The Warrior Knight and the Widow

by Ella Matthews

  Braedan seemed so large and unbeatable that she couldn’t imagine anything happening to him. Without him she wouldn’t be able to control the large animal beneath them, let alone direct the stallion to her father’s castle.

  They cleared the river and began to race for the safety of the treeline. No arrows were reaching them now, so they must be outstripping their pursuers—either that or Braedan had been hit and they knew all they had to do was wait.

  There was no way for her to check.

  They entered the relative safety of the trees and Braedan brought Stoirm to a canter.

  ‘Are you hit?’ she gasped.

  ‘No,’ he ground out.

  ‘Then why are we slowing?’

  ‘Stoirm,’ was all he said.

  She looked down to see an arrow had pierced the horse’s flank.

  ‘No... Is he...? He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’

  Braedan didn’t answer.

  Stoirm came to a stop. Braedan lifted Ellena off the horse and quickly joined her on the forest floor. Stoirm limped forward a few paces before falling to his side.

  ‘Do something!’ said Ellena, as the great animal’s breathing became laboured.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ellena, there’s nothing I can do.’

  He began stripping several of the saddle bags from Stoirm’s side. Sweat coated the animal’s body and the eye Ellena could see was wide with pain.

  ‘How can you be so calm? He’s dying and he’s doing so because of us!’ screamed Ellena, beating her fists against Braedan’s solid chest, scraping her hands against his chain mail, causing the skin to burn.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him. Her body was crushed against his side and his face was a hair’s breadth from hers. Only her husband had ever been this close to her, but unlike all the times she’d been near Lord Swein she didn’t feel afraid.

  ‘I have to be this way,’ he ground out as his breath brushed against her skin. ‘If we don’t keep moving I will die and you will be caught. It will be worse for you, I think. But don’t think for one second that I am not affected by Stoirm’s death, because you are wrong.’

  Beside them Stoirm’s breathing slowed and then stopped. Her anger died at the same moment and was replaced with an unending sorrow.

  ‘I’m sorry...’ she whispered.

  He nodded and released her, his fingers trailing down her arm. Her skin tingled in their wake, despite the many layers of clothing that separated them.

  ‘Can you carry that?’ he asked, handing her one of the bags that had been strapped to Stoirm’s side and snapping her back to the moment.

  ‘Yes—and something more if you need me to.’

  Her fingers felt cold and stiff, but she held out her hands to receive another package.

  ‘Sir Leofric!’ called a voice from beyond the edge of the trees. ‘I know you can hear me. Hand over Lady Swein to me and no one needs to be hurt.’

  Braedan signalled to Ellena that she should start walking into the forest.

  She shook her head fiercely. She was not leaving him. What if something happened to him and she never saw him again? Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She wanted to throw her arms around him and cling to him.

  He gave her a little shove and she stumbled. Go, he mouthed at her.

  Tears pricked her eyes as she leaned down and bent down to stroke Stoirm one last time. She took another look at Braedan, who nodded firmly. She turned and quietly made her way in the direction Braedan had indicated, her heart pounding frantically in her chest.

  ‘If I hand her over to you, what guarantee do I have that you won’t kill me instantly?’ called Braedan.

  Ellena swung round sharply.

  Braedan shook his head and gestured for her to carry on.

  ‘You have my word as a gentleman. In fact I would handsomely reward you for doing so. Come over to my side and I will reward you far better than that old goat ever has. What is Ogmore paying you for this? It cannot be enough to lose all your men.’

  Ellena’s legs faltered, but she kept going. Braedan was buying her time to get away and she mustn’t fail him.

  ‘You lie!’ called Braedan. ‘My men would never be beaten by that untrained rabble you ride with.’

  ‘Then why are we here and not them?’ said the voice, a hint of laughter creeping into the words.

  Ellena stumbled over a log and grazed the skin on the palm of her hand. She pulled herself back onto her feet and kept moving, all the while straining to hear what was being said behind her.

  ‘Come, Sir Leofric, there is no way out of this for you. If you surrender now you have my word that I will be kind to the girl. I am not a monster.’

  Ellena was too far away to hear Braedan’s reply, but whatever he said brought the sounds of fighting through the forest.

  Tears stung her eyes as she plunged her way blindly forward. Strong, stubborn Braedan was putting his life in danger for her.

  The clang of metal hitting metal gradually faded. She stopped and rested her hand on a tree trunk, the rough bark anchoring her. She tilted her head, hoping the sound of Braedan following her would reach her, but she could only hear the sound of the wind rustling the leaves above her.

  She tapped the wood with her fingers. What should she do now?

  Braedan had told her to go on, and for now she would follow that instruction. She needed to put distance between her and Copsi, because if Braedan had failed then there was nothing to stop Copsi taking her.

  She tugged her cloak tighter around her and began to trudge onwards. As she stumbled over twisted roots and abandoned logs Ellena rubbed the spot above her heart. It hurt with the memory of Stoirm lying amongst the tree roots, without anyone to keep him company.

  Her thoughts strayed to his rider. It was easy to think of Braedan as The Beast, someone without feelings, but there had been no mistaking the haunted look in his eyes as Stoirm’s life had slowly ebbed away. The fact that Braedan had cared so deeply about his horse reordered the way she thought about him.

  Tales of The Beast had spread across all Ogmore lands, until he had become the stuff of children’s nightmares—a cruel, hard creature who carried out her father’s orders with ruthless efficiency. But she’d seen the way he was with his men. Yes, he dished out orders, but his men followed him with respect, not with fear. He’d looked after Eluard and made sure the boy reached safety when her own husband would have abandoned the boy in the woods once he was no longer of use.

  She couldn’t ignore the way he’d treated her either. Men, she knew from experience, sometimes took what they wanted from a woman, without thinking about the consequences. She’d been completely in his power and yet he’d let her sleep while he watched for danger. Those weren’t the actions of a monster.

  She needed to stop thinking of him as the enemy. He was the man who would keep her safe until she reached her father’s castle.

  As she walked she bargained with God. If he kept Braedan safe she would obey his orders without fighting him any more. She would be compliant until she reached the safety of Ogmore.

  She walked until the sun began to rise on the horizon and then she fell to the ground. She could go no further. She rolled into a ditch and pulled some leaves around her. It was the best she could do.

  Her eyes fluttered shut as the sun rose above her, bathing the area in a soft golden light.

  Chapter Six

  She awoke to the crackle of fire and the scent of roasting meat.

  Her arm protested at being slept on for so long and she tugged it from beneath her. Slowly she pulled herself upright and looked for the source of the smell.

  A little way from her sat Braedan, his head bowed over an open fire as he turned a makeshift spit.

  ‘You’re alive...’ she croaked, and she flung herself at him, the need to feel for herself t
hat he was really there robbing her of her normal reticence.

  He caught her with one arm and surprised her by pulling her tightly to his side, as if he also needed physical reassurance.

  Instead of pulling instantly away, she nestled her head in his neck and breathed in the musky scent of his skin. She brought her fingers up to trace the edge of his jaw and his short beard prickled her skin. She felt his intake of breath, but for once she didn’t care if she’d shocked him.

  All through that endless walk last night she’d pictured his lifeless body and the depth of her anguish had surprised her. She didn’t want to dwell on why that might be. She hoped it was because she didn’t want to be alone out here, but she feared she was developing some sort of attachment to him.

  Right now the reason didn’t matter; she only wanted to reassure herself that he was still alive.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, unable to let him go.

  ‘I fought with Copsi’s men. Unfortunately I didn’t kill Copsi, but I did wound him enough that that they will need at least a day to regroup.’

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘I followed your trail through the woods,’ he said. ‘We need to work on your ability to move without leaving a trace.’ He smiled against her hair.

  She allowed herself to cling to him for a long moment, and then she pulled away. Up close she could see purple shadows beneath his dark eyes.

  ‘You must be exhausted,’ she said softly.

  ‘I rested for a bit when I found you, and then I thought you might be hungry.’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I can take over with this,’ she said, lightly batting his hand away and reaching for the spit.

  ‘I think it is ready, my lady.’

  She stilled. ‘Last night you called me Ellena. I think, under the circumstances, you can continue to call me by my given name.’

  He didn’t answer, and for a moment she worried that she’d overstepped some sort of boundary. That this new feeling of attachment might be one-sided.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said eventually. ‘You can call me Braedan.’

  She nodded, but didn’t turn to look at him. ‘I think you’re right. This is ready. Shall we eat? And then you must rest.’

  They ate in silence. Ellena devoured the meat straight from the bone, peeling it off with her teeth and her tongue. She was glad no one from Castle Swein could see her now. She was about as far from ladylike as it was possible to be. But she didn’t feel bad about it. She was just glad to be alive and free.

  After they’d finished eating Braedan lay down and fell asleep immediately. His face, softened by sleep, looked younger. She wanted to trace his scars with her fingertips, but managed to suppress the strange urge that kept compelling her to touch his face. He’d think she’d gone crazy if he awoke to find her stroking his skin.

  She shook herself. She didn’t normally have the impulse to touch men—Swein had killed off all feelings of desire during their marriage. It must be the relief of finding Braedan alive and knowing that she wasn’t alone that was giving her these strange thoughts and feelings.

  To keep herself occupied, and away from his sleeping body, she went through the bags they had saved. She found some blankets and threw a couple over Braedan, being careful not to look at him for too long as she did so.

  * * *

  Braedan woke slowly. For a minute he stared at the grey clouds he could see through the network of branches above him, unable to work out where he was. Every muscle ached, and the temptation to close his eyes and return to oblivion was almost overwhelming.

  He turned his head and saw Ellena poking the fire with a log. Flames crackled into life as she did so and she smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

  He watched her for a moment as the light from the fire danced over her delicate features. He’d had only a vague recollection of Ogmore’s daughter from when he was younger. She’d been kept away from the young pages training to gain their knighthoods, but he’d glimpsed her on feast days. Even as a young man starved of female companionship he hadn’t spared her much more than a passing glance.

  She’d been thin and tall, rather like a weed, and he’d not thought much about her after she’d left Ogmore’s castle to marry. Her reputation around the castle had been as a plain, docile little thing, but either she’d changed in the eight years since she’d left her father’s home or no one had really known her back then.

  She was passionate, fiery, practical and loyal. She was kind-hearted. And even with streaks of dirt covering her face there was no way she could be described as plain. From the moment he’d seen her, defiantly watching him approach her castle, he’d been aware of her core of strength. As he’d come closer he’d been struck by her light blue eyes and long, graceful neck. Her willowy figure had filled out, leaving her with soft curves and an alluring walk. But her beauty didn’t stop at the surface; underneath all that he had seen that she cared deeply about other people, and he found being cared for by her more appealing than he should. It wasn’t something he was used to.

  He tore his gaze away and looked back up at the clouds. He had no right to think these things. Not only was there his imminent betrayal of her, but she was all but promised to an acquaintance of her father’s. Not that she knew that yet. The Earl of Borwyn was her father’s favoured suitor—and, as his lands were closest to Ogmore’s, he was probably going to be successful in winning her hand.

  He was reputed to be a handsome devil, with no scars marring his face. Braedan, with no home to call his own, was about as likely to have success with her as the tree stump by his left foot.

  Braedan curled his hands into fists, and he must have made some sort of sound because he heard Ellena turn towards him.

  ‘You’re awake,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, slowly sitting up. ‘Have I been asleep long?’

  ‘Most of the afternoon,’ she said, gesturing to the sky. ‘I was going to wake you in a bit...’ She paused and prodded the fire again, sending sparks into the air around them. ‘What are we going to do now?’

  He wanted to suggest she come and lie next to him and that they forget all about their families and their obligations as they explored one another’s bodies. But after her horrified reaction to that bed in the inn yesterday he knew she would recoil from such a thought.

  He cleared his throat. ‘First we should sort through the saddle bags we’ve got and decide what we really need and discard the rest. I didn’t pay much attention to what I was grabbing last night.’

  His heart dipped as he thought about Stoirm. Stoirm had been with him for years—he’d trained the stallion himself—and now he was lying abandoned among the rotting leaves of the forest floor.

  He clenched his teeth. Copsi and his men would pay dearly for that.

  ‘I’ve already done it,’ she said, pointing to a pile of discarded items.

  ‘Oh...’ he said, looking at the unnecessary pans he’d saved from Stoirm’s side and carried through the night, too desperate to find her to check what he was carrying. ‘Have we got anything useful?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ve packed some blankets, some dried foodstuff and a comb.’

  He surprised himself by laughing. ‘I’m glad you’ve packed that.’ He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled out a twig.

  She giggled and he glanced up at her, catching her smile of amusement before it faded. Satisfaction purred through him. In the short time he’d known her he’d not seen her laugh. That he’d been the one to make her smile made unfamiliar warmth spread through his body.

  But as the light in her eyes died he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders once more.

  She looked at the forest around them. ‘Do you even know where we are?’ she asked.

  ‘Roughly,’ he said, although that was not entirely accurate.

  He knew where
they weren’t, and in which direction they needed to go to get back on track, but she didn’t need to know that. It was his responsibility to lead, and those following had to have confidence in his actions—even if he sometimes wasn’t sure himself.

  ‘We’re going to head back the way we came.’

  ‘Are you crazy? We’ll walk straight into Copsi and his men.’

  Her expression suggested she thought he was a few arrows short of a full quiver. He didn’t blame her. They were trying to avoid Copsi, not walk straight into his hands, but they had no other option.

  He scratched his beard. ‘We need to get back towards the river. Alternative routes could take us weeks to get back to Ogmore—especially as we now don’t have any transport.’

  Tears swam in her eyes and she dropped her head as if to hide them from him. He pulled a bag towards him and busied himself with retying the cords. He didn’t need to, she’d done a very good job of securing them, but they were going to get very little privacy over the next few days so he’d afford her this little courtesy.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her swipe at the few tears that had spilled over onto her cheeks. When she spoke her voice was as calm as always.

  ‘I want to return home to Castle Swein.’

  He rubbed his eyes; he’d been expecting something like this. He could understand why she wanted to go back. As far as she was aware she’d been safe there, whereas during the last few days her life had been on the line several times. She didn’t realise that Copsi was only one of several men plotting to force her into marriage. Her lack of male protection was making her far more vulnerable than she realised.

  He wasn’t about to enlighten her; he didn’t want her any more frightened than she was already. But he couldn’t allow her to return. Even if there were no threats to her freedom, his future depended on it.

  He needed to get her to her father, who would marry her off to someone who wasn’t the crazy madman Copsi. Once she had a husband the threat would disappear and her life could return to normal—albeit not in the castle she wanted, but she would still be in a role she’d been born to play.