Chapter Twenty-One
Stephano woke with a jerk, but held himself as still as possible. Ropes bound him to a tree. He tested the bonds. They were tight. His head was on fire, his shoulders burned and his hands were numb. He worked his fingers, trying to get feeling back in them. The ropes were tight. Whoever the damn Faye were, they could tie a knot.
A rock hit him on the chest.
Is that what woke me? He squinted his eyes open. The pink of sunset barely colored the horizon. There was no one he could see guarding him. Another rock pinged off his head. He caught his breath as Maeve’s pretty face appeared in the foliage across from him, behind a Faye he’d missed spotting.
He shook his head at her.
She disappeared back into the bushes, then emerged again, a scowl on her face and…his knife in her hand. Fuck! What did she think…? He shook his head harder and mouthed for her to go.
The guard suddenly shifted his feet and stood straighter away from his tree. Stephano hung his head, hiding that he was awake. His mind raced. She can’t do this. She couldn’t possibly do this. Maeve was small. She was fragile. She barely came to his chest. She won’t attack a man, she’s going to try something, but not attack a man with that knife.
A shift of leaves, a twig snapping near him, and he sensed the guard coming closer. A kick to his foot, he ignored, then the man walked away. Stephano dared to lift his head and nearly lost his ability to breathe, then he did. Maeve was poised on a rock, the Faye’s back to her, while she waited, a foot above the man’s head, no doubt to drop on his back. He shook his head again, harder, but she was focused on the man. Almost before Stephano could accept that she was going to attack, the man spun to face him, and Maeve sprang from on top of a boulder. Heart in his throat, he watched her land on the guard’s back and stab him in the neck with his knife. Fuck! She’s going to get killed. The warrior didn’t make a sound but he reached up and caught her around the head, trying to get her off.
“Again! Hit him again!” he shouted.
With a frantic look at him, she pulled the blade free and brought it down again, clearly scared to death, but doing as he commanded.
“Again, again!” He kept his voice down but put enough urgency in it to get her to listen. “Until he falls!”
The warrior was huge, a big, burly Faye, but he stumbled. He also seemed unable to get her off or break her hold on the knife. Blood made the weapon slippery, no doubt, but she must have had a death grip on it.
The next strike had him going to his knees. She almost fell off, but let out a panicked cry and plunged the knife in again, clearly in a panic.
“Again!”
The Faye reached up and she was almost torn off but seemed to fear she’d fail because she made a wild sound and stabbed him repeatedly. As if in slow motion, the man fell to his knees, then flat on his face. Maeve rolled off and scurried backward, eyes wide and blood on her hands and gown.
He thought she’d break down, cry, lose her nerve, but she stopped as soon as she cleared the body, chest heaving, and stared at him. Almost immediately, she crawled to him, knife still clutched in her hand.
“I couldn’t use my voice on him. I was afraid you would sleep, too. I had to kill him. They planned to hurt you. Torture you and hurt you.” Her voice shook, and so did she, but she crawled behind him, sawing at the rope around his hands.
He was in shock still, but managed to choke out, “It’s okay. You did okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” She was breathless and quaking so badly she dropped the knife then fumbled to pick it up.
He wanted to reassure her, but if he did, he feared she’d fall apart. “Mae, you need to get the ropes off.”
“I’m trying.”
“How long will they sleep?”
“I’m not sure,” she cried, sounding excited, then quieter added, “I’ve never done this before.”
He knew that. She’d killed, because of him. He wanted to hug her so badly he couldn’t wait. He pulled and the ropes broke. She fell with a cry of dismay, but before he could turn to her, she was there, facing him. Her hair was in tangles, her eyes wide, in shock, he sensed, but she watched him closely as if to check that he was safe. He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, so he could reassure himself she was really okay.
“How did you find me?” He smoothed her hair down. He’d been caught by surprise, settled, thinking of ways to make up for whatever had upset her. He’d not even know the Faye were there until they were inside.
“I followed marks left by a Tracker. We need to hurry, Stephano.” Her warm breath hit his neck, making him shudder. She could have died. She could be dead right now, unable to breathe, unable to smile or laugh at me. “They might wake at any time.”
He knew that. They had little time and none for how much he needed to reassure himself she was fine. He released her, but when he rose to his feet, he wasn’t able to resist pulling her in and hugging her once more. Gods, don’t ever put her in that situation again. Don’t ever let her do this again. She kept her hands off him, probably because they were covered in blood, but he felt her breathing turn ragged. Her bones were so small, so delicate, he could feel them under her skin. Even her muscles didn’t amount to much. He stroked down her spine to feel the heat of her body through her gown.
“Don’t hyperventilate. We don’t have the time.”
“I’m trying…not to,” she half-laughed, half-gasped against his chest.
I could have lost her. They could have taken her and overpowered him without any losses. Instead, she saved me. Again.
“I have no idea where we are,” she added.
He dropped his arms but kissed her quickly when she tipped her head to stare at him. He kept it fast, but wanted reassurances she was here, solid and safe. Not now. Not yet. “It doesn’t matter where we are. We’re leaving. We go west, right?”
“Yes, I think so…”
“Then we go west.” He took her hand and pulled her along. She tugged his hand.
“I left our things back there.” Her voice shook and through their linked hands she trembled. He’d have to get her somewhere safe. Preferably out of this realm. Everywhere they ventured was dangerous. Even the seemingly safe cottage.
“You brought my weapons?”
“Yes. They’re this way.” She pointed to his right and he signaled for her to hurry. She walked ahead, being quiet but he could tell she was running on adrenaline. He needed her somewhere safe so she could fall apart. I might join her.
After only a few minutes, they arrived at a bush. She ducked inside and emerged a few seconds later dragging her pack, his satchel and unbelievably his sword belt and sword. As soon as she straightened he kissed her again. “Good girl. Now, let’s get out of here.”
She gaped at him, but after a second of that, she smiled. “I saved you again.”
“Damn, I should have known you’d keep count.” He buckled his belt and tucked the satchel into place then took her pack as well. “Here, jump on. I want to move fast.”
He could tell she wasn’t going to go along with him, so he merely gave her his back and crouched for her to get on. “It’s easier and faster, Mae. Do it.”
Hesitantly, as if she feared hurting him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and boosted herself on. He hooked her legs tighter around his hips. “If there’s trouble, you do whatever you have to do to stay hidden, or better, sing something.”
She breathed into his neck, but said, “I will. But I need to clean my hands.”
The quiet statement held such feeling, he patted her leg. “I know, angel. Hold on.” He took off. The trees were a hindrance, but he wanted to stay within the forest at least for a few hours. “How long did they travel?”
“The night.”
“You’re tired.”
“I’m not tired.”
Liar. He found himself smiling, but checked the emotion. “They were headed back toward the Faye lands?”
“There are Faye lands here. The city of Skye. It is close to the outpost, but they are not allowed within the borders of the free towns.”
“Who keeps them out?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I’m not certain. Maybe magic. But I have never seen them near the last outpost, nor near the gate.”
“So we go to the outpost or this Skye?” He navigated them over a brook without dropping her. Once on the other side he stopped and listened. There were no shouts of pursuit. He bent at the knees. “Let’s clean your hands here.”
She slid free, but stumbled. He caught her. Her eyes were swimming with tears but she didn’t cry. Not yet at least.
“Here, sit down.” He set her on a rock and scooped up water with his hands and cleaned her until her hands and neat little nails were free of any sign of such horror. “Take off that dress. Put the other one on.”
She spluttered, but lacked the energy to really put up a fight. He pulled the gown from the pack and shook it out. She took it, but didn’t move.
“Hurry. I need you to eat something too.” He dug out two of the squares of honeyed oats, devouring one quickly in a few bites.
“But… I didn’t try it on. What if it doesn’t fit?”
The ordinary worry made him capture her hands and force her to meet his eyes. “It laces up the back. I can tighten it so it fits, yes?”
She nodded slowly, as if she didn’t have the strength for much more.
“Here, stand and I can even turn around so you can have privacy.”
All he got was another small nod. He gave her his back, smiling at the oddity of it all. She’d brought him pleasure, slept in his arms, freed him from a certain death, but didn’t want to change her dress in front of him? Women.
“We’ll get up high. See if you can’t locate where we are. If we’re close to Skye, then we’ll head there.” He heard the rustle of clothing, then a sigh.
“Can you unlace me?” The question was said quiet-like. He discovered her struggling to reach the back of her gown. Is this why she always wore it? She couldn’t get out of it?
“Here, let me.” Careful of her hair, he began picking at the laces. He ignored how each inch exposed the exquisite line of her back, and tried to unlace her. It proved difficult. Her skin glowed, each delicate inch of her more desirable to him than any woman he could ever recall bedding. “Here, that’s good.”
He had to stop, step away and turn away. Folding his arms, he concentrated on forming a plan, not on the woman stripping down behind him. She used his arm for support, quietly grumbling as she did. A rustle of fabric made his imagination fill in the details of her curvy body wiggling into place. Finally, she released him and cleared her throat.
“Can you lace me?”
The gods were truly torturing him. Not only had she saved his life, when he was the warrior, but now she expected, no trusted him, to merely lace her up not drag her to the ground like an animal and rut over her. He shuddered at the mere idea of fucking her.
“It’s too big.”
He swore his shaft tingled at her words. She’d be tight, so hot and wet and ready for him his size wouldn’t matter. He bit back a groan at the mental image of her body sliding open for his shaft
Trying his best to rein in his rising erection, he faced her and caught his breath. She was stunning, he knew that, but the yellow color seemed to bring out wisps of red he’d never noticed in her hair. He gathered the laces and began to gently tug the material closed.
“See? It’s too big.”
“It’s fine.” It was beautiful. A soft fabric of ultra-fine cloth, woven with small dots of white in the yellow. It looked as if it was made for her. She faced him. His breath left on a heavy groan that he covered with a cough. The neckline of the dress was lower, allowing plenty of her ample bosom to pillow up and along the fabric. “Beautiful.” He rubbed a hand through his hair and reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn’t have her right here, right now. There weren’t nearly enough, but he managed to try. “Now, jump on. We’ve wasted enough time.”
She didn’t move at his gruff words, but since he didn’t either, she finally picked up her old gown, stuffed it in the bag at his waist, then climbed on the rock near them and onto his back a moment later. He clenched her hands together under his chin then hitched her legs higher on his waist.
“I’m going to get us up and out of here, then we can rest.” She would need it. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. She walked all night for me. All night, to save me. No one had ever done that for him, and certainly not a woman. “We’ll find Garret and the men in no time now. Trust me.”
“I do.”
The whispered words only solidified his determination to get her to safety. Once protected, he was going to make love to her until she was begging him not to stop. He could give her that. Pleasure. She deserved anything he could give her.
As soon as we’re safe and she’s rested. He patted her leg and started. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. The gesture did odd things to him. What would it be like to have her with me all the time? To come home to her? To a safe cottage, where she waited, a meal ready for me?