushed it onto her ring finger—one she’d deliberately kept clear of any adornment since the end of her marriage. ‘We’ll say we’re a married couple.’

  ‘Do we really need to go to such lengths if we’re just passing through?’ asked Ellena, looking down at the large ring that hung loosely below her knuckle, the metal still warm from contact with his skin.

  ‘Stoirm will need to rest. I’ve pushed him hard today. We’ll also need to get some provisions, as most of the food was in Nilson’s saddlebags.’

  As the village came into sight Braedan brought Stoirm to a complete stop. He climbed down from the saddle and pulled a long dark cloak from one of his packs. He slung it around himself to disguise his chain mail and they set off again, with Braedan leading the horse rather than riding behind her.

  Ellena felt horribly exposed, so high up on Braedan’s horse, and she surprised herself by missing the comfort of his solid presence.

  ‘Can I get down too?’ she asked.

  He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. She thought he was going to argue, but then he held up his hand to help her down.

  The touch of his rough palm against the smooth skin of her own caused her to inhale sharply. She’d never touched a man this way. Not even Lord Swein, who had used his clammy hands only to touch parts of her body she would rather have kept to herself.

  Braedan’s hands were warm and dry and surprisingly comforting. She longed to cling to them, to feel their reassuring strength for longer, but he released her as soon as her feet touched solid ground.

  She shook herself. She must remember that although he wasn’t her enemy, he certainly wasn’t her friend. He was The Beast—a man who worked tirelessly for her father’s best interests. He was not, and never would be, someone she could trust.

  She straightened and walked alongside him.

  She needed to remember that.

  They didn’t speak until they reached a tavern at the centre of the small village.

  ‘We’ll stop here to eat,’ said Braedan.

  He tied Stoirm up to a post and untied the packs strapped to his side.

  Inside, the tavern was dimly lit, but comfortingly warm and dry. Ellena stripped off the rough woollen cloak, glad to be rid of the itchy fabric even if she did feel exposed in her long, deep red dress and without her customary veil. She touched her hand to her plait, relieved to feel it was still in place even if a few strands had worked free.

  Braedan strode to the bar and addressed the landlord.

  ‘My wife needs some wine while I see to our horse,’ he said. ‘Then we’d both like to eat. Is there somewhere private we can do that?’

  Coins were exchanged and the two of them were taken to a small room with a dining table and some surprisingly comfortable-looking chairs.

  ‘Lord and Lady like to eat in here when they come,’ said the landlord, by way of an explanation. ‘I’ll bring the wine through in a minute.’

  He closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.

&n
bsp; Ellena stepped nervously towards the unmade fireplace. No one knew she was here and no one would come to her aid if Braedan turned out to be not as honourable as her father believed. Swein’s reputation had been good, after all. She’d had no way of knowing he would turn out to be a monster.

  Ellena swallowed and closed her eyes. For a moment she was back in her marriage bed, with Lord Swein’s cold fingers pulling at her skin, his muffled breath panting in her ear as he roughly took his pleasure while she prayed for the ordeal to be over so she could return to her own room.

  Once he’d finished he would push her from the bed, finding amusement in the way she hit the ground. He would only give her a few minutes to dress before forcing her from his room. Occasionally his attentions had hurt her so badly she had only been able to hobble the short distance to her own bedchamber.

  She raised trembling fingers to her hood. Perhaps if he couldn’t see her face and her hair she wouldn’t prove a temptation to Braedan. She tugged on the fabric but nerves had made her hands weak and she couldn’t lift the fabric.

  ‘It will all be all right, Lady Swein. You are safe with me and I will get you back to your father’s lands.’

  She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  His steady expression as he stood and breathed evenly in front of her reassured her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, taking her hands away from her hood and dropping them down by her sides.

  ‘I will check on Stoirm and then I will be back. Lock the door after me. I will tell the landlord that I will bring the food to you, so only open the door if you are sure it is me.’

  The floorboards creaked as he strode out of the room. She heard him wait in the corridor as she pushed the bolt across, sealing the room from the inside.

  She took a seat at the table and waited.

  Only a week ago she had been safe in her castle and now she was here, in this strange room, fleeing for her life. She had made some bad decisions in the past, but leaving Castle Swein was possibly the worst. She should have stuck to her instinct and stayed in the home that had given her so much comfort since the death of Lord Swein.