Forever Her Champion

by Suzan Tisdale

  Before the fool realized what was happening, Aiden thrust his sword into the man’s neck. Rianna’s stomach roiled at the sound of metal piercing flesh and bone. She could feel the blood as it spattered against her head, face and neck. The dead man fell to the ground, taking her with him.

  A moment later, Aiden was prying her out of the dead man’s hands. Without a word, he lifted her into his arms and took her back to their camp. “Are ye hurt?” he asked as he sat her upon the ground near their packs.

  Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she trembled violently. “Nay,” she scratched out as she tried to hold herself together. ’Twas impossible, for the air was filled with the cloying scent of blood and death and burning flesh. She had to close her eyes against the sight of the man still burning upon the fire.

  Soon, Aiden had returned to her side, lifted her up once again, and sat her atop their mount. Moments later, he tossed their belongings up before taking his place behind her.

  Into the darkness of the night, they fled as if the hounds of hell were on their heels.

  She sobbed uncontrollably for heaven only knew how long. Crashing through trees, splashing through streams, over hills, and through glens, they raced away from the dead men as fast as his horse would take them.

  Rianna clung to him, burying her face against his chest, soaking his tunic with her tears. Never in all her life had she been more terrified or more appalled.

  Finally, her sobs and tears waned, yet she still clung to her champion, her protector. He had fought to save her. To protect her from four nefarious, violent men. Her mind was assaulted repeatedly with the images of those men, lying lifeless on the forest floor or burning in the campfire. What would they have done to her had Aiden not been there? What would she have done had he fallen dead at their hands?

  Exhausted, she did her best to push those images aside, but ’twas next to impossible. She wanted nothing more than to bathe and sleep. To run away and hide from the rest of the world.

  Aiden slowed their mount to a walk, then stopped.

  Rianna raised her head, afraid to look around. “What is it?” she asked, her voice scratchy from crying.

  “I think we have stumbled upon shelter,” he said, looking straight ahead. “A hunter’s croft.”

  All she could see was blackness ahead and the indigo sky above. Tapping the flanks of their mount, they pushed onward.

  “Stay here,” he said as he dismounted. “I shall go in to see if it be safe.”

  Terrified of being left alone, she urged him to stay.

  “I shall hurry, lass, ye have my word. If ye hear anything, just kick yer feet against his flanks and he shall see ye to safety. The road to yer father’s home is to the west.”

  “Aiden, please,” she cried. A moment later, he disappeared into nothingness.

  Aiden’s instinct had been correct. ’Twas an old, dilapidated hunter’s croft, barely big enough for two grown men. Thankfully, ’twas empty, save for two three-legged stools, a few empty clay jars, a brazier and kindling. He doubted Rianna would care about the condition of the croft, for she was still far too upset.

  Soon, he had her sitting on a stool before the brazier. His chest tightened with sorrow and guilt when he noticed she could not look at the flames. This, he declared silently, was why she needed someone else. She could not live the rest of her life with him, for danger seemed to meet him at every opportunity.

  With great care, he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She still trembled, but not with the same ferocity as earlier.

  At a loss for words, he did not know what to say. All he could think of was that she could have died this night. Had he not been there, had he made a fatal mistake … Tamping down his urge to scream at the gods for cursing him, for putting Rianna in such danger, he clenched his jaw tightly with barely hidden anger.

  “I could have died this night,” she whispered, her voice scratchy as it caught on a lump in her throat. “We both could have.”

  “But we did nae,” he told her. “And we are safe now.”

  When she lifted her gaze from the floor, he saw the tears pooling again. “I — ” she paused, choking back the tears. “I have ne’er been so afraid, Aiden. I dunnae ken how ye learned to fight like ye did, and I do nae care. I am just so glad ye were there.”

  She broke down again, into a wracking mess of tears. Knowing not what else he could do to comfort her, he pulled her onto his lap and drew her close. “Ye are safe now, Rianna,” he said. “And on the morrow, ye shall meet yer father.”

  Slowly, she pulled away. “I dunnae care if I e’er meet him,” she said. “Were it nae for him turning me and my mother out, I would nae have been out in the middle of nowhere, terrified out of my wits.”

  Bright green eyes, wet with tears, were filled with so much hurt and anguish, his chest constricted.

  “But then, I would ne’er have met ye,” she said. “Of all the things I e’er wished and prayed for, of all the things he ne’er gave me, he did give me you. For that, I am thankful.”

  He, too, was thankful for her. She was a bright light in an otherwise dark world. Without even trying, she had given him back the ability to care for another being. She made him feel alive and worthy of something more. Before he could utter a word, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

  Something exploded inside him. Far stronger than desire or lust or need. ’Twas something he had never felt before and it terrified him to his toes. He didn’t want to want her, but he did. With something that went far beyond passion.

  With each moment her soft lips touched his, he felt himself falling farther and farther into a blissful state. As she drew him closer, her hands clasped behind his neck, each dark, ugly memory from his past began to fade away.

  If he did not stop now, before they did something they would both later regret, he knew he would not be able to stop himself. “Rianna,” he whispered, “we must stop this.”

  “I do nae wish to stop, Aiden,” she admitted. Her cheeks were flushed, a delightful shade of pink.

  “Ye know not what ye say, lass. Ye’re—”

  She stopped him with a fingertip to his lips. “I know exactly what I say. I — we — could have died this night. I do nae want to go to my grave without knowin’ what it’s like to truly be with a man. I want to know and experience all of it and I want to know it with ye.”

  Gently, he took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. With all that he was, he wanted her as well, with a fire and near desperation he had not thought it possible to feel. “Then ye should save yourself for a husband. For a man who can love ye all the rest of yer days. A man who can protect ye and keep ye safe.”

  “Ye kept me safe this night. Ye protected me at the risk of yer own peril,” she reminded him.

  He closed his eyes, fighting an inner battle betwixt his heart and his desires.

  “Do ye ken that I could have married long ago? I had offers,” she told him. “And not all of them were by drunken sots. Some of them were quite nice, quite handsome. But none of those men were ye. For years now, not only was I searchin’ for my father, I was searchin’ for ye. I did nae realize it until yesterday. I refused all those men because they were nothin’ like ye, Aiden. ’Tis ye I want and no one else.”

  His heart wanted very much to believe she was being sincere, not just with him, but with her own heart. Looking into her verdant, lush eyes, he saw the truth. Aye, she had been terrified tonight, but that was not from where she spoke. She was speaking genuinely from her heart.

  A very large part of him wanted to admit the truth, but he was too much a coward. The truth about the last twelve years of his life. Of how he had killed more men than he could count. Of his life as a slave being trained as an assassin. Of the fact that he had never lain with a woman. Only twice in his life had he had the opportunity. Both times he sent the all too eager lass away because he felt underserving of anyone’s affection, whether purchased or voluntary.

  Going against h
is better judgment, he succumbed to the need to feel loved. And not just by anyone, but by Rianna.

  Although he had no real world experience in loving, he was not entirely ignorant. However, understanding what went where and how was not the same as experience. Thankfully, he had a lifetime of pent-up desire — desire he had learned to push down and out of the way — to at least guide him in the appropriate direction.

  Rianna seemed neither to notice nor question his ability and for that, he was eternally thankful. He was certain however, that if she were not an innocent she might have thought his performance less than spectacular.

  Afterward, as they lay spent and out of breath, she wore a contented smile. Facing one another under the blankets, he took her hand in his, placing tender kisses on her palm.

  “’Twas even better than I imagined it could be,” she told him with a satisfied sigh.

  “I would have to agree with ye,” he replied, suddenly parched and wishing for something cold to drink.

  “How soon before we can do that again?”

  The wee lass had no idea the affect her smile and her question had on his person.

  Outside the little hut, the wind picked up, making it’s way through the cracks in the mud and the window. Tickling the fire, the embers flamed and crackled and sprang back to life, much like his loins.

  He loved her again, taking his time to explore every part of her body. Her skin was softer than silk and tasted sweeter than honey. He found he adored the way her breath hitched when his fingers caressed her soft skin, and the way she called out his name as if she were offering a prayer up to the gods themselves.

  Later, much later, they fell asleep in one another’s arms, fully satisfied and blissfully happy.

  The fire in the brazier had died out and stood cold long before either of them woke. If he had to estimate the time, he would be unable, for the hunters croft was dark, save for a few sunbeams that streamed in through cracks and crevices. He had not truly slept, at least not deep, restful sleep. Part of him worried the men he had killed the night before might have been telling the truth about traveling with others. Though he doubted it, he had done his best to cover his tracks. Who knew who or what lurked beyond the walls of the tiny hut. Too many years spent as an assassin had honed his nerves and instincts to the point that he could hear sounds from great distances.

  But he hadn’t heard the men approaching last night until it was almost too late. He’d been so focused on Rianna, so lost in his own thoughts that he wouldn’t have heard a pack of hungry wolves approaching.

  Then he had loved her not once, but twice. Time was suspended when he was with her. Nothing else mattered but burying himself and his heart inside her. Joining with her had drowned out everything and for a time, ’twas a sweet respite to his bleak existence.

  Unable to quell the strong desire that reared when he felt her sleeping so contentedly in his arms, he loved her once more.

  She was more addicting than any drink. He needed her as much as he needed his next breath.

  When that realization came to him, long after he had made love to her a third time, he was nearly paralyzed with fear and guilt. As she slept beside him, he looked around the hut. This was no life for the likes of her. He had nothing to offer her but his heart and a sordid past.

  There still existed a chance that his former masters had sent someone to either kill him or bring him back into their fold. Of course he would be severely punished for having escaped. ’Twas nae so much an escape as it was a non-return. Sent on another mission to take the life of a Scottish earl in the lowlands, instead of heading south, he went north. He had no idea if the earl still lived or if another assassin had been sent to do what he had not. Either way, the earl did not die at his hands.

  For two years, he had roamed the countryside, crossing back and forth over his homeland. Living meagerly, the coin he had been given to live on for his last mission still lasted. Living off the land, never spending his coin on inns or anything else that he deemed extravagant, most of the coins remained hidden, sewn into the seams of his packs, his saddle, and even a few hidden in the soles of his boots.

  Still, ’twas not enough to build a life on.

  And if his former masters searched for him? He shuddered to think what would happen to Rianna, should he be found.

  His heart began a slow disintegration with the awareness of what he must do when she woke.

  He was going to have to break her heart in order to save her life.

  6

  Rianna woke hours later only to find Aiden was not by her side. Reckoning he was out of doors searching for food, she stretched languidly and let out a happy, blissful sigh. Being with him, joining with him, had been more exciting, more thrilling than she could ever have thought possible.

  She sat up, pulling the blanket around her nakedness and looked about the room. ’Twas not the wedding night or bed she had imagined, but it was as bewitching as a fairy glen, or so it had seemed last night and again this morn.

  Her growling stomach was all the incentive she needed to find her clothes and tend to her morning ablutions. She found her dress in a heap on the other side of the room where Aiden had thrown it. Her slippers lay on opposite sides. She found her chemise in the far corner. The only thing she hadn’t removed was the crimson ring. All the while she hunted for her clothes she could not help but giggle with the fond memories of the night before. More than once, the ring had happily bounced against her chest or hung suspended in air. She did not know there were so many different ways a woman could find pleasure with the man she loved.

  Once she was dressed, she slipped out the door and into a copse of trees. When she returned, Aiden was still gone.

  She had just finished combing and braiding her hair when the door to the hut scraped open.

  His eyes locked on hers as he stood in the doorway. There was something in those eyes that kept her from leaping joyfully into his arms. Something was wrong; she could feel it to her marrow.

  “The horse is saddled. I found ye some berries,” he said from the doorway.

  No good morn. No how do ye fare. Nothing that bespoke of the tenderness he’d shown her the night before. Wanting very much not to appear offended or worried, she placed her comb in her pack before standing to face him. “And where are we goin’ this fine summer day?” she asked as politely and happily as she could manage.

  She winced when his jaw clenched tightly. She waited while he swallowed hard once, then again. With her hands folded in front of her, she waited for his answer.

  “I am takin’ ye to yer father.”

  “I told ye last night that I no longer wish to see my father,” she told him. Though she may have appeared as if she were discussing nothing more important than the weather, her insides were quaking.

  He took a step toward her. “Rianna, if ye dunnae at least try to see him, ye will always wonder about him. Mayhap not right away, but later. And ye will blame me for not makin’ ye go.”

  “Are ye goin’ with me?” she found the courage to ask.

  His crestfallen expression said more than words ever could.

  Anger rose from deep in her belly. She refused to shed the tears that burned behind her eyes. “Did last night mean naught to ye?”

  “It meant more to me than ye will e’er know.” ’Twas the cold, hard truth of it. No matter where life took him, no matter what it had in store, he would cherish the memories of last night for all the rest of his days. Another cold, hard truth was that he loved her. He did not know how it had happened, but it had. More than he had ever loved anyone in his life. If she ended up hating him, so be it. He’d made the decision to leave her because of it.

  “Yer father’s keep is just up the road. Ye’ll be there within an hour.”

  Rianna did not feel used or betrayed. Nay, she felt angry and foolish. She had given herself to him willingly, of her own accord. To join with him had been her idea, not his.

  ’Twas all she could do not to slap him or fla
il her fists at him and beg him to change his mind. “Ye made a decision that concerned both of us without even discussing it with me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Trust me when I say ’twas nae a decision made lightly.”

  “Pardon me if I do nae believe ye,” she replied bitingly. “Why, pray tell, can ye nae go with me? Why can we nae stay together?” She felt as though her heart were being ripped from her chest and trampled upon by a team of horses.

  “Please, do nae ask me to explain,” he began.

  She cut him off with a raised palm. “Nay, Aiden, ye dunnae get to hide behind yer past. It has nothin’ to do with us.”

  He maintained a calm exterior but it belied what he truly felt inside, where he was slowly dying, one heartbeat at a time.

  “For days I have all but begged ye to tell me the truth,” she said. “Ye refused to answer, refused to discuss it. And now, now that I gave ye my heart and body, ye want to hide behind that past like a coward!”

  In two short steps he was standing before her. He did not want to tell her the truth because he did not want to see the look of shame staring back at him. But if telling her would get her to see reason, then tell her he would.

  “Ye want the truth?” he bit out. “Verra well, lass, then I shall tell ye.”

  Startled by his sudden capitulation and the harsh tone of his voice, she took a step back. His blue eyes turned as dark as obsidian, his face contorted as if it pained him to speak.

  “But I warn ye, ye will ne’er want to see me again after I tell ye. Not long after ye left Ardanaiseig, me father sold me to a group of men, slave traders from the north. He sold me for the price of a few bottles of whisky, Rianna, nothin’ more. Those men took me far from my home, to a land so hot ye’d think ye were in hell. Turks they were called. Dark, dangerous men who do things to wee boys that should ne’er be done to anyone. Beaten, starved, then beaten again. We were taught to fight, and nae the way the Scots teach their young. Nae, ’twas kill or be killed in order to survive. Do ye have any idea what it is like to be twelve years old, and so hungry ye would eat grass were ye able to find any? Do ye ken what it is like to kill one friend after another, and yer only reward is ye get one more meal, one more day to live?”