Her anger built, for she knew if she did not survive to rescue her father, he would suffer and perish. But could she survive being taken captive by Culth, and, worse, could she survive knowing that Bryce had died protecting her?
Just the thought sent a chill through her and pained her heart. So strange since she barely knew the man, and yet there was something about him she favored. They had to survive not only to rescue her da but for her to discover what it was she was beginning to feel for the mighty Highlander warrior.
The attack came within a short time of their departure. Men rained down from the trees and rushed out from behind bushes. How they had gotten ahead of Bryce and her she didn’t know, but she did react.
Her arrows were drawn in quick succession, felling three men, and still more came. Soon she would be without arrows though she had the dirk in her boot. But was she any match for the size of these mercenaries?
Bryce fought like a madman, keeping the men at a great enough distance for her to take aim and shoot. But he was one against many. It wasn’t long before her cache was empty, and as soon as it was, she reached for her dirk.
With a solid prayer on her lips, she rushed forward with a battle roar.
She had always been limber rolling, tumbling, climbing like the squirrels that scampered about, her da used to say. And she used that skill now to avoid and attack her opponents. Time seemed to stand still. She didn’t know how long she fought, nor was she aware of the blood that covered her. She simply knew that she must survive, must get to her da, and must not let Bryce die because of her.
Her anger fueled her strength and determination, and when no more men came at her, she turned, for a moment, thinking they had won, and saw Bryce battling three men. She ran and launched herself at them.
She landed with a solid thud on one’s back, her dirk going deep, and he sunk like deadweight to the ground. She jumped up, and as she did, a fist connected with her face and sent her reeling backward.
The last thing she saw and heard before blackness claimed her was a bloodcurdling yell from Bryce as he swung his sword at the two remaining men.
Bryce ran to Charles; blood covered him everywhere, and for a moment, he froze, fearing the lad dead. When he caught the rise and fall of his chest, Bryce scooped him up in his arms, and while it would have been easier to run with the lad flung over his shoulder, he couldn’t take the chance. If his chest was injured, it would only worsen it.
So he ran, cuddling the lad against him, praying that the blood that covered him was not his. He needed to get as far away from Culth’s land as possible. It would take time for the mercenary to discover that his men had failed, giving Bryce time to put good distance between them.
Bryce kept a quick pace, for how long he couldn’t say, though when he realized that dusk was not far off, he knew he had been traveling for hours. There was a rise up ahead that Bryce decided would be wise for him to climb, then settle for the night on the other side.
If Culth did send more men, though he doubted he would, they would not attempt the hill at night.
Dusk was near to falling when he finally found a spot near the bank of a stream to camp for the night. He gently laid Charles on the ground, worried that he had yet to wake from that vicious blow he had taken to his jaw and it looked like his cheek as well since the bruise was spreading up along it.
He wanted to hurry and examine the lad to see how bad his injures were, but he knew he needed to get a campfire going first. He got one going soon enough, then wasted no time in ripping a strip of cloth from the sack of food and soaking and rinsing it in the stream before he once again scooped the lad up in his arms.
Bryce gently wiped away the blood and grime on the lad’s face, the only color to it being the bruises, the fresh one darkening by the minute.
Bryce understood why Culth had mistaken the lad for a lassie. Charles was pretty, much too pretty for a lad. And being small and thin didn’t help him any.
Once done with his face, Bryce decided it would be easier to simply slice the lad’s tunic and shirt down the front to further examine him for wounds. He could always fashion a plaid around the lad with the extra blanket he carried.
He laid the lad on the ground near the fire, spread his vest apart, and sliced down the center of the blood-soaked tunic and shirt. He felt a catch to his heart when he saw the cloth that bound the lad’s chest, to help heal his ribs, was soaked with blood. And he feared what he would discover beneath.
Bryce carefully sliced the cloth with his dirk, worried over disturbing a wound and hurting the lad.
When the lad groaned, he feared the worst. Had he disturbed a wound and brought him awake with the pain of it?
Bryce rushed to spread the cloth apart and see what damage had been done.
His hands stilled, his heart slammed in his chest, and his eyes turned wide.
Chapter 9
Charlotte felt a chill run through her as she fought her way out of the darkness. She struggled hard, knowing it was a matter of grave importance that she escape. And though it was an effort, a painful one, she wouldn’t give up.
One last push had her eyes popping open, and it took her a moment to remember, to grasp hold of her surroundings and realize that Bryce was staring wide-eyed at her bare chest.
“You’re a woman?” he asked incredulously.
“Being you’re staring at my breasts, I would say you have your answer.”
Bryce glared down at her. “Lad or lassie, your tongue remains biting. And you have much explaining to do.”
Charlotte went to shove his hands away, but he stopped her.
“I want to make sure you have no wounds that need tending,” he said, and took the wet cloth and began wiping the blood from her chest and midriff.
“I can do—” She winced as she tried to sit up.
“Don’t dare move,” he ordered. “I need to rinse the cloth, and you better be as you are when I return.”
Charlotte watched him hurry to the stream, and she struggled to sit up, but a wave of dizziness gripped her, and she had no choice but to lie back.
“This may chill you,” he said as he gently ran the wet cloth over her chest.
She shivered, and he reached for a blanket and covered her from her waist to toes.
“It doesn’t look as if you were injured, except for the blow you took to your face. It’s bruising and will probably grow worse.”
Charlotte relaxed under his tender ministrations. She was much too sore and tired to worry that she was bare-chested in front of him. Sooner or later, he would have discovered her secret, even with her determination to keep it from him. What had she expected would happen when she rescued her da, and he claimed her, his daughter?
It was better Bryce knew who he dealt with, or at least she tried to convince herself it was.
He pulled her shirt and tunic together when he finished, tucked the blanket up over her chest, and sat staring at her.
Charlotte wondered why he wasn’t raging at her for lying to him. Was the sight of her partly naked so disturbing that it had left him speechless? And then, suddenly, she was assaulted with memories of the battle, and fear raced over her.
“What are we doing camping here with a fire when we should be running from Culth’s men?” she demanded.
“I have run for hours. We are far from his land.”
“He’ll send more men.”
“I doubt it,” Bryce said. “He took a chance with an attack close to home, but he won’t want to risk sending more men and leaving his village vulnerable. Not now, not when he’s learned that the king has no way to pay him for his services, though he may demand them anyway.”
“He’ll stay and protect what he has.”
Bryce nodded. “Enough of Culth; tell me of your charade.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said
“A young woman traveling on her own is more vulnerable than a young lad,” he answered.
“Precisely,” Charlotte said. “Countless
dangers await a young woman on her own, but a young lad”—she shook her head—“he can travel without incident.”
“What is your name?”
“Charlotte.”
Bryce rubbed at his chin while staring at her. She wondered what he thought now that he knew her a woman. She had her answer soon enough.
“This changes everything. I will take you home to my family, where you will be safe while I continue on my mission and search for your father.”
“Not likely,” she spat.
“You have no choice,” he said sternly.
That he would even think that he could decide her actions infuriated her. “You’ll not tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“I can, and I will,” he said, and stood.
Charlotte sat up slowly, not chancing any sudden movements. “We had an agreement.”
“That was when I thought you a lad.”
“What difference does it make?”
He laughed. “All the difference, and we can start with Culth since he obviously was more observant than I. It will be a constant battle to keep you safe when my time and worry needs attention elsewhere.”
“As long as I remain disguised as a lad, there should be no problem,” she argued.
He laughed again and pounded his chest. “I’ll know you’re a woman.”
“And why would that make a difference?”
He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Because it will.”
“That is no answer.”
“It is answer enough.”
“Not for me,” she said. “The only difference from before is that you know I am a woman. Nothing else about me has changed. As you said yourself, my tongue is still biting. I still have skill with a bow, and I still need to find my da.”
Bryce stretched his hands out, as if he were about ready to strangle her, then pulled them back to rest fisted at his sides. “It isn’t that simple.”
“Why? And don’t say it’s because I’m a woman one more time. Since we met, I have proven over and over again my ability to defend and protect. I helped you in battle—”
“And suffered for it.”
“That chance comes with battle.”
“Not when you’re a woman,” Bryce said.
“I can do this,” she insisted, and stood much too suddenly. A foolish action. A wave of dizziness hit so hard, she could barely see.
“Charlotte?” Bryce said, stepping toward her.
She reached out to him, his name the last word on her lips before she fell into his arms in a dead faint.
Bryce cradled Charlotte’s limp body. He didn’t know what else to do. He was at a loss. At a loss as how to tell her that he simply could not let a wee bit of a woman like her remain with him to search for her father. It was just too dangerous. And at a loss as to why he felt that he would miss her being alongside him.
He couldn’t believe his eyes when he had cut open the cloth and found two handful-sized breasts staring at him, the nipples hard little buds. That he was shocked wasn’t as bad as feeling a fool for not having recognized the lad as a woman.
Worse was that the sight of her bare breasts had aroused him. The thought had struck him fast and hard. He groaned, for he had nearly grown hard. But it wasn’t only her near nakedness that had caused arousal. It was the thought that a petite woman like her was so brave and determined that she lived, acted, and fought like a lad to save the one she loved. And she had done the same for him in battle. She had lunged herself at a mercenary far larger than herself, her only thought to help him.
She was unlike any woman he had ever known. She had been unlike any lad he had ever known as well, but somehow he had gotten to admire and like the lad. And had found he thoroughly enjoyed his company.
Would he find Charlotte’s company just as pleasing? But then, as she had said, she was still who she had always been.
He carried her, an effortless task, to the edge of the stream, and dipped his hand in the cold water to sprinkle on her face. As she began to respond, he moved back beside the fire though he kept her tucked in his arms.
He tried to keep the split tunic and shirt closed, but they stubbornly refused, and so her breasts remained partially exposed. Not that he minded, the sight of them was more than pleasing, and while he did favor large bosoms, he found he rather liked her small size. The whole of her would fit nicely in his hand.
Her eyes fluttered open. “I fainted.”
“That you did.”
“You caught me.”
“I’m always catching you one way or another.”
“Aye, you are,” she said with a smile that soon changed to a wince.
“The bruise,” Bryce said, fury racing through him that she had suffered such a blow while protecting him.
Her hand reached up to rest against his cheek. “Please, Bryce, don’t send me away. I need to find my da.”
A rush of heat ran through him even though her hand was cool against his skin. And he knew he would not deny her request. Not just because she asked but because he didn’t want to send her away. God help him, he wanted her with him. As foolish a decision as it was, he simply could not help it. He wanted her with him.
He wasn’t sure why, which irritated him all the more. But make no mistake, he would find out. He had to if he intended to keep his sanity.
“You’ll obey my orders,” he said.
“Don’t I always?”
Her grin was small and impish. And he couldn’t help but chortle. “You’ll not go getting into trouble? You’ll listen to my every word?”
“Haven’t I been doing that?” she asked innocently. “Even when you spoke of bedding a woman, you had my rapt attention.”
He cringed, recalling some of their conversations meant for men’s ears alone. Then, suddenly, his brow knotted. “Is there someone who waits for you? Why didn’t he come with you and help you search for your father?”
“What do you mean?”
“During one of our conversations you made it seem that there was someone you favored, someone special. Is there?” he snapped, trying to make sense of why the thought irritated him.
“There is no one,” she snapped back. “Never has been and never will be until I find my da.”
Bryce’s brow relaxed. “That’s a good choice when there is a mission to consider.”
“And we both have missions.”
“Our first priority,” he said, once again being reminded of the urgency of his duty.
“Working together, I’m sure we can succeed.”
“You know it will continue to be dangerous,” Bryce advised.
“All the more reason for me to continue,” Charlotte insisted. “What I have gone through is probably nothing to what my father is suffering.”
“I owe your father a debt of gratitude.”
“Whatever for?”
Bryce smiled. “I am grateful he allowed his daughter to gain talent in areas most women show no interest in.”
Charlotte returned the smile. “My father had little choice in the matter.”
“How did I know that was probably the way of it?” Bryce said. “Did you badger your father until he agreed?”
Her smile faded. “My father always protected me even if it meant suffering at the hands of some brute. It didn’t take me long to realize that I could bear it no more. I could not watch my da ridiculed or tormented at the hands of ignorant men to save me. And so I learned about weapons and how to defend myself.”
“And defended your father as well.”
“There were times . . .”
Bryce didn’t force her to finish. When the time came, if she wanted to tell him, she would, though now he had a better understanding of why her determination was so strong to find her father. She had been her father’s champion for so long that she felt he could not survive without her. But a man as learned as Idris Semple no doubt could endure on his wit alone.
“You can let go of me now,” Charlotte said, bringing an end to the
silence their musings had fostered. “I’m feeling better.”
“Are you sure?” Bryce asked, fearful she would once again pale and collapse in a dead faint.
“I am tired more than anything and could use some sleep.”
“I can agree with that. My legs burn like the devil from the endless running.”
“How long did you run?” she asked.
“I rid us of the last two men quick enough, then scooped you up and ran until just before dusk.”
“Carrying me the whole time?” she asked incredulously.
“What else was I to do with you?” he said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re a wee bit of a thing, weighing hardly anything. And you fit quite comfortably in my arms, so it was no chore.”
“I’m grateful—”
“As am I,” Bryce said, placing her on the ground by the campfire and covering her with the wool blanket. “If you hadn’t attacked when you did, I might have lost my life.”
“We make a good pair,” she said, smiling.
“An odd pair, me being big and you being so small, but aye, a good pair.”
“I can hold my own,” Charlotte quickly defended.
“So can I,” Bryce said, and stretched out on the opposite side of the campfire.
Nothing more was said, and soon, Bryce heard a gentle snore coming from Charlotte. He was glad. Sleep would help her regain her strength.
He glanced up at the night sky; clouds blotted the moon and stars. He hoped the rain would wait. Rain always made travel more difficult. And it was already difficult without it and would probably grow even more so now that he knew Charles was Charlotte.
If he had been wise, he would have insisted on taking her to the safety of his family. He would not have taken no for an answer. He would have forced her to do as he ordered, but he hadn’t.
They both needed to attend to their missions, and she understood that more than anyone. Though he had always been accustomed to traveling mostly alone on his mission, it felt good to have someone along who not only felt as he did, but bore the same determination.
A Warrior's Promise Page 7