Darin didn’t answer. Maybe she’d made a mistake spending the day in the barn but she’d finally slept. If only she knew which direction Alekander had gone… At the thought of him, her own fear wafted in a thick blanket over the haze of other scents. She met Aysha’s gaze, the warm brown eyes naively waiting for her answer.
“I’ll come back tonight and find out for myself, I suppose,” Aysha said.
As soon as she was gone, Darin felt the walls close in on her. The barn was too small. Alekander could easily corner her. She needed to leave, the sooner the better, but instead she wanted to call Aysha back and ask her to stay. She had no reason to want her company. The Southerner hardly could protect herself. She had no weapons and had probably never had a reason to defend herself, let alone someone else. But an emptiness seeped inside her now that she was gone.
Gathering her cloak, Darin went to rinse her hands and face in the horses’ water trough. The cool water rinsed away any lingering scent of Aysha on her skin. She ate half of the bread and cheese, then pocketed the rest in the satchel strapped at her hip. The sun had dropped out of sight and the sky had added a purple tint to the blue.
She left the barn the same way she’d entered the night before, slipping between the stalls and out the paddock gate. Stealing a horse was out of the question now. She caught the scent of deer and followed this until she came upon their trail. For the most part, the path ran parallel to the road through the village, and she could hear the crunch of foot traffic and wagons as well as the sounds of music and voices. Laughter. She hadn’t heard music or laughter in weeks and the sound of it was so foreign that she hurried past, grateful for the cover of trees.
Chapter Three
Aysha watched as Darin slipped from the barn into the dusk, her heart heavy. She longed to call out to her, but the words stuck in her throat. There was no reason she could think of to make her stay. And Shawn was waiting for her at the festival tent. She wrapped a scarf at her neck and buttoned her coat, setting off for the festival without another look back at the barn.
“Aysha!” Ranik waved to her from across the road. A tall, fair man walked at his side, with a large pack slung over one shoulder and a staff in his other hand.
“You must be Jenner,” Aysha said as they crossed the road to her side. “Ranik’s told me so much about you.”
Jenner grinned. “Only good things I’m sure.”
Ranik laughed and pushed at Jenner’s shoulder. “Try to ignore him. He’s too handsome not to be cocky.”
Jenner was indeed handsome and the way Ranik’s face lit up when he looked up at him made Aysha forget that she’d been sad a moment before. From Ranik’s stories, she knew that Jenner’s father was a Northerner. His mother, a riverboat woman, had been with the man for only a week. Jenner seemed to be a blend of the two with the height of a Northerner, green eyes, and a broad face with ruddy cheeks. But it was his wide smile that made him handsome.
“You two are going the wrong direction for the festival.”
Ranik glanced at Jenner. “Thought I’d take a night off the ale. And Jenner spent the day traveling…”
“Of course.” Aysha smiled. “I’ll trust the two of you can entertain each other without me. Shawn’s waiting at the tent.”
“Have some ale for me,” Ranik said. “I’ve got better things in mind.”
Jenner’s pale face couldn’t hide his blush, but Ranik only grinned and tugged him down the road to the house, waving their goodbyes. Aysha watched them go. Despite all the times Ranik had talked about him, Jenner had seemed to exist only in his imagination. They’d met on the riverboat that Jenner owned. Ranik had worked aboard for a season—long enough to fall in love. But nearly a year had passed since then. Aysha knew that he’d returned to the farm only because their parents had passed. He longed to be on the river. Now she could see why.
Laughter and music filled the air as she neared the festival tent. A full orange moon glowed behind the tent and fire pits lined the path up to the entrance. Boys too young for the dancing and the ale stood guard at the fire’s edge, ready to chase down embers when the wind gusted. The smell of roasted hazelnuts filled the air along with the scent of simmering cider.
Aysha pushed past the throng by the stage. Shawn spotted her, got up from her drum and weaved between the dancers until she’d wrapped her arms around Aysha.
“You’ve come in time for the circling dance,” Shawn said, her lips brushing Aysha’s. “This one’s my favorite.”
Aysha felt a pang of regret at the kiss. Tonight she didn’t want to be tied to Shawn—or to any lover. Still, she let herself be pulled to the center of the dance floor. Soon she was laughing and spinning around the room.
When a new dance began, Shawn returned to her spot amongst the musicians. But the crowd of dancers had caught Aysha and wouldn’t let her slip away. Most of the faces were familiar, friends she’d known her entire life. The music and the ale flowed easily. Still it was Darin—a stranger and a fugitive at that—who captivated her thoughts.
When she was able to break away, she found a bench at the back of the tent and sank down. Darin was likely tromping through the dark forest even now. Alone. Aysha wondered about the man who hunted her.
“People are talking about you.” Callan sank down on the bench next to her.
“Oh, Callan, they’ll always talk.” Aysha sighed. “Let me be. I’m having a moment alone.”
Callan laughed. “In this crowd?” He pressed a mug of ale into her hands. “I know a secret. Someone wants a dance with you, but they’re too afraid to ask…She’s pretty. In town only for the night—from Glen Eagle.”
“Don’t bother pointing her out. Shawn doesn’t like it when I dance with other women.”
“She doesn’t like to share but aren’t you curious? It’s only a dance.”
“If the woman’s pretty and interested, it wouldn’t be only a dance in Shawn’s mind. Anyway, why do you want to tell me this?”
“Because Shawn should learn to share you.”
Aysha agreed. She took a sip of the ale. “She doesn’t seem to mind having more than one partner herself, does she?”
“Exactly my point.”
They didn’t need to step lightly around the issue. They both knew the truth. Shawn and Callan were old lovers—and sometimes still shared a bed.
Callan clanged his mug against hers. “You know what would drive her mad?”
“What?”
“Seeing you and me together.” He grinned and presented his arm. “Dance with me?”
She didn’t always want Shawn in her bed. There were times, in fact, that she was more than willing to have a night alone. But she didn’t like that Shawn wasn’t honest about Callan. “It might be worth it to see her face. Then again, we’ll both pay for it later.”
“With Shawn, we always pay.”
Callan winked at Shawn as they made their way to the center of the floor. She cocked her head, eyes narrowed, and held her hand motionless over the drum for one beat.
Aysha turned her gaze to Callan. “I’ll lead.”
“Of course.” Callan smiled and waited for Aysha to make the first move. He was a good dancer, but Aysha was better.
The crowd’s whoops of encouragement mixed with the drumbeats in a dizzying rush and one song gave way to the next. After an hour of dancing, Aysha begged out of another round. She whispered into Callan’s ear that Shawn would need an escort home and then slipped out of the tent before anyone could miss her.
Once past the ring of bonfires, the full moon lit the sky. She imagined Darin traveling by the same light and then wondered if she were guided by the night scents instead.
“Keep us company, dear, if you’re headed home.”
Aysha recognized Tillie’s voice and picked her out in the crowd by the tavern. She slowed her steps as Tillie hurried over.
“There’s too many strangers in town to walk alone.” Tillie looped her arm through Aysha’s. “Better to walk home with a neigh
bor.”
“I can handle a few strangers, Tillie.”
“Well, I can’t.” Tillie smiled. She smelled strongly of ale.
Helm joined them, quickly launching into an account of all that they’d sold at the market that morning. The market was still crowded with strange caravans, and makeshift pens housed unfamiliar donkeys and horses. Glen Ore had been transformed by the festival, as it was every year. But this year’s festival Aysha would remember because of Darin—not the dancing or Shawn and Callan’s affair. Helm rattled on about chickens and chestnuts.
“Hold up there,” a low growling man’s voice said.
Aysha felt her skin prickle as a tall hulking man stepped out of the shadows along the side of the road, suddenly blocking their way. By his accent and his size, there was no doubt he was a Northerner. A long sword swung at his hip, but it was his cloak, pulled half over his head and casting dark shadows on his face, that made Aysha’s stomach clench. It was the same cut and fabric as Darin’s.
“I’m hunting a fugitive,” the man said. “A woman. There’s a reward for any sighting of her.”
“Reward, eh?” Helm said. “Is this woman a Northerner then?”
Aysha felt sick.
“Aye. She’s a murderer and a horse thief.”
“How much reward are you promising?”
Aysha squeezed her hands into fists to stop the tremors. She eyed Tillie who was shaking her head as if it was nonsense.
“A silver coin if you can tell me where you’ve seen her. Ten gold coins if you bring her to me. She’s tall, long black hair—”
“One of those alive or dead sorts of rewards?” Helm interrupted. He laughed. “We’ll look for her. Is she a magical one? Could be hard to find…Heard stories about your witches with their spells. Would she curse us if we brought her to you?”
The man grunted. “She’ll likely stab you before then.”
“Well, then,” Helm laughed again. “Don’t suppose I’ll look for her. No one buys anything with gold in Glen Ore anyway.”
With a snort, the man pushed past Helm, nearly knocking him over as he strode off. Helm cussed and the man’s gaze pivoted back to them. He whispered something under his breath and then set off toward the tavern.
“Northerners,” Tillie spat. “I’ve never met one I liked. Come on, then. Reward or not, I’d rather not meet another Northerner tonight.”
Aysha let herself be pulled along in Tillie’s firm grip. Helm started up on the topic of chickens as if the brush with the bounty hunter hadn’t happened. He was drunk enough that Aysha thought he might forget by morning.
Tillie and Helm left Aysha at the front gate to her yard. She’d never been more grateful to have them with her, and once they’d gone, she was filled with uneasiness. She went straight to the barn. Of course she knew it’d be empty. But she longed to be wrong, longed to find Darin safely inside. After searching the corners, she sat down on a hay bale and wrapped her arms around herself. The wind whistled through the gaps in the wood siding and she couldn’t stop shivering. But it wasn’t only the cold. She’d hardly been able to see the road in front of her after the run-in with the bounty hunter. Was Darin really a murderer? Aysha couldn’t believe it was true, but she almost hoped that it was. Maybe then she’d have a chance against a hunter.
Whatever Shawn and Callan did tonight didn’t matter anymore. She’d break up with Shawn tomorrow. And she had no doubt that meeting Darin had pushed the decision. Suddenly she longed for more—more than Shawn and more than Glen Ore. Everything had changed because of a stranger that she couldn’t hope to see again.
Chapter Four
“How much for a night’s stay?” Alekander’s voice was unmistakable. His growl pierced the night’s calm.
Darin dropped quietly to her knees, searching the path for a rock. Hearing was Alekander’s sense and she wondered that he had yet to glance her way. But the wind was blowing in her favor and the forest was alive with animal sounds. He wouldn’t hear her heartbeat over all the others. Finding a small, round stone that would make enough noise to distract him if she needed to run, she fitted it in the leather strap of the slingshot she pulled from her bag.
Crouched low, she watched the innkeeper size up Alekander. His height and the paleness of his skin gave away his origin. But it was more than his height that put others off. His heavy brow and dark eyes gave him a menacing look that his thick beard didn’t improve. The innkeeper showed Alekander into the cottage on the far side of the footbridge. Coins passed from Alekander to the innkeeper and then the innkeeper shuffled back to his house and the cottage door closed to Darin’s prying eyes.
She hadn’t made it out of Glen Ore before a familiar stench had stopped her in her tracks, but it had taken hours of circling around to find him. The smell of him was overwhelming, as sickening as a rotted bunch of spinach cooking on the stove.
She took a drink from her flask but kept her gaze fixed on the cottage. She half expected Alekander to come charging out of the cottage toward her hiding spot, his sword drawn. An hour passed before she straightened up. If she pressed ahead, she’d have a night on him whichever direction she chose. But now that she knew he was close, she wondered how long she could keep ahead of him.
The Rinder Sea to the east seemed impossibly far away. The mountains to the west were nearer, but she’d heard the route was difficult for all but goats. South of the Glenlands was an unpassable stretch of desert. Returning to the North wasn’t an option. Even if she managed to escape the guards on the Barrier, she had no place to go from there.
If Alekander was waiting for her with his ear pressed to the cottage door, it wouldn’t matter which direction she went. And if he asked around someone might say they’d seen her coming in or out of Aysha’s barn. She couldn’t bear the thought of Alekander being anywhere near Aysha.
But if she went back to warn her, Aysha would be in more danger. Still, knowing that he was in Glen Ore, she had to go back. She had to wait for him to leave town to make sure Aysha would be safe.
An owl screeched close overhead and Darin set off. She felt the trees leaning close, pine needles scratching at her cloak as the path narrowed. She quickened her pace, sniffing the air. She kept her knife in her hand. Her slingshot hung from her other wrist, but without the stone, which she’d tucked away in a pocket to prevent it from clattering to the ground at an inopportune moment. Both would be useless if Alekander attacked her. He’d always been the stronger fighter, and she couldn’t match his sword with her knife.
A light rain wet the trail and clouded her thoughts. Before long, thunderclaps broke out and the sky flashed with lightning. It was a good sign. Sound ricocheted in the rain and Alekander never tracked anyone in a storm. A rat skittered across the trail in front of her, lit up by a flash of lightning. Another clap of thunder sounded and the downpour began in earnest. She broke into a run, hopping from rock to rock where the path allowed it and avoiding the muddy trench that the deer trail had become, where Alekander would be able to track her boots easily.
By the time she reached Aysha’s barn, she was drenched. She slipped through the rails into the paddock and both horses gave a nicker of greeting. After she climbed the second set of rails into the barn, she peeled off her cloak. One step across the wood planks and she felt something brush her back. She spun around, knife at the ready.
Aysha’s mouth hung open with a scream that didn’t pass her lips. Darin felt her legs turn soft. She reached for the rails, missed them and collapsed into Aysha’s arms. Sound tunneled away, shadows filled her eyes and she gasped for a breath. Every scent was gone. Suddenly she was in a river, struggling to keep her hold on a log that spun about in icy water.
After a moment of blackness, Darin came to. She could smell again, wet wool, horses, grain and dried oat hay. And Aysha. Aysha was close. Although she couldn’t see her surroundings, she knew she was still in the barn and that Aysha was at her side. Holding her.
Slowly other senses returned. She was col
d and Aysha’s warm hand was covering hers. The sound of bat wings shushed overhead followed by a chattering of mice and then the horses’ steady breathing. She couldn’t stop shaking. When the shadows peeled from her eyes, she turned and saw Aysha staring at her.
“You fainted,” Aysha offered.
Darin shook her head. Her senses had lifted. Overwhelmed, her stronger sense had blacked out every other sensation. But what had caused it? The last thing she could recall was drawing her knife on Aysha.
“We need to get you out of your clothes. You’re shivering.”
Darin nodded but didn’t move to undress. Aysha’s face was close to hers and the smell of her breath was intoxicating. Desire. Unthinking, Darin leaned close and kissed her. Aysha’s soft lips pressed into hers and for a long moment, there was nothing but this. Aysha’s lips.
When Aysha pulled away, Darin tried to kiss her again. Aysha pressed her hand on Darin’s chest, holding her back. Desire wasn’t the only thing she sensed when she breathed in Aysha. Fear was there as well.
“What happened to you?”
Darin wasn’t certain she could answer. She’d just kissed Aysha and she wanted to feel her lips again so much that she couldn’t think of anything else. But when she moved to kiss her again, Aysha held back.
Darin closed her eyes. “I fainted,” she agreed. This explanation was easier than the truth, even for her.
“We need to get you out of these wet clothes,” Aysha repeated. She pulled off Darin’s muddy riding boots, the soaked pants and then, with Darin’s reluctant cooperation, the tunic. Naked and shivering, she watched while Aysha set saddle blankets on the hay. She lay down on them when directed and let Aysha cover her with a rough wool blanket. The scent of fear lingered all about the barn. Her own fear was undistinguishable from Aysha’s.
A Fugitive's Kiss Page 3