Marriage Deal With the Outlaw & the Warrior's Damsel in Distress & the Knight's Scarred Maiden : Harlequin Historical August 2017 (9781488021640)

by St. Harper George; Fuller, Meriel; Locke, Nicole

  He held his breath. She knew she held hers until she cleared her thoughts at being touched again like this.

  She’d never been touched like this. But she needed to let him know he wasn’t harming her.

  ‘It’s all right… You can’t hurt me further. My skin. I hardly feel anything on that side,’ she whispered frantically. She wanted this suspended moment over. It had gone on too long. His man was outside guarding the door. Rudd could appear and she shouldn’t have a man in her home. All of that didn’t matter, because her shock was wearing off, but not the pain.

  He made a sound as though he was stopping himself from saying something, then he slid his hands along her back, slowly, gently, efficiently. Practical.

  It didn’t feel practical. She lied when she said she couldn’t feel anything. On her left, she felt everything. The roughness of his callouses, the heat from his hands. The gentle, gentle pressure that radiated something deep within her.

  When he reached the lower part of her back, he let out a breath, but she couldn’t seem to release hers.

  Then she felt his studying gaze again and realized his hands had reached the deepest grooves of her skin. She was used to them, but she should have prepared him more. He confessed his mother hadn’t treated anyone as bad as she.

  ‘They don’t hurt; it merely feels as though it does.’ Her voice remained steady. Efficient, as his hands.

  He huffed out another breath, but he widened his fingers and smeared the mixture until it started to stick, then abruptly he removed his hands.

  Just as abruptly he stepped away and out of the candle’s light only to loosen his belt and yank his fine linen tunic off. ‘You need to apply the salve to your front,’ he said as he began to rip his tunic into jagged strips. ‘I need to bind your ribs. It’ll help secure them if they’re fractured; remind you that you’re hurt before you move too fast. Tie your chemise’s laces and stand.’

  His request was kind, but his words were rough, like orders. Dipping her fingers into the pot, she wondered about his past that made him like this. She knew he wasn’t always so rough or direct. She’d watched him for days. He had made jokes with the other men, drank ale from the goblet like it was wine.

  Then there was an innate sense of elegance in every movement he made. Pulling her chemise away from her body and gently rubbing the familiar salve over her sore ribs. Refinement even in something as simple as tying his tunic scraps together.

  He came back into the lone flickering light. The linen tied around his right fist, a strip in his left. A look of gentle determination about his face as he looked everywhere but at her eyes. Her eyes which took him in. It was as if the candlelight wanted her to see him for it flared brighter when she stood. The fit of his breeches, the low-slung angle of his belt and scabbard, the bareness of his torso. He was golden all over like heated honey. Like shadows, like light.

  Eyes lowered, he kept his silence, though it seemed troubled now. She remembered his wary defiant look from before and raised her arms so he could press the end below her collarbone. Then he took her hand to hold it there before weaving the fabric tightly around her.

  He circled her while she kept her eyes straight, trying not to see, at the same time he kept his lowered as if he was trying to hide from her. But always, always his methodical movements flared the candle so that each swing around, his body was revealed to her more.

  Utter perfection. Utter beauty. If a man could be called that. If a mercenary dared. Not even the few scars she glimpsed or one bruise that darkened his side marred the contours of his splayed back, the ridges of his abdomen.

  She dropped her arms after the second turning. Saw him drop his shoulders as the linen bound tightly around her breasts, around her middle.

  Collarbones that jutted. Shoulders curving with sinuosity even in the refrained movements of his hands.

  All of it golden, all of it in shadows in the flared light. All of it too much as he finished the task and tied the knot.

  ‘Your cheek is swollen, but not overly so,’ he said. ‘I will leave it.’

  Then there was nothing else. He was done. They were done.

  ‘It was you this entire time.’ He stepped back, and grabbed his cloak. ‘With the food, with the cakes. You’re the one who made it all?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It was good. Very good.’ He continued towards the door. When he reached it he said in a tone that was firm, but apologetic, ‘I won’t be here tomorrow. We’re leaving early.’

  She couldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t be here when Rudd returned, but she wasn’t surprised.

  As if reading her thoughts, he added, ‘There’s nowhere else you could go, no one else you could stay with?’

  ‘My family died a long time ago.’

  Though he’d never gazed overtly at her before, he did so now as his eyes roamed from her face down to her scarred and battered hand. His lips thinned as if stopping words from escaping before he said, ‘You should rest now.’

  She was tired and intended to rest. She needed it. She could no more stop Rudd than she could the fire, but she would survive both. She was only realizing how it could be done.

  ‘Rhain,’ she said through the tightening in her throat.

  He stopped, looked over his shoulder.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  She’d surprised him; his eyes lit and she saw something restless beneath his steady gaze, then he opened the door. She heard Nicholas’s words, a sound of amusement and Rhain’s low rebuke before he shut the door behind him and all was silent.

  But it wouldn’t be for long. Before she released the breath she’d been holding, she knew what she had to do.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rhain heard the tethered horses and the jingle of tackle through the morning’s drizzling air. His men’s voices were low and unusually somber. There would be a storm today. He hated riding in the rain and it would be worse if the wind kicked up.

  When he rounded the corner he saw his men who were no doubt wondering why they rode today. Before London, he never would have travelled on days like this. In inclement weather, many a wealthy and powerful family was forced to wait for their arrival. He wasn’t soft, but wise. He valued his men, their safety and health, they were in turn valued by their patrons. It was a simple game of appearance.

  Now, he couldn’t take such a luxury as waiting out the weather. It was early, but already the village was wakening and many were loitering in the streets, watching them in curiosity. They had garnered enough attention in this tiny village.

  He tried not to look over his shoulder at the inn behind him; he tried not to think of the woman he was leaving behind, and as his stomach growled he tried not to think of the best cakes he had ever tasted in his life wasting in the kitchens.

  ‘You readied my horse?’ he said, as he patted the horse’s neck.

  ‘You slept in late.’ Nicholas shrugged.

  ‘You were there; you know why.’

  He and Nicholas hadn’t slept but an hour or two. He left Helissent’s home with a purse full of coin. It was considerably lighter after he and Nicholas knocked from door to door. Waking families, telling them what had occurred, paying them to protect Helissent should it come to it.

  A troubled night and one where he had little faith in people. They should have already helped her before some stranger paid them to.

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t sleep late and miss all the excitement,’ Nicholas said.

  His thoughts plagued by a certain woman, who smelled of cakes, he couldn’t fall asleep as Nicholas had. ‘Excitement?’

  ‘He means me,’ a voice behind him said. A female voice.

  Rhain spun around. Standing next to his men, wearing most likely all the clothing she had, plus the tattered blanket he’d spread over her, stood Helissent.
/>
  ‘What is she doing here?’ he said.

  Nicholas arched his brow. ‘You gave her your tunic. I know how you like to care for stray dogs. This wasn’t also part of your plan?’

  ‘You know the plan and adding another isn’t part of it.’ Rhain waved his hand in her direction. ‘Especially not a woman.’ He didn’t care what Helissent heard, but he kept his voice low. His men didn’t need to hear his argument. ‘What did you tell the men?’

  Nicholas unclenched his fingers around the bridle. ‘I didn’t tell the men anything. They came to their own conclusions.’

  Rhain looked to his men, who were no longer talking, but avidly looking at the proceedings. There was no amusement on his behalf or annoyance that a woman was in their midst. They were simply openly glaring at him. What conclusions had they come to?

  Nicholas gave a saluting smirk before he walked the horse to the men and said a few words. Rhain swore he heard laughter, but his focus was on the woman staring levelly at him.

  He still couldn’t comprehend the color of her eyes, even in daylight, but he understood the emotion behind them.

  If she was stubborn, he would break her. If she was afraid, he’d keep it that way. He had precious little time left. He’d spent too much in the inn eating her food and too much time in her home, kneeling on her bed last night.

  Last night… He’d slept in because he hadn’t been able to sleep until exhaustion took him. Until he’d been able to stop his wandering thoughts of a scarred barmaid who’d stared with wide eyes at him in the flickering candlelight. Who’d sat stoically as he tended her. As his body shook with rage at what those men had done. Then he’d felt her back and he’d wanted to gather her to him, weep and rage some more.

  His lack of sleep would deter him enough for the day if he didn’t have distractions, which the woman who stood in front of him most definitely was. If for no other reason she extracted emotions from him he had no intention of feeling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I brought you the cakes.’ She pointed to a sack at her feet. A large sack that matched the one next to it.

  ‘I was going to leave them in the kitchen,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  He knew she knew. He could see in her eyes, and the tight bracketing around her mouth, she wasn’t happy that he’d left the cakes.

  ‘I only thought—’

  ‘I told you to keep the cakes.’

  She opened her clutched hand, revealing the coins he gave her. ‘Then I’ll have to give you back the money.’

  ‘I told you to keep the money.’

  ‘But I won’t.’

  An honest barmaid. A stubborn one, but a battle on the cakes wasn’t one he wanted to win. He shrugged. ‘So I’ll take your cakes. You keep the money. You’ll need it.’

  ‘It’s not mine either. It’ll return to Rudd’s hiding place as soon as we’re done here.’

  A moment of displeasure and frustration. He didn’t want that vermin anywhere near his money. She made the cakes, she deserved the money. Especially since he fully intended to leave her in this village.

  But his feeling of guilt wasn’t what alerted him to something else she said. Guilt he could live with.

  No, what caused him to look over her shoulder at his men and narrow his eyes, was that she acted as though they were bartering. As far as he was concerned, the transaction was over. He reached down and took one of the sacks at her feet.

  ‘I want you to take me with you,’ she said.

  Rhain could feel his men’s eyes on him. He most definitely could feel Nicholas’s smirk even from this distance. How long had she been here before he arrived? Long enough for his horse to be saddled and prepared. Long enough for her to approach the men and ask to leave with them. And Nicholas, who knew what happened last night, knew he’d spent most of the time tending to her injuries, giving her his tunic for binding. Nicholas, who’d obviously come to the wrong conclusion.

  Take her with them? Not on his life. ‘No.’

  ‘I won’t be any burden; I can hold my own.’

  Hold her own? He could barely look at her this morning, though it was the first time he saw her fully in the light.

  The heavy shrouding mist made her look more bedraggled than ever before. Bedraggled? She looked like she was in pain. It pained him to look at her. It wasn’t only the bruises on her face or the way she held herself protectively.

  It was what was in her eyes. She didn’t expect him to say no to her request and she took his refusal personally.

  He couldn’t have anyone on this journey, let alone a lone woman. No matter what she said next he would not take her. His men were openly glaring at him now and some of the Flanders men had stepped closer to her. He didn’t care if they didn’t like his judgement. His men would be better off without him as well, and if he made it to Edward’s camp, he fully intended to leave them there.

  ‘You aren’t in any condition to travel.’

  She winced as if he slapped her across the cheek. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

  He knew she was stronger than she looked; her standing before him was testament to that. Her determination to be part of a band of mercenaries showed her bravery, but he could see the trembles beneath. Despite himself, he admired her standing firm.

  If he didn’t have someone after him, would he take her? Given his anger at just the thought of last night, he knew the answer. Unfortunately for them both, he didn’t have the luxury of such questions. Though he had been taught a lesson, Rudd might try to harm her, but he was too much of a coward to kill her. Reynold would.

  ‘Do you know what we are?’

  ‘Mercenaries,’ she said evenly.

  ‘Then you know we murder and thieve for a living. Can you kill and steal?’ He stared pointedly until her eyes turned mutinous. ‘I didn’t think so. You are of no use to us. You will only be a burden.’

  * * *

  Helissent forced herself to look directly into Rhain’s gaze, clear as anything despite the hood he wore. Forced herself not to turn when his eyes roved all over her features taking in every old and new injury. Out of a lifetime of habit, she turned her head to display her scarred side. Felt his eyes there, but they didn’t stay and he didn’t wince or show pity.

  It was probably because he already took his fill of her scars last night.

  The moment Rhain left last night, she’d planned her escape. It didn’t matter how much Rhain or his man Nicholas threatened Rudd. They would be gone and Rudd would seek his vengeance. She couldn’t remain.

  There was no home for her any more. She had to find a home of her own and the only way to do that was to get out of the village. But a woman travelling alone wouldn’t get very far. She had to travel with this man. This man who told her he wouldn’t take her.

  ‘I was told you intend to travel north. I merely want passage to York. I can cook. I know you have no one doing that for you now.’

  A certain light entered his eyes. A calculating disapproval. She wasn’t sure as he eyed the men behind her. ‘You were told our destination and told we had no one to cook for us.’ Then he raised one sardonic brow and she felt all the mockery of all the ages bearing down on her. ‘These men are not pampered and do not need fine fare.’

  She wasn’t prepared for him to say no, let alone a rebuttal, but she wouldn’t give up. ‘I can help with horses, or generally. I hardly eat anything at all.’

  He slowly shook his head through her suggestions and his lips turned almost cruel. ‘If there’s a woman in the camp, there would be only one reason she was there.’

  At first, she didn’t understand. There was nothing in her history to allow her to understand. It was only how the men behind him suddenly stiffened and shifted. It was merely the cutting cruelty of his voice that remin
ded her about last night. Last night when he rescued her from those men, who’d almost raped her.

  Did he believe she’d burst into womanly tears and run away? Never. He was telling her if she went with them she’d be a camp whore. She didn’t blush because she wasn’t capable. Even so, she wanted to laugh. Broken, brittle, but genuine all the same. Did he think his men would actually want her? Nobody would want her. She didn’t even want herself. She hadn’t saved her sister from the fire as she promised—like a coward she wanted the flames to consume her, too. Now she wore the deep scars of that shame.

  And all of that, though true, wasn’t at the heart of the matter. Because last night she was almost raped or worse and he had saved her. She did know one truth. He wasn’t Rudd. ‘Are you telling me I’ll be treated worse than I was last night?’

  The brackets around his tight jaw and mouth didn’t soften with remorse or pity. Instead, a muscle jumped in his jaw.

  Then he flipped his cape to the side and reached in a pouch around his waist. She heard the unmistakable sound of coins as he opened his hand and offered them to her without looking at the amount.

  When she didn’t step forward, he threw them on to the bag at her feet and addressed the youngest one in the group who had walked closer to her. In fact, all the men almost circled her. Their frowns were fierce and she felt a shiver of nervousness.

  She didn’t know these men despite approaching them this morning. Despite speaking to the man called Nicholas, who suffered from a sword scar across one eye and was larger than any man had the right to be.

  The rest had stayed quiet as she’d talked to Nicholas. Some had eyes as cold and unforgiving as any mercenary’s eyes, while others appeared merely curious. It was Nicholas who was friendly, though he seemed to have some agenda when he said she could wait for Rhain to arrive. So that’s all she did. Wait, while shivering from the mist and trembling from the pain and exhaustion. She waited.