The Warrior Read online

  Cat listened intently for any telltale sign of the guards’ return, too, but after a little while the stress, rhythm of the horse’s gait, and the warmth of Lochlan’s body lulled her to sleepiness. She found herself melting into his body.

  Goodness, the man smelled so good. The scent of his skin was pleasant and masculine. It made her want to rub herself against him, but she could never do something like that. Still, the desire burned through her even as her eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier.

  She tried her best to stay awake, but it had been a long day, and she’d been running, literally, since she first snuck out of bed. Now that she felt safe, her exhaustion was taking over.

  Lochlan frowned as he felt Catarina falling asleep. Her body relaxed so suddenly that it was all he could do to maintain his hold on her. He stopped the horse long enough to shift her weight in his arms before he renewed his course.

  He held her carefully, amazed that she’d trusted him enough to sleep. There was something about her that was very hard-edged. It was obvious that she’d been around as many false friends as he had. People who only wanted to be close to him because they wanted something from him, either power or coin. Or they just wanted to brag that they knew the laird.

  His father had warned him of such people, but as a young man he’d assumed his father was jaded and bitter. The fact that his father had known the truth of it burned inside him. He’d learned his lessons the hard way and he wondered who had hurt Catarina in that manner.

  But unlike him, she was still open. She didn’t shield herself from the world. She kept herself out there, exposed, as if she’d rather have the pain than not. He couldn’t even begin to understand that. He’d had enough pain dealt to him against his will, the last thing he wanted was to invite anymore into his house.

  You can’t help people, boy. They’re all users. They take what they want with no regard for you. Give me a coin, they’ll beg and the moment you do, they slide a blade between your ribs to take the rest from you. Trust me. People are the fleas infecting and sullying the fur of God’s creation.

  He’d never wanted to believe that, but there were times when he feared his father was more right than wrong. And as he held Catarina, he wondered what she’d do to betray him.

  He flinched as he saw an image of Maire’s face in his mind. She’d been so beautiful and unspoiled. To touch even her hand had been like touching divinity.

  And she’d ripped his heart out and spat on it. Just as his father had predicted, she’d cast him aside for a bigger catch. Just as Isobail had done with his brothers.

  Catarina needed him to help her. But if ever given the chance, he had no doubt she’d throw him to the wolves and laugh as she did so. It wouldn’t even be her fault. It was just the nature of humanity. One didn’t nurse a viper at the bosom unless one expected it to bite.

  His best course of action was to get her to her family and be done with her. The sooner she was away from him, the sooner he could return to his own business.

  And yet as he stared down at her serene face and remembered the taste of her lips, he wondered what it would be like to have a woman like this by his side. His brothers had all been fortunate enough to find women worth dying for. Women who’d proven themselves loyal and loving.

  But he would never be so fortunate. There was no use in dreaming of anything better. He was laird and his life was to serve his people. That would be enough for him.

  Even so, it was hard not to imagine a woman like Catarina holding him close. She would be a fierce mother. Unlike his own, she wouldn’t cower before her husband, then take out her abuse on a child. Catarina would fight tooth and nail to protect her own and most likely anyone else who was weak. He admired that.

  Not to mention she was beautiful. Not in a classic sense, but in a very exotic way. Her dark hair and eyes reminded him of a devilish feline. Her skin was tanned and dark, unlike the guarded complexions of most ladies. He could just imagine her running barefoot through a meadow, laughing as she did so.

  Lochlan paused in his consideration as he heard a sharp noise to his right. Reining the horse, he listened carefully.

  Had the guards found them?

  Just as he was certain he’d imagined the sound, something went whizzing past his face. The arrow embedded in a tree to his left. Lochlan reached for his sword.

  “Careful, my friend. Pull that out and it’ll be the last mistake of your life.”

  Chapter 5

  Lochlan debated long enough for them to let fly another arrow.

  “This isn’t a game. Back your hand from your hilt, or the next shot will be through your head.”

  Clenching his teeth in anger that they’d gotten the drop on him, Lochlan did as ordered even though it galled him to the core of his soul. If he were alone, he might be able to fight them. But with Catarina asleep in his arms, he didn’t have any choice except to comply.

  A tall, gawky youth around the age of ten and five came forward to jerk his sword from its sheath. As he did so, his light gray eyes fell to Catarina’s sleeping form and he gasped audibly before stepping back. “Bracken…there’s something here you’ll wish to see.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of swords in my time, boy.”

  “Aye, but ’tis not the sword you’ll recognize. He holds Princess Catarina.”

  How did the boy know that? Lochlan scowled at the words as a man near his own age came out from behind a tree. With long black hair and eyes so light they appeared translucent, he held a longbow with a nocked arrow. Lean, but still well muscled, there was no doubt this man would be quick and lethal in a fight. Even so, Lochlan knew he could take him.

  The man approached cautiously until he was able to peer over Lochlan’s arm to see Catarina. The instant he could see her face, he aimed the arrow toward Lochlan’s head again. “What are you doing with her?”

  “That would be none of your business.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Cat!” he shouted in a tone that sent several birds into flight. “Wake yourself.”

  She jerked awake so fast, her head bumped into Lochlan’s jaw. He cursed in response to the sharp pain as she rubbed her temple.

  Her gaze was irritable and accusatory. “Why did you yell at me?”

  “It wasn’t me.” He indicated the two men below with a jerk of his chin. “They’re the ones who disturbed your slumber.”

  She frowned until her gaze focused on the man’s face, then she looked incredulous. “Bracken of Ravenglass?”

  His features softened instantly. “Aye, love. Now tell me if I needs shoot this man or not.”

  Her frown returned. “Shoot who?”

  “The one holding you.”

  She laughed. “Lochlan? He’s not holding me…” She hesitated as she glanced down to see Lochlan’s arms around her. “I mean, aye, he’s holding me, but not as you mean. He’s a friend.”

  Lochlan wasn’t sure if she realized the fact that as she said those words, she ran her hand affectionately up his arm, over his biceps. His entire body ignited and by the scowl on Bracken’s face, it was obvious he noted her action as well and didn’t care for it in the least.

  Bracken lowered his arrow, then gave a low whistle. As he did so, another youth came forward. At first it appeared to be another male, but as the form drew closer, Lochlan realized it was a very slender woman dressed in a brown leather jerkin and breeches. Like the other two, she had black hair that was braided down her back and pale blue eyes like Bracken.

  Cat stiffened in his arms. “Julia? Bryce? What are you doing here? Dressed like that?”

  Bracken looked down to the bow in his hands before he spoke in a sarcastic tone. “It appears assaulting your friend. I suppose some things never change.”

  Again Catarina laughed. “I would expect no less from the likes of you. But why are you here in France?”

  “We”—he indicated the other two along with himself—“are outlaws. If I return to England, King Henry will demand our lives.”


  “What? I don’t understand.”

  Bracken sighed before he put the arrow in the quiver that was slung over his back and draped the bow over the opposite shoulder. “My father took up with the wrong sort and was denounced as a traitor. Our lands were confiscated along with my armor and horses, my father was executed, and we were offered the choice between banishment or beheadedment. Obviously, we chose the former.”

  Lochlan snorted. It was rare for that choice ever to be given. Usually the king’s justice was extremely swift and final. “Henry must have been in a good mood that day.”

  Bracken sneered. “If you say so.”

  Catarina ignored the ice and venom in Bracken’s voice. Not that she blamed him for it. He was more than entitled to his hostility over such an injustice. “So you’re just traveling about now?”

  Bracken shrugged. “There wasn’t much choice in the matter, so we took a page from your book. I mean, I have tried to find work, but no one wants to hire a disgraced nobleman whose only experience is on a tourney field. I don’t even know how they can tell what I am. I never mention it to them when I ask for work. It’s as if they can smell it on me somehow.”

  Not really. There was an imperious bearing to the man that no one could mistake. Not to mention his French was formal and tinged with an English accent. ’Twould be obvious to anyone that this man was more at home running the town than working in it.

  Catarina glanced down at Bryce who still held Lochlan’s sword in his hands. “Why did you stop us?”

  Bracken gave her a devilish grin. “I was planning to rob you.”

  Catarina shook her head and tsked at him. “You’ve taken to thievery?”

  “Better than hungry.”

  She cast a chiding stare at all three of them. “I am so disappointed in you, Bracken.”

  “You don’t understand, Cat,” Julia said defensively. “Bracken hasn’t eaten in three days. He’s been giving his portions to us and still we’re all starving. If Bracken doesn’t eat soon—”

  “Enough, Julia,” Bracken said between clenched teeth. “She doesn’t need the sordid details of our lives.”

  Lochlan opened his saddlebags with one hand and tossed a small wrapped parcel to Julia. “’Tis meat and bread for you.”

  Her eyes lit up instantly. “God bless you.”

  He inclined his head to her, then tossed a small bag to Bryce. The youth opened it to find several gold marks.

  Bracken cursed as he saw it, then snatched it from Bryce’s hands. He stalked toward them with his eyes snapping fury. “We don’t need charity.”

  Lochlan arched a brow at his untoward behavior as he refused to take the coins back. “But you were going to steal it?”

  “I would have earned it that way.”

  While he might fault the man’s reasoning, he could almost respect it. He didn’t like taking anything himself unless he earned it either. “Fine then, ride with us and consider that payment. We’re being chased by the king’s men and I’m trying to reach a tourney in Rouen. I could use an extra pair of hands to fight should the guards find us again.”

  Bracken scowled at him. “Why are you running?”

  “My father wishes me to marry.”

  He looked as aghast as Lochlan must have the first time he’d heard her say that. “Would that be so bad?”

  Catarina stiffened. “For me, aye. And well you know it. Now if you don’t mind, we needs be on our way. With you, or without you.”

  Lochlan was amused to know she didn’t reserve that imperious tone strictly for him. It was nice to see it directed at someone else for a change.

  Bracken hesitated before he turned his head to Julia. “Fetch the horses.”

  She let out a delighted squeak before she ran to get them while Bryce returned the sword to Lochlan.

  “Sorry,” the boy said before he retreated to Bracken’s side.

  In no time the three of them were mounted and all of them were back on the road. Bryce and Julia shared the meat while they rode.

  Bracken refused, saying he’d rather see them full. Instead, he rode abreast of Lochlan while the other two followed behind. “How many guards are in pursuit?”

  “Around a score.”

  “Good number that.”

  Lochlan didn’t respond to his sarcasm.

  Julia galloped her horse to Bracken’s side and again held out the meat to her brother. “Please eat something. You’re going to be ill if you keep going without food.”

  “She’s right,” Lochlan said. “We’ll stop in the morning for supplies.”

  He could see the reservation in Bracken’s eyes and he admired the man’s loyalty to his siblings and his sacrifice on their behalf.

  “Please, Bracken. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, too.”

  That small plea must have weakened his resolve. Bracken took a small portion. “Now you eat the rest and quit pestering me.”

  She offered her older brother a bright smile. “Very well, Lord Churlish.” Then she fell back to ride beside Bryce.

  Bracken swallowed the meat before he turned his attention back to Lochlan. “I still don’t know who you are.”

  “Lochlan MacAllister.”

  “He’s their laird,” Catarina added.

  Bracken averted his gaze. “I see.” His tone was empty and yet speculative.

  Catarina cast a frown at Lochlan before she looked to Bracken. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Lochlan, what does he mean by that?”

  As if he had a clue. But he was curious enough himself to pursue it. “By your tone, I can tell there’s more to that statement. Don’t worry about offending me. I have four brothers who tutored me well on patience.”

  Bracken glanced back at Bryce as if he understood completely before he spoke again. “I met your father a couple of times when I was a young squire at Henry’s court.”

  With those few words, total clarity was his. “Ah.”

  Bracken nodded. “Exactly.”

  Cat stared back at forth as the two of them appeared to be speaking in code to one another and she wanted to be let in on this great secret. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” they said in unison.

  Cat rolled her eyes at them. “Men,” she said to Julia. “They are ever a blight on our gender.”

  Julia giggled as she licked her fingers.

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, she returned her attention to the men. “So what is this he met your father that brings mutual understanding to the two of you?”

  Lochlan gave her a gimlet glare. “You’re not going to allow me peace from this are you?”

  “Not until I have an answer.”

  “Fine. My father had a bit of a reputation at the English court.”

  “Reputation for what?”

  “Cruelty.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, feeling guilty now that she’d pursued the issue. “I’m sorry, Lochlan, I shouldn’t have pressed.”

  “It’s fine, lass. It isn’t as if it’s a secret.” He indicated Bracken with a tilt of his head. “Many people are well aware of what my father was.”

  Even so, she shouldn’t have pried. Such things were personal and no doubt he had scars from the experience. If his father was cruel to strangers, then he was most likely the same way to his family and that made her ache for him as she wondered what other secrets Lochlan kept locked inside himself.

  They all fell quiet as they traveled in the darkness. Cat listened to the rustle of the wind through the trees. There was a bit of a chill to the air, but the close proximity of Lochlan’s body chased it away. The scent of him and feel of his muscles around her went a long way in keeping her warm, too.

  Lochlan stiffened, in more ways than one, as Catarina laid her hand on his arm before she tucked her head under his chin and relaxed against him again. Even though it was a purely platonic touch, there was something so intimate about it that his blood fired.

  Bu
t the worst was that it awakened a longing inside him that he’d never felt before. He’d never really been at ease around women. They were too conniving and fragile for his liking. He didn’t like tears or melodrama, and they seemed to bring an abundance of both. Case in point, his quest had been frustrating but peaceful until Catarina crossed his path. Not once had he pulled his sword out or had anyone shoot an arrow at his head.

  The minute she came into his life—chaos.

  Yet the sensation of her in his arms…it was heaven. And he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a wife. To have someone who could tease him and who wouldn’t make him uncomfortable by wondering what game she played or how she was conniving to win his hand.

  His sisters-in-law were perfect matches for his brothers. They treated them with respect and loved them in a way he’d never thought possible. Each one had literally saved his brothers’ lives.

  Surely he deserved as much? But as soon as that thought went through him, he silently scoffed as he remembered his father’s bitter words. Deserving has nothing to do with anything, boy. Get that out your head. The world owes you nothing and I owe you even less.

  His father was right. If deserving had anything to do with anything, his brother Sin would have been laird. Sin was the eldest, not Lochlan. But his father had never claimed Sin and where was the justice in that?

  Nay, life wasn’t about justice and earning a future. It was about negotiating and taking charge.

  Even so, it took all his willpower not to rub his cheek against her hair and savor the softness of it on his skin. Images of her naked in his arms tormented him. It would be so easy to place his lips on her throat…

  Stop. Any more and he might very well turn mad from the heat in his body. She was a cousin of his sister-in-law who had saved Ewan’s life. As such, he would protect and honor her. There would be nothing more than that.

  Bracken rode up beside him. “Is she asleep again?”

  Lochlan glanced down to see she was completely relaxed against him. “I think so.”