As the warmth of the fire slid into him, his thoughts moved to whoever it was that was outside, watching the cottage.
Let them watch. But they dare to step inside, to threaten what is mine…I will be ready for them.
Minnette turned her head to look at the man sitting on the floor against the wall across from her. He was sitting with his legs outstretched and his arms crossed over his chest. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed.
She’d be a fool to think he was asleep.
Bide your time. Wait for him to actually fall asleep. Then she could run straight for the thick grove of trees she saw in the distance, through the gloom of the storm. She didn’t know how far away the trees were, and her legs were already screaming in protest, but she would run until her legs fell off if it meant never surrendering to Glidden or to Elric.
Never.
“I can hear you plotting, Kitten,” Elric drawled, his eyes still closed. But there was a crooked half-smile on his face.
She huffed, turning away from him.
“You still refuse to speak to me? You think that it bothers me to not hear your complaints or banal murmurings?” He chuckled, the humor missing from the sound. “You are mistaken.”
She remained silent, ignoring the push and pull in her chest that begged for her to open her mouth and deliver a set down that would leave him reeling for months.
But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to her. Unfortunately, her stomach wasn’t of the same mind. A painful grumbling issued from her belly. She wrapped her arms around her middle, begging the noise to stop. She was hungry, starving, not having eaten since the morning before.
I should have eaten more when I had the chance.
She heard a rustling sounded from Elric’s side of the room, then a long, drawn out sigh.
“You plan to remain silent even when you are hungry? All you have to do is ask. I will provide you with some dried meat. I have a goodly amount of food in my pack. I only need go to where I tied up Bellerophon.”
She held her breath, willing her mouth to seal itself shut.
“You would choose your pride over your survival?” He sounded so arrogant. The bastard!
Anger flared to life, filling her blood with fire much hotter than the one in the hearth.
She slowly turned her head toward him, to face him, to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dark in the shadows of the cottage, but she could tell he was staring at her. That damnable smile was in place.
“And what of you, Sir Arse?” she drawled, her voice deceptively soft. “You would choose your pride over my survival?” If he delivered her to Glidden, she would surely die, little by little, until there was nothing of her left.
He narrowed his eyes, his dark brown eyebrows turning down into a V right over his nose. His nostrils flared and his lips pinched, and she could swear every angle of his handsome face sharpened.
“What I do, I do for my men,” he replied, his tone flat yet heavy. “If delivering you to Glidden will save my men the trouble Calleaux wishes for them, then I will do it a thousand times over.” A sickness boiled in her gut, the weight of his words twisting her. “They are my brothers, men I would fight and die for.” His gaze roved over her as though he were measuring her value at a market. “You are nothing to me.”
As if slapped, Minnette recoiled, her breath snatched away. Every muscle within her tensed, as the ache in her chest spread outward. She wasn’t a fool. She knew Elric was driven by duty to her uncle, but to be so adamant about serving a man he so obviously despised was unthinkable. The truth was, Elric was a mystery to her. One moment, he was a seducer, a golden-tongued devil with a wicked smile and sensual touch. In the next moment, he was a cold, arrogant holy knight.
But it wasn’t that the truth tore at her insides, it was the fact that she had thought he cared for her, desired her. Their interludes, though stolen and much too quick, in the stables and then in Cieldon’s kitchens had been more than simple attempts at seduction. At least to her. Oui, she had rebuffed him, turning him away with sharp retorts and refusals, But in those moments, despite what her mouth was saying, her body had come to life. In those moments with him, she had felt something she’d never thought she’d feel.
Wanted.
It was a lie. He hadn’t really cared for her beyond the need for physical release between her thighs. I should have known better. I never should have let him get so close.
Swallowing the tears burning the back of her throat, she gave him a curt nod in acknowledgement of his chilling, heartless words. Without another word to her, he leaned back and closed his eyes, easily dismissing the damage he’d just inflicted on her.
If he was willing to give up her life for himself and his men for their continued service to her uncle, then she was willing to damn them all to Hell to save herself. No one else would save her from the marriage forced upon her, so she would do it.
And damn anyone who tried to stop her.
She didn’t know what woke her, precisely, she just knew that she was freezing and her body was numb all over. The fire in the hearth had died to lowly-burning embers, so the room was frigid. Shivering, she sat up, pulling her legs up to hug them to her chest. Her gaze landing on the empty spot across the room where Elric had been sitting when she fell asleep, she knew a moment of panic.
Where has he gone?
For a split second, she wondered if he had abandoned her to die of exposure to the elements. Perhaps he cared so little about her that he decided to report her dead rather than bother dragging her north to Glidden. But then, she remembered the look of unrepentant determination on his face the night before.
Non. He wouldn’t just leave her. He couldn’t. It went against the code of the Homme du Sang, apparently. A sneer curled her lips. Never in her life had she met two more arrogant men—Elric and her uncle. Thoughts of her uncle did what they usually did, left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t understand what had driven him to become a man of the cloth. He was in no way humble or given to piety, or even a man seeking absolution through service to God’s people. From what she remembered as a child, her uncle appreciated a fine wine, a willing woman, and the pleasures his brother’s—her father’s—money could afford him.
And now that her father was gone, she was at the mercy of the world’s most devious hypocrite.
Does Elric know the kind of man he serves? If he did, would it matter? Obviously, her uncle had something Elric wanted, something so precious to him and his men that he was willing to sacrifice a virgin on the altar of loveless marriage.
She cursed. Her whole life had been decided for her from the moment she was born. But it was time to take her life back. That meant, once again, escaping from her captor.
Speaking of my captor…
It was still dark outside, so she could only assume it was too early to depart. So where had Elric gone? She hated the idea of waiting around for him to return. Maybe he was trapped or unconscious somewhere, himself slowly dying of exposure. If only it were that easy to be rid of him.
Sniffling, she wiggled her toes in the boots she’d purchased from Harold. At least her feet were somewhat dry and warm. She moved her legs next, trying to fill them with warmth. She rubbed them, both creating heat in her palms and the skin of her thighs and calves.
After a moment of preparing her legs to hold her weight, she pushed up, using the wall behind her as leverage. Her legs ached and shook, but they held her.
A tremor of expectation rippled through her, like a pulse of silent warning, just before the door swung open, revealing a man completely cloaked in black. His back to the darkness outside, she couldn’t make out his features, she only knew he was large. And unwanted.
“Well, hello.” The man’s voice was hoarse, harsh, as though it were rusty. “Seems to me you have been left all alone.” He took a step into the room, stopping just inside the doorway.
Frozen in place, Minnette stared, her heart hammer
ing in her chest.
“Who—who are you?” she asked, her voice a sliver of breath.
The man took another step into the room, his heavy boots crunching on the dirt and gravel floor. He was like a phantom conjured from the deepest pits of Hell, oozing blackness and evil intent.
“I said, who are you?” Thankful that her voice had grown stronger, she planted her feet and stared him down. She refused to go from captive to victim. “I have nothing of value. There is nothing for you to take. I suggest you leave.” Her own bravado surprised her, but she welcomed it.
The man chuckled low in his chest, and it made her stomach turn. His laughter was nothing like Elric’s, which was rich and could light her afire.
Stop thinking about him! He is gone, leaving you to the mercy of this—this—whatever he is.
“My name,” the man rasped, “is Stringer.”
“And what do you want?” she asked, taking a step back as he took a step forward.
“I have come on the Lord’s business.” Without thought, she snorted, her incredulity high.
“And what business is that? You think the Lord has commissioned rape of innocents?” she practically spat at him.
The man halted, almost as if he’d come face to face with an invisible wall. Then, he spoke, this time his voice was as chilling as the air around them.
“You bitch,” he hissed. “I would rather cut off my own bollocks than soil them in your filthy quim. You are no better than the whores who offer their tainted favors to diseased curs calling themselves men.”
Her breathing ragged, she couldn’t believe she heard him correctly.
“Who do you think I am? I am the daughter of a duke, sir, and the niece to Cardinal Calleaux. I would never sully myself as you suggest.” She didn’t know why she was arguing with him over her virtue, she just knew she had to keep him talking. If he were busy talking, he couldn’t, well, do anything else.
The man took another step closer and she took a step backward, realizing she had retreated herself into the wall. It was cold and hard against her back.
“You speak of Cardinal Calleaux…” The man seemed to grow taller, his shoulder shifted back to puff out his chest. “He is the one who has sent me on the Lord’s mission.”
Suddenly, all the blood fled her face, dropping into her feet.
“My uncle sent you?” She didn’t want to believe it. “Why? What is your mission?”
He took another step closer. “I was sent to separate your head from your body, and bring it back to him as proof of your death.”
Everything in her world stopped.
“What?” she whispered, her breathing tremulous. “Why?”
The man shrugged. “It is not my place to ask. I only know that he wants you dead, and if necessary, your escort.”
Her gaze flicked to the doorway, her eyes desperately seeking Elric’s face. Where is he now that I need him? Did he know about this? Was it his plan to leave me to this man’s hellish plan?
Shuddering, Minnette pressed herself against the wall, blinking back useless tears.
“My escort has gone,” she murmured, her heart screaming for his return.
The man clicked his tongue. “I know. I watched him leave. He took his horse and rode toward the west. At first, I thought it strange that he would leave the woman he was ordered to protect, but then I remembered that he is like all the rest of your kind.”
“My kind?” She couldn’t comprehend this man’s delusions.
“The kind that use others—their pain, their anguish—for sport. My own father tied me to a stake and lit a fire at my feet all because his noble master demanded it.”
Minnette gasped, unable to grasp exactly what he was saying. “Why are you not dead?”
She could feel him sneer. “Because I was meant for something other than death.”
From a hidden pocket, Stringer withdrew a long, narrow blade.
“The cardinal only said to deliver your head, he never gave instruction on how long it should take for me to remove it. I can do it quickly, or I can do it slowly, one sinew at a time.”
Panic blasted through her. I will not die like this! She threw herself at him, trying to get at the dagger in his hand. He must have been prepared for her because he pushed her back, keeping her at arm’s length as she flailed and kicked at him, blindly swinging, hopelessly aiming for his face—any soft surface where she could claw at him.
He took hold of her hair, pulling her head back until her neck nearly snapped from the force.
“Non!” she screamed, reaching up to try and disengage his fist.
“Quickly it is then,” Stringer remarked disappointedly. “I had so hoped for a little more time with you.” He raised his hand, the dagger glinting in the last smoldering embers of the fire.
Chapter Nineteen
He didn’t know what foolish notion drove him to leave Minnette alone in the cottage. He wanted to believe that it was because they needed more wood for the fire, but the truth was he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how shattered she’d looked when he told her she was worth less than his men. That she was naught but a means to keep his men from the cardinal’s wrath. The worst of it was how hurt she’d been when he told her there were women far lovelier than her. Women he desired more than her.
They were lies. Fabrications born of his own self-preservation. And he hated himself for it.
Now, he was leading Bellerophon back toward the cottage, a small pile of mostly dried wood on his back.
A scream rent the pre-dawn night. He tensed. It was coming from the direction of the cottage.
Minnette! Fool! He’d known someone was following them, and he’d still left her there alone.
If something happened to her he’d never be able to forgive himself.
Just another death to lay at your feet.
He broke out in a run, his armorless frame able to move swiftly over the flat yet rocky ground. Once the cottage was in sight, he could see that there was another horse there, tethered outside the dwelling.
Who was there and why had Minnette screamed?
Hold on! He bellowed in his head, silently begging her to survive.
Sweat slid down his face and into his eyes but he wiped it away violently. Finally, he was within hearing distance, the cottage a yard away.
“Quickly it is then. I had so hoped for a little more time with you.” Elric didn’t recognize the voice, but it didn’t matter. Whoever he was, he would die if he hurt Minnette. Stopping short of bursting through the door, Elric drew his sword and called, “Minnette!”
A grabbled murmuring sounded. Then a hissed command.
“Whoever you are, come out here. Fight me but leave my charge be!” he demanded, his blood running cold as silence stretched out before him. Had the blackguard already killed her? Was her blood, even now, staining the dirt inside the cottage?
Refusing to allow his thoughts to wander down that dark path, Elric gripped his sword with two hands and walked forward, his breath coming in a slow, steady rhythm. He was a trained warrior. He needed to think with his brain and not allow his fears to drive him. Otherwise, he could get them both killed.
“I am coming in.”
He took three more steps until he was at the threshold. It was dark inside the cottage, the only light the minute orange glow in the hearth. In the middle of the room were two shadowy figures, intertwined, as though performing a garish dance.
“Who are you and what do you want with Minnette?”
“My uncle sent him—” Minnette’s answer was choked off.
“I can answer for myself, bitch,” the man sneered.
Her uncle sent him? “Why would the cardinal send you?” His sword still high, he peered into the gloom, trying to make out where the man ended and Minnette began, but it was near impossible. It was too dark to make out much of anything.
“The cardinal sent me to collect this one’s head,” the man drawled as if his quest were likened to retrieving a bag of
apples.
“Cardinal Cristian Calleaux sent you to kill his own niece?” Elric’s numb disbelief surfaced in his tone.
“Do not call him Cristian.” It was Minnette. She sounded angry but rightfully terrified. “He is no man of God, not like my father, whose name he stole.” There was another choking sound and Elric sprang toward the cluster of shadows.
“Unhand her! We can speak as men. We need not dissolve into violence,” Elric entreated the malevolent stranger, his gaze scrutinizing every move the figures before him made. The taller one blocked all light, and Elric could only see him and his outline. Fearful of harming Minnette, he sheathed his sword.
He is probably holding Minnette against his chest, like a human shield. The coward. That meant that he couldn’t blindly strike for fear of piercing Minnette instead.
Damn!
“I am violence,” the man ground out just before Minnette screamed. The man threw Minnette to the ground. She landed with a mewling whimper. But Elric did not have time to go to her as his heart demanded, because just as Minnette dropped, the man slashed at him, swinging his dagger with practiced arcs.
Without his breastplate, he could move easier but he was left with a large vulnerability. His chest was wide open for slashing attacks, which were easy enough to evade—when he could see his attacker clearly.
The man slashed again before withdrawing to a wide stance. He bounced on the balls of his feet, and Elric could swear there was an air of excitement around him.
He was enjoying it.
Growling, Elric drew his sword once again, allowing the steel to slide along the inside of the scabbard with a ringing that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It was the sound of battle.
Of death.
“You cannot harm me. I am the demon of destruction, come to lay your sins at your feet,” the man said, just before cackling.
Elric winced at the raspy, hideous sound.
Another whimper from Minnette clawed its way up his back, driving the urgency to be done with this creature. He needed to get to Minnette, to see the seriousness of her wound.
The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2) Page 20
