Wolf Warrior 01 The Lost Wolf Warrior

by Rae Monet

  "As you wish, all you need do is ask,” he told her with a knowing look.

  "Well do not hold your breath,” she said passionately, then heard him laugh mockingly at her statement, and knew he sensed her desire.

  "I will not, little one.” He stepped over to her when he was dressed and touched her nose with his finger. “I will not.” He chuckled when his senses connected with hers and he felt her need.

  "Serena.” His smile turned into a frown when he read her thoughts. “I will never regret what we have done. It was the most worthy experience of my life, never doubt it."

  His hand reached up and cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes as the sensations washed over her. She knew his words were true. She heard him growl, then his hand was gone and he was out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Richard sensed the conflict and anger between the two lovers and sadly knew he was the cause. They traveled in silence now. Gone were the gentle touches and smiles. In their place was a twine of misunderstanding. Serena's anger was unquestionable and Roan's regret matched her anger. Their silence was deafening. Caine led them to the next small border village where Ziem had traveled. Amid the hutches of the town was a small pub Roan assumed Ziem had visited.

  Richard volunteered to stable their horses while they ventured on to investigate the pub. He breathed a sigh of relief at his luck in parting with the warring couple.

  * * * *

  "I will check with the innkeeper to seek information about Ziem,” Roan abruptly informed Serena. “You sit here and rest, but keep your eyes open. Call to me if there is trouble.” He tapped his forehead to indicate she should call for him silently.

  She nodded, too tired to argue. She lowered herself to a wooden bench and sighed in relief. A saucy barmaid took her order for ale and flounced off to the tit and tat of the other customers. The inn was crowded, which seemed unusual for a small English border village.

  Her gaze alert, she scrutinized the crowd, although she already sensed Ziem was not there or she would have felt him. She attempted to knead the knots in her neck that continued to plague her. The more time she spent with Roan, the tenser she became.

  She couldn't suppress her anger and it was noticeable from the tension in her neck. Angry, she wanted to scream at Roan for his actions. Maintaining her silence had been a constant struggle since they had left the last town. She sat brooding over the two men's duplicity, nursing her somewhat childish resentment.

  She never heard anything behind her.

  Suddenly, strong hands clasped her shoulder, and she quickly reached down to grasp the dagger strapped to her thigh. Then she heard a familiar voice and relaxed.

  "Yer much too fine a lass to be a resting here on yer own."

  She grinned when the man dropped down next to her to straddle the bench. His hair was as rich and warm as her own, long and unruly, just like the large handsome man he was. His frame dwarfed hers. He pulled her body into the vee of his legs on the bench hugging her to him.

  "Robert!” she exclaimed, as her arms went around his neck for a brief hug.

  He groaned against her neck, “Ah, lassie, ye dinna know how good it feels to have ya in my arms again."

  She pushed against his large chest and pulled out of his arms, smiling.

  He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “What brings ye down from yer Highland perch, little bird of mine?"

  "Robert, hush. You know the secrets you hold are bestowed upon few."

  He sighed and drew back, running his hand down her cheek. “I know my bonny lass and ye ken how grateful I am for yer brother's healing.” He rested his forehead against hers and sighed again. “Lassie, yer a site for these poor, sore old eyes."

  "What are you doing in England? What brings you from your stronghold? You know it's not safe for you to be here."

  His hand dropped from her cheek in obvious regret. Pulling away from her he grunted. “Business, my beauty, always the struggle. Now if ye'd just be marryin me as I asked, you'd not be worryin’ about where I was, now would ya? I would, at times, gladly give up this struggle to be making babies with you.” His Scottish brogue was always more pronounced when he was with her, as if he could finally let down his guard and be who he really was.

  She teasingly slapped his face at his suggestion. “As I have told you a thousand times—you know I see you as more of a brother than a husband and what of your current wife, aye?” He smiled at her response. “And need I remind you, your struggle is much more important than a Scottish peasant girl could ever be."

  He groaned, pulling her hand against his heart. “If only it were not so, but ye canna be blamin’ me for tryin'. Ye know my motto, try, try and try again."

  Her heart warmed at his actions. It had been too long a time since she had seen him. “You are a hopeless flirt."

  He pulled her hand to his mouth. “Only with you, little bird of mine, only with you.” His breath exhaled against her hand.

  His expression suddenly changed to one of wariness and he froze when a dagger slid against his throat. The sound in the room was of a dozen Claymores, unsheathed and pointed directly at Roan. Robert's men were ready to defend.

  "That is my woman you are pawing, my friend.” His voice was fierce, calculated, the same one he had used with Ziem, and it made her very aware of how seriously dangerous he could be.

  "Roan, you have no right! Release him,” she demanded, rising from the bench, his highhanded actions only adding to her irritation.

  "I have every right.” Roan's voice had risen beyond the acceptable level of the rowdy room. Everybody in the room, save for Robert's men, flew out of the inn thinking a battle was impending. The sound of scraping chairs finally fell silent.

  "Who is this man to you? You allow him the liberties of a lover.” Roan's accusation rang heavy in the room and she knew the minute he said the words, he would regret them.

  She was furious. She stepped toward him, her purpose clear. “You of all men know your question holds no honor.” She hissed her remark to him and saw his remorse. He began to apologize when a drawn out whistle stopped them.

  "I see the error of my ways just about now. Moreover, I think it will bode better if ye ask yer man to release my person."

  Serena gasped when she noticed the small trickle of blood flowing down Robert's neck. “Release him immediately!"

  Roan pulled back and re-sheathed his knife, making it clear by his jerking motions he was not pleased about her order.

  Robert raised his hand to his men and all drawn Claymores were re-sheathed.

  She reached forward and applied a cloth to his injury. “I am sorry, Robert, he had no right.” She gently dabbed his throat. He stopped her movements with his large hand and took over her ministrations.

  "It would seem, my little bird, ye are the only one who sees it that way.” His gaze went to Roan who was hovering protectively behind her. His arms were crossed, his legs spread, and it was apparent by the look on his face he would much rather thrash Robert than allow her to tend him.

  Robert nodded toward Roan, acknowledging him with his eyes, and raised his tall, heavy frame from the wooden bench. “The Wolf, in the flesh. We have met in battle.” He reverted to his English accent and reached over to offer his hand.

  Roan's expression was one of respect. “Robert the Bruce, you are out of your country.” He clasped his hand in Robert's, stating the obvious.

  Robert dipped his head to acknowledge his words. “Scouting, my friend, just as you most recently did."

  "You knew?"

  Robert nodded in acknowledgement. “I feed the information you seek to your Scottish barmaid, directly."

  "Why bother?” Roan released Robert's hand.

  Robert smiled at Roan's frustrated mumble. “I know it gives you pleasure to stray from your little castle occasionally and well, we must give you a task to occupy yourself."

  At Robert's explanation, Roan appeared stunned before he broke out in laughter.

  She s
tared at him as if he had lost his mind.

  "Well done, my friend. You are putting on a show for the English King, I assume?” Robert grunted when Roan pounded on his shoulder.

  "King Edward II is weak. I am more afraid of the bones of his dead father than of the living son, and by all the saints, it was more difficult to get half a foot of land from the old king than it will a whole kingdom from the son! But I like him to feel he has some control. Besides, the runs we make on your keep are good training for our young lads, and keep you occupied so you're not warring against us on the battlefield—where I prefer you not be, my friend, you ken?"

  Roan's eyes ran over the incredible man, Robert the Bruce, one of the fiercest leaders of the Highland Rebellion. The self proclaimed King of Scotland was a man who had sweated and sacrificed to earn the respect of his countrymen. “I ken."

  Cocking his head in her direction, Robert asked, “Why are you here with my little Scottish bird?"

  "We have joined, united together for a common cause. Do you ken?” Roan used the same cloaked message technique Robert had.

  "I ken, my friend.” He raised his hand to dab the blood at his throat. “I do indeed ken.” He smiled and reached forward to clasp Roan's hand in his again. In that moment, they formed an unexpected mutual respect for each other. Although they were sworn enemies, they would not fight each other. It was grudging admiration from two born leaders, two seasoned warriors, that gave them the ability to make such a truce, with only a handshake, there, in a small English border tavern.

  "You will protect her.” It wasn't a question, it was an order, similar to a command Robert would give to one of his men.

  "With my life.” Roan assured him, recognizing the bond they shared in wanting to protect this one, small woman.

  "Tell me then, how might I help you?"

  "We need information. We are seeking a man."

  * * * *

  Robert nodded before calling his men over to hear the description Roan would give of Ziem. He suddenly found himself surrounded by a ferocious group of battle ready Scottish soldiers, trained in the old style of fighting with brawn and courage, loyalty and heart. They had come far, fought many wars and Roan could not help but hold them in high regard, and pray he would never again face them on the battlefield.

  One of Robert's huge, red-headed soldiers spoke up. “Aye, I noticed the man you speak of. He was here, one night past, braggin’ about the recent theft of his clan's scrolls, seeking support to build a force to return. His story was fantastic. Most simply disregarded him, said he had lost his mind. Talkin’ about a lost clan in the Highlands, bearing a crystal around his neck, talkin’ about its powers. We thought he was in his cups. One man did believe him, however, and his men led the strange man away to the Castle Brier to his overlord, the second Duke of Brier."

  Serena gasped at the man's explanation and her eyes met Roan's. He laid a hand on her arm to calm her, telling her with his mind all would be well.

  "Give us directions to the keep,” he demanded, his arm snaking around her waist to keep her close.

  "Aye,” the man responded when Robert gave a nod, and proceeded to tell them what roads to travel.

  They learned the Duke of Brier was a greedy, cruel man. A man known for his ruthlessness, he taxed tenants to the point of poverty, did not take responsibility to care for the sick or injured who fought for him, passed the sentence of death on a simple poor peasant who stole a loaf of bread, and kidnapped women chaining them to men's chairs for use in every cruel way...

  The stories were endless and frightening.

  The King tolerated the Duke's behavior because his mercenaries were killers, used when there was no need for a Knight of Honor. And the King, known as a spineless lover of men, needed a place to indulge outside of the English Court, where he wasn't scrutinized. Where his secret preferences for the male form wouldn't be questioned.

  The horrible tales gave more urgency to their quest. The scrolls in the hands of a man of such degradation would surely lead to the destruction of their people.

  Within the hour they were packed and ready to leave, only pausing to say their good-byes.

  Roan stood silently next to Serena as they watched the Bruce greet Richard with much joviality.

  He finally broke his silence to voice the question, the one burning in his consciousness. “Have you known him long?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  "Yes, many years. Richard and I travel each fortnight to a pre-arranged meeting place. Richard provides healing to the war-torn men and women of his people, and I provide my brother's protection. In return, Robert gives us safe passage and welcome in any village of Scotland.” She held out her arm indicating the leather bracelet upon her wrist. Unlacing it, she flipped it over. Scorched into the back was the sign of the Bruce Clan.

  "Does he know about the Realm?” Roan asked, watching her strap the leather back to her wrist.

  "No, he does not know where we come from. Our people have been helping his family since we claimed anonymity in their mountains. He doesn't ask, but somehow I think he realizes we are different. I have told him I am a simple peasant girl from a neighboring village and he accepts this, but I think he realizes from our clothing and our horses that we are unalike, and doesn't press me further.” She smiled when Robert picked Richard up in a bear-like hug.

  "Are you in love with him?” He watched for the reactions on her face.

  She turned toward him, angry. “If you must ask me, then you know nothing about love. I do love him in my own way."

  Roan sighed. He was so off balance when she was angry with him. He moved closer to her and watched the wariness in her eyes.

  "I am trying to learn. I am a knight not a romantic. Teach me.” His hand came up and ran down her cheek, and he noticed he was stroking some of her anger away.

  "You demand I teach you!"

  * * * *

  "No,” he moved in closer and he gently kissed her forehead, “I ask you to teach me.” He sighed against her forehead.

  With his warm breath skimming her face, she sensed the trueness of his words. He was gently making his way back into her heart. “I will think about it."

  He smiled against her cheek. “I ask you to allow me to kiss you.” His lips hovered above hers, awaiting her permission.

  She was surprised by his request and the wall she had carefully built around her heart finally crumbled. “That is one thing you need not ask.” She smiled against his lips and his mouth moved forward to tenderly claim hers as if in apology for his earlier actions. He lightly encircled her body with his arms, sharing his warmth.

  "I'm sorry for my earlier behavior, for my words, back there. I'm not sure what came over me.” He moved his head indicating the tavern. “You were correct, my words and actions held no honor. When I saw you with him, I...” he stopped, and then continued. “Can you forgive me?” He softly kissed her cheek, rubbing his rough face against the smoothness of hers.

  * * * *

  "Yes.” She breathed the word against his cheek. Her scent encompassed him and her soft skin against his lips made him exhale with regret when a large hand tugging against his shoulder forced him to release Serena. The loss of contact aggravated him.

  Robert clapped his hand on Roan's shoulder.

  "My friend. It seems you attempt to make amends with my little bird.” Robert smiled and pulled him away from Serena so he could speak to him alone.

  Robert tugged a leather gauntlet off of his arm and held it up so Roan could see the Royal Bruce crest branded into the backside. “This will allow you safe passage in Scotland, should you have the need.” He concluded by stripping one of Roan's gauntlets off and tugging his onto Roan's arm.

  "Roan, my Wolf friend.” He was no longer the cheerful, good-humored man who had greeted them earlier. “Serena holds a special spot in my heart and will never be replaced. I will not abide anything bad happening to her or her unhappiness. You will protect her with your life and keep her safe, and
you will make her content or I will claim her as my own. Do not doubt after I claim her, I will kill you, my good friend.” Dead serious, Robert's face held none of his earlier pleasantry. He finished tying the gauntlet to Roan's arm, much tighter than necessary.

  Roan's anger surfaced. “You will never get the chance to claim her because the privilege has already been gifted to me, and the only way you will separate us is if I am already dead. I will make her happy, do not doubt it.” He wrenched his arm from Robert's grip.

  Robert had only one thing to say in light of Roan's declaration. “Good.” He then returned to his pleasant demeanor and clasped Roan on the shoulder. “Now I must say goodbye to my little bird.” He stalked off leaving Roan to brood over his behavior.

  * * * *

  Serena was caught in a gripping hug and surrounded by Robert's aura. She smiled as he pulled back.

  "My little bird, when will I see ye again?” He clasped her hand in his.

  "I do not know, we must find Ziem. Others have been tasked to help with the wounded until Richard and I return."

  "I would help ye if I could, lass, ye know, but I have much bigger wars to be fightin.” She lightly caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes.

  "I sense your fatigue of the battle, but you cannot relent. Your role in this fight is much too important to the people you struggle for. I sense much respect in your men toward your leadership. You will do great things, Robert, I know you will."

  He opened his eyes and she saw a depth of knowledge of his responsibility. He enclosed her hands in his.

  "He is a good man.” He inclined his head toward Roan. “And he is much taken with ya.” He smiled when she tried to shake her head no. “Yer tryin’ to deny it, but I see ya with him, lass, and I know what ya feel. We have known each other over long for me to be seein’ otherwise.” He tilted his head again. “Do not be fightin’ it overmuch, lass, yield to him and I promise, ye will not regret it. Do ya question his feelings, lass?"