Warrior's Revenge Read online

  He stepped in close. Holding her gaze, he twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger. “What is your name?”

  With a frown, she tugged her hair away from his hand. He was looking at her most oddly. She frowned, trying to puzzle it out. A moment passed before she understood what the heat in his gaze meant. God’s teeth, could he think her…what had Nate called them…oh aye, a light-skirt?

  The sudden urge to kick him almost overwhelmed her. She tightened the grip on her temper and, instead of maiming him, gave him a name. “Ellie, sir.”

  “Ellie,” he said, rolling the name on the tip of his tongue. “Are you hungry? My tent is not far from here. We can enjoy a meal and come to know one another.”

  Her brows popped skyward. Uh-huh. Sure. Aurora couldn’t be certain, but something told her his idea of coming to know a person differed from her own. And though tempted by the promise of food, instinct warned she couldn’t trust him. Well, at least not any further than she could throw him and that, judging by his size, was not very far.

  “My thanks, but nay,” she said, retreating. “’Tis best if I am on my way. As I said, the others will be—”

  “I can be generous.” He closed the distance once more. Capturing her hand, he brushed his thumb across the callused surface of her palm. “Rest assured, Ellie, I will be with you.”

  Aurora balked. How…well, completely outrageous. Temper rousing too. The slow burn ignited deep inside her, tightening muscles over bone. She held on tight, refusing to unleash it. Not yet. Some men liked a woman’s anger. It aroused them. Mayhap the stranger would enjoy the lash of her tongue. Mayhap he wouldn’t. Either way, she refused to tip her hand. She must keep her temper under wraps until she knew which way he would jump.

  Tugging on her hand, Aurora sent him a silent message…let me go.

  “You will be well pleased, I swear it,” he said, tone low and smooth, pulling her into a loose embrace. “I will be gentle…or rough if you prefer it that way.”

  Rough? Aurora’s mouth fell open as surprise jolted her. So much for patience. She needed to escape him. Now. This instant. Before he turned ugly.

  Planting her palms on his chest, she shoved him away. He didn’t move an inch. Instead, his grip on her tightened. She froze when he dipped his head and, touch feather-light, brushed his mouth against her temple.

  The beginnings of fear slithered through her. She pushed him again. “Sir, you misunderstand. I am not a woman who…I don’t…I am not who you suppose. Unhand me, please.”

  Pulling away, he smiled. Aurora blinked, momentarily stunned by its effect. Lord help her, the brute was dangerous.

  “There is no need to play games, Ellie. You already have my word you will be well compensated for your time…and efforts.”

  Aurora gaped at him. He didn’t believe her. Lord help her. The brute thought she was playing coy. Probably imagined that he was now engaged in some sort of bizarre ritual. The kind in which men haggled over the price of a woman’s favors.

  God’s teeth, what a tangle.

  She shook her head hoping the movement would knock a few of her wits back into place. After a moment, however, she realized the futility. Her brain was stuck, mired by the astounding fact no matter what her objection he would think it naught more a ploy. One designed to gain more of his coin. A such, her chances of convincing him otherwise became scarcer by the moment.

  She scowled. ’Twas, bar none, the stupidest thing that had ever happened to her.

  Which meant she needed a plan. A good one…right now.

  After a moment of total blankness, her brain whirled into action and the solution came in a brilliant flash of clarity. Ah, yes…that should work. Like a charm, in fact.

  Peering at the knight holding her captive, Aurora sent a quick prayer heavenward and plunged in, determined to put her scheme into immediate action. First, she relaxed in his arms, allowing him to draw against his hard length. He responded with a murmur full of appreciation, and shifting, pulled her even closer. Playing the siren, she peeked at him from beneath her lashes, hoping her seeming compliance would lull him into believing his charm cleared the way for her submission.

  Relief spiraled deep when he took her cue. Relaxing his guard, he sent his hand skating along her spine. She reciprocated, drawing circles across his chest, luring him deeper into her snare. His eyes darkened as he dipped his head. She turned her head, denying him her mouth. He didn’t seem to mind, and instead of a kiss, delivered a gentle, albeit fiery, caress to her bottom with both his hands. The intimate touch surprised her. She swallowed her gasp and raised a brow, challenging him.

  His mouth curved. “Come, little heart. Let’s be away from here.”

  His velvety tone slid over her skin, reminding her of warm summer nights and the promise of a midnight swim. She suppressed a shiver and forced the heated sensations away, knowing she needed to stay focused to find her way free. With a shallow breath, she steeled her reaction to his warmth and pushed her bottom lip into a pout. “How much? I want to know exactly how generous you will be before we go.”

  He inhaled hard and drew his thumb across her mouth. “A pouch full of gold and, if you like, a new gown and cloak.”

  Aurora’s lips parted. Good gracious. Such incredible largesse. The goods offered was generous to a fault. He must want her badly. So much the amount didn’t matter. Which…silly as it seemed…warmed her through. Urged her to imagine. Dared her to dream. Made her bold.

  Taking a deep breath, she drew in his scent. Hmm, he smelled good—clean, masculine…precisely as a man should. Drawn deep by temptation, she turned her cheek into his palm. He was too alluring by half. And she needed a taste…just one before she left him. The errant urge picked her up. Instinct shouted a warning. Aurora ignored it and touching the tip of her tongue to the pad of his thumb, indulged in a small taste.

  “Umm…where then is your tent, good sir?”

  His nostrils flared.

  Aurora drew in a quick breath. Well, that had been easy. Her lure had obviously met with great success. His hum of appreciation sealed the deal, telling her plainer than words she had him…hook, line, and sinker. His purr turned into a low growl. The intense sound rolled up her spine, dragging dread along with it. She’d made a mistake. Her boldness had sparked his aggression. Not advisable in a man with so much strength. She swallowed, nerves twitching, heart hammering, and feigned patience while he tucked her under the curve of his arm. He turned her into his embrace, leaving himself vulnerable. Courage set, she made her move. Without hesitation or mercy, she brought her leg up.

  Her knee slammed between his thighs.

  In an instant, he released her. Air left his lungs with expediency. With a violent curse, he doubled over. Shocked by her own audacity, Aurora froze, her gaze riveted to the warrior on his knees in front of her. God’s teeth, he was hurt and she was responsible. Remorse struck her chest level. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to aid him and offer up what little consideration she could.

  A noble cause. Probably the right thing to do, but…

  He’d earned his spot on the ground. The pain too. Had he let her go when she’d asked, none of it would’ve happened. She would’ve been on her way. He wouldn’t be gasping for air. Case closed, and everyone happy. But oh no, he’d pushed, and she’d reacted…with just cause.

  So instead of reaching out, she grabbed his stallion’s reins. The bay roan snorted. Her grip firm, she took control, swung into the saddle, and backed the warhorse away. And yet, even knowing she’d been justified, regret wouldn’t let her go.

  Unable to leave him without a word, she whispered, “Dear God…I’m sorry.”

  But sorry wouldn’t do it. Aurora knew it the instant she wheeled the horse on its back hooves and fled in the opposite direction. If the handsome stranger ever saw her again, he’d throttle her first and bury her six feet under second.

  Several minutes after the wench had fled, Brigham still couldn’t catch his breath. Or move from w
here she’d left him. In truth, the spots peppering his vision were just beginning to fade. Not by much, but…

  Bloody Hell. The little vixen.

  Both hands cupping the flesh between his thighs, Brigham growled. He’d never been taken so unawares in his entire life. That it had come at the hands of a light-skirt with hair the color of the rising sun and eyes a shade lighter than the sky at twilight did naught to improve his humor. One moment she’d enchanted him as no other had ever done, and the next? Unmanned him so well, he still couldn’t believe it.

  And to add insult to injury? She’d stolen his goddamned horse.

  He clenched his teeth. Talk about an insult. ’Twas not to be borne. Her apology—the I’m sorry she’d uttered before fleeing—was not enough. Would never be enough. He refused to forgive her. She’d sealed her fate with her actions. Now she must atone for his humiliation. His pride roared, smarting from the slap of disrespect. She owed him and when he found her, she would pay. The price? His pleasure. Satisfaction would only be his when she cried out in passion beneath him. He would have what she’d promised him. If necessary, heaven and earth would move to make it so.

  But first…damn it to hell and back…he needed to catch his breath. Otherwise he wouldn’t make his way back to camp, never mind gather his men and get the hunt for the redheaded vixen underway.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Keys to the Castle

  Drawing rein, Aurora slowed her mount to a walk. Just before dawn, the sky lightened by the moment as the dying night gave way beneath the gold of the rising sun. With the haze of morning fog foaming about them, she squinted through the bob and sway of tree limbs, trying to get her bearings. After a moment, she nudged the roan forward. The warhorse obeyed, walking her closer to where the forest met the rim of the valley below.

  Still concealed by thinning foliage. Safe in shadow, yet able to see everything.

  Relief made her throat go tight. Her hand clenched around the pommel, she blew out a long breath and scanned the valley below. Alvars Keep…her salvation. Nestled in a small vale, the village of Alvars slept amid smoking chimneys and harvested fields, content in the shadow of the castle rising beyond it. Dear God, she was almost there. Just a bit farther, and she would be reunited with her best friend.

  She started to jig in the saddle then sighed. Fatigue had set in hours ago. Now she was far too tired to indulge in any sort of happy dance. “We’ll leave the horse here.”

  “What?” Dark circles beneath his eyes, Nate blinked in exhaustion. “Ah, I take it you’ve no wish to trot through the gates of Alvars on our ill-gotten gains.”

  She frowned and turned to glare at him over her shoulder. “I didn’t steal him.”

  “Really?” Nate rolled his eyes, then gave into exhaustion and rubbed both until his eyelashes mashed together. With a groan, he shifted behind her on the stallion, threw one leg over its rump, then slid to the ground. “Are you certain about that?”

  “Absolutely,” Aurora said, fighting to keep her irritation under control. “I borrowed him for a time, naught more.”

  Her friend snorted. “I hope that knight sees it as such—”

  “Nate?”

  “Aye?”

  “Be quiet.” Aurora glowered from her perch. Lifting her leg over the pommel, she slipped from the saddle and leaned on the subject under discussion.

  Stifling the urge to kick her friend, Aurora led the mount over to a nearby tree and tied off the reins. She stroked the roan’s neck. “Thank you for the ride, handsome.” Then to make herself feel better about his abduction, added, “You’ll be better served here at Alvars. That knight was not a very nice fellow.”

  The stallion eyed her, then shook his head.

  Construing that as agreement, Aurora patted him one last time. “I’ll send someone to fetch you as soon as we are safely inside.”

  “Are you done conversing with that horse?”

  A brow raised, she turned to glance at Nate. Hunched over, head in his hands, he looked like a crumpled heap of brown on the muted green of the forest floor. Not even exhaustion kept her lips from twitching. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

  Nate huffed. “’Tis the truth, I’m too tired to listen.”

  Shaking her head at his sorry state, Aurora offered him her hand. With a tug, she pulled him to his feet. “Come on.”

  Ignoring his grumbled reply, Aurora inhaled, enjoying the fresh crispness of the morning mist and started down the pathway into the valley below. Snaking past the sleeping village, she arrived at the gatehouse with Nate in tow and banged on the outer door. A bushy-browed solider stuck his head over the parapet, his expression one of leashed annoyance.

  “’Tis early yet. Go on with ye,” he grumbled, then retreated behind the edge of the curtain wall.

  She blinked. A moment later, she snapped her mouth shut, regrouped, and yelled at the guard with more desperation than spirit. “Wait! Please, sir, come back. I am friend to Lady Quinlyn of Crysdale. I have come for—”

  “Well, spit.” The gatekeeper poked his head back over the wall. Bushy brows drawn, he eyed them in suspicion. “Yer name?”

  “Lady Aurora de Marquise.”

  Growling down from his perch, he looked over his shoulder and nodded to someone behind him. That must have been a signal of some sort. Metal scraped against metal on the other side of the portcullis. Hinges squeaked as the small door embedded in the larger one opened wide. Aurora stared into the black hole, her stomach knotting up tight. Apprehension warred with excitement. Taking a fortifying breath, she swallowed her angst and, forcing her feet to move, stepped over the threshold.

  A beardless boy met her on the other side of the door. He nodded in greeting. Aurora tipped her chin, returning the silent hello. The second Nate cleared the outer wall, he slammed the door shut in their wake. The bang resonated, killing the quiet along with her confidence.

  “Me name’s Gerald, m’lady,” the boy said, the vibrancy of youth in his voice. “I’m to escort you through.”

  “My thanks,” she murmured as Gerald turned to lead the way.

  Into the depths of a strange keep. One in which she hoped her best friend held sway.

  Since the moment of her parent’s death, naught had felt safe to her. So aye. No matter the circumstance—or how secure the situation—caution was always the better bet. Danger lurked in innocuous places, slithering into sight at the last moment, taking the unprepared off guard, laying the strongest low with one clean blow. Annihilation guaranteed. ’Twas a lesson she refused to forget. And honestly, after a year spent watching her step—of walking on eggshells and trying to survive inside her uncle’s keep—self-preservation had become second nature.

  Sad but true.

  Nowhere was safe. No one could be trusted. No amount of paranoia was too much.

  Heart beating double time, Aurora kept her gaze pinned to Gerald. Well-dressed. Well-armed. Far too confident for a lad of…what? Thirteen years mayhap? Young, without a care in the world. Just like she’d been once. But no longer, and as he led her through cobbled avenues and under the second gatehouse, she raised her guard another notch. No good, after all, ever came from being unprepared.

  Gerald took a sharp left and walked beneath another archway.

  The narrow avenue gave way to the inner courtyard. Naught more than a stride behind him, Aurora followed the lad to the base of a wooden staircase. Two stories above the rise and fall of thick treads sat the double doors to the Alvar’s inner sanctum. Keeping pace with Gerald, she jogged up the steps, waited for the boy to open the door, then stepped over the threshold into the great hall. Fresh rushes whispered beneath her feet as she followed the boy and crossed the chamber…toward an immense hearth. A fire roared in its depths, throwing warmth and light into the great hall.

  Aurora shivered in appreciation.

  “Yer to wait here, m’lady.” Both hands behind his back, Gerald cleared his throat and rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet. “Is there a
ught else you require?”

  “My thanks, Gerald, but nay.” Aurora’s eyes widened when the boy’s face fell. A moment passed before she realized her error. Like all young males, he was in the throes of adoration and idealism, eager to do his part in the name of chivalry. Loath to disappoint him, she quashed her amusement and inclined her head. “Verily, Gerald, on second thought I do believe I am a trifle parched. A glass of ale, for me and my friend, would be most welcome.”

  “Of course, m’lady. I will see to it at once!” Chest puffed out with pride, Gerald spun on his heel and, arms and legs pumping, sprinted from the chamber.

  Eyes dancing with merriment, Nate threw her a sidelong glance.

  Aurora grinned back. She couldn’t help it. Gerald’s enthusiasm was like a breath of fresh air. A welcome one after a week spent on the road. But nice too for the fact she and Nate hadn’t been treated to such courtesy in, well…

  What seemed like forever .

  Patting Nate on the shoulder, she pushed her friend closer to the fire. Beyond tired, Nate needed the extra care. She could see fatigue in the lines of his face. Throw in the fact he now shivered where he stood and…aye. ’Twas time for her to pamper him a wee bit. To reward him for a battle hard fought and his friendship—the undying loyalty he showed even at the worst of times. He was incredible in so many ways. Despite everything—their different stations in life…lady versus servant—he treated her as an equal…like a true friend and ally. Her mouth curved. God’s truth, she loved that about him.

  “Nate,” she said, guiding him over to one of the high backed armchairs in front of the hearth. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  He shook his head, even as his knees folded and his bottom sank into the cushion. “’Tis you who should—”

  “Nonsense. I am fine.”

  A lie, but not a big one. She might not be fine, but she was better than she’d been in a while. A touch more confident now that she stood behind the stout walls of Quinlyn’s home. She blew out a shaky breath. Such a relief. A huge pleasure too. Particularly since the great hall resonated warmth. And not just the kind that came from a roaring fire.