by Jessi Gage
Grabbing onto the banister, she hauled herself up and started down the steps on her feet, clutching the rail.
A cruel arm banded around her chest and yanked her back against a hard body.
She screamed again.
“Shut it, I say! You’ll raise the low realm with all that racket!” Bilkes. The stabbing hadn’t taken. Looked like she’d have to do it again.
She kept screaming, hoping to distract him from the blade still in her hand until she could position herself for a better attack, but luck was not on her side. A gnarled hand seized her wrist and squeezed until pain made her drop the knife. The barkeep.
Together, they manhandled her down the stairs.
“Shut her up,” the barkeep said. “She’ll alert the whole damn village.”
“For Danu’s sake, lady, I’m not going to hurt you!” Bilkes said when they reached the empty barroom. On the heels of that promise, he soundly slapped her. And it bloody damn well hurt.
He hauled her up so her face was an inch from his. His green eyes sparked with heated warning. She’d seen men look at each other like that—it was a look a man gave to someone he wouldn’t mind hurting very badly. His face was red, and veins popped in his neck. “You listen and you listen good. There are twenty men in the trade center down the lane. If they hear a female bleating like a ewe, they’ll all come this way with their pricks out. Now, we can leave nice and tidy without a pack of randy men on our trail or you can keep up that fucking screaming and draw them all straight to you.”
She shut it. Escaping two men was definitely preferable to escaping twenty.
He dragged her out into the road.
She made a dead weight of her body, forcing him to do all the work.
Unfortunately, he seemed more than up to the task. Bloody durable, these wolf-men. When they were on her side, that was a boon. When she needed to hurt one, it was unfortunate.
She craned her neck toward the knot of fighting men. One form lay motionless on the ground.
Don’t be Riggs.
The men shuffled around. There he was! Still standing, tall and broad shouldered, feet spread, muscles straining against his shirt. But he still faced three men. He had his axe clashed with one, and the other two gripped their axes like they’d step in if their friend needed help.
Saints above, it was just a matter of time before he fell. He couldn’t keep this up.
She had to do somat to help him. But what? What could a cripple whore do without creating a fuss?
Och, there was one skill she’d once employed to accomplish whatever she desired. She hadn’t tried it since her fall, but if there was ever a time to attempt it again, ’twas now.
Bilkes lugged her to his big black horse.
“You all right to ride tonight?” the barkeep asked. He stood with the reins in his hand.
“I’ll be fine.” Bilkes shoved her into the barkeep’s stale-smelling arms and mounted. “Barely a scratch. Hand her up and make sure no one follows us.”
“I’ll hold ’em off. Best hurry, though. They’ll be done with the trapper soon.” The barkeep grabbed her under her arms and thrust her up in the air. “Make sure she doesn’t come to harm. She’ll be worth more if she’s untouched. Hurry, now.”
They meant to sell her to the highest bidder. Mangy curs. Not if she could bloody help it. She wound her arm around Bilkes’s neck and snuggled up to him, sitting sideways on his lap.
His posture went stiff. She didn’t blame him for being suspicious after she’d stabbed him.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said as he yanked the horse’s head around and kicked it into a trot. “I was frightened. I can see now I’m better off, though. The trapper can’t even hold his own against four drunkards. Thank heaven I’ve found a strong protector.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but it would be worth it if she could find a knife on this man and stab him proper.
While she cooed in his ear, she watched the fight over his shoulder. A man advanced at Riggs’s back, making her cringe. Riggs ducked forward to dodge the axe of the man in front while kicking backward to send the man behind him flying. Pride sealed her determination. Hang on, love.
Bilkes’s shoulders relaxed. “If he had any wits, he wouldn’t have let you say a word up in your room. Downstairs, I’d suspected from your scent, but it was your voice that gave you away.”
Och, how stupid of her. She should have kept to whispers. This was her fault. I’ll make it right. “How fortunate for me you heard.” She inched her hand around his side, looking for a sheath or a hilt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m checking your wound. Where is it? Thank heaven it’s just a scratch. I hope you’ll let me tend it when we get where we’re going.” Her pinkie brushed the rough edge of a sheath. He had a knife on him.
He moved her fingers to the oozing wound a few inches away. “It’s the least you can do. Maybe I’ll let you serve me in other ways too, to make amends.”
Not bloody likely. He hissed as she gently prodded the wound.
“Mmm. Sore, aye? Fear no’. I shall make amends, indeed.” She prepared to jab her fingers into the torn flesh and slip his hunting knife free with her other hand.
A sudden change in the horse’s direction threw her off balance as Bilkes steered the horse around a corner. She had to grab his shirt to hang on. Damn. She’d have to get into position again.
He heeled their mount into a canter. They were about to pass a building that would block her view of the fight. She strained for one last glimpse of Riggs and found him standing in the road with fallen villagers all around him. His eyes flashed in the darkness, watching her go. He didn’t see the man staggering to his feet behind him or the axe the man raised and brought swinging down.
The sight was wiped away by the dark wood of an abandoned building. Her heart lunged into her throat. She cried out to warn Riggs, but the sound of a horse screaming drowned out all else.
Bilkes cursed and jerked the reins. Several dark shapes crowded the road. Horses with riders.
Bilkes’s horse reared. He tumbled backward, taking her with him.
Her gut thrummed in that moment of weightlessness before the fall grabbed her and threw her to the ground. Och, she hated falling!
She hit hard. Her bones rattled. Her breath whooshed out.
Hooves pounded all around her. Too close! She’d be trampled! She covered her head and curled into a ball.
Equine grunts and whinnies exploded into the night. Men shouted.
“There she is! Get her!”
“Mind your horse! Don’t trample her!”
She cowered like a bloody tortoise. If she was to be trampled, she’d bloody well see it coming like the Keith she was. She rolled and looked up. A pair of great hooves flashed above her. Bilkes’s black horse, riderless and rearing.
A body covered hers.
“Look out!”
Bilkes. Protecting her. He rolled them.
She could see nothing past his broad shoulders, but she felt it when the hooves came down. They struck Bilkes, who had moved her out of the way. He jerked and grunted. His arms convulsed around her.
He’d taken the blow in her place.
She screamed.
A pair of boots slammed to the ground. A hand with black, pointed fingernails reached for her and grabbed her by the back of her cloak. She was hauled up against the chest of a bearded man with eyes pale as ice. Aodhan had eyes like that, but there had often been warmth in the Keith war chieftain’s eyes when he’d looked at her. There had never been an ounce of warmth in these eyes. Never.
“Been looking for you.” His voice was so deep it was part growl.
The trackers.
Fear froze her veins.
Riggs was surely dead, and she was in the hands of the trackers he’d worked so hard to keep her from.
* * * *
Dawn broke cold and misty. Anya sat astride the tallest and broadest horse she’d ever been on in front of the tracker s
he surmised to be the leader, the one who had yanked her up from the road. The other three deferred to him, and he carried himself like an important man, with absolute confidence and disdain. Even though she had yet to get a clear look at him, his air of command came through in the relaxed way his hips swiveled with the horse’s gait and the unconcerned way he rested his wrists on her thighs with the reins loose in his fists. An expert horseman without a care in the world as he stole a woman away from an enemy village. His manner alone told her he did not expect anyone to challenge them for her.
She should have been repulsed by her proximity to such men, especially when they were the very ones Riggs had worked so hard to keep her from. She should have wanted to shove his hands off her lap and leap from their mount. She should have wanted to get away at any cost. But she was too empty to feel anything. Too soul-weary to do anything.
Her wolf-man was gone.
Dead. Killed by his countrymen while trying to protect her. Would anyone bury him? Would anyone but her mourn him? ’Twas a pity he couldn’t have died doing somat much more honorable, like protecting a woman worthy of his affection and his hope.
Her body ached from her fall, but the hole in her chest left by Riggs’s loss hurt immeasurably worse. Without his presence to anchor her, she felt lost. Adrift.
Vaguely, she took in her surroundings. A familiar boulder here, a remembered pasture with a crumbling wall there. The trackers were covering the same ground Riggs had trod yesterday with her on his back. Which meant they were taking her in the opposite direction from Chroina.
Riggs had wanted her to go to Chroina, to King Magnus. Mayhap he’d believed in error she might be able to help his people, but it had been his dying wish to deliver her safely to his king. What kind of ungrateful shrew was she if she didn’t do everything in her power to see it through for him?
King Magnus wouldn’t want her, not when she confessed to being barren on top of her scarred and broken appearance. But mayhap he’d protect her since Riggs had seemed to think so highly of him. Protection was more than she suspected she’d get from these men.
There was also the news Riggs had wanted to tell his uncle about there possibly being more women in Larna. Yet more reason for her to get to Chroina.
She’d do it or die trying. Her wolf-man deserved no less.
Resolve burned behind her breastbone, urging her to action. Each step the trackers’ horses took away from Marann’s capital was like a stick poking a hornets’ nest, stirring her anger more and more. She needed to escape these men, and soon if she had any hope of finding her way to the city that was a three-day ride east from Valeworth.
She began to study the trackers with an eye for their readiness. What would it take to escape them?
One man rode up ahead. Two behind. Each carried a broadsword and had a sheathed dagger strapped to his calf. They wore drab cloaks over plaids that might have once been dyed a rich blue but were now faded to dull gray. Just yesterday, she’d listened to Riggs talk about how there had been no trade to speak of in decades. Luxuries like fancy silks and dyes from foreign lands were things of the past. The pleated wool covering the thighs of the man she rode with was less threadbare than what the other men wore, but not by much.
The men carried themselves like soldiers. They would be well acquainted with their weapons. She would not be able to fight them. Mayhap she could take one man by surprise, steal his dagger, and slit his throat, but the other three would not give her another chance to surprise them. Seduction might earn her a chance at killing a second man, but again, ’twould only work once.
If they were smart, and she suspected they were, they’d sleep in shifts. She would not be able to sneak away in the night, especially considering she’d need one of their horses if she were to have any chance of outrunning them. If by some miracle she managed to get away on foot, they’d merely track her down again.
Where did that leave her?
She’d have to kill them, all four of them, to stand a chance of reaching Chroina.
A cold pit of dread sank in her stomach like a stone. Stabbing Bilkes was one thing, but even if she had the means to kill four men, she didn’t think she had the cods to do it.
Och, Riggs, why did you leave me? What should I do?
Mayhap if she learned more, a solution would present itself. “Where are you taking me?” she asked the leader.
His hands tensed on her thighs. “You shouldn’t be able to speak our language.”
“Well I can. Where are you taking me? What’ll you do with me?”
Leaning around her, he grabbed her chin and tilted her face to his scrutiny. “You’re not an escapee. How did you learn our tongue?”
“I’m gifted with languages,” she lied. “Where are you taking me?”
“How long have you been in our realm?”
Our realm? He wouldn’t use that word unless he kent there were other “realms.” Not to mention, he’d studied her face and would see she was no wolf-woman. And just like the Larnians who’d first found her, he wasn’t surprised. He must ken of other human women. Had he seen them? Where were they? She had to learn more and bring this information to Riggs’s uncle.
“A long time,” she lied again. Lying was easy for her. Always had been. “Who says I’m no’ an escapee? Mayhap we all worked together to get me out. Amazing what women can do when they work together.”
“Liar. I’d recognize you. If you were from Bantus’s harem, I’d have had you. I’ve had all his pets.”
“Good to be the lieutenant,” the soldier behind them muttered. “Rest of us settle for wolf cunt.”
“Silence,” the leader barked.
Saints above. These were evil men to speak of women like pets to be passed around and used. To speak of bestiality. At least she’d learned somat. He’d mentioned Bantus’s harem and hadn’t batted an eye when she’d used the plural “women.” That meant there were human women in Larna. How horrible for them.
“Hmm, I wonder if our little Maranner weasel has been keeping you secret from King Bantus. Are you Ari’s pet? Is that how you learned our tongue?”
Ari. That was the name of King Magnus’s second in command. He was the one Riggs had told her kept an eye on King Bantus.
“Aye. You caught me. I belong to Ari.” If she could find this Ari, mayhap they could discover a way to help the other women. Mayhap Ari would help her get to Chroina and King Magnus. “If you return me to him, he’ll give you a great reward.”
“Oh, I’ll get my reward all right,” he said, and he shifted in the saddle so she felt his hard cock behind her. “I’ll get it soon as we get you back to Saroc.”
“Ari doesna like to share,” she said coolly.
“Another lie. He most definitely likes to share. And he likes to watch. He and Bantus both.”
Och, no. He made it sound as though Ari was in on whatever was going on in Larna. Best not end up in his hands then.
She’d have to make her escape soon. Nothing but horrors upon horrors awaited her in Larna. It tripled her determination to get the news of the other women to King Magnus and his war chieftain.
“A lass can try,” she said lightly, pretending to cooperate.
The leader huffed what might have been a chuckle. Even his laugh seemed cold and superior. “No harm in trying. I like a cunning woman. So does Bantus. More fun to break.”
She gulped. If her resolve were an entity within her, ’twould be nodding resolutely. To avoid the fate these men carried her toward, she’d be more than happy to kill them all. Then she’d see about doing somat for the women trapped in Larna. She could think of no better way to honor Riggs’s memory.
Pretending to drift to sleep, she bided her time. Her opportunity would come, and when it did, she’d show this horse’s arse what a cunning woman could do.
Chapter 14
Hunger gnawed at Riggs’s stomach as he shuffled through the darkening forest on the trail of the men who had ridden away with Anya. His legs burned from runn
ing. His arms ached from the fight with the villagers in the road. His stomach cramped with the need to feed. Those two ferrets at the pub had barely sated him, and that had been nearly a full day ago. He should hunt and then rest before continuing on. But he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop as long as Anya was in danger.
Back in Valeworth, he’d been distracted from the attacking villagers by the sight of the messenger riding away with her. One of the villagers had taken advantage and tried to decapitate him from behind like a coward. The telltale whistle of steel through the air was almost the last thing he’d ever heard, but he’d managed to dodge the blow. With urgency to get to Anya thrumming through his veins, he’d cut down the last attacker and run after the messenger only to find the man limping off the road with the help of the barkeep. Anya was nowhere to be seen. But in the distance, four horsemen disappeared around a bend in the road. The trackers.
He’d given chase on foot, keeping to the shadows and remaining far enough back not to alert the riders. He’d glimpsed Anya sitting in the saddle in front of one of the men. Before long, it had become clear where they were headed. His cave. Good. They’d likely make camp there tonight. He’d have the advantage of knowing the land. He’d need every advantage he could get.
Another hour of jogging brought him near the familiar river that wound through the valley in the shadow of his cave. He slowed to a silent walk as he neared the spot where Anya had built the fire two nights ago. He would kill the trackers either way, but if he found one hair out of place on her head when he arrived, he’d make sure they suffered.
It was full dark when he crept up to a thicket that shielded him from the clearing. He cocked his head to listen. Two voices murmuring low, both of them male. The sounds of wood being piled.
“By the moon,” one man said, his voice placing him the distance of a cast fishing line away. “How long does it take a woman to empty her bladder?”
Riggs found a narrow cleft through the thicket that gave him a view of the clearing and the river beyond. The speaker leaned on a tree with his back to him. He had on a faded blue Larnian war kilt. And he was fully armed with a sword and dagger to Riggs’s axe and hunting knife. For all the Larnians’ faults, lack of readiness wasn’t typically one of them. These soldiers would be as well-trained in using their weapons as Riggs was with his. They wouldn’t go down as easily as the villagers had. He settled in to rest from his run and gather intelligence. If he could confirm the other two were off hunting, he’d take the odds of two against one and attack now.