by Sofia Grey
There was nothing to be gained from charging in blindly, but Marc must have thought differently. “We ask him.” Marc strode to the servant, one hand on his newly acquired short sword, the other holding the disguised stunner behind his back.
The servant frowned as they approached, but he remained in front of the door, arms folded across his chest. He was armed, a dagger hung against the man’s hip and another was strapped to his calf. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, sturdy and well fed, with intelligent brown eyes and straight dark hair. Not a Saxon, but almost certainly allied to one.
“Greetings.” The ghardian spoke confidently, a lazy drawl in his voice. “I have a message for the chieftain. I would thank you for telling me where I may find him.” It sounded like a question.
The servant stood a little taller, his chin lifting and the frown deepening.
Behind Marc, Jared watched the ghardian’s hand close tighter around the stunner, the muscles in his forearm tensing.
“My master is not to be disturbed. You may leave the message with me.”
“Very well.” Marc moved as though to turn around and leave, but then paused. “Have you seen this?” He swung the stunner in an upward arc, and struck out at the servant.
The scream from inside the room froze Jared in his tracks.
Chapter Forty-Two
Lila
Bran hissed in pain and stiffened, and then sucked in his breath. “You little savage.”
These might be the vital seconds of distraction I needed. I screeched as loud as I could. My throat ached, and my ears rang, and I twisted and tried to wriggle free.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Even with the element of surprise, it was useless. He captured both hands with ease and held them over my head. Blood soaked through his tunic and splattered over me when he yanked the pin from his leg, and he cursed softly and dropped it to the floor, tightening his grip on my hands.
This was bad. I dragged a breath into lungs that had forgotten how to work, and tried to suppress the panic swelling in my gut. It took a moment before I realized he hadn’t touched me.
“I told you, girl, I mean you no harm.” He bit the words out.
“That depends on your perspective. From where I’m standing, it looks a little different.”
His breathing was heavy in my ear, and he sounded surprised when he spoke. “You’re educated?”
Jared had insisted I lie low and not draw attention to myself, so I just shrugged as best I could with my hands restrained.
“Hmm. I’m going to release you now and I want you to sit on the bed. Got it?” He sounded angry.
Common sense yelled at me to keep calm, follow his orders, wait for another opportunity. “Yes.”
He let go of me at the same time he pushed me to tumble face down onto the bed. I immediately scrambled around to curl my legs beneath me, and scuttled as far away from him as possible. He paid me no attention anyway. Cursing softly, he examined the hole in his thigh—which bled freely—and wadded some cloth against it, and then turned to face me. I wrapped my arms across my chest and lifted my chin. He knew I wasn’t prepared to submit freely to him. I could only hope he might reconsider how he wanted to use me.
“If you’d listened to me, we could have avoided this.” His gaze flicked down to the abandoned bloody pin and back to me. “I need to go out somewhere and I just want you to stay here. That’s all. Can you do that?” I thought about it. What was to stop me leaving the room as soon as he’d gone? He raised one eyebrow. “My servant will remain on the door, should you think about running away. And you can rest assured that, when I return, I will not be demanding the use of your body.”
I allowed a smile to escape. He knew I was dangerous. I was surprised when he smiled back.
“You’re very pretty when you smile, Mudd, but even so, I have no intention of bedding you, despite my comments earlier. I merely wish to use you for cover while I go attend to some business. If people think I’m otherwise occupied, they’ll stay away. And that’s why I need you to stay here.”
I blinked, overwhelmed by a surge of relief. He wasn’t going to… Hang on. I needed to be in the banquet hall at sundown. I couldn’t stay here too long. Forgetting I was supposed to be a slave, I stared at him. “How long will you be? I mean, I need to…” The words trailed away at the look of puzzlement on his face. Shit. Then again, he was behaving a little strangely for a Gaulish chieftain.
“How long have you been a slave, Mudd?” He stepped closer, head cocked slightly to one side, his voice soft.
“Not long, sire.” I injected a wealth of contempt into the last word, holding his gaze and watching as an amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A smile that rapidly disappeared when we heard a noise from the corridor.
Someone shouting, “Lila!”
Chapter Forty-Three
Jared
The servant threw up his arm to block the blow, and the next minute the servant and the ghardian were brawling. Jared tried to push past them both, in an attempt to get to the door, but was blocked by the two men. Marc looked to be the stronger until a swift, twisting move knocked his stunner to the floor.
Jared dived for it, but it lay against the door, out of reach.
Marc lifted his head, an agonized expression on his face, and renewed his attack on the servant. He gripped the man’s tunic and seemed determined to beat him against the wall. There was no more noise from the room, and Jared yelled Lila’s name, terrified. She had to know they were there, coming to save her. He would not let anything else happen to her.
The servant made a choking sound, and Marc paused. “Get in there,” he snapped to Jared, tossing him the short sword. “Get her.”
Jared had a weapon, even if he could barely hold it. He crashed into the door with his shoulder, and it opened easily under his weight. He staggered inside, the momentum carrying him forward to collide with another man. The stunner bounced off Jared’s foot, flew past him on the floor and skittered along to land beside the stranger. The chieftain—the enemy. Lila stood apart from him, her hands to her face.
Jared blinked, focused on the enemy and yelled, “Stay back! Keep your hands off her!” Swinging the sword, unable to control it as he normally would, he lashed out in a wild strike that glanced off the man’s shoulder. It was a clumsy blow, but it had to have still hurt, for Jared felt the shock reverberate up his arm.
The man swore and ducked to the side, reaching for his own sword as Lila screamed, “Stop!”
Huh?
Jared stopped and stared at Lila, drinking in her appearance. She sat on a large bed, apparently intact and unhurt, while the man had blood oozing from his thigh. Had she done that? Pride swelled in his chest and he pulled her into a rough embrace.
“Baby,” he whispered. “Oh, Lila.” She held him tight. He could hear the frantic beating of her heart, feel her rapid breath against his neck. “I was so worried. I heard you scream. What did he do? If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”
“He…no…”
“He is standing right here.”
Jared turned slowly at the sound of the chieftain’s voice, making sure Lila was behind him, protected by his body.
“Is everybody intent on taking a chunk out of me today?” His attention dropped to the floor. “Now this is interesting,” he murmured, picking up the stunner and laying it on the palm of his hand.
Before Jared could reply, Marc burst through the door, sword in hand. “On your knees,” he snarled to the man.
Jared felt Lila tense, and he braced himself. “Oh Marc, thank God.” Her voice died away. Jared followed her gaze.
Marc was saluting the stranger. “Commander Fleur?” He sounded perplexed. “Lieutenant Marc Gallagher, sir.” He spoke in their native tongue and it took Jared a few seconds before the truth hit him. The warlord’s newest ally was a ghardian? He glanced back at Lila, to see her looking equally shocked.
“You swore at me earlier. You used a modern term, and I thought it
sounded wrong.” She raised a hand to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
Commander Fleur gave her a wry smile. “You defended yourself very well, and there’s little damage, other than to my pride. I won’t be so arrogant next time as to think an unarmed young woman can be harmless.”
Next to crash through the door was the servant, looking somewhat battered. A fresh bruise bloomed on his chin, and his tunic was torn, with a bloody graze along his forearm, but he looked bright and alert. He stood to attention and saluted Lila’s ghardian. “Corporal Arto Pascal. I wasn’t expecting to meet you in this manner, sir.”
Jared had a horrible suspicion as to why the other ghardian was here. Lila must have thought the same. She rushed to ask the question before anyone else could speak. “Marc thought the signal failed. Are you the backup he requested?”
Chapter Forty-Four
Lila
I should have been thrilled to see more ghardians, to know our rescue squadron had—against the odds—arrived, but I was petrified they’d take Jared into custody. I’d promised him freedom and I would not let them tag him and haul him back to our time as a felon.
Without thinking it through, I climbed down from the bed and hurried to Marc’s side, to touch his arm. He looked terrible, his face a mass of blood and bruises, but I had to speak first. “Marc,” I cried, “Jared is dead.” I gulped and tried to sound convincing. “He tried to escape, but was caught, and this slave,” I gestured to Jared, “saw him being executed.”
Marc stared back, disbelief written across his handsome, broken face. I rushed on. “This is Wolf. He befriended me, and I promised I’d help him escape.” I was being clever, using the local dialect as though Jared was, indeed, a local. Please, Marc, I begged inside my head, go along with my story.
I saw the confusion in Marc’s eyes and prayed he trusted me. An age seemed to pass before he nodded. “Lila would not make a promise without good reason. We should consider her request.” I cringed inside at his choice of words. I had to make him understand my reasoning, but he shied away from me when I moved to his side.
The commander—I still thought of him as Bran—smiled. “Commander Brandon Fleur, at your service.” He nodded to Jared. “Wolf? I thank you for your help. We’re here to rescue Mistress Lila, and you may rest assured, she is in safe hands.”
This was all well and good, but we had to get out of there, and I had to get Jared away before they learned the truth. I cleared my throat to gather their attention. “So what happens now?” I was careful to use the Saxon dialect, continuing to maintain the story about Jared being a local.
Bran looked at Marc. “Do you already have an exit strategy?”
Marc glanced at Jared before he spoke. “Wolf has secured horses and robes for us, and plans a distraction at sundown, when everyone should be in the banqueting hall. We intended to ride out amidst the confusion of a fire in the stables, and reassess our position once we were clear of Widreth’s lands.”
Bran nodded. “As strategies go, it has merit. Our plans are a little more elaborate, but I see no reason why they won’t work alongside yours. Ten miles north of here on the Verulamium road, you’ll find a village next to a lake. Wait there for us. We’ll join you within two days.” He must have seen the confusion on my face, for he smiled at me, looking suddenly pleasant. “I did not expect to find you a slave, Miss Cammell. It’s my preference that you are away from here at the earliest opportunity, rather than wait until our mission is complete.”
He leaned toward me and spoke softly into my ear, in our own language. “You will be home soon. I give you my word.” I flushed and dropped my head. Two days. That was enough time for Jared to get far away. “And now, we have business to attend to. Perhaps, Lieutenant Gallagher, you could accompany me for a debriefing?”
Marc stood to attention. “I would like to speak with Lila and Wolf first, if you would allow us a few minutes alone, sir?”
Bran and Arto left the room, closing the door behind them. I moved to Marc’s side and reached for his hand. He shrugged me off, his eyes flashing doubt and anger.
“What are you thinking, Lila? You’re asking me to lie to a commanding officer, to falsify the records of this mission.” He looked hard at Jared. “You freed me, and for that I’m in your debt, but even so. Lila, please be honest with me. Why?”
I drew a weary hand across my face. What could I say? I tried the truth. “He didn’t run away. He tried to save me by fighting the Saxons, and I won’t see him sent to the penal colony, not after being a slave here for the last two years. It’s not right, Marc.”
Marc’s jaw tightened. “Do you have any evidence?”
Jared shook his head. “Everyone died. I’m the only survivor.”
“Convenient,” muttered Marc.
I scowled. “I believe him, doesn’t that count?”
A sharp knock on the door preceded Bran’s return. He handed the stunner back to Marc and nodded at Jared’s sword. “Can you stay here and protect Lila until sundown? Arto will stay in the corridor, but Marc and I need to be elsewhere.”
Jared nodded, but held it awkwardly as though his hands were hurting. “The Saxons will be looking for him soon, once they realize he’s escaped from his cell.”
Bran just smiled. “That’s in hand and you don’t need to worry about it. Just stay here until sundown, and then put your plan into operation. I’ve sent for someone to make you more comfortable, and he’ll be here in a few minutes.”
I searched Marc’s face, trying to gauge his feelings, but it was a blank page. My stomach churned. “Will you still be coming with us? Or are you staying here now, with Commander Fleur?”
“Marc will still be accompanying you. But now, we must go.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Jared
Jared wondered if he’d stepped into a dream world, one where enemy chieftains morphed into high-ranking ghardians with elaborate missions. The feel of Lila’s cool fingers on his arm snapped him right back, and he let go of the sword. It clattered to the floor.
“Christ.” He pulled her into his arms again, unable to stay away from her. She pressed her face against his bare chest, and he closed his eyes, content for the moment. “I heard you scream. Did he touch you?” Ghardian or not, if he’d hurt Lila, Jared would make him pay.
“No.” Her reply sounded choked. “But I didn’t know who he was and I stabbed him, and then I screeched so he’d let me go.”
Jared let out a relieved chuckle. “Remind me never to annoy you when you have a sharp implement in your hand.”
He regretted the words the instant they tumbled from his mouth. Lila stiffened against him, and then raised her face to his. “You won’t have time to. You’re finally getting your freedom.”
Losing her again. He couldn’t think about that. He tried to change the subject. “Damned ghardians. Are they always so secretive? If you want a straight answer, never ask a ghardian.”
She just stared at him. He saw cornflowers and summer skies in her eyes. He felt burned by their intensity. “I wish things were different.” Her whisper called to him, and the longing on her face matched his own. He needed to touch her. Softly, as gently as he could manage, he traced his knuckles down the side of her jaw. It wasn’t enough.
He tried to cling to the safety of conversation. “Different, how?”
“I wish I were braver.”
He blinked. “Baby, you’re—”
“I was a coward, Jared. I didn’t have the courage to tell you how I felt.”
Ah no, he didn’t want to hear this. A knock on the door gave him the perfect opportunity to break off her impassioned speech.
It was a stranger, another servant-or-possible-ghardian, carrying a bowl of steaming water and a pile of cloths, a brown leather satchel flung over his shoulder. He nodded to Arto on the door and beamed at Lila and Jared. Tall and thin, the man was clean shaven with high cheekbones, a sharp nose like a hawk’s beak, and a friendly smile that crinkled the
corners of his eyes.
“Greetings, my friends. I am Mischa.” His Saxon was flawless, and Jared wondered if he was truly as he appeared. After depositing the water on the table, the man opened his bag, and Jared’s question was answered. “I have a special tool, one we use in Gaul, for removing your thrall rings. Let me please have your neck, Mistress Lila.”
She bent her head, and he snipped at the link with a small hand-held device. Seconds later, he slipped it from her neck and beamed at her. “Better?”
“Much.” She massaged her throat and watched as he removed Jared’s collar in the same way.
Jared couldn’t hold back a groan of relief. His neck felt oddly weak for a moment, but God, this was amazing. For the first time in two years, he was again a free man. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he blinked them away.
“I have salve as well.” Mischa passed them a small jar of ointment. “I have instructions to tend to your hands.”
Mischa bathed them, soaking the rough scraps of bandage before peeling them off, taking even more skin with them. It hurt like a bitch, and Jared focused on Lila, holding her gaze while the man did his work. Her gasp of horror churned Jared’s stomach, but he managed a smile. “It looks worse than it is.”
“What did Rowena do? I’ll kill her.”
He shook his head, amused at her angry words. Rowena would soon be history, and he had no desire to waste any time or energy on her. It felt much better when Lila wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. Funny how it took most of the pain away. Before Jared knew it, Mischa had cleaned the wounds and applied a very modern-looking cream and fresh, new bandages. Already the pain had dulled to a light buzz, and Jared had some movement in his fingers.
“Medicine from Gaul?” Jared asked. He had to stick to their cover story of him being a Briton.
Mischa smiled. “Yes,” he lied easily. “Our healers are much more advanced than these Saxon animals.” He checked the dressing, nodded at Lila, and stood, gathering everything back into his bag. “There is food on the way, and more water for bathing. The chieftain will be back at sunset.”