The Warrior Knight and the Widow Page 7

  ‘It won’t be safe for you there,’ he said, getting reluctantly to his feet and pulling the two heaviest packs onto his back. ‘Copsi has shown how determined he is to marry you—we know the lengths he will go to. He will want to secure a marriage to you at all costs before you reach your father. Your best option is to get to Ogmore’s fortress. No one will get to you through his guards.’

  ‘But I don’t want to stay at my father’s castle forever. I want to return to Castle Swein at some point. What will happen to Copsi then?’

  She pushed herself up from the floor, ignoring his hand outstretched to help her.

  ‘You will need to discuss that with your father,’ he said, avoiding eye contact with her.

  She looked at him for a long moment while he pretended to take in the surrounding woodland.

  ‘You don’t think he’ll let me run Castle Swein by myself, do you? Your whole argument for getting me to go to Ogmore to discuss my future with him was a ruse just to get me to leave. I can’t believe I fell for it.’

  His heart bumped uncomfortably in his chest. What she said was true, but it turned out he didn’t want her to think badly of him.

  ‘Ellena, I...’

  She held up her hand. ‘I’ve changed my mind. We will go back to the formalities, if you please.’

  He sighed. ‘Lady Swein, I...’

  ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Let us get to my father’s lands so that I may speak to him directly. I will return to my castle and I will run it in a way that I see fit.’ She swung the remaining bag onto her shoulder and looked at him down her imperious nose. ‘We should get going. It will be dark soon.’

  Even though moving on was exactly what he wanted to do, he found it galling that she thought she was the one who could give orders. For half a heartbeat he was tempted to refuse, but he swallowed the protest. Perhaps this expedition would run smoother if she thought she was in charge.

  He turned without saying anything and began to make his way through the densely packed trees. Eventually he heard twigs crunching behind him as she followed. Without turning, he could feel her glare directed at his back.

  He sighed again. He was used to furious looks being thrown at him. They normally bounced off him without making a dent. But her anger hurt more than he wanted to admit even to himself. His duties as Ogmore’s lead warrior made him unpopular with those who thought they could disobey his liege, but Ellena wasn’t like the rest. She wasn’t afraid of him and she treated him with respect.

  As dusk fell so did her ability to move unhindered. Twice she stumbled, but when he reached back to help her she ignored him. In anger, he moved quicker. It wasn’t his fault she was in this predicament. He was only following orders, and in delaying leaving her castle she’d given Copsi time to set his traps. Now not only was Eluard—a young man he cared deeply about—gravely injured, he’d also lost his favourite horse.

  She was naive if she thought she could survive alone in a man’s world.

  His fury made his steps even faster, and after a while he could only vaguely hear her moving after him. Then he realised he couldn’t hear anything at all. He slowed and turned in her direction.

  ‘Move faster!’ he yelled through the trees.

  There was no response.

  ‘You’d better be in serious trouble,’ he muttered under his breath as he strode back the way he had come, ‘or I’m going to make you regret trying to defy me.’

  ‘Sir Leofric.’ Her cool voice came from his left.

  He turned and saw her just standing there. His blood thundered in his ears. Why had she stopped? They were running for their lives here and she was playing around.

  ‘What is it now?’ he ground out.

  ‘I’m stuck,’ she said, and this time he heard the fear underneath her calm words.

  He looked down at her feet. Sure enough, her boots had disappeared into some boggy mud. He took a step towards her.

  ‘Don’t come any closer.’

  He froze.

  ‘I don’t want you to get stuck too,’ she clarified.

  He looked down at his feet. They were dangerously close to the sticky substance.

  ‘Pass me your bag,’ he said, trying to make his voice sound as calm as hers, even as his heart rate picked up. He couldn’t lose her now—and to mud, of all things.

  He noticed her fingers trembling as she slipped the bundle from her back. Was her calm voice all for show? He tucked that little titbit away to think about later, when hopefully they would be safe and dry. She threw the pack to him. He caught it and set it down next to his own.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get you out of there.’

  She seemed to sink a little even as he spoke and his heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.

  ‘Every time I move I seem to go a little deeper,’ she whispered, her fear now coating every word.

  ‘I’m going to set up a crossing,’ he said, ‘and then I’m going to pull you out. In the meantime, try not to move.’

  He laced his voice with a confidence he didn’t feel. And it must have worked because she nodded and looked at him expectantly.

  He pulled thick logs towards him and laid them across the mud. He tried a few with his weight, and when he was satisfied they could take it he began inching towards her.

  ‘What was that noise?’ she asked when he had nearly reached her.

  He stopped.

  ‘It sounds like a dog,’ she said, almost conversationally, as the faint sound of howling reached them.

  He reached over, grabbed her arms and pulled. Nothing happened.

  ‘It is a dog,’ she said, still in that strange calm voice. ‘Maybe more than one. Doesn’t Copsi keep hunting dogs? I think he does. I heard a rumour about what happened to a young boy who accidentally broke Copsi’s favourite chair. Have you heard it?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Braedan as he bent down and yanked at one of her feet. It came free with a loud squelching noise. He began to work on the second one.

  ‘He gave the boy half a morning to run and then he sent his dogs after him,’ she continued.

  ‘I don’t think we need to hear this story right now, Ellena.’

  Sweat began to coat his brow and he wiped it away before it could drip into his eyes.

  ‘The dogs tore the boy to pieces,’ whispered Ellena.

  ‘That’s not going to happen to us,’ said Braedan, tugging fiercely at Ellena’s foot. The thought of one of Copsi’s dogs sinking its teeth into Ellena’s pale skin was making his actions jerky.

  ‘The dogs are coming closer,’ she commented as the sound of braying hounds drew nearer.

  Her second foot came free, but her boot remained in the mud. He tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘We’re going to have to leave your boot there,’ he told her.

  She nodded and didn’t argue.

  He grabbed one of the bags and then began to drag her after him.

  ‘What about our things?’ she asked as she stumbled behind him.

  ‘They’re not as important as getting away. If those dogs do belong to Copsi’s hunting pack then he won’t be far behind. If they’re wild we’re in just as much trouble. Either way, it’s not good for us.’

  He could hear the sound of dogs crashing through the undergrowth as he tugged her after him. She gave a gasp of pain as she tripped over a fallen log but she didn’t stop. Soon they were running through the trees, branches whipping them in the face, but he didn’t dare stop to check whether she was hurt or not. The only thing that mattered right now was getting her to safety. A few cuts and bruises were nothing in comparison to being caught by the dogs—wild or not.

  He didn’t tell Ellena, but he’d heard far worse stories about Copsi’s hunting dogs than the one she’d told. If they were caught then they would probably die even befor
e Copsi caught up. Now that they were separated from Braedan’s men, there was nothing to stop Copsi claiming Ellena had been married to him before she died. All it would take was a few false witnesses and Ellena’s land would become Copsi’s.

  Fear for her life had him running faster. And all the while the sound of the barking dogs came nearer.

  He hadn’t realised they’d reached a stream until cold water rushed over his feet.

  ‘This is good,’ he told her as he splashed forward. ‘Hounds cannot smell us through water.’

  ‘Then we’ll follow the stream for a bit,’ she said, and stepped into the water herself.

  He saw her eyes widen as cold water lapped over her ankles but she didn’t comment. She was so brave—far braver than many noblemen he’d met, who would have insisted Braedan find another option.

  He laced his fingers with hers as they moved slowly downstream. The water soon reached up to his thighs and he could hear her teeth chattering madly. He needed to find a place for them to climb out of the stream and get her warm as soon as possible. He didn’t dare do it now; they’d keep going until he could no longer hear the dogs.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath as their joined hands skimmed the top of the water. It was getting deeper, and there was no way she would be able to swim with her heavy clothes on. He paused briefly and tilted his head to one side, listening for the sounds of the dogs. When he couldn’t hear them he stood and looked around him. A low bank was just visible in the distance. Yanking her behind him, he made his way over to it.

  ‘We’ll climb out here,’ he said. ‘You go first.’

  Her movements were becoming more rigid as the cold started to take hold, and in the light of the moon he could see that her lips had turned blue. He helped her clamber onto the bank and she slipped over in the mud, falling into an untidy heap on the ground. He pulled himself onto the bank next to her and stood. She didn’t move.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ellena, but we can’t stop here. We need to get you warm.’

  She made to stand but couldn’t, her legs giving way beneath her.

  ‘Come on, Ellena. Don’t give up now.’ He slipped his arm underneath hers and tried to tug her.

  ‘C-c-can’t. H-h-hair caught,’ she stuttered.

  He swore and reached behind her. Sure enough, her hair was entwined with the bramble bush she had fallen next to.

  He leaned over her and tried to pull the strands from the branches.

  ‘C-c-cut it.’

  ‘No, there must be another way,’ he said, his cold fingers pulling futilely at the locks he’d so admired and creating lumps of thick, knotted hair.

  ‘Cut,’ she said again. ‘So cold.’

  He pulled out his dagger and with only the briefest of hesitations sliced through the locks, freeing her instantly. She fell into him and he could feel her whole body trembling. He staggered to his feet and threw her over his shoulder.

  ‘I can w-w-walk,’ she said to his back.

  He didn’t respond, and she didn’t protest when he didn’t put her down. That alarmed him more than anything, and he tore through the forest, looking for a place to shelter.

  He eventually came to a tumbledown ruin of a hut. Chunks of the wall were missing, but it was better than nothing. The door had long since rotted away, but most of the roof was still intact.

  He set her down inside and she staggered drunkenly into the middle of the room.

  ‘We need to get these wet clothes off you,’ he said.

  His fingers felt large and clumsy as he undid the ties of her cloak. Eventually he managed to get it off and it hit the floor with a thud. She stood still as he removed the outer layer of her clothing, but her hands came up to stop him as he began to pull at her undergarments.

  ‘Enough,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘This is no time to be modest, my lady.’

  The fine trembling all over her body nearly broke him. He hadn’t seen her look this frightened on the whole trip. Swein’s treatment of her must have been far worse than he’d imagined. She wasn’t just a woman who didn’t like what happened between a man and a woman. She was terrified of it.

  It was a shame Swein was already dead, because Braedan wanted to tear the man to pieces with his own bare hands.

  But for now he needed to get Ellena warm. He reached up to cup her cheek with his hand. Her skin was deathly cold. ‘I promise that you are safe with me. We must get you dry.’

  She didn’t push his hand away, but she made no move to undress any further. His foot nudged the one bag they had left and he reached down to open it.

  ‘Here,’ he said, pulling out a blanket. ‘Wrap this around you and then take your undergarments off.’

  He turned away and studied the hut while she complied.

  In a corner of the room he saw the remnants of an old fire. He stepped outside for a moment and found some kindling to place within the stone circle that had encompassed it. Back in the hut, he found her tightly wrapped within the blanket, her undergarments in a pile on the floor.

  Her large eyes were wide and unseeing. Her hair hung in clumps that stopped just above her shoulders. Thick streaks of dirt marred her face. But it was her vacant gaze that unsettled him the most. He was so used to seeing her eyes reveal every fiery emotion she experienced that their blank expression was like a little death.

  He gently guided her to a space near the fire as he set to lighting it.

  ‘You need to change out of your clothes too,’ she said softly as the fire crackled to life.

  He was so pleased to hear her talk that his bones momentarily turned to liquid, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice breaking a little. Instead he nodded and headed over to the pack at the back of the room.

  He found another couple of blankets and draped one over her shoulders before stripping off his own wet clothes. He tied a blanket around his waist and then sorted through the damp clothes they’d both discarded, hanging them up to dry on the low, damaged wall of the hut.

  When he could avoid it no longer, he joined her by the fire. ‘Here,’ he said, handing her an oatcake.

  She took it, but only held it in her hands.

  ‘You must eat,’ he said.

  She took a small bite and chewed listlessly.

  Fear spiked his chest. This defeated woman who sat huddled on the floor was not the spirited one who argued with him and set his nerves on edge. She was not the person who always wanted to know where her next meal was coming from. The Ellena he knew would never obey one of his orders, but this must be the third one she’d accepted without any argument at all.

  ‘Would you like to sleep, my lady?’ he asked gently.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could.’

  ‘Try. It’ll make you feel better.’

  She finally met his eyes. ‘I’m too cold.’

  He reached across and touched the skin of her forehead. She felt like ice. He quickly reached a decision and acted on it before he could change his mind.

  He pulled the saddlebag towards them and gently pushed her head down onto it until she was lying on the floor. Then he undid his blanket and lay down behind her. Covering both their bodies, he pulled her close towards him.

  He could feel the rigid set of her shoulders through the two layers of fabric that separated them. He’d already assured her that he wouldn’t hurt her, so he kept still and hoped that his actions would speak louder than any words he could say.

  Gradually, over the space of a thousand heartbeats, he felt her muscles relax and her breathing grow heavier as she drifted into sleep. Gently, so as not to disturb her, he reached up and touched the skin on her forehead again. She was no longer icicle-cold, but she was a long way from being warm.

  He lay back down behind her and tugged her closer.

  All his instincts were roaring at
him to remove the blankets between them and press their flesh together. It would warm her faster—of course it would. But while he lay there, fighting his impulse, he admitted to himself that her warmth was not the only thing at the forefront of his mind.

  He wanted to feel her skin against his more than he’d ever wanted anything else.

  He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked.

  He wanted to slide his hands over every inch of her perfect body and for her to welcome his touch.

  But she trusted him so he didn’t move.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellena woke to the strangest feeling. For a moment she didn’t recognise it—and then it came to her. She felt safe.

  She couldn’t remember ever feeling the sensation before. Perhaps she had when she was a child, before she’d realised she had to move away from her family to marry, but she couldn’t remember.

  Before Lord Swein’s death she’d been terrified of the things he’d done to her body and her soul. And afterwards she’d been frightened that her hard-won sanctuary would be taken away from her. But right now, in this moment, she was protected and secure. And it was all down to Braedan.

  His arm—the arm that had provided her with so much warmth last night, when she’d been so cold she had thought she might not live to see daybreak—was wrapped firmly around her waist. Her fingers wanted to trace the corded muscles she could see there, to discover whether they were as unyielding as they looked. She could feel his body the whole length of hers, and her skin hummed at the contact, even though there were two blankets between them.

  His gentle snores sounded in her ear and she smiled at the sound. She wanted to turn and watch him, as she had when he’d slept yesterday. He looked innocent and young when he was asleep, instead of like the hardened warrior he was.

  She breathed out slowly. It would be better if she could regain the anger she’d felt when she’d realised he’d tricked her into leaving her castle. She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his false insistence that it was best for her to return to her father’s lands to negotiate with him. As if her father would listen to her. She was only a woman, and a woman’s role was to be useful and make good alliances. But Braedan had been so convincing. And he’d seen how well Castle Swein was being run, and he’d known that was all down to her. So she’d believed him.