Heroes of Honor: Historical Romance Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Then, he saw it. That lock of dark hair that was forever in the boy’s eyes was lying limply at the side of his head, brushed aside for all eternity.

  Bryce began to shake. He scooped Runt up into his arms, holding him tightly against his heart, and buried his face into the child’s neck. “Oh, God, Runt,” he whispered barely able to get the words past his clothing throat. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t you go…”

  He stroked Runt’s dark head, his chest constricting tightly, tears blurring his vision. Finally, his sorrow and agony and pain overwhelmed him. He threw back his head. “Noooooo!” he roared, and his anguish echoed through the night.

  In the nearby woods, wolves began to howl.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Ryen approached, Bryce whirled on her, crouching wolf-like, his upper lip curling, almost snarling. Ryen stopped cold, her gaze captured by the still figure Bryce held close to his chest. Her brow furrowed as she saw the ashen complexion of the small face through the soot that fell on them like black rain, then her eyes moved from the boy up to Bryce’s bleak face. The orange light of the fires burning around them caused long shadows to pool beneath Bryce’s eyes. He looked so lost. Ryen instinctively stepped toward him, meaning to comfort him.

  Bryce pulled back from her approach, and again, a long, anguish-filled groan surged from deep within his throat. Startled, Ryen retreated. Who was this boy that he could evoke such feelings from the Prince of Darkness? And what was he doing here in her camp?

  Three of her men rushed up beside Ryen and stopped in their tracks as they saw the Prince of Darkness. One of the knights glanced at her, then at Bryce, and stepped cautiously forward.

  Bryce shifted the boy to his left arm, his face contorting with hate. “Don’t touch him,” he growled, clutching the boy to his chest.

  The knight glanced helplessly at Ryen. She stepped forward tentatively, holding her hands out placatingly. “Bryce,” she said softly, trying to soothe him.

  His dark, loathful eyes turned on her. “Stay away from me,” he snarled.

  Ryen’s arm dropped. “The fire was an accident,” she told him, trying to keep patience in her voice as she looked up at him once again. “No one meant to harm the boy.”

  His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “Harm? You and your bloody French killed him!” Bryce shouted, his voice full of pain and rancor.

  Ryen’s men had spread out around him, surrounding him. She began to shake her head to stop their maneuver but her command came too late.

  Bryce saw one man coming and flattened him with a fist to his jaw. The other two jumped Bryce from behind, knocking him to the ground, pinning the boy beneath him. Ryen watched in awe of his strength as he held the two men on top of him off the boy with the power of his muscular arms.

  Lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating Bryce’s tormented face. The two knights managed to grab his arms and yanked him to his feet. Ryen opened her mouth to command them to halt, when Bryce kneed one man in his stomach and pulled him to the ground. He turned on the last man, seizing him and picking him up over his head as easily as a rag doll, throwing him to the ground.

  Breathing heavily, he turned to the boy as another spear of lightning cut the darkening sky. Tenderly, he bent and lifted him up from the dirt, then whirled and advanced on Ryen.

  “I can’t let you go,” she said, her pulse racing. But how could she stop him? She had no weapon and he was so powerful.

  “I’m not asking you,” Bryce stated flatly, halting just a step before her.

  Ryen stood her ground, unmoving.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” Bryce warned, his face shadowed in darkness, his shoulders outlined by the dying fire behind him. “I have never hurt a woman before.”

  The first splash of rain touched her cheek. Ryen swallowed hard. She watched his jaw clench and finally raised her chin to him. “You’ll have to kill me to escape.”

  His lip curled. “And you think I would not? After what you did to him?”

  “I did not harm him, Bryce.”

  “If you had not captured me, Runt would still be alive!” he exploded.

  Ryen stared at him. The anger, the hate, but mostly the pain, etched themselves deep in the lines near his black eyes. Her eyebrows rose slightly in sympathy; her eyes went soft with understanding. “I wish I could bring him back.”

  His eyebrows crashed together and he looked down at the boy in his arms.

  The rain began in earnest then, quickly drenching them through to their skin. “I will not allow him to be buried in French soil,” he said in a hushed voice. “And I will not let your efforts be for naught,” he whispered to Runt.

  Suddenly, Bryce jerked forward, slamming Ryen’s shoulder with his, jarring her enough so that he could race by her and into the forest! Ryen recovered quickly. A quick glance into camp revealed that the fire was confined to two tents burning in the distance. She turned and immediately followed him into the trees and brush. She pushed through one row of bushes, just able to see his back as he disappeared into another set of thick foliage. The child in his arms and the chain around his ankle were slowing him down, enabling her to keep up with him. The rain pelted her face, the branches slapping her arms and tearing at her clothing. Ryen would not let anything stop her. He will not escape, she thought, an inconceivable fear rising inside her. He can’t escape! I have to feel his touch again. No. Where had that thought come from? I have to get him to Father’s castle.

  She pushed forward, willing her legs to go faster. As the forest thickened, the darkness closed in around her, making it difficult to see. She reached out blindly, trying to avoid the trees that reared up to stop her. She could hear him ahead of her, hear the crunch of leaves beneath his booted feet, hear the bushes giving way as he crashed through them. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing hard and loud. She pushed her way through the foliage, desperately following his sounds. He must not get away, she thought. He can’t escape.

  Suddenly, his surprised cry echoed in the night!

  The shock she heard in his voice rent her very being and she hurried forward, driving on, panic and horror rising within her. Was he hurt? Had one of her men found him defenseless in the forest and put a sword through him? The next thing she knew, the forest was gone and she was in the middle of the air, suspended far above a glistening pool of water! Then, she was falling, falling down into the blackness that waited to swallow her. Her scream was cut short as she crashed into water, plummeting beneath its surface. She pushed toward the surface with her arms and legs, but a strong current seized her and whirled her around beneath the dark water.

  Suddenly, she was spit out from the water, erupting into the night air, sputtering and gasping for breath. Ryen was tossed about in the raging current, barely missing the rocks that stuck out of the rapids, their dangerous shapes lit only by an occasional bolt of lightning. Her hands flailed, trying to grab onto anything that rode the current with her. But the water was too fast, forcing her on. She fought for breath after breath as if the river were trying to devour her, wave after wave sucking her beneath the water.

  The black rock rose without warning out of the murky depths and Ryen slammed into it, her back hitting the hard stone full force, sending a spear of pain shooting through her left arm. She opened her mouth to cry out, but the water assaulted her again, filling her mouth and making her choke. She tried to press her right hand against the pulsating ache, but the turbulent strength of the water kept her too busy fighting to keep her head above the waves. The water pushed her on and on until finally, after what seemed like hours, the waves of rapids stopped. For a moment, she floundered in the water, catching her breath. She was dazed and weak, her left arm burning where the rock had bitten into her tender flesh. The current, now slowed, pushed her on through the dark night and the darker waters. She was so tired, so very tired. How easy it would be to give up the fight, to let the river cover her head.

  Then she spotted Bryce, far ahead of her, his dark sh
ape shadowed by the lighter sky. He was atop a large rock, hanging onto the boy with two hands. The boy’s legs dangled in the rushing water. She felt a last surge of power course through her limbs. With a kick and a quick arm movement, she tried to maneuver over to Bryce.

  Then she heard it. The large roar of the waterfall! As she approached Bryce, the thunder filled her head. The water suddenly became stronger again as it dragged her on. She tried to fight against the new current, but as she drew closer and closer, she found she was moving forward faster than she was moving closer to Bryce.

  Bryce maneuvered to the side of the rock, holding the boy’s shirt with one hand as he held his other palm out to her. She saw his lips move but couldn’t hear his words above the roar that filled her head. She reached her hand out, kicking with her feet as hard as she could. She was going to miss his hand. He was too far away!

  Then he lunged forward and caught her hand. The water pushed her forward until her feet were dangling over the side of the falls! Below her, the mouth of darkness swallowed up the cascading water.

  “Grab my hand!” he hollered, his words finally discernible above the thunderous sound of the plummeting water as it crashed and churned below her.

  Ryen raised her left hand and grabbed his wrist, but the water made it slick and her hand slid away.

  Her desperate eyes sought his again.

  “Grab it!” he commanded.

  Ryen raised her hand to his, but as she touched his skin, their hands slipped. She cried out as she was dragged toward the falls.

  Bryce caught her fingertips, his face straining with the effort to keep their hold. Bryce was stretched out over the rock in his attempt to rescue Ryen and keep hold of the boy. One hand held the tips of Ryen’s fingertips, the other gripped the boy’s shirt as the water swept at his limp feet with a hungry pull. Bryce couldn’t hold on to both of them.

  Ryen saw Bryce glanced toward the body of the boy. Anguish darkened his face as he turned back to her. He cursed once – and released the boy to grab her wrist. She watched the small body tumble over the waterfall, gracefully, silently, as if it were jumping into the water below.

  Bryce pulled her out of the water onto the rock and into his hold.

  For a moment Ryen lay in Bryce’s arms, holding him tightly, trying to catch her breath; she couldn’t even open her eyes. The constant rain pelted her already wet face. Finally, she looked up toward his eyes only to find them gazing first to one side, then the other, scrutinizing the riverbank. Without looking at her, he asked, “Can you swim to shore?”

  Ryen didn’t reply. She knew she couldn’t, not now. Not without getting some rest. She began to shake her head.

  A flash of lightning filled the sky as he turned his unwavering gaze to her. The eerie light cast his face in long shadows, making him look like the dark prince he was called. Under his probing gaze, she became distinctly aware of his strong arm around her waist, his legs resting beside her thighs, the intimate way he held her nestled between his spread legs. She looked away from him.

  His soft, angry chuckle reached her ears. “Try to keep your desires under control, Angel.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his, fury burning in her eyes, but it was rage at herself that fueled the fire. Was she so transparent? “You misread me,” she stated imperiously.

  As he bent his head closer to her, she raised her chin. His eyes burned with disdain. “Then you do not need me to service you…now?” he wondered bitterly.

  “Or ever again,” she snapped. “I would just as soon throw myself over the falls.”

  “That can be arranged.” His tone was serious, but he had not removed his arms from her torso. “Now, can you swim or not?”

  She could hear the sound of the water sliding over the falls and crashing somewhere far below. The shore was so far. She knew she would not make it. Still, she wished with all her heart that she could, just so she could get away from this overbearing, conceited cur.

  “Answer me before I throw you in,” he commanded.

  She straightened her shoulders. “I do not take orders from prisoners.”

  His chuckle sounded again in her ears, closer this time. “I believe it is you who are now my prisoner.”

  Ryen reared back, breaking free of his hold and turning on him. She lost her balance and began to tumble from the rock. Bryce’s arm shot out and he caught her wrist, steadying her. She angrily pulled free of him, being sure to lean forward this time instead of backward, but a shooting pain flared up her left arm and her vision blurred for a moment. She fell into Bryce.

  He caught her by the arms, leaning back to catch her full weight without going into the water. He felt her body go limp for a moment before she struggled to sit up. She put a hand to her forehead. “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “No,” she insisted weakly. “I’m all right.”

  “Stay here,” he commanded, and slid out from beneath her.

  As he stood, Ryen found that her eyes were drawn to him like moths to a flame. When lightning speared the dark sky, his body seemed to glow with radiant fire.

  He dove into the water, cleanly cutting it with his body, and she watched as he disappeared beneath the surface of the black liquid only to emerge seconds later near the shore. Still, she saw the effort it took for him to battle the current. His powerful arms speared the water, his booted feet slamming down with each kick. Even with the power in his limbs, he was nearing the side of the falls. Ryen leaned forward, silently urging him on. What would she do if he didn’t make it? Ryen watched, holding her breath, as he reached out to a bush and just barely missed it. He gave another kick, and she said a silent prayer. Then his hand closed around a tree branch and he pulled himself closer and closer to the land until he was able to stand up and walk. He sat down heavily on the soggy earth.

  Ryen sat back and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. He had made it. The thunder rumbled as if in warning, and Ryen glanced up again. The shore was empty.

  She almost stood in her panic. Had he left her alone? Left her on this rock to die? Of course! What better way to escape? She berated herself. What was she thinking? How could she have let him go?

  Her eyes scanned the shore. It was dark amid the bushes and trees that lined the bank, making it next to impossible to discern any movement. Damn! She stood up on the rock, judging the distance between the rock and the shore.

  Something wet and sinewy brushed her cheek and she cried out, her hand brushing at it frantically. She heard a splash and looked into the river to see something slither away. A snake! she thought. It disappeared and she nervously searched the water for any movement. She had heard of snakes capable of eating a whole man. A shiver raced through her.

  As she searched the waters, something fell over her head and dangled in her eyes like a piece of wet rope. Another snake! Ryen reached up and grabbed at it only to find that it was some sort of vine. She pulled it tight and followed it with her eyes until she saw Bryce standing on the shore, holding the other end. He signaled for her to tie it around her waist.

  She closed her eyes in silent thanks.

  Ryen did as he indicated, tying the vine tightly around her waist. Without warning, he yanked the vine hard and she flew into the river, sputtering and floundering as she hit the water! The current immediately seized her, casting her toward the falls. But there was another force tugging at her waist, pulling her toward the shore. It was the vine. Bryce.

  She tried to swim, but her left arm throbbed every time she moved it. Finally, she felt the muddy earth of the shore beneath her feet. She staggered a few steps on tired, aching legs and fell to her knees on land.

  Bryce began untying the rope at her waist.

  Ryen whirled on him, pushing his hands away. “You could have told me to jump!”

  He pulled back, stepping away from her. “You wouldn’t have heard me.”

  She stood up, scowling at him. She tried to untie the vine, but every time she moved her arm, pain flared into her shoulder. She tr
ied again, but the agony was too much. She turned her back on Bryce. “That doesn’t give you the right to drown me.”

  “Drown you? I saved your life.”

  Ryen braced her left arm against the vine, holding it still, and managed to unknot it. She threw it down and turned to him.

  “Your arm!”

  “I’m all right,” she said, even though she knew she was not.

  A fork of lightning ripped the night sky, highlighting Bryce’s wet body. With only leggings and one boot on, he might as well have been naked. Then, the light was gone and she could only see him as a shadow. She looked up into the sky, but could only see the leaves of trees, feel the splash of the rain.

  “Do you know where we are?”

  His voice came to her through the darkness and she turned to him. “I can’t tell without the stars.” She brushed back a strand of wet hair that fell into her face as she surveyed their surroundings.

  “We need to find shelter,” he said.

  “We can build something with leaves and branches,” Ryen said, her gaze sweeping the forest floor.

  “We go down,” he said. “There may be a cave beneath the falls.”

  Ryen’s gaze snapped to him.

  “Move,” he commanded, and reached out to her.

  Ryen stepped back, outrage on her face. “Don’t command me like a common servant.”

  “I command you like a prisoner,” he stated indifferently, and again reached for her.

  She moved out of his reach. “I am not your prisoner. I fully intend to return to my camp…with you.”

  “Then your intent is wrong.” His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her after him.

  She fought him, struggling against his hold, her booted feet slipping in the mud. His grip was like a manacle. She could not break it. Then he bent, grabbing her around the legs, and hoisted her over his shoulder. Outrage consumed her and she pounded his back with a clenched fist. It was like hitting stone. He moved through the forest, headed downstream. The hill sloped, but his footsteps were sure and confident. She squirmed, and for a moment he lost his balance.