by AJ Nuest
She sprinted at him full force, leapt and punched his side with the soles of both boots. A grunt blurted from his throat and he collapsed to the ground, continued the roll along his shoulders and landed on his feet. His sword sang free as she whirled and released a barrage of silver throwing stars. Metal slashed air. Discordant clangs ricocheted off the trees. He deflected her halo of lethal barbs and charged.
Her choices were slim. The space too confined. She could re-engage him in hand-to-hand combat or flee for the trees. The idea of running from him made her teeth gnash. She seated two silver spikes in her hands and ducked low, one foot extended, hoping to trip his advance and strike from below.
He switched the angle of his attack and caught the edge of her spikes, forcing her to straighten or relinquish her weapons. Three quick swipes of his sword and her back collided with the bark of a large fir.
A growl of frustration razed the lining of her throat even as he shoved away from her a second time.
“No!” he roared. “Your counter-attack is faulty. Your defense position too high.” He snatched her shoulders and spun her to face the trees. She sputtered and tried to wrestle out of his grip as his booted foot appeared between her legs and nudged her feet farther apart.
“Pay attention!” he shouted, the fingers of one hand momentarily tightening on her upper arm. “Shift your weight to the left and bend your left knee.” His knee pressed the back of her leg and she yielded and assumed the appropriate stance. “Now both arms lowered outside your left thigh.” He guided her arms down and then rounded to stand in front of her, positioning her arms together, wrists crossed. She remained silent, trying to focus on his instructions while a continuous stream of questions burbled like mountain runoff in her mind.
“Elbows unlocked.” He tossed his sword aside and pressed his thumbs into the crooks of her arms until they were slightly bent, slid his hands to her wrists and cocked them at a forty-five degree angle. “If a marauder were to attack thusly,” he reclaimed his sword and lowered the finely honed edge toward her hands, “you have the strength of your right side to either counter,” he guided her hands up and her weight automatically shifted to the right as their blades met and she deflected his sword away, “or use the momentum of his advance to knock him off balance.” He returned her arms to their original positions, but this time when his blade met both of hers, he pressed a hand to the back of her arm and eased her forward until their shoulders connected.
“Now. Again.” He pointed to her original spot and reclaimed his crouch near her saddlebags.
Rowena lowered her hands to her sides. A quite moment passed, filled with the subtle chirping of birdsong, and she snapped her jaw shut. He’d been angry, enraged even. Yet he chose to help? Offer her advice? Why? What could he possibly have to gain by showing her how to strengthen her defenses?
She rolled her shoulders and breathed deep, fighting to gather her thoughts though they remained scattered like the leaves upon the forest floor. Wrist blades retracted in place, she sprinted forward and repeated her earlier maneuver, shoving him to the ground with both feet and releasing a rain of five-pointed stars, but this time when he charged, gleaming sword in hand, she affected the stance he’d taught her and swiftly knocked him askew with a driving blow, her right shoulder ramming his left. Two additional jabs to his off-kilter counter attack and he was trapped, poled by a tree, one of her wrist blades hovering near his jugular.
A full grin split his face. “Excellent. I can see why Denmar regales you as one of his best students. You learn quickly.”
Her panting breaths burned in her lungs, but she remained frozen, mesmerized by the delight glittering in his soulful brown eyes, afraid of whatever trickery he might try next.
He dropped his sword to the ground and lifted both hands in a show of surrender. “I submit, my lady. You’ve trounced me sound and true.”
Trounced him? Hardly. If not for his tutoring, he could have easily had her roped and tied to a horse, started them back to the castle by now.
She slowly lowered her blade from his throat and stepped back, placing one foot behind the next to keep him within sight. His actions made absolutely no sense.
“Why? Why would you this for me?” In the years she’d been living at Castle Austiere, not a day had gone by she hadn’t needed to barter or beg for any small thing. No one had done anything for her without asking for something in return. Money, favors, unsavory deeds…it was the way things were done. Not this…this unselfish show of support.
His jaw clenched to a firm line and she braced to receive his demands. Whatever he wanted, honor dictated she was obligated to pay.
“If you must go, then I would see you go having learned the best defense available.” He shoved away from the tree and that same dark fury he’d earlier displayed creased his brow. “If you must leave me, then my first and only duty is to make certain you can keep yourself safe.”
Traitorous tears stung her eyes and she closed them and spun away from him. His anger was fueled by fear. Fear for her. He longed to keep her out of harm’s way, and the only means by which he could ensure this remained true, was for him to teach her himself.
No. That was a lie. He wanted to control her. Just like everyone else.
She strode forward, arms locked, and shoved his shoulders hard with both palms. “Liar!” She shoved him again. “You’re trying to trick me. You said yourself you would never let me leave the castle grounds.”
He stumbled back a step, but didn’t raise his sword. His arms remained open at his sides, inviting whatever injury she might choose to inflict. “Dangerous creatures inhabit this realm which would do you harm, my lady. Seviere’s men would capture and rape you without a single thought to do otherwise. Certainly I would rest easier with you by my side. Yet I’ve suffered the abhorrence of a wrongful cage. What measure of man would I be if I insisted the same of you?”
She raised the back of her hand to her lips to stifle a sob. No, no. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that. He was freely offering his blessing, providing everything she’d fought for without a thought to his own needs. He’d followed her to prove the truth of his convictions with his deeds.
Hands balled into fists, she marched forward and pummeled his chest, hitting him again and again, desperate to beat the truth from his lips. “Why?” she railed. “Tell me why you would do this!”
The strength of his arms enveloped her, cradling her against the broad width of his chest. “How could I not,” he whispered, “when I love you as I do?”
Her pounding slowed as she dissolved into a fit of wracking sobs. Others cared for her. She knew this to be true. But no one…no one had ever shown her the level of devotion this man displayed with a single swipe of his sword.
All doubts fled and, with her next shuddering breath, the truth of his promise resonated down to the depths of her soul. He did love her. He was willing to let her go to prove it.
Everything she’d previously believed about him was wrong. So, so damn wrong.
She encircled his waist and clung to him as her tears slowly ebbed. He understood. Someone else finally, finally understood. He’d been caged, had lived the torment of another controlling his fate. He knew the frustration of what it meant to have no say.
His embrace tightened across her shoulders, keeping her close. One large hand cupped the back of her head and she buried her face in the sweet, smooth skin of his neck.
When was the last time someone had held her so gently? A fresh swell of tears doused her cheeks. He had, two nights ago on the verandah, when he’d said his love for her couldn’t be measured in the mere passing of days.
The evening light faded, the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair and, as he rocked her from side to side, the bitter resentment gripping her heart eased and floated skyward, disappearing over the horizon with the glowing crest of the setting sun.
Chapter Two
If she had to guess, she would’ve said neither of them were certain what came
next. Or maybe the disquiet lingering in the air emanated only from her.
Rowena tossed some dry twigs onto the fire and poked around with a stick until the smoldering embers ignited. A few well-placed logs and the flames quickly grew. The wood sizzled and snapped. Fireflies of ash spiraled into the air.
Flipping her trembling hands before the heat, she stood. Her profound display of vulnerability had left her drained, her skin a bit numb. She’d not exposed herself to such a degree since that horrible day Caedmon had been dragged from her arms and she’d been left standing alone in his bedchamber.
In the ensuing two years, she’d expounded vast amounts of energy shoring up her defenses, shutting out the hurt. Sparring with Caedmon this afternoon had awakened something in her. Something…unfamiliar. He’d eased back the rusty hinges of her heart and, in the process, a tremulous unease had wormed its way in to inhabit the empty space.
A quiet hush filtered in from the surrounding forest, the fragile rays of the setting sun bathing their small camp within the wistful dalliance of a dream. The jingle of silver broke the muted silence as Caedmon unloaded his supplies from his horse. With his back facing her, it was hard to determine what he was thinking.
Did he think her weak? One false move and she would bolt like a fractious filly? Perhaps his plan was to seduce her. Her breath caught and adrenaline spiked in her belly. She’d not been touched for so long; she had no idea how to welcome such an advance…or what it would mean for their future if she did.
A quick jerk to the laces on each side of his chest plate and he pried the form fitting shield from his skin. His biceps flexed as he hooked his thumbs on the edges near his shoulders and lifted the protective leather over his head. Her eyes widened and a flare of desire weakened her knees as the side of his torso came into view, each muscle constricting, thick ridges bunching under honeyed skin. A ripple of tendon as he tossed the chest plate aside and a mouth-watering display of tiered flesh delineated each rib, leading down to a delectable rim of solid muscle low on his hip.
She swayed unsteadily as her eyes roved over him, and then squinted as a douse of arousal heated the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Was the dim light playing tricks on her or were those…? No, they couldn’t be.
He squatted and rummaged through the saddlebags at his feet, the light from the fire casting small shadows along the bumps of his spine.
An inadvertent gasp hiked her shoulders. From nape to tailbone, a crisscrossing network of thin pale slashes decorated his skin. He’d been beaten, whipped, and Helios only knew what other tortures he’d suffered in Seviere’s keep.
Two rushing steps forward, and she drew up short as he sprang to his feet and whirled to face her. A flush crawled up his neck, reddened his ears, and he shook out the shirt in his hand before cramming his arms through the sleeves. “Forgive me. I’d meant to spare you the grotesque result of my interment at Castle Seviere.” He straightened the collar on his shoulders and punched the tails of his shirt into the waistband of his pants.
Her heart quaked and her nails bit into her palms as she fought the urge offer him some comfort, close the distance between them and run her palms over his back to soothe past hurts. Based on the way he refused to meet her gaze, he wasn’t prepared to discuss the details of what happened. Not that she blamed him. Whatever hellish nightmares they put him through, no doubt the damage ran much deeper than mere scars alone could explain.
“Don’t apologize,” she blurted, and then fought to catch her breath. “Don’t ever apologize for what they did to you.”
His shoulders lowered a scant degree and he nodded. A glance in her direction and he filled his lungs, but whatever explanation he intended to offer drifted away with his deep exhalation.
She hesitated…waiting…perched on the desperate edge of tossing caution to the wind and gathering him in her arms. When nothing was forthcoming, she whipped around and returned to the fire, tidied her bedroll and then tossed her dinner into the trees. Her appetite was long gone. Uncertainty had twisted her stomach into knots.
She sighed. Maybe in time his words would come. Until then, she would allow him the one thing she’d always craved—to heal in private.
Searching for something to keep herself occupied while Caedmon wicketed and rubbed down his horse, she finally tugged a scrolled map from her saddlebags and settled on her bedroll. She braced her back against the large log she’d dragged near the fire when she’d first made camp and unrolled the parchment along the length of her thighs.
If her calculations were correct, considering the angle of the rising moon and the position of the appearing stars, they were a few leagues somewhere due south of the Black Forest. Once she left the cover of trees, she’d be better able to calculate her exact route. However, based on the diagrams, in order to breach Seviere’s kingdom before the next nightfall, it seemed her best course would be to skirt around the eastern most edge of that marshy quagmire and head northwest. Either that or she could always push straight through. That might save her a few hours of daylight.
A shudder wrenched her shoulders and she grimaced, fighting the hair-raising goose bumps pebbling her flesh. Rumor had it a large coven of Dreggs inhabited the Black Forest, and a run-in with their kind was a risk she preferred not to take. Many entered their realm only to be never seen or heard from again…or appeared years later, confused and lost, looking as though they hadn’t aged a day. If that wasn’t deterrent enough, the route alone would be treacherous. She’d have to pick her way slowly, navigate the various bogs with a keen eye to any spots where Belial might flounder or break a leg.
A hand appeared in front of her face, offering a worn leather wineskin. “I’m in dire need of strong spirits. How about you?”
God, yes. She glanced up at Caedmon’s tall form, silhouetted by the indigo sky, orange firelight highlighting the chiseled planes of his face. “What is it?”
“Fandorn’s dragon’s breath brew. I never travel without a flask. It warms the body on a cold night, sparks a flame during rain and can cauterize wounds.”
She smirked. The guards had often lamented their woes after a night of consuming Fandorn’s secret brew, but she’d never been offered a sip until now.
Her fingers grazed his as she accepted the wineskin, and she gritted her teeth when a burst of exhilaration cascaded through her limbs. She held a breath until it passed, suppressing the urge to leap to her feet and pace around the fire. Hopefully the alcohol would help bind her fraying nerves.
A pop of the cork and she tipped the neck to her lips.
“I caution you to—”
Liquid fire scorched the lining of her throat and she sputtered and choked, coughing into her hand. Sweet goddesses’ tits, the fumes alone were enough to send tears racing down her cheeks. Several wheezing gasps later, her heart finally slowed and she offered the wineskin back to Caedmon. “Smooth,” she croaked and coughed again.
His low chuckle floated on the gentle breeze as he lowered his considerable height to the spot beside her and upended the flask to his lips. Her first impulse was to edge away from him, but an acute lethargy crept through her muscles. Quick movement suddenly seemed impossible…and ridiculous, really. Besides, where would she go? No matter the location, Caedmon would undoubtedly follow. She snorted a laugh.
The flames of the fire danced and shifted, breathed and expanded. She tipped her head and frowned as the swirling blaze pulsed and a puff of ethereal smoke wafted into the night sky. A wave of her hand in front of her face and a multicolored trail zoomed past, shimmering into nonexistence.
She chuckled again and repeatedly blinked until her vision righted and cleared. “What the hell is in that stuff?”
Caedmon grunted, forearms braced on his bent knees as he corked the wineskin dangling between his legs. “If you’ve not been privy to its effects, the first sip can be a bit disorientating.”
She glanced over with a smile and then snapped her head around. His eyes were so dark their mesmerizing depth
s seemed bottomless, framed by thick lashes that curled near the tips. High cheekbones angled down to his perfectly square jaw, shadowed by the gruff texture of his closely trimmed beard. His bottom lip was slightly plumper than the top, full and smooth and totally kissable. The craving to nip it, suck it into her mouth and explore the silky curve with the tip of her tongue, shot a jolt of molten need through her veins. Only once before had they been this close without a blade between them…and then she had ended in his arms, tasting him, devouring those same lips, fighting the desperate urge to give him everything she possessed and more.
She bit her bottom lip to suppress a whimper.
A grin creased his cheeks, exposing a set of strong white teeth, mischievous little crinkles near the corners of his eyes. “A man can only deign to guess what transpires behind such a beguiling perusal.” He inched close and inclined his head, his voice a husky murmur. “Tell me, does my close proximity distress you?”
Dear God, he was beautiful…and sexy. So damn sexy. Too damn sexy. She wrenched her gaze back to the fire, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions colliding within her chest. Distress? No. Agitate, arouse and scare the wits out of? Yes.
Shielding herself was what she knew, what had kept her safe, but she gathered the last of her strength and beat her insecurities into submission. Based on his behavior, he did not mean her harm. “No, I’m glad you’re here.”
She skimmed a trembling hand back and forth along the length of her thigh to avoid his intent inspection, blowing a restless breath through her pursed lips. The desperate yearning of her body battled the cautious hope in her heart. He’d told her time and again he loved her, proved as much with his actions this very day. They were supposedly engaged. Yet, for all his persistent attentions, the man was still no more than a stranger to her.
Trusting his motives was a convenience that would not come easy.