Donovan's Woman

  “You need a disguise.” He used the edge of a rock to pry open the bottles and passed her one, then tore off a chunk of bread and offered it to her, along with a slice of meat and cheese.

  She murmured her thanks, her gaze still on the clothing, which looked recently washed. Hopefully, they weren’t crawling with fleas! Or lice!

  * * *

  There had been one more item in the bottom of the bag — a hooded robe. When they were ready to leave, Gryff pulled it on. As he’d hoped, it hid the collar around his neck.

  And even as he touched the wretched thing, pain exploded through his body. With a harsh cry, he dropped to his knees. Damn and blast. Serepta might not be able to find him, but she could still cause him pain. In spite of what the witch said, he should have tried to find a way to cut the damn thing off when he was in the village.

  He writhed on the ground, twitching like a bug on a hot rock, while Marri stood nearby, helpless to do anything but watch.

  Gradually, the pain receded, leaving him curled in on himself, feeling weak and breathless.

  The last thing he wanted to see was the sympathy reflected in Marri’s eyes.

  Unleashing a torrent of every curse word he knew, he struggled to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

  “Maybe you should rest a little.”

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t wait to see if she followed him as he struck out, following a dry riverbed, the rough path screened from the village by dry brush and trees. If they continued northward, sooner or later, they’d pass the Brynn Sea. Tarnn lay in a valley somewhere beyond.

  * * *

  Bone weary, Marri doggedly set one foot in front of the other, silently praying that Gryff would soon stop for the night. They had been walking for hours. Night had fallen long ago, and still he plodded on.

  She didn’t understand why he was so angry with her, and now, almost out of breath, she didn’t care. Sleep. She needed to sleep. Her eyes felt gritty and she closed them a moment, let out a startled cry when her foot hit a deadfall. She stumbled over it and landed hard on her shoulder.

  Gryff was beside her in an instant, drawing her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, too weary to speak.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. She had been nothing but kind to him and how had he repaid her? By making her walk for miles with no rest simply because she’d seen him in pain and it had shamed him. “I’ve been acting like a fool. Forgive me?”

  Marri wanted to touch him, to tell him she understood, even though she didn’t, but exhaustion claimed her before she could form the words.

  Lifting her into his arms, Gryff held her close for a moment before lowering her gently to the ground. After removing his robe, he covered her with it, then stretched out beside her. He had intended to keep watch through the night, but her warmth, her nearness, lulled him to sleep.

  * * *

  Gryff woke with a start, uncertain of what had roused him. Feigning sleep, he opened his senses. Heavy footsteps. Whispers. A faint scent of perspiration.

  They were being stalked. The question was, by who? And why?

  The only thing he knew for certain was that they weren’t Serepta’s henchmen. Outlaws, then? Or just troublemakers on the prowl?

  He swore silently, wishing he had a weapon, as they drew closer.

  He smiled when he realized there were only two of them. He could handle that many on his own.

  Easing away from Marri, still sleeping at his side, he shifted.

  * * *

  Marri woke to the sound of screams. Unable to see anything clearly in the darkness, she reached out for Gryff, only he wasn’t there.

  Were the screams his? Had the witch found them?

  Terror kept her frozen in place. And then she heard the wolf’s growl. Another scream. Then only silence. Clutching Gryff’s robe in her hands, she whispered his name, let out a scream of her own as a cold nose nudged her arm.

  A moment later, Gryff hunkered down beside her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, weak with relief. “Who were they?”

  “Nobody to worry about. Just a couple of thugs.”

  The smell of death stung her nostrils and she searched the darkness. She couldn’t see anything. But they were out there. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

  Sleep, she thought. With two dead men out there in the dark? “Do we have to stay here?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.” Taking Marri by the hand, he led her a good distance away.

  Finding a stretch of flat ground, he spread his robe for her.

  “Did they injure you?” she asked as she sat down.

  “No.” He eased down beside her. “It’s still hours until dawn. Get some rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  She stretched out on the robe, her cheek pillowed on her hand.

  Unable to resist, he lightly stroked her hair, tenderness swelling inside him as her eyelids fluttered down. Moments later, the soft, even sound of her breathing told him she was asleep.

  He continued to stroke her hair, thinking his chances of getting her safely to Tarnn weren’t looking too good. But she couldn’t go home, not with a brother wanting to kill her. Not when Serepta knew where to find her.

  * * *

  Gryff woke with the sun in his face. Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his jaw. They were miles from Tarnn. They had no food. No water. He couldn’t remember if there were any towns nearby.

  Rising, he glanced at the surrounding countryside. Flat, barren. No sign of civilization anywhere.

  “Gryff?”

  “Morning, princess.”

  Yawning, she sat up. “Where are we?”

  “Beats the hell out of me. That’s north,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “So that’s where we want to go.”

  Nodding, she gained her feet and handed him the robe. She blushed when her stomach growled in a very loud, very unladylike way.

  “I don’t think there’s a town nearby.” Folding the robe, he handed it back to her. “We need to make better time, so I’m gonna shift. You ready?”

  “I am if you are.” She watched, amazed, as Gryff shifted into the big black horse again.

  As he had before, he went down on one knee; as she had before, she grabbed a handful of mane and pulled herself onto his back.

  In spite of being hungry and thirsty, racing across the desert was exhilarating. She loved the feel of the cool morning wind in her face, the sense of freedom, the sound of the horse’s hooves pounding over the barren ground.

  Gradually, the desert gave way to patches of green. Cactus and shriveled shrubs grew scarce, replaced by trees that grew taller and more numerous as they continued northward.

  Marri had lost track of time when the first house appeared, although it wasn’t really a house, but more like a thatched hut. Several others were strung out beyond, growing closer together, larger, nicer, built of wood and brick with tile roofs.

  The stallion stopped when they reached the outskirts of a small town. When he went to his knees, she slid off his back. A moment later, Gryff stood before her.

  “Is this Tarnn?” she asked, glancing around.

  “No. It’s too small. And there’s no convent.” Taking the robe from her, he pulled it over his head. “Stay here. I’m going to go look around.”

  He sensed it as soon as he neared the fountain in the center of the village square - the unmistakable whiff of magic.

  Chapter 17

  Gryff paused behind the fountain, all his senses going on high alert as the faint signature of witchcraft washed over him. Had Serepta found them already? His gaze swept the village, his tension gradually waning with the realization that it wasn’t Serepta’s magic he was sensing, nor was it dark magic. Unless he was mistaken, he was picking up on the presence of a powerful witch nearby.

  He lifted a hand to the collar at his throat. A witch
had conjured it. Perhaps another witch could undo the spell. Maybe even figure out a way to remove the damn thing.

  Several people clad in peasant clothing sent glances in his direction. Most were merely curious, a few were wary.

  “Sir?”

  Sir? Turning, Gryff came face-to-face with a young woman. Short and slim, she was covered head to foot in a robe similar to the one he wore. “Something you want?” he asked.

  Hands clasped, she regarded him through mild gray eyes. “I think there is something you want.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Nourishment for yourself and your companion. A change of clothes.” She wrinkled her nose. “A bath.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “One who can help you, if you’ll let me.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  Inclining her head, she murmured, “Perhaps I was mistaken. Forgive my intrusion.”

  Gryff laid hold on her arm when she started to turn away. “You’re not mistaken.”

  “I live in the house with the blue door. You and your companion are welcome to share my table.”

  “Obliged.”

  He watched her walk away, noting that she was soon surrounded by a number of children, all reaching out to touch her.

  With a shake of his head, he went to fetch Marri.

  * * *

  “Are you sure we can trust her?” Marri clung to Gryff’s hand as the village came into view.

  Gryff shrugged. “We’ll soon find out.”

  As they approached the village, Marri noted several open-air stalls located around a pretty bubbling fountain. Vendors sold a variety of goods. A dozen or so houses made a wider circle beyond the stalls. She heard the ring of a blacksmith’s hammer, the wail of a baby, the chiming of a distant bell. A church somewhere in the distance, perhaps?

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they passed the vendors and made their way down a narrow, dirt road.

  Gryff jerked his chin toward a small house with a blue door. “A witch lives there.”

  Marri came to an abrupt halt. “Another witch!”

  “She’s a good witch. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Come on,” he said, tugging on her hand. “She offered us food and shelter and we need both.”

  Marri shook her head. “Why would a stranger offer to help us?”

  “I don’t know. But I didn’t sense anything evil about her, and I’m tired and hungry.”

  Marri was about to argue further, but her stomach chose that moment to make another unladylike complaint. Hoping they weren’t making a terrible mistake, she followed Gryff along the path to the house with the blue door.

  The witch opened it before he knocked. “Please, come in,” she invited.

  As soon as Marri saw the woman, all her misgivings faded away. There was something in the witch’s dove-gray eyes that inspired confidence, something in the gentleness of her voice that garnered trust.

  “Sit and be comfortable while I prepare you something to eat,” the witch said.

  “Can I help?” Marri asked.

  “If you wish.”

  Marri glanced at Gryff then followed the witch into the kitchen.

  Gryff sank down on the divan, tapped his fingers on the arm while he glanced around a room decorated in earth tones of beige, brown and sage. The furnishings were simple but exquisite — the couch on which he sat, a low table, the plush carpet on the floor, and, in the far corner, a shrine of some kind.

  He was almost asleep when Marri plucked at his sleeve. “Our meal is ready.”

  Rising, Gryff followed her into the kitchen, his mouth watering at the pleasant aromas that filled the air.

  The witch indicated a place at the table. “Please, sit.”

  “Smells good,” he remarked, taking the seat she indicated.

  The witch nodded her thanks.

  Marri sat across from Gryff.

  “I am Seleena,” the witch said as she filled their glasses with wine.

  Gryff introduced himself, then said, “This is Marri.”

  “King Leonid’s daughter. I am pleased to meet you.”

  “You know me?” Marri exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

  “I know many things.”

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Gryff asked.

  “To Tarnn.”

  He frowned. “And where we’ve been?”

  “In Serepta’s realm.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “You will not use such language in my presence. I let it pass once. I will not do so again.”

  Gryff’s jaw tightened at the reproof. After taking a deep breath, he murmured, “My apologies. But how do you know that?”

  Seleena inclined her head. “I have been blessed with many gifts. One of them is to read those who come into my presence. I know Marri is seeking refuge in the cloister at Tarnn and that you seek to escape Serepta’s power over you. If you wish, I can remove the collar.”

  “I don’t think it can be removed, except by the witch who bespelled it.”

  Seleena smiled indulgently. “I can undo this one. I am Serepta’s mother.”

  Gryff blinked at her. His first reaction was disbelief. And then distrust. What if the mother was worse than the daughter? Calling on his wolf senses, he took a deep breath, but he detected no evil in the woman or in her home.

  The witch regarded him calmly, obviously aware of his scrutiny.

  They looked enough alike to be sisters, he thought, but her mother? And then he grunted softly. Witches didn’t age the way regular mortals did; and when they did start to show signs of growing older, they often invoked a spell to veil their years.

  “The collar,” Seleena said as he settled back in his chair. “Do you wish me to remove it?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “I must warn you, it will likely cause some discomfort.”

  Gryff lifted a hand to the golden collar hidden by his robe. “I’m no stranger to pain. Just get the blasted thing off me.”

  “Let us finish our meal first.”

  Gryff nodded. Was it possible she could remove the damn thing? He didn’t care how much it hurt to get rid of it. He just wanted it gone.

  They finished the meal in silence. A wave of the witch’s hand cleared the table.

  “If you’re ready, I’ll remove that collar now,” she remarked.

  “More than ready.” Rising, he pulled the robe over his head and tossed it aside.

  When he resumed his seat, the witch moved behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders, gently massaging away the tension. “Relax. She cannot find you here.”

  Gryff closed his eyes as the witch’s hands soothed him.

  Moments later, she began to sing. He couldn’t understand the words, but they wound around him, weaving a spell as her voice grew louder. He tensed as Seleena’s hands moved to the collar. He broke out in a cold sweat as her power overwhelmed Serepta’s, tearing apart the other witch’s spell, wresting it not only from the metal around his neck but seemingly draining it from his very core.

  It was a pain to rival the worst Serepta had ever inflicted on him.

  A harsh cry escaped his lips as the collar bit into his flesh, as if it was fighting the witch’s efforts to remove it, and then, to his amazement, it disintegrated and disappeared.

  Gryff blew out a sigh of relief, then glanced over his shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do for you….”

  “My daughter? How is she?”

  “As mean and vindictive as ever.”

  “She wasn’t always so,” Seleena remarked. “It was the vampire blood that changed her.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “You are welcome to stay the night, if you wish, though I only have one extra room.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Gryff said. “Again, I’m in your debt.”

  “I’m very tired,” Marri said. “Would it be all right if I retire now?”

  “Of course. Come,
I’ll show you to your room. There’s a bath waiting. Clean towels. A change of clothing for you both.”

  Marri looked at Gryff. “Are you coming?”

  “No. I’ll be along in a while.”

  She nodded. Eager to be out of her stolen clothing, Marri quickly followed the witch out of the room.

  Gryff paced the floor for a few minutes, then, feeling suddenly restless, he left the house.

  With the setting of the sun, most of the villagers had retired to their homes. The food stalls were closed. A couple of dogs nosed around the empty stalls.

  Feeling free for the first time in weeks, Gryff strolled the empty road. More than once, his hand went to his neck just to make sure the hated collar was really gone.

  Seleena was Serepta’s mother. Talk about a small world, he thought, and then came to an abrupt halt. Was he being a fool, to trust the mother? Was her offer of shelter merely a ruse to keep them here until Serepta’s arrival?

  Shit!

  For all he knew, the mother could be worse than the daughter!

  Suddenly fearing for Marri’s safety, he sprinted back to Seleena’s house.

  Chapter 18

  Marri reclined in the tub, enjoying the froth of scented bubbles, the luxury of clean hot water. It was wonderful to relax, to have a full belly, to feel safe.

  The room, though small when compared to her room at Brynn, was quite lovely, from the colorful quilt on the double bed to the painting on the wall.

  She glanced at the door, wondering where Gryff had gone, when he would return. She liked him far too much, spent too many hours dreaming of things that could never be. He was a commoner, unlearned, more than a little rough around the edges. Not that it mattered. Once she entered the convent, she would never see him again.

  She wished she could get word to Annis that she was coming, but she dared not try to send a message for fear it would fall into the wrong hands. She wondered briefly if Artur would believe her if she sent him a letter assuring him that she had no designs on the throne. Even if he believed her and welcomed her home, she could never have a life with Gryff. As Princess of House Treymanne, she would be forced to marry a peer of the realm, perhaps to assure peace with another part of the kingdom, or add wealth to Brynn Tor’s coffers.