Juden leaped from the tree where he was perched, grabbed another limb and swung through the massive trees until he landed in front of the cottage. He lifted his head, sniffed the air, and concentrated on his empathic ability sensing Maynard. His heartbeat shallow, he listened to the rhythm of Maynard’s feeling the erratic thumping of his heart inside his. Maynard was agitated. Good.
He walked into the cottage to find Saxby sitting up and wide eyed.
He responded to her unspoken question. “You’re safe.” He slipped in the bed beside her, gathered the soft and warm form close, and murmured soothing words until she stopped trembling and fell asleep.
Chapter 43
The voices were low, conspirators in the night, plotting against Milo and Lord Drackett to secure Dandelion, Megatha and Priest Manner huddled in the shadowy alcove and went over the details of their plan.
Priest Manner did most of the talking, Megatha listened intensely providing details he needed to know to ensure their scheme worked. She kept a watchful eye on the coming or goings of the dwelling, reported back to Priest Manner, otherwise she didn’t offer to take matters into her own hands to do anything nefarious against her brother. Greed was one thing—murder sent you to the gallows.
Priest Manner sensed her reluctance to do what was needed to rid himself of the two people who stood against what he wanted more than life. The thought Megatha might grow cool to his plans to do away with Lord Drackett and Milo didn’t sit well with him. Feeling betrayed, he fought against the rage to end her life here and now. Fortunately, commonsense prevailed. He needed the bitch, for now.
To keep from throttling her, he clasped his hands behind his back, least he wrap his fingers around her neck and choke hard. His tone purposely indulgent, he murmured, “A genteel lady should not have to handle such matters. Never fear, I will take care of the ghastly deeds.”
“When do you plan to do this?”
Her inquiry was legitimate, a detail any accomplice would want to know. Still, he didn’t trust Megatha. Aye, he gained her word she wanted to be his wife, rule by his side, and live in the lap of luxury as mistress of Dandelion. Those were their common goals. Although, he now believed she didn’t have the guts to carry through with necessities to be successful. When or where her benevolence derived, didn’t matter at this point. The point of no return, matters had to be dealt with efficiently, as the mounting desire to gain his rightful place over Dandelion burned inside him, strong enough, better than sex, the thought of richness made his cock hard.
Nothing or no one would stand in his way.
With the revelation another came to mind. Did he really need Megatha as much as he thought? He would decide later, it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be available to him.
If she noticed he did not reply to her question, she let him pass.
He said, “Is there any information I should know? What of Juden…Saxby?”
Megatha shook her head no, she whispered, “They have not been seen for a week. All Juden’s guards rode out days ago, except Faison who remains to watch other matters here.” She sounded bitter. “If anyone knows anything they are closed lipped. Even my selfish bitch of a daughter is not talking. She would know, due to her husband’s association, yet she refuses to utter one syllable to me concerning their whereabouts, or if they even live.”
“We can only pray they are dead. That would simplify my task,” he uttered.
Megatha nodded. She had no compassion for Juden or Saxby’s fate.
Priest Manner’s ears pricked as muted voices sounded in the distance along with footsteps. “The guards are making their rounds. Go, we will talk later.”
Megatha grabbed his arm to stay him. He forced down the acid taste burning in his throat, feeling her thick fingers coil around his arm, and she slithered close. “If you leave now they might see you. ‘Tis safer to use the underground passages and sneak to my room until all is clear.”
Priest Manner sneered, his nefarious expression masked by the dimness, he knew Megatha did not notice. The whore is worse than a bitch in heat, he thought. He did his time with Megatha on her back. He had her where he needed and suffering under her attention was no longer necessary. He pretended to smile, saying, “We can’t risk being seen together. Another time, sweet,” he said, almost choking on the endearment.
He saw her disappointment, relished in it, as much as he favored seeing her expression the day he drove a blade through her belly. Maybe he’d push her off the cliffs to the rocks below and watch the body shatter into pieces. There was the possibility of using poison, it wasn’t as if the notion was foreign to him, unfortunately the bastard Juden had thwarted his attempt to kill before.
There was time to decide her fate, Priest Manner considered watching as Megatha hurried down the slender pathway and disappeared around the corner.
Assured dragon-bitch was gone, and he could move about the dwelling unobserved, Priest Manner made his way along the same trail Megatha took. His destination was quite different from toward her chambers. Where he went and whom he visited was his secret.
The sudden appearance of the figure in front of Priest Manner made him halt. He slitted his eyes, as he tried to make out the person who stood before him. The form moved slightly, stepped into the sliver of light shinning over the stone-way.
He relaxed, grinned readily, and made to step forward.
The blade materialized, glinted in the moonlight before it slashed through the air viciously.
Priest Manner gasped and clutched his stomach. He glanced down at the knife protruding from his midsection unbelieving. He looked up into the diabolical leer…mouthed “no” just before he crumpled to the ground.
* * * *
The cool, night air felt refreshing and helped Viola to clear her head about Jilst. She missed him. Something she should have told the man she loved before he rode out in search of Juden. Her immaturity, stubbornness, and silliness, she admitted, kept her from confessing the truth. Now, there was no telling when she might see him again.
Violas sighed, disappointed. There was nothing to do except wait impatiently for Jilst’s return.
Heading back across the rapport, hearing an odd noise made Viola curious. Unaware of what she was walking into, she followed the sound.
As soon as she came around the corner, witnessed the sight, she tried to slid into the shadows and remain hidden from the murderer. She flattened against the wall, ceased breathing, not moving, and waited until she could escape without being seen.
Seconds…minutes ticked by, she heard nothing, and felt it was safe to venture out. She had to seek Faison and tell him what she discovered, with haste. He would know what to do.
Viola ran to find Faison unaware a killer pursued.
Chapter 44
Maynard left men behind. Juden expected such, something he would have done himself when hunting. One couldn’t be too sure even though he prided himself on instinct, ego was another matter and being dependent on it meant an inevitable faux paus. He moved the curtain aside again, searched the area for the men who were easy enough to spot. The idiots camped nearby, lit a fire, and they might as well sent up a smoke signal pinpointing their location. They had, in fact, and the thought made him smirk at their ignorance.
He saw the ghostly swirled mist rise and dissipate in the air. A blink and he would have missed it. He supposed with the early dawn still hours away the men foolishly considered they wouldn’t be visible with the morning fog still lingering. He happened to be an early riser. It didn’t matter. He left the hut during the night to validate his suspicion. They moved a distance away from their location last evening, to throw him off track, not far enough he couldn’t find them this morning.
Juden lounged and contemplated the course to take considering the mayhem about to start. He would know exactly how to handle matters if he was alone. He glanced at Saxby sleeping. Her welfare taken into consideration, a small trek to the hut had been difficult, Brava’s was miles away, at least not as far as
Duns Laire, still a good hike. With the situation perilous, his friend’s tavern would be a safe haven until he figured out the magnitude of the mess surrounding them. A place where he could leave Saxby, if need be, while he put an end to this nonsense.
He sighed in exasperation. Maynard was right at his fingertips. All he had to do was kill the bastard, he wanted like hell to do it seeing him set atop his mount all high and mighty, unfortunately the timing was bad. Putting his life in jeopardy didn’t cross his mind, not even a second thought. He would do anything to slaughter Maynard. Saxby’s life was another matter so he had to allow the scumbag to escape unscathed. To his peace of mind, there would be another time, place, and Maynard wouldn’t slither by so easily.
Hearing motion, Juden turned to see Saxby wake, sit up, stretch, and yawn while wiping the sleep from her eyes. She looked at him then, smiled, and even in her mussed state; tussled hair, bleary-eyed, smudges of dirt on her cheek. Her appearance like a burst of sunshine, broke through the gloomy catastrophe he felt loomed ahead.
“You promised me tomorrow. Thank you, Juden.”
“I like to keep my promises. We have visitors outside.”
Saxby nodded. Her gaze shifted to the window even though she couldn’t see a thing, before focusing on Juden. “How many men are after us?”
“The question is how many did Maynard leave behind? I believe, at least eight.” He smirked, considering what Maynard must thought about his skills he left many men behind to deal with a lone person. A lethal, dangerous person, even if he said so himself.
“I’m guessing eight to two are good odds. Isn’t it?”
“Eight to one,” he corrected mildly. Juden stared mesmerized at the fluid grace and femininity of the provocatively swaying hips when she walked over, perched on his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Calmly and cool, she said, “Two,” She kissed him. “To eight,” she said, kissing him again.
Her lips were soft and lush making him think of taking her affection to another level, then reality dawned. He patted her thigh, lifted, and helped her to stand. “We are not going to argue about this, darling. You are to stay out of the way. Period. Understand?”
“You are not in this alone, Juden,” she protested.
“Can you handle a sword?”
“In fact, I can and probably as well as any man.”
Caught off guard, he stared, shortly stunned by her admission.
She smiled wickedly.
“I can use a bow and arrow with good accuracy.” She went to where the quiver lay in the corner against the wall. She picked up the items and examined the weapons. “The heads are in decent condition, the wood is warped, though. I have to adjust for such if I don’t have time to replace it.”
Juden blinked. She pulled one arrow out and held it up to him. “Do we have time to fix these? In the midst of battle I’d hate to guess whether or not the thing will snap apart.”
Over his surprise at Saxby’s ability, Juden finally spoke. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“I hear perfectly, Juden.” She continued to check each arrow, bow, until satisfied she replaced the weapons and sat them on the table.
“I wonder,” he uttered dourly. She seemed determined to undermine his authority. And knowing Saxby it was useless to debate who was in charge. He would leave the discussion for later. Now, his thoughts were on the men who were possibly mounting an assault.
Sasha and Rogue started barking.
It was bad karma—suddenly the door to the hut crashed open and men charged in with swords held in an arch, battle cry rent the air as one after another of Maynard’s men lodged a full-fledged attack.
“Leave! Go! Get the hell out of here!” he shouted, fending off two attacker’s intent on taking his head off. He matched their strikes. Sword for sword, thrust for thrust, sending one man to his death. The other kept coming, he parried, and retaliated before putting the bastard away.
Swinging around he nearly avoided being decapitated, slammed his foot in the oafs gut sending him doubling over. Sword poised he shoved it downward severing the man’s neck from his head. An angry shout echoed in the room, Juden whirled around seeing a man headed for Saxby. Didn’t he tell her to get the fuck out? By Oslei, she was hardheaded! He dived across the table, rolled on the floor, and came to his feet shielding her. He pushed her back, raised his sword in time to block an attack, then slid his smaller blade in the man’s stomach.
Two more men came at them, fighting furiously, their swords sweeping downward in swift succession, each one determined to land the final blow.
Juden had other ideas. He took down another assailant, turned to deal with the other when the hilt of the sword slammed into skull knocking him over. He raised his sword in time to keep his head intact, shoved hard sending the man falling backwards. Another bastard replaced him and Juden quickly sent to hell.
Silence ensued following the aftermath of death.
Juden stood, barely winded, and assessed the bodies sprawled lifeless on the floor—fuck, only six.
As soon as the thought surfaced, two more men charged into the hut, shouting triumphantly. Juden spun around in time to thwart the onslaught. He went after the last villain who raced toward Saxby like a raging bull, his razor-sharp sword poised to end her life.
Stricken with fear he went to intervene when Saxby raised the bow, adjusted to the left, and sent an arrow flying which landed between the bastard’s eyes.
“I thought I told you to run,” he complained, stalking over to her.
Saxby raised her chin. She eyed him. “You did.”
“Thank Oslei, you are stubborn.” He grinned, wrapped his arms around her waist, and jerked hard sending her slamming into his chest. He tilted up her face and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Eight to two are good odds,” he said, stroking his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Damn good odds, Juden. I know I feel blessed you are here to protect me. I’m not silly enough to not realize if you weren’t here, what could have happened. I owe you. Thank you”
“You are welcome. When we get to our destination you can pay me sufficiently.” He patted her bottom. “Right now, we must leave. I can’t be sure someone hasn’t already raced to alert Maynard. Next time there will be more men.”
“Those men, whoever they are, will not stop will they?”
“The leader is Maynard. I’m sure he is responsible for Keaton’s death. What irks me is I haven’t been able to figure out by who orders. It really doesn’t matter, he is a dead man. No, he won’t cease until he is dead.” He released her and went about collecting their things. He called over his shoulders. “Men like Maynard are vermin, a trained assassin, and work for the highest bid. I’ve run across him before, nothing personal until now.”
Saxby joined Juden and helped him gather items. She looked at him. “He is good at what he does?”
“I’m not sure if I would say good, maybe extremely determined, and unscrupulous. He doesn’t discriminate when it comes to killing. As long as the fee is right, I’m convinced he’d kill his own mother which make him more dangerous than most.” Saxby nodded. He finished collecting the axe, knives, bow and arrows he handed to her. He watched her pull up her hair and twist it into a knot atop her head and put the strap of the quiver around her shoulder and let it fall against her back. Noticing it hung too low to be easy accessible, he stepped around and made some adjustments. “Dependent upon whom Maynard is working for he might be desperate as well. Some buyers who are dissatisfied with the results end up putting a bounty on the hired killer’s head. ‘Tis considered a no failure clause to ensure they get what they want. Normally, it involves a hefty payment could make a man like Maynard comfortable for the rest of his life.”
“I look forward to using my arrow on the vermin.”
“I didn’t know you were so vicious, darling. You make me proud.” He smiled and secured the last few items in the makeshift rucksack, leather with twine wrapped around it he pulled over his head, before he lo
oked at her again. “Maynard is mine,” he said and went to the door. He looked out, listened and observed the area for any signs other men waited to ambush them. Confident they were alone he motioned for Saxby to join him.
Hand and hand they left the comfort of the hut, forged into the dense woods and began the run of their lives.
Chapter 45
Even though Saxby’s dogs took the lead and Juden felt assured they would sound a warning if men approached, he continued to keep an eye out himself for any surprises that might suddenly manifest. The area was eerily placid with the absence of normal sounds one would expect to hear in the forest. The quiet land made the gurgling water from the nearby stream more pronounced, and Juden concentrated on the splashing and the rush of lake swirling between the rocks in the creek dissecting the noise from Saxby’s breathing. Juden’s ears tuned, he gauged how heavy her breaths were to determine when to slow the pace.
The sun began to set, casting the area in shades of gray, as they neared the end of the forest. An expanse of land stretched out before them like a blanket of green, speckled with sparse shades of color, the darkness of the woods suddenly gave way to an oasis of landscape Juden knew was deceptive. White, pink, and purple flowers trailed the terrain of the incline and disappeared over the ridge of cliffs. At the head of the small mountain was rough countryside, made up of debris, dirt, and rocks, with paths leading to the safe haven he sought.
It would have been easier to go around the hills instead of climb the peak. Maynard would probably think with a woman in tow he might choose the path and could be waiting to trap them.
Saxby was blowing air from her mouth already exhausted from the significant distance they traveled. She hadn’t complained one time, did a decent job of keeping up even though he knew she was barely on her feet.
Barbour, Carolina - Watch Me, Desire Me (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 27