Warrior's Revenge

by Coreene Callahan

  Hearing the brush of her boots on the cobblestone, he turned to greet her. Unable to resist teasing her a little, he murmured, “That was fast, little heart. Did you run all the way?”

  She smiled, and he caught his breath. Goddamn, she was beautiful on a good day. But blue eyes bright with enthusiasm? Her appeal increased a hundred–fold.

  “Almost,” Aurora said, laughing. “’Tis the truth, I may have trampled a maid or two on the way down the stairs.”

  Brigham’s mouth curved. “Only a couple?”

  “Aye, well, I was moving too fast.” Pure imp, her nose crinkled. “I may have, in my haste, run over a few more.”

  “Bloody hell, we shall soon be out of servants do you continue in this vein.” He grinned, enjoying their banter. “Will I be forced to tally a body count every time I take you on an outing?”

  “Who says there will be others? I have not agreed to any.”

  “You will,” he said with confidence.

  Pursing her lips, Aurora threw him an aggrieved look. He took a deep breath and dragged his gaze from her mouth. Christ, he wanted to taste her again.

  How he resisted the temptation, Brigham didn’t know. His brain malfunctioned, ceasing to work in a proper fashion as all his blood rushed to another area. He clenched his teeth, trying to control his reaction. What the hell was his problem? Like a green lad, he reacted without thought to the consequences. ’Twas something he never did. Too many depended on him, relying on his wits and steady nature to keep them safe. Self-mastery was a necessity. He needed to strengthen his resolve before someone got hurt by his thoughtlessness.

  Desperate for a distraction, he frowned and flicked his gaze over her, wanting to be certain her cloak held enough thickness to keep her warm on their ride. Muscles across his abdomen tightened in abject appreciation. Hmm, but she was an enticing bit of goods. A long-legged, sweetly curved beauty sent to bedevil him. He shook his head and drew a breath, praying the chilly autumn air would cool his overheated body. After a moment of extreme concentration, he forced his mind from behind the lacing of his trews.

  He turned back to his mount. “You’ll do.”

  Making a face at him, she crossed her eyes. Like a child might do to a boy annoying her. Brigham huffed with laughter. God give him strength, because…aye. He would need every bit of it to stick to the plan. Otherwise, he would end up atop her in the tall grass, her legs wrapped around his waist while wedding bells rang inside his head.

  Raising the collar of her cloak to cover the nape of her neck, Aurora nearly bit her tongue in two to keep from retorting. Of course, she would do. Her mantle was thick, her gloves and boots furlined. Did Brigham think her so inept she would come unprepared to ride in the chill of autumn? Aurora pursed her lips to keep her rejoinder behind her teeth.

  Now was not the time to antagonize him. If she did, he might change his mind and she would never get her ride.

  Off to one side, she stood back, allowing him to finish saddling his steed while she looked for her mount. Besides the black, four other horses occupied the courtyard. She knew they were not meant for her. Warhorses all, with a guard to claim each, she discounted them out of hand and turned full circle, expecting to see the horse chosen for her. When none appeared, she grew suspicious. Brigham said he wanted to take her riding, but he’d not mentioned the how of it. In truth, she hadn’t thought to ask. Had she misunderstood his intentions? Was it possible he expected her to sit nestled against him on the same mount?

  Her brows collided. Not bloody likely. She wanted to ride a horse of her own, and by God, that was precisely what she would demand.

  “My lord, what horse will I be riding?”

  His too-beautiful mouth curved. Hands busy, Brigham finished threading a buckle with a leather strap. “Mine, with me mounted behind you.”

  “Oh nay, I’ll not,’ she said, outrage in her tone. “You promised me a ride, my lord, and I…”

  The stable master turned her attention

  Aurora drew in a soft breath. Oh my. Would you look at that? Reins in hand, Brian led an incredible grey speckled mare out of the barn. Not content to be leaving the warmth of her stall on such a chilly morning, the mare pulled on the rope, fighting the stable master’s lead.

  Aurora swung around, her gaze narrowing on Brigham.

  The brute didn’t even attempt to hide his amusement. He’d been teasing her when he told her they would share a mount, and she’d stepped straight into his trap. Good lord, Nate was right. She had lost her sense of humor. But then, she consoled herself with the fact any sane person would have done the same, considering Brigham and the amount of strain he forced her to endure.

  And well, the very idea that she…of being pressed up against that big, hard body…well, ’twas heating her in places that had no business warming in the first place. The devil. Still, she refused to let him get the best of her.

  “Crafty brute,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

  He laughed and chucked her under the chin with his forefinger.

  She blinked, struggling to douse her delight in his reaction. Heavens, what was happening? She found him almost charming today. Aurora didn’t have time to wonder about it. Brian arrived with her mount, and her attention turned. Assessing the graceful lines of the mare, she smiled at the stable master.

  “Good morrow, my lady.”

  “And to you Brian. She’s a beauty.”

  “Aye, and a feisty one at that, my lady. You’d best watch out for her tantrums.”

  Reaching out to the mare, she stroked her muzzle and spoke to her in soft tones. The mare quit her temper, nudging Aurora’s hand for another pat of affection. “I think we’ll do just fine together, Brian. What is her name?”

  “I’ve not yet named her, my lady. She is new to Alvars…arrived just this week.”

  Brigham nodded to the stable master. “Name her whatever you like, Aurora.”

  Turning, he palmed her waist and lifted, boosting her onto the mare.

  Her backside connected with the saddle.

  Aurora’s eyes went wide in alarm. Oh, dear, she had forgotten about her sore bottom. Disguising her gasp with a cough, she hid her reaction by rearranging her cloak, all the while praying Brigham hadn’t noticed her discomfort. A quick peek in his direction told her his attention was otherwise occupied.

  Well, thank the lord for narrowly missed embarrassment.

  Brigham would no doubt insist on inspecting her backside if he suspected she was too tender to sit her mount. She coughed again to cover her tracks, aware she would never survive the indignity.

  With a murmur of thanks, she accepted her reins from Brian. Nudging her mount to a trot, she led them out of the keep. Upon clearing the main gate, Aurora prompted the mare into a flat-out run and made for the sloping hill that rolled up to look down upon Alvars.

  She sensed the black on her heels but didn’t care. It felt so good to be flying again, to have blood thundering in her veins and the wind whipping at her hair. Aurora urged her mount on, needing to test the mare’s speed as well as affirm her own skills hadn’t been lost through disuse.

  The grey’s stride lengthened beneath her. Brigham kept pace, allowing her to lead, determining both the direction and tempo of their ride. It would have been easy for him to overtake her, but he didn’t, and Aurora couldn’t help but feel grateful. ’Twas nice of him, and that surprised her. He was a baron, one of the most powerful in the land, and yet he claimed second seat, indulging her need to lead.

  Her mood good, her technique strong, she entered the forest. Thundering down the trail, she peeked over her shoulder at Brigham. The wind picked up his cloak, tossed it around his shoulders as it stroked its fingers through his hair. Twin clouds of vapor burst from the black’s muzzle over the grey’s left flank. With a snort, the beast pulled at the reins, wanting to take the lead. Brigham held him back. Aurora smiled and faced forward, yearning to ride with abandon a while longer.

  Leaning into the sti
rrups, she rounded a sharp bend. Her foot slipped and her balance faltered. She adjusted, slanting right to compensate. The saddle shifted with her. She froze, breath locked in her throat, afraid to move. Dear God, the cinch strap had given way. And she was going to fall if she didn’t— Aurora grabbed for the mare’s mane.

  Leather slipped against the course strands. Her heart hitched as her gloved hand slid and she lost her hold. The saddle listed and with a cry, Aurora pulled back on her reins. The grey tossed her head, refusing to break stride and slow.

  “Jump!” Dark hooves flying, the black came alongside her. “Aurora…jump!”

  Her perch precarious, she turned toward Brigham. He reached for her. One moment split into another, slowing time until all she heard was the throb of her own heart. His dark eyes held her steady. Her trust in him rose. Without thought, she kicked from the stirrups and leapt, placing her life in his hands.

  Brigham caught hold, strength sure, grip firm, and lifted her from atop the grey. The mare shied away from the black. Aurora dangled in mid-air, the ground a blur beneath her. She heard a curse, felt the momentum as Brigham pulled, swinging her around behind him. She landed hard, connecting with the black’s rump, and slid sideways. Clutching at him, she buried her hands in the back of his cloak. He shifted, giving her room, and she settled snug against his back, face buried between his shoulders. Her breath coming in frantic bursts, she hung on as he went after the grey. Moments or minutes later—Aurora couldn’t say which—Brigham brought them to a halt in the middle of the path. He swung his leg over the pommel and jumped to the ground, taking her with him.

  Heart still hammering, Aurora grabbed new fistfuls of Brigham’s cloak. She couldn’t let him go. Not yet. Not until the world stopped spinning. She needed him to ground her. Needed to take solace in his strength and soothing woody scent. Just for a moment. Afterward, she’d pull herself together. Push away and put the usual distance between them.

  With a murmur, he wrapped his arm around her. “All right?”

  She pressed her face into his shoulder, fine tremors rolling beneath her skin.

  “Aurora,” he said, tone soft, comfort in each syllable of her name. “Little heart?”

  The trembling turned into shaking. Exhaling hard, she nodded. “Y-you?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Rubbing her back, he soothed her with gentle circles, working on the tension that held her taut. She released a shaky breath and relaxed her grip, feeling her weight settle back on her own two feet. But her hands refused to let him go. He was so steady, so strong and she…well, wasn’t.

  “You ride well, Aurora.”

  She snorted, half-laugh, half-hiccup, recognizing his comment for what it was—a form of distraction. A way to turn her thoughts away from her near miss and onto something less threatening. Her bottom lip trembled. There he went again…being nice.

  Appreciation surged, but despite his effort, her mind wouldn’t let it go. God, the feel of the saddle shifting beneath her—the complete loss of control. Had Brigham not lifted her to safety, she would be dead, lying in the bracken with her neck broken. Two accidents in less than three days. Was it coincidence or…something more dangerous? The thought scared her. She’d been so certain her uncle couldn’t touch her at Alvars, but Lord Cedric was nothing if not clever.

  She burrowed deeper into Brigham’s warmth.

  He tightened his hold, giving her an anchor. “Who taught you?”

  Despite herself, Aurora’s lips curved. Perseverance was definitely his strong suit. “My father.”

  He cupped her nape and, using gentle pressure, coaxed her chin up. Dark eyes searching hers, he continued his distraction. “You must have ridden often at your uncle’s keep.”

  As far as diversions went, mentioning her uncle was a good one. Uncurling her fingers from his cloak, she took a breath and stepped away. He allowed the separation, dropping his hands from her, studying her face, concern in his gaze.

  “I did…in the beginning. But I have not ridden in over a year, my lord. My uncle forbade me the stables when it became clear I enjoyed them.”

  Brigham scowled. “Unfeeling bastard.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Naught.” He turned away, leaving her standing in the middle of the path to approach the grey. Settling the mare with a quiet word, he grabbed her halter to keep her from bolting.

  Birds twittered, flicking from branch to branch as Aurora followed in his wake. She wanted to know why her saddle had failed. “’Tis a hobby, of sorts.”

  “What?” Flipping the stirrup over the seat, Brigham fingered the wide leather cinch around the mare’s belly. “Riding?”

  “Horse breeding.”

  Brigham’s head snapped in her direction so fast, ’twas a wonder it stayed on his shoulders. “He taught you of breeding?”

  Aurora smiled at his surprised expression. “Aye, ’tis not something a lady is encouraged to learn, but my father had a passion for horses and he bred his own instead of seeking what he needed elsewhere. I have the same love, and Papa saw naught wrong with my learning as well.”

  “A good man, your father.”

  “Aye, one of the very best,” Aurora said, grief crowding her. She shoved it aside and peered over Brigham’s arm at what he held in his hands.

  A furrow between his brows, he turned the metal buckle between his fingertips. “Broken.”

  “Faulty metal?” Aurora heard the hope in her voice, but couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to believe her uncle had found her.

  “Uh-hum.”

  She shuffled her feet. What kind of response was that? Thoughtless at best, deceptive at worst, his evasion warned her something about the buckle bothered him. Aurora glanced at the thick foliage framing each side of the trail, seeing naught but shadows. “Mayhap, we should get back, my lord. I—”

  Brigham’s hand shot out. Aurora sucked in a breath as he took hold of her chin. “You are safe here, Aurora. I will not allow your uncle to hurt you again.”

  Relief rushed through her. Mayhap, she’d overreacted. Metal buckles gave way all the time, and Brigham’s reassurance tipped the scales, making her feel safe again. Aurora swallowed past the lump in her throat. His deliberate assurance made her want to cry. As ever, pride stopped the flow. She would not give her uncle that power over her. Not again. He’d hurt her long enough.

  Turning her gaze from Brigham’s, she watched a pair of squirrels frolic near the base of a nearby oak. “I thank you for that, my lord. Although Lord Eamon has already assured me of this, you are his overlord and I was worried you might...”

  “Might what? Give you back to the bastard?”

  Aurora bit back a smile at his obvious outrage. Without meaning to, she’d insulted him with her assumption. Unable to resist teasing him a little, she ignored his frown. “Well, aye, of course I did. You aren’t named the Monster of Mornay for naught, I assume?”

  Aurora glanced at him from beneath her lashes to see his reaction to her spunk. She realized two things at once. The man was about to throttle her again and their escort hadn’t caught up to protect her from the onslaught. God help her, when her sense of humor came back, it did so with a vengeance…and at the most inappropriate times. Panicked, she grasped the first thing that came to mind.

  “Our escort,” she said, trying to stave off the inevitable confrontation. Lord knew she would never win. Not with Brigham. “Your men will be along any moment now, my lord.”

  The ploy didn’t work. Much to her dismay, her attempt produced the opposite result. Aurora backed away. He closed the distance. Quick as a cat, he grabbed hold of her hand before she could turn and run. The calluses on his fingertips brushed her gloved palm and, pressing close, he crowded her with his big body. Heat poured off him in waves and the silence stretched, thundering through her brain while threatening to leave her daft long before he got around to doing whatever it was he considered doing to her.

  “Aurora.”

  Did she detect a
musement in his voice? Was he laughing at her, then?

  Aurora tugged on her hand, the urge to flee warring against the lure of his warmth. Taking a fortifying breath, she glanced up to assure herself he couldn’t be amused, only to be arrested by the tender look in his eyes. “Aye, my lord.”

  “We have no escort.”

  “What?” Her lips parted, she stared at him. “But surely…I mean, when we left the keep, your men…well, they must have followed.”

  “You didn’t notice?” He bared his straight white teeth long enough to grin at her. “Ah, but you were in a hurry, were you not, little heart? Do you even know where we are or how to get back to the keep?”

  She opened her mouth—she could have sworn she did—but closed it when no rejoinder sprang to mind. Drat. She didn’t know how to answer him. There was no way she would admit to being an idiot. But then, no other explanation explained such reckless behavior. ’Twas a fact she exited the keep in a hurry and hadn’t paid attention to where she rode. But not to have noticed no one escorted them? Well, now, that was just plain stupid, in her opinion. Especially when she considered who’d been hot on her heels the whole time.

  But even more alarming was the fact she now found herself alone with Brigham…in the middle of nowhere. With a broken saddle, no less.

  Lovely. Tremendous. Stupid as hell.

  Her breathing became erratic as she compiled a list of options. What was she going to do? He could ravish her, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. He’d demonstrated more than once his strength far outweighed her own. She was at his mercy. Now the larger problem—at least in her opinion—was the fact he didn’t appear to have any.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Enemy at the Gates

  Taking advantage of her speechlessness, Brigham laced his fingers with hers. His thumb played at the edge of her glove, brushing the inside of her wrist, making her yearn so hard she didn’t know what to do. Sink or swim. Sinking sounded good. Especially when he tugged, drawing her off balance, and pulled her closer.