Full of agony, the excruciating sound hit Brigham with the force of a trebuchet. In a flap, birds took flight above him, and he faltered, staggering under the force of his fear. Nay! Oh, God, nay. He was too late…they’d…she’d…
“Aurora.”
Another scream echoed through the trees.
His heart cracked. As it shattered, grief blinded him. Brigham lost his footing and stumbled. He’d failed her. Had told her he would keep her safe and now she was dead. And so was he. “Christ help me.”
His shoulder slammed into the thick trunk of an oak tree. Forehead pressed to the rough bark, Brigham squeezed his eyes closed, bow hanging from his numb fingertips.
“Jesus Christ!” Camden grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
He looked up into his friend’s face, moisture gathering in his eyes. “She’s gone…I’m too—”
“Get your arse moving.” His tone full of aggression, his friend’s hand bit into his skin. “Aurora needs you.”
She needs me….needs me…needs me.
The affirmation wasn’t part of the past, but one of the present. Brigham blinked. Christ, what was he thinking? Camden was right. A couple of screams didn’t mean death. She could still be alive. Aurora might still…
Hope returned his strength.
Teeth bared, Brigham lunged away from the tree. Time to pull his head out of his arse. Aurora needed him. He would provide. Even if it meant his own death.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Safe at Last
The tip of the glowing poker hissed. Aurora could hear the sizzle along with her uncle’s footfalls. Each step made fallen leaves crackle as he closed the distance. A gleam in his eyes, he stared at her from beneath his brows, anticipation on the planes of his face.
Loathing in her heart, too furious to care, she snarled at him. “Even if you succeed in this, do you really believe Brigham will not look to you…suspect you above all others?”
In a show of superiority, he swung the poker, twirling the metal in a wide circle. The red tip left an orange trail in the air. “He will never prove it. I have set up a gypsy decoy camp to the north. He will look there before he looks for me or any of mine. And without proof, he will be powerless.”
Rage streamed through her veins. Her grip on the ropes tightened. The twine groaned, a testament to her strength. “He will hunt you to the ends of the earth. There is nowhere you can go that he will not track you. When he finds you, he will rip your brain out through your eye sockets and feed it to you for supper.”
Lord Cedric smiled and raised his arm. Heat brushed the inside of her forearm, just below the gash. “You always were a haughty bitch, but I see your time away from me has given you courage. Good. I will enjoy burning it out of you.”
He pressed in. Hot steel seared her skin. Aurora bared her teeth, smelled the horror of burning flesh, then screamed as the pain hit. Her uncle smiled. Aurora screamed again, this time in fury. She brought her knees up. His eyes went wide an instant before she thrust her legs out. She hammered him in the chest, heard a crunch, and felt him gasp. Momentum propelled him backward. He landed with a thump on his backside beside the fire pit.
Boyd roared in displeasure. He cranked his fist back. Aurora braced for impact as he lunged toward her. Agony throbbing through her injured arm, she toed the ground. Curling into a ball, she swung toward the tree trunk at her back. On the forward swing, she made like an inchworm and climbed the tether. If she could get to the limb above, she might be able to free her hands. And the second she did? Freedom. A chance at escape. The opening to run and hide until Brigham found her.
Halfway up the rope, Aurora took a fist to the ribs. The blow knocked her sideways, spinning her in circles as the air left her lungs. Her hands slipped. She bounced like a trout on the end of a fishing line. Hope gone, Aurora tipped her chin down, curled her knees into her chest, and waited for the next blow. Boyd’s knuckles flashed, coming toward her again. She cringed, preparing for the pain and— A white blur streaked across the clearing.
With a grunt, Boyd stumbled sideways. Beady eyes widening in surprise, he clutched his throat. Aurora’s mouth fell open. Dear God…an arrow. Her arrow now protruded from the side of Boyd’s neck. Blood poured between his fingertips as all life drained from his eyes. As he fell sideways, a terrifying war cry echoed in the dell.
“Brigham!” Her scream rebounded, banging inside her own head. “Brigham…I’m here!”
No one answered.
Heart throbbing against her breastbone, she twisted against the bindings. Oh God…please God. Where the devil was he? She needed to find her brute. To lay eyes on him. To make sure she wasn’t imagining things. And while she was at it? She must get free of the cursed rope.
Her uncle stirred and struggled to his feet. The iron poker bobbed in his hand.
Brigham bellowed.
Another arrow flew.
Aurora heard the zing an instant before she hit the ground. Dropped in the dirt, she sat unmoving on her backside. Mouth half open, she gaped at the severed rope above her wrists. With a twist, she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the arrow embedded in the tree trunk behind her. Good God, he’d cut her loose with an arrow. An arrow, for pity’s sake! Incredible. Such an amazing shot that— “Aurora—move!”
Brigham’s voice rolled over her from the other side of the clearing. In less than an instant she obeyed, scuttling backward as the clearing overflowed with her husband’s men. They came from every direction—from around and above and behind. Swords clashed and men shouted, the quiet of the forest obliterated in flashes of steel.
A sob locked in her lungs, Aurora searched the fray for Brigham. A man grabbed her from behind. She rounded on him, bound hands raised to claw his eyes out. “Nay!”
“Easy, my lady.” Dark eyes glittered from an equally dark face. The Saracen…one of Brigham’s men. “’Tis only me…Ajax.”
Her vision blurred. She lost sight of the guard for a moment. And no wonder. With her eyes full of unshed tears, she couldn’t see a blasted thing anymore. But aye. She knew his voice…recognized his accent. A helpless sound of gratitude escaped her. Safe. Ajax equaled safe.
With a deft movement, he scooped her off the ground. “Come, my lady. We must be away from here.”
With no strength left, Aurora accepted his support. Carrying her now, Ajax slid through a break in the trees. Battle raging behind them, he set her down on a patch of dry earth surrounded by prickly shrubs. Cupping her hands, he slipped his blade between the rough binding and her wrists. The rope fell away with one quick slice. With a curse, Ajax shook his head the instant he saw her injuries.
“The bastards. Hold tight, my lady,” he said, lifting a satchel over his head. “The wounds need binding.”
“B-Brigham?” Her question came out on a croak. More than any healer, she needed her husband. For Brigham to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.
“He’ll be here soon.” Flipping a lid off a jar, he slathered the inside of her arm with salve. “As soon as he can…you’ve my word.”
She tried to hold still—to give Ajax the cooperation he needed—but trembled so hard she made it difficult for him. With a soothing murmur, he held her steady, and touch gentle, wrapped a linen bandage around her forearm.
“A-Ajax?” Swallowing a hiccup, she forced the question past her sore throat. “Nigel, Tobias—are t-they—”
“Alive and being tended at the keep,” he said, eyeing her with concern. “Don’t talk, my lady. All will be well.”
Aurora nodded, not believing it for a moment. Brigham was still out there fighting. Bashing enemy skulls…or whatever he favored. Which meant her uncle might well have escaped and— Oh nay. Please no. She couldn’t bear the thought. All of sudden, she yearned to go home. She lost the battle. Tears tipped over her bottom lashes. To Hades with her uncle. If Brigham got so much as a scratch…
She moaned, feeling sick to her stomach. To distract herself, she flexed her
hands, working the blood back into her fingertips. Ajax helped, massaging each one to bring her comfort. Aurora whispered a heartfelt thank you and— A dark shape rose behind the Saracen.
Ajax was tossed to one side. Aurora’s shriek turned into a gasp. Brigham. Oh, thank God. Finally. She reached for him. He dropped to his knees and, snatching her into his arms, crushed her against his chest. Dipping his head, he buried his face in her hair. He inhaled hard, soothing with gentle hands as she started to shake even harder.
“Sweet vixen. I’m here, Aurora,” he murmured, voice muffled by her hair. “I’m here.”
“Thank God. Thank God.” Grateful beyond measure, she tucked into the comfort of his embrace. Cheek pressed to the wall of his chest, she listened hard. His heartbeat thumped, calming her as naught else could. “B-Brigham…Brigham, I l-love you…I love you.”
He set his lips to the top of her head before his mouth drifted to her temple. He released a shuddered breath, found the spot behind her ear and nuzzled. “’Tis over, loving. Your uncle is dead. I killed him for you.”
“G-Good. Thank you…he…h-he…” Snug in his lap, mind gone blank, she shook her head. Her hair rubbed against the underside of his chin, bringing soft comfort. “Brigham, my G-god, I thought…I t-thought that—”
“Nay…shh, Aurora. I am here, and you are safe,” Brigham said, tone firm yet somehow gentle. Pulling back, he ran his hands over her, searching for injury. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you badly?”
She winced as his arms tightened around her. “A f-few bruises and scrapes. Naught m-more. I’ll be all right.” Her eyes met his. Seeing his upset, she shifted roles, wanting to reassure him. “Truly, Brigham, I am fine.”
Dark eyes filled with concern, Brigham tilted her head to one side. Big hand trembling, he cupped her jaw and wiped a tear away before smoothing his thumb over one of her bruises. “Nay, you are not. You need tending, Aurora…back at the keep.”
“Aye, please. Take me home.”
With a nod, he pressed her face to his shoulder and pushed to his feet. “As you wish, little heart. But when we get there, you will soothe my stable master.”
Aurora hiccupped. “Louis?”
“Aye, he is beside himself with worry.” His eyes sparkled as she threw him a dubious look. “He instructed me to bring you home…called you our beloved lass.”
“Oh, dear.”
Striding toward a break in the trees, Brigham pressed another kiss to her temple. “Aye, exactly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
For the Love of Her Brute
Curled on her side in the middle of the big bed, Aurora stirred. Feeling thick-headed and wan, she cracked one eye open. Light filtered through the wide window, trying to blind her. With a frown, she turned away. When that didn’t help, she tucked her face into the pillow, burrowed under the coverlet, seeking solace beneath its weighted warmth and…
Immediately regretted the impulse. God’s teeth, she hurt…everywhere.
Stifling a groan, Aurora braved a quick peek over the edge of the counterpane. Thank goodness. The glow of the setting sun was only half as bad as her battered senses imagined. Gritty and sore, her eyes adjusted. She rubbed the sleep away and scanned the chamber, searching for the reason she’d been pulled from slumber into wakefulness.
Her gaze lit on Brigham.
His back to her, he stood with his head bowed in front of the hearth. Hands busy, he fiddled with something. Her gaze swept his length and…oh, dear. His stance said it all—stiff, unyielding…angry. The rigid set of his shoulders clued her in. His expression too. Dark brows furrowed, he cut off a piece of whatever he held and threw it into the fire.
Not good. Nor the least bit encouraging.
A wise woman would’ve left well enough alone. Aurora refused to heed the warning. Her brute was stewing about something. And she hated to see him suffer.
Nudging the coverlet aside, she slid across the bed, her concentration on the man vibrating with fury halfway across the chamber. She reached the edge and sat with her legs dangling to study her husband. Oh aye. No doubt in her mind. He was hurting. She could see his pain as clearly as she felt her own.
Compassion and guilt collided in a complex tangle.
Aurora sighed. ’Twas her fault. All of it. She’d been selfish in the aftermath of her uncle’s attack. Had taken all Brigham offered—his strength, comfort, and care—and not given much back in return. Truth be told, she was a little ashamed of her behavior. In her defense, she’d never imagined herself capable of turning into a babbling, overwrought ninny. Too bad that was precisely what she’d become. From the moment Brigham had ridden into Mornay, and she’d encountered the contrary stable master, she’d lost all control. Not that anyone blamed her, because…good lord. The Scot had actually smiled—smiled, for the love of God!—when he saw her nestled against Brigham atop the black.
Which, of course, prompted a deluge of emotion. And her loss of control. Every scrap of it had disappeared, vanishing in a barrage of words that had no doubt damaged Brigham’s ears. Unable to stop, she’d babbled on and on, telling him everything. From the most trivial fact to the biggest detail, it didn’t matter. She’d emptied her heart, pouring out her grief in a tear-soaked diatribe until naught but a hollow ache remained.
Aurora huffed. God’s truth, she’d behaved like a cork-brained idiot. And God forgive him, Brigham had let her—holding her close, calming her with words, lending so much strength and understanding, it made her want to cry all over again.
With a sniffle, Aurora cringed. A moment later, she buried her embarrassment. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t do her any good. She couldn’t go back and change it. It was what it was. No sense clinging to the past. Besides, self-pity was not what Brigham needed from her right now. He needed her strong and resilient—able to provide the kind of comfort he gave her.
Giving herself a mental nod and a physical push, she hopped from the bed. Ignoring the chill underfoot, she approached him but stopped short when he turned toward her. The look of stark torment shadowing his eyes took her breath away. Her heart dipped, empathy for him settling deep.
“Brigham…what is wrong?”
He shuddered at the sound of her voice. His throat bobbed as he shook his head and glanced away. “Aurora, you…you should be abed. You need more sleep.”
Hmm. ’Twas worse than she thought. He was evading her question.
Gaze locked on him, she gestured toward the window. “I am not tired…and it seems, I have already slept the afternoon away. What was it you gave me to drink, anyway?”
Brigham shrugged. “Nate brought it. He said it would calm you…help you sleep.”
“It did,” Aurora said as she reached him. Touching his forearm, she felt him quiver and slid around to stand in front of him. Her intention? She planned to slip into his embrace. Force him to engage. Block his retreat before he stepped away. A good plan, but for one thing. Her gaze drifted to his hand and…
Ah hell. So much for not becoming distracted. Or getting emotional again.
Aurora swallowed as her throat went tight. Refusing to back away, she held the tears at bay and, grasping his closed fist, raised it to see what he held. The rope her uncle had used to bind her lay in his large hand. A fierce tenderness swirled through her as she realized what he was doing. Inch by excruciating inch, he cut the twine and threw it into the fire, destroying the very thing that had helped hurt her.
“Aurora…don’t.”
She held out her hand, palm up. “May I have it?”
He frowned, his eyes dark and grim. “Nay. You mustn’t look at it. ’Twill only remind you of him.”
“Nay, it won’t.” Holding his gaze, she let silence lead, hoping he would cede to her wishes without a fight. Aurora tried to be patient. She lasted all of an instant before giving up the pretext. “I know I behaved liked a weepy-faced nitwit earlier, but—”
“You did not,” Brigham said, a growl in his voice.
Lips tip
ped up at the corners, she huffed. “I did so. But I want you to understand something. It was a poison, one I needed to get out. So I cried about it. I told you about it. Now all the fear and sorrow inside of me is gone. I am much stronger then you think, Brigham.” Her gaze drilling into his, she bobbed her hand in midair. “May I have it, please?”
Torn between wanting to please her and his desire to protect her, Brigham vacillated. Aurora waited. He sighed and, in a moment of stillness, conceded, loosening his grip. Rough twine scraped her palm as her hand closed around the rope. Brushing the frayed end, she twirled the individual strands around her fingertip.
“Strange, don’t you think, that such a harmless thing can do so much damage when placed in the wrong hands?” Frowning, she wound the rope around her fist. “’Tis naught but a length of twine, and yet…”
His brows collided as she paused. Raising his hand, he reached out to touch her but, at the last moment, dropped it before he made contact. Clenching his fist, he stepped away from her. “Don’t think about it, Aurora. The bastard is dead. He will never hurt you again.”
“I know. I thank you for ensuring it,” Aurora said, watching him take another step back. Damnation, he was creating distance between them. Why? No clue. But she needed to get to bottom of his reaction…fast. Ignoring the space growing between them, she turned and tossed the rope into the fire. Pretending to watch it burn, she studied Brigham from under the cover of her eyelashes.
What to do…what to do? Attack. Retreat. Or cajole.
Given his mood, the latter sounded like a better strategy. Expression wiped clean, tense with the emotion he refused to show, he stood ready to explode. More empathy stole into her heart. God love him. Here was her warrior in all his glory. Remote and guarded, he would defend to the death, felling the enemy with unequaled skill and swiftness. She recognized the signs. Knew he took aim. His target? The strength of his emotion…along with his inability to control it. Heavens, he fairly choked on what he was feeling. So…new plan. If she wanted to gentle him, she needed to be ruthless. Use every weapon at her disposal to slip past the formidable walls he’d built to protect himself…
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