by Riley Moreno
Hope faded as the moon tracked its slow passage across the sky, and soon the soup had become as cold as the chilly night air. Jane felt tears beginning to sting at the corners of her eyes; perhaps her father had been right. Perhaps it was foolish to trust an outlaw.
Well Jane, you've made a real fool out of yourself, and you've been so stupid too... Entertaining these childish fantasies that a man like that could fall for someone like you – an ordinary girl with nothing exceptional about her.
She was about to tip the bowl of soup into the garden and head inside when she heard a rustling in the bushes nearby.
“Jane!” hissed a low voice from the darkness. “Jane, it's me, Duncan!”
Her heart soared, and heat ripped through her limbs and body. He had come! He was late, yes, but... he had come!
Duncan stepped gingerly out of the cover of the shrubs. His body was wet with a slick sheen of sweat, and the hard contours of his muscles glowed and shone in the moonlight. It looked like he had been running somewhere.
“I'm so sorry I kept you waiting,” he said to her in his deep, gravelly voice. “I had... some things I had to take care of.”
Jane didn't care; all that she cared about was the fact that he was here with her right now.
“I'm sorry that the soup is cold,” she said as she handed the bowl to him.
“Don't worry about it,” he replied. “It's my fault. I should have come here earlier.”
“Eat up, before it gets any colder!” she laughed as she handed him the bowl.
Her fingers touched his just for a second as she passed him the bowl, and it felt as if electricity was jumping between them; she felt a thrill rush up her skin.
Duncan squatted down on the ground and started eating the soup. The speed and enthusiasm with which he slurped it up showed how hungry he was. He finished the large bowl quickly, so Jane handed him the bread, which he also devoured in a hurry.
“Thank you so much,” he said after he was finished. “You've done a very kind thing here.”
“It's my pleasure,” she replied, smiling.
Duncan stood up.
“I don't know how I can repay you,” he said.
“Repay me?! I'm repaying you! You saved my life, remember?”
Duncan looked away shyly.
“It was nothing much,” he said. “Like I said before, I was just doing what any honorable man would do. And like I said, I value honor above everything else.”
“You're a good man, a truly honorable man,” commented Jane. “But can I ask you, why are you an outlaw? My father told me it was for poaching one of the king's deer.”
Duncan nodded.
“That's right. I come from a village far away, on the other side of the forest. There was a very harsh winter, and many of the crops failed. I was a young man, and I'd always been a good shot with a bow. I did the only thing I could, to prevent my village from starving to death: I went into the woods and shot a deer. The venison from the deer kept the village alive, but it turned out that it was one of the king's deer. There's been a price on my head since then, and I had to flee my village and live off the land in the forest.”
“But... how can feeding the hungry be a crime?” asked Jane. “You were doing the right thing! Everyone in the village would have starved if it wasn't for you!”
Duncan's selfless actions now made him seem even more attractive to her. A brief, cold breeze whipped across the fields and rippled through his long, thick hair. It opened his shirt, revealing his hard-muscled, broad chest and those chiseled abs. A look of sadness, noble and regal, crossed the strong features of his face.
“And you, Jane, are doing an equally wonderful and heroic thing here by feeding me.”
“Nonsense! I'm just doing what any decent person would do.”
Duncan looked down at the ground.
“You do know that it's a crime to help an outlaw, don't you? You should know that by helping me, you're putting yourself in danger. Maybe... Maybe you shouldn't do this again.”
A boost of sudden anxiety spurred Jane on. She couldn't stand the thought of not being able to see Duncan again.
“No!” she said, her voice firm and insistent. “These laws are unjust! And I insist on helping you. I'll gladly share my food with the man who saved my life. I won't stand by and do nothing and see you slowly fade away and starve in the woods over winter.”
Duncan looked up at her, and such a look of intensity burned in his eyes, as he locked his gaze into hers, that she thought she might faint right there and then.
“You're an amazing woman, Jane,” he said quietly. “It is rare that someone as gorgeous as you is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.”
Jane could see from the fire in his eyes that he meant every word he had said, and she felt liquid magma burning in her veins.
“Duncan,” she said softly, “that's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“If it's beautiful, it's because it's the truth,” he said, stepping in closer to her.
She responded by moving in closer to him.
“You are a remarkable man,” she said as she locked her large, brown eyes into his. “A truly remarkable man.”
He took one further step closer, and placed his hands on her hips. She responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and standing on tiptoes so that her face was at the same height as his. She could smell his strong, earthy scent, and she felt the weight of his strong, large hands on her hips and this sent an electric thrill rushing through her body. She stared into his eyes, and saw in them desire – raw and unmistakable.
“Duncan,” she whispered, her luscious lips parting slowly.
“Jane,” he replied, his teeth shining white in the moonlight.
The cold breeze rushed past again, and its chill caused Duncan to pull her in, and now he wrapped his muscular arms around her torso, squeezing her in close, so that the heat of their bodies – a heat that was increasing rapidly – burned and heated them both with its warmth. Jane felt her heart hammering in her chest; all she wanted was to kiss him right now, and to kiss him with a passionate and fiery intensity.
Suddenly, however, a light burned in a window upstairs.
“What's going on out there?” Jane's father said. “I can hear voices!”
Duncan disengaged from the embrace and turned around, shooting one last glance at Jane before he fled.
“I'll come back again, Jane. Wait for me!”
“What the hell is going on out there?!” shouted Jane's father as he started to open the window.
With that Duncan took off with silent speed into the night, disappearing into the shadows.
CHAPTER 4
Duncan awoke to the sounds of a gurgling stream. He opened his eyes and saw sunlight streaming through the gaps in the leaves, glistening on the icy waters of the little brook next to which he had fallen asleep. He breathed out, and his breath misted up instantly in the freezing cold air. On his cloak, under which he had slept, there was a dusting of light snow.
He stood up, stretched his powerful arms and legs and yawned, and then stepped over to the creek and splashed his face with the icy water. He couldn't help but shiver at the shock of the cold liquid, but it did its job of waking him up.
His first thoughts were of her – of the woman whose life he had saved from the gang of rogues a month ago – Jane. Since that evening in the woods, he had not been able to get her out of his mind. Her large, brown eyes, as sweet and innocent as a doe's, and her bowed lips, luscious, full and pink, and her button nose, dusted with a light covering of freckles. And, of course, her dark and luxurious locks that fell around her shoulders and ran down her slim, straight back.
Her beauty had captivated him, yes, but it had been her gentle and kind nature that had truly ensnared him. He wished that he had woken up in a warm bed, in his castle, next to her, rather than on the cold, hard ground of the woods in winter.
Yes, the small castle he should have inhe
rited from his father, who was a knight. He, Duncan, was the eldest son, and should have inherited his father's title, castle and lands. That was something he hadn't told Jane about, because he didn't want her to feel even more sorry for him than she currently did. It was one thing to be a wanted outlaw, but another altogether to be an outlaw who had fallen from grace, an outlaw who should have been a lord of his manor.
He shook his head and frowned. His younger brother, Scott, would be ruling the castle now, after their father's death. And while Scott had the power to issue a pardon to his brother, he hadn't – he enjoyed the power and prestige of ruling too much, and to pardon his brother for the crime of poaching a deer would be to relinquish that power, and that was something that he was definitely not willing to do. Scott had always been the mean one, had always been cruel and petty and jealous of his brother Duncan's good looks, charisma and skill with a bow and a sword.
Therefore, when Duncan had gone out and poached one of the king's deer to feed a starving village, it had been Scott who had secretly informed on his brother to the king. Thus, in one fell swoop, he had removed his brother's claim to their father's title and lands, and forced Duncan out of his life forever.
Duncan shook his head when he thought about this. He certainly did not regret doing what he did – feeding the villagers had absolutely been the right thing to do – but he regretted not being more discreet about it. If he had been able to get away with it without Scott finding out about it, perhaps things would be different.
Still, things weren't different. He was here, and he was an outlaw, a wanted man with a price on his head. Should he be captured, he would be tried and executed like a common criminal. And nobody would help him. His father, if he had been alive, would surely have interceded. But, he was long gone, and Scott, the new ruler, well, he had hated his brother, with that terrible jealousy of his since they were children, and he would be happy to see Duncan hang.
He stripped off his clothes so that he could bathe in the stream. A hot, steaming bath would be a far more preferable way to wash, but life in the forest had toughened him up immensely, and now bathing in an icy creek in winter was something that he had simply gotten used to. With a grunt of discomfort as he stepped into the freezing water, he began to splash it all over his powerful, hard-muscled body. Life in the woods meant that he had cut himself down to a perfectly chiseled physique; there was not an ounce of extra fat anywhere on him – only hard, marble-like muscle. After washing himself thoroughly, he came out of the stream smelling as sweet as any perfumed nobleman, yet retaining the strong, musky scent that marked him as a rugged man of the woods. Using a bone comb that he had fashioned himself, he combed his mane of thick hair and then used crushed up plants to brush his teeth, leaving them bright, white and with a fragrance of sweet breath.
After he had dressed himself, he picked up his bow and arrows and walked through the woods to a clearing he often went to practice his shooting. Keeping his skills and aim razor-sharp was essential, and although he had always been an excellent shot with a bow, it paid to be the best he could be. Such skills were essential for survival in the woods.
He set up a target and started shooting, but found that he could not concentrate on the task, for his thoughts were stuck on something else – her.
Try as he may, he could not get Jane off of his mind. Her eyes, her mouth, her flowing hair – but also her body; those full, ripe, pert breasts, whose nipples had stiffened through her flimsy shirt the previous night as he had pressed her close. And the curve of her hips, and her firm, round buttocks, which his hands had brushed over, ever so lightly. And her pale neck, with its silky, smooth skin, that he just wanted to plant his lips on and bite, ever so lightly. And her slim, delicate fingers and slender arms, that he wanted to run his fingers over – and grip tightly, in alternating bouts of desire.
But wait.
He put his bow down and squatted down on his haunches, trying to think objectively.
He could not deny his burning desire for her; indeed, she was all her ever thought about these days. However, there was something important, something very important that he was not factoring into this equation: the fact that he was an outlaw. And compounded with this, the fact that aiding and assisting a known outlaw was also a serious crime – a crime punishable by life imprisonment, or even death.
You know what the right thing to do is, Duncan. As badly as you want her, as desperately as you want the two of you to be together, you know it can't happen. You can't bring an innocent girl into this mess, and then get her imprisoned or even killed. That would be the most horrible, selfish thing you could ever do. If you really care for Jane, you have to let her go. She cannot have anything to do with you. You have to let her go.
Duncan sighed as sadness gripped him tightly with a spiked steel fist. His conscience was right. He could not, for the sake of his own desires and lusts, allow this amazing girl to become a criminal by association. She did not deserve that.
He steeled his will with quiet resolve. He would meet her later, one last time. But there was only one thing he was going to do. He would not touch her, would not hold her, would not look in her eyes or even speak to her.
He was going to say one thing to her, and one thing only:
“Jane, I'm sorry, but I can never, ever see you again.”
CHAPTER 5
The day seemed to take an eternity to pass as Jane waited for the night to arrive so that she could once again see Duncan. All of her chores seemed to become more repetitive and more mundane than usual, and felt as if they were taking three times as long as they normally did. The day was cold and gray, and snow fell intermittently. At night there was no moon, for heavy clouds had come over the distant mountains and were now hanging low over the village. After dinner, when her parents had gone to bed, Jane once again heated up some soup and stew, and then went to wait in her room, shivering in a thick shawl, to see if she would be able to observe Duncan emerging from the forest.
Last time the whole landscape had been illuminated by the light of a full moon. This time, however, it was dark and murky, and she could not make out anything that lay beyond the borders of her family's garden.
It seemed like she had been waiting for hours – and perhaps she had been – when she saw a candle flicker briefly in the distance, somewhere in the woods. It burned for a few seconds and then went out. Then, a few minutes later, it came on again. It was a signal, it had to be, for it was burning in the exact same spot from which she had seen Duncan emerge from the forest the previous evening. Jane still couldn't make out any details in the darkness, but she still kept her eyes peeled and stared out into the shadows. Soon enough, she saw a form materializing out of the dark; Duncan had arrived.
“Jane!”
She heard a low voice urgently whispering her name.
“Jane, it's me, Duncan!”
Her heart soared and her breath quickened at the sound of that familiar, manly growl.
“Oh Duncan!” she whispered under her breath. “I'm so glad you came!”
She held up a candle in the window to indicate that she had seen him, and with that she hurried downstairs. Making sure that she was keeping as quiet as possible, she crept out of the back door and eased it shut behind her, ensuring that no noise at all was made. She could barely see anything in the pitch darkness, but she could not risk carrying a candle in case any of the neighbors, or her parents, noticed her moving around in the dark.
She could, however, see Duncan's shadow; yes, that powerful, regal silhouette of his that set her desires aflame, like dry brush in a forest fire.
“This way,” she whispered. “Follow me!”
“Alright.”
She walked silently and swiftly through the shadows, and heard him following closely behind her. After a few minutes of walking, they came to an empty, deserted barn. She opened the door with slow caution – the old wood was very creaky – and then lead him inside. It was pitch black, but with a her tinder box and he
r flint she was able to start a little fire, and then light a candle. Inside the barn, which was well-sealed, nobody would be able to see the light from outside.
“Come, over here,” she said to Duncan, indicating an old table and a pair of chairs, her eyes alive with joy and delight in the orange light from the candle.
Duncan, however, did not seem to want to meet her eyes; he kept his own eyes averted and stared at the ground. Something about the expression on his face seemed off as well. Still, Jane was too excited to be put off by this.
“Sit down,” she said as she laid the bowls of soup, stew and bread down on the rough, crudely-made table.
Duncan, without saying anything, sat down. He still did not seem to be able to meet Jane's eyes. She still remained unperturbed.
“Go on, tuck in!” she said, beaming a warm smile at him.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he started to eat the meal. While he started slowly, it soon became evident that he was very hungry, and he could not stop himself from wolfing the food down with immense gusto. It only took him a few minutes to clean up everything from the plate.
“That was fantastic,” he said. “Thank you.”
While he now seemed happier, it appeared that something was still eating away at his conscience, and for a few awkward moments both of them sat in silence, their features illuminated by the soft and gentle flicker of the candle flame.
“Duncan,” probed Jane after a while, laying her forearms down across the table to take his large, strong hands in hers, “what's wrong? Didn't you like the food?”
He pulled his hands gently but firmly out of her grasp.
“It's not the food,” he said softly. “For that, I am eternally grateful.”
“Well then... What is it? What's wrong?”
He looked away, and at once his features became hard and cold.