Midnight Warrior

  “I beg to disagree. You are these magnificent breasts and this lovely body.” His hand brushed the curls surrounding her womanhood. “And this place of pleasure.” He pulled her down on top of him and rocked her back and forth. “How I do love that place of pleasure.”

  “You may not enter there again unless I hear other words from you.”

  “Oh, you want to hear that you are my lady and my wife? That I hold you in honor and that I respect your mind and heart as well as your body?” His voice was muffled in her hair. “It is a solemn declaration. I don’t know if you deserve it after all you’ve made me undergo.”

  “I deserve it.”

  He chuckled. “So you do.” His laughter faded and he said gruffly, “I … love you, Brynn of Falkhaar.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes and her arms tightened about him. “That did not seem too difficult.”

  “More than you know.” He rolled her over onto her back and looked down at her. “And now I need words from you. When do we wed?”

  She stiffened. “We will talk of that later.”

  “Now.”

  “I said I didn’t wish to—” She looked up at him urgently. “Please. Don’t spoil this night.”

  He muttered a nearly inaudible curse. “You cannot live without me but you will not wed me? What madness is this?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “This doesn’t please me,” he said with precision. “You bring me here. You use me. You make me—”

  “I didn’t use you. I just wanted—why won’t you let it alone? Why must you ask more?”

  “Because I have the deplorable fault of wanting things clear instead of muddied.” He paused, taking a moment to study her face. “You’ve been behaving most peculiarly all day. You watch me like a vulture about to pounce and then you persuade me to couple with you.”

  “You needed little persuasion.”

  “True. I wanted to believe all was well and that I could take what I wanted. But all is not well, is it?”

  “We’ll talk after you have the treasure.” Her jaw set with determination. “I don’t want to think of—”

  “Wedding? Children?” He paused. “Leaving Gwynthal?”

  Leaving Gwynthal. She had not even let herself consider that possible ramification if she wed Gage. She had not even considered marriage. She had wanted only to join with him, give to him, take from him. She had wanted to snatch a perfect moment before—

  The chill returned as she recalled the dream. “No!” She pulled him down and held him close. “Don’t talk,” she murmured desperately. “Please, don’t talk. Not yet. Not now.”

  He was stiff and resisting and then, suddenly he relaxed and held her close. “Very well. Not now. I suppose I’ve won enough for one night.” He added grimly, “But soon. By God, very, very soon, Brynn.”

  The cottage was in even worse disrepair than the castle. A tree had fallen on the thatched roof, leaving a large hole, and her mother’s herb garden was a only a tangle of vines and weeds.

  “Well, we won’t spend the night here,” Gage said dryly as he stood in the doorway and looked up at the blue sky clearly visible through the hole. “How close are we to this treasure cave?”

  “Not far. Perhaps a few hours. But I’ll need daylight to find it.”

  Malik gazed at the sun appraisingly. “Well, we don’t have more than an hour before sunset. We’d best camp and set out in the morning.” He turned his horse. “Is there a brook nearby, Brynn?”

  “About a mile into the forest.” A night in the forest, a night of danger. She turned back to the cottage and said quickly, “Why don’t we stay here? I’m weary, aren’t you? It wouldn’t take long to sweep away the debris. We did it at the castle. At least it would afford us a little shelter.”

  “There’s a very large tree in your cottage.” Adwen made a face. “And I don’t think I want to find out what’s nesting in those branches.” She kicked her mare into a trot and guided her back to the trail. She called over her shoulder, “I don’t fear cockroaches, but I’m sure I heard something slither.”

  “It’s only a cottage, Brynn,” Gage said. “Your mother’s no longer here. She chose to leave this place. It’s not good for you to stay.”

  He thought the reason she didn’t want to leave was that she wanted to cling to memories of her mother and feared it would bring sadness. She did feel sad, but it was a sweet sadness. She glanced at the herb garden where she had spent so many happy mornings trailing behind her mother. She felt no lingering spirits here as she had at the castle. Her mother had been taken cruelly, but her purpose in life had been fulfilled. She had been given a gift and had used it selflessly and unstintingly. She whispered, “You’re right, she’s not here.”

  He took her arm and led her toward her horse. Waves of support and comfort flowed gently over her as he lifted her to the saddle. “I know you’re tired. We’ll stop soon. You said this brook was only a mile?”

  She was suddenly jerked back to the peril that had caused her to protest leaving the cottage. She had an idea this mile was going to seem an eternity. “Yes.” There was no use protesting or trying to change their minds. She could only wait and watch and try to make sure no harm came to him. “You go on ahead. I’ll follow you.”

  His brows rose in surprise. “The trail is wide enough for two.”

  But she wouldn’t be able to watch him as closely if he were beside her. “I want to be by myself.”

  He shrugged and kicked his horse into a trot. “Keep close.”

  “I will.” She had no intention of falling far behind. She had to be near enough to intercede in case of attack. “I’ll keep very close.”

  Someone was watching.

  They had gone only a quarter mile into the forest when Brynn felt a chill run through her. Her gaze frantically searched the thick underbrush on either side of the trail. Nothing. No sign of anyone.

  But how would she know if there were a thousand enemies lurking behind that veil of heavy shrubbery?

  Her hand tightened on the reins. Perhaps it was her imagination. Perhaps her fears were playing tricks on her.

  God in heaven, it was not imagination. Someone was there. She was as certain of that presence as of Gage ahead of her on the trail.

  Her palms were clammy and she was shaking. Why didn’t Gage sense the danger as she did? Where were his warrior’s instincts? He seemed totally unaware. Perhaps that was how it happened. A moment of distraction and then a dagger thrust from out of—

  “Gage!”

  He glanced inquiringly over his shoulder.

  What could she say to a man who believed only what he saw? I had a death dream? I have a feeling that there is danger here? He would never believe her.

  “Come on!” She kicked the mare into a gallop that brought her even with Gage. “I’m weary of this pace,” she said, then her hand came sharply down on his stallion’s hind quarters.

  “What the—” Gage cast her a startled glance as his horse broke into a dead run, snorting and plunging forward.

  She followed him, keeping beside him as they passed Malik and Adwen.

  “Brynn, is something—” Malik started.

  There was a curve in the trail ahead. What if Richard was there waiting for Gage?

  She whipped the mare into more speed and rounded the curve ahead of Gage.

  No one was there. Richard was not standing in the trail waiting for Gage.

  But the eyes were still upon them. Keeping pace, running as they were running.

  Stalking. Watching. There.

  She reined up by the brook, panting, her chest rising and falling.

  “What was that about?” Gage asked as he fought the stallion to a standstill before dismounting. “You nearly ran Malik and Adwen off the trail.”

  “The mare was thirsty.” She slipped from the saddle and led the mare to water. “I wanted to get here.”

  “Obviously,” Malik said dryly as he and Adwen reined in beside the brook. “We truly wer
e not going to drink all the water in the brook before you got here.”

  “I know.” The sense of being watched was gone, she realized with relief. He had not followed them. She glanced at the long rays of the sun filtering through the trees. It would be dark soon and they would be safe. If it was going to happen, it would be in daylight. “We’d better set up camp before it gets any darker.”

  “I’ll go gather wood.” Gage started toward the shrubbery to the left of the trail.

  “No!” She pushed past him. “I’ll do it. Take care of the stallion. He’s still upset.”

  “So am I,” he murmured as he watched her disappear into the forest. “And getting more uneasy every minute.”

  “Are you going to tell me about it?” Gage asked as he settled down in his blankets that night.

  She had known the question would come. She had been aware of his grim demeanor since they had arrived at the brook. She was surprised he had asked her nothing during the meal preparations or when they were eating, “Tell you about what?”

  “Whatever is disturbing you,”

  “Nothing is disturbing me,”

  Gage made a rude noise. “The devil, it isn’t. It’s better now than when we were on the trail, but you’re still stiff as a lance.”

  “It’s been a strange time for me … the castle, the cottage …”

  “Is that any reason for you to be afraid?”

  “I’m not afraid.” She lay down beside him and closed her eyes. “Good night.”

  She thought he would pursue the matter, but he only made an exasperated exclamation and enfolded her in his arms. Darkness surrounded them, and he was safe in the dark. She must wake before daylight broke that safety.

  If she slept at all. At that moment she felt as if she would never sleep again.

  “I’ll be glad to be gone from this damned island,” Gage said roughly. “I don’t like what it’s doing to you.”

  It wasn’t the island, it was the evil they had brought there. The evil she had brought—Richard and his greed for riches. If Gage was killed, it would be her doing.

  “It’s not Gwynthal.”

  “Oh, no, how could it be the fault of so perfect a place?”

  “It’s not—good night.”

  He muttered something inaudible and tightened his grasp around her.

  Stay away, she prayed. Let him keep safe. Make the dream only a dream.

  He was there again.

  She woke in the middle of the night in a panic, the fear tightening her chest worse than if the dream had come.

  Because he had come.

  She could feel him staring at them, lurking out of sight.

  How long had he been there before she had roused?

  She lay there, frozen. It was agony not doing anything; she wanted to run screaming into the shrubbery after him.

  Why not? she wondered desperately. Why shouldn’t she go after him? It was better than waiting for him to attack. Better than seeing Gage killed.

  Killed. She felt sick at the thought. She could not bear it.

  Slowly, carefully, she shifted Gage’s arm from her body and sat up.

  A stirring. Something had changed out there in the darkness.… The stare was still as intent, but now it was wary.

  Let him be wary, she thought fiercely. She rose to her feet and moved silently from the circle cast by the dying fire and into the forest.

  Where was he?

  She closed her eyes, trying to sense the direction.

  Her lids flew open.

  He was coming!

  She could feel him moving through the underbrush—swift, deadly.

  Then she saw his eyes.

  Yellow, wild, glittering in the moonlight.

  Yellow?

  “Selbar?” she whispered.

  Relief made her almost dizzy. She reached out and grabbed the trunk of the tree next to her. Not Richard. Selbar. As the wolf padded forward out of the underbrush, she could not mistake the long scar that sliced across his shoulder and chest.

  She smiled and stepped forward. “You’ve come to greet me?” she crooned. “Come, boy, let us see—”

  “Don’t move!” Gage said from behind her. “Stop where you are, Brynn.”

  It was the wolf that stopped. Selbar snarled low in his throat and crouched, preparing to spring.

  “Go back,” Brynn said, taking another step forward. “He won’t hurt me. Come, boy, come and—”

  What was wrong with Selbar? He was staring at her without recognition, his lips curled back in a snarl.

  Gage ran forward and thrust himself between Brynn and the wolf. “Don’t move,” he said again. He lifted his sword.

  What was he doing? “Put it down. Don’t hurt him!”

  Selbar hesitated, still snarling. The next instant he was gone, as silent as he had come.

  Disappointment surged through her. “You shouldn’t have interfered. Selbar wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “For God’s sake, are you too blind to see that he was stalking you? He would have sprung and ripped your throat out in another minute.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have—” She stopped as she remembered that menacing stare the wolf had given her. Selbar had not known her, she realized in desolation. He might have even killed her as Gage had said. “He didn’t remember me.”

  “You’re shaking. Come back to the fire.”

  She let him lead her through the forest. She felt dull, dazed. “I don’t understand. He treated me as if I were an enemy. I was never his enemy. There was a bond … I loved him.”

  “I know you did.” He pushed her gently to her blanket and wrapped another covering about her shoulders. “He’s a beast of the forest. You can’t expect him to have a memory as long as yours.”

  He had said that before, she recalled. She had argued with him but he had spoken truth. “I thought everything would be the same here. I was sure he would be the same.”

  He sat down beside her and pulled her close. “How did you know he was out there?”

  “I felt him. He was following us.”

  “Then you must have had an idea he would be a threat to you or you would never have taken my knife.”

  “Knife?” She looked at him in bewilderment and then followed his gaze to her hand.

  She stiffened in shock. Her hand was clenched around the bone handle of Gage’s huge dagger.

  “I don’t remember taking it,” she whispered.

  “It’s a good thing you did. You roused me slipping it out of the sheath. Not very good protection in dealing with a wolf.”

  But deadly when dealing with a man. One downward stroke and the knife would quench out a life. Why had she taken it if not to kill Richard? She remembered the ferocity she had felt when she had slipped into the forest. Would she really have taken a life to protect Gage? God help her, she was desperately afraid she would.

  The dagger dropped from her hand to the ground and she buried her face in Gage’s chest.

  “It will pass, Brynn,” he whispered. “Nothing stays the same. Perhaps he did recognize you, if he was following. It could be I startled him and he acted on instinct.”

  Nothing stays the same.

  Selbar might have killed her.

  She might have given up everything she believed to protect Gage.

  She did not understand any of this, she thought wearily. She wanted a world where everything was clear and uncomplicated, a place where all hurts could be healed and souls were steadfast and unchanging. She had thought Gwynthal was such a world.

  It was not.

  Fourteen

  “This is your cave?” Gage peered into the dark opening of the grotto. “You didn’t tell me we’d have to swim to reach your treasure.”

  “Bentar didn’t want to make it too easy to find. Otherwise someone would have stumbled across it a hundred times over.” Brynn dismounted and tied the mare to a tree beside the cave. “And you won’t have to swim. There’s a boat tied at a mooring several hund
red yards inside the cave.”

  “If the rope hasn’t rotted away,” Malik said as he lifted Adwen to the ground.

  Brynn had not considered that possibility. “It was a very strong rope. I remember my mother changing it right before we left Gwynthal.”

  “Then we may have a chance of avoiding building our own boat.” Gage moved toward the opening. “Is the mooring on this side of the spring?”

  “Yes, but let me go first. There’s a ledge that borders the spring, but the cave curves like a snake and this first stretch is almost totally without light.” She entered the cave and pressed back against the wall. Darkness, cool moisture, the rushing sound of the water only inches away. It was all so familiar. How many times she had come here with her mother. “Be careful; the ledge is slippery.”

  “How deep is the water here?” Adwen asked uneasily.

  “Not very deep. Ten, twelve feet.”

  “Deep enough to drown,” Adwen said as she edged farther along the ledge. “I don’t swim.”

  “I will protect you,” Malik said.

  “You swim?”

  “No, but I will allow you to tread on my shoulders while I walk on the bottom of this abyss. I will even warn you when I am about to drown so that you may try to save yourself. What bravery, what sacrifice. Could anyone do more?”

  “Yes, they could refrain from chattering nonsense and distracting me from the task of keeping my footing.”

  “Sorry,” Malik said meekly.

  “The mooring is just ahead around the curve,” Brynn said. “It will be lighter once we reach it. There are several openings in the roof of the cave that allow the sunlight in.”

  “Good,” Gage muttered. “I don’t like not knowing what’s ahead of me.”

  Characteristic, Brynn thought. She had never been uneasy here, just accepted the darkness. Gage, however, was fighting it, seeking to change it.

  She rounded the curve, and suddenly the darkness was leavened. Falling on the water was a ray of light which streamed from a narrow crack in the roof of the cave.

  The boat was still there, tied to the iron pole driven into the ledge, jouncing gently on the water. She breathed a sigh of relief and her pace instinctively quickened.

  “Be careful,” Gage snapped.