by Billi Jean
“Oh, be careful!”
The worry in her voice made him clear his throat. “So, you have a plan for if you get separated?”
“Oh yes, Brennan always had somewhere for me to go if…terrible things happen.”
“Like slavers chasing you?”
Her blush colored her glowing cheeks a light pink. “Yes,” she admitted, sounding unhappy.
“You know, the more you tell me, the more I can figure out what to do. I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours.” He helped her over a broken pillar and hauled himself up and over after. She was waiting for him, and he thought she blushed again, but the evening was quickly blanketing them in darkness.
“I will…but do you have a plan?”
“I do. Two days we need to meet up with Garret. If we aren’t there”—she made a distressed sound—“he will wait.” He hoped. “He’ll leave us a sign. Either way, I’ll find him.”
“I know, I know you will, I worry. Two days? So soon. Where?”
“At the end of this ravine, but don’t worry about that now. You need to rest. And I need to see about that scratch on your face. We can never be too careful with cuts on a trail.”
After a few seconds of quiet walking, she asked, “Why?”
“Infection, it’s easy for even a small cut to make you sick out here.”
She listened closely. He liked that about her. Her curiosity and her quiet ways. “You know a lot about medicine.”
He laughed, caught by surprise by such a comment. “Woman, I don’t know anything about medicine! What gave you that idea?” Through a break in the buildings, he spotted the tall tower he’d been aiming for. The door was still securely shut but when they reached it, he got it open easily enough. Once his eyes adjusted to the darker interior he saw no sign of animals or damage. The entire city appeared to be sleeping, waiting for something to bring it back to life. A circular stair hugged the inside wall, winding around and around as it led upward. Along the way he thought doors opened, but he couldn’t be certain. The top. She’ll be safe at the top most point.
“Well, you knew what to do when I couldn’t breathe. Brennan never knows. You know about cuts and scratches.”
He knocked a cobweb aside. If he secured the door down here, no one could make it up these stairs without him knowing. He listened closely but like the rest of this town, the tower was as silent as a tomb. But it smelled ancient. No dampness, though, and no sign of mildew or mold. Both were oddly missing.
He found Maeve waiting for him. Her question still lingered between them, and made him smile. He knew nothing of medicine, not really. “I know how to treat a few things from centuries of war, nothing more.”
She patted his arm. “Poor Stephano. You’ve always battled, haven’t you? You must be tired of it, after all this time.”
She had no idea. He was exhausted, disgusted and worse, didn’t see an end in sight. He caught her watching him oddly. With a rush, he saw something more in her expressive face—concern. The knowledge gave him a peculiar sensation, as if he were falling down that cliff he’d navigated hours before, only this time there were no rocks to hold on to.
Chapter Fourteen
The room they’d found was covered in a layer of dust, but with Stephano’s help, they were able to make a comfortable spot to stay the night. She still worried over the mirror, and the lives of those caught in the mirror’s spell, but trusted that Stephano knew best.
Not that Stephano himself didn’t worry her. Much more than her arm, or the Siren in the mirror. His behavior had her on pins and needles. She was afraid he’d use this chance to try and seduce her. And if he did, she feared she’d not stop him.
But he’d not even hinted at such thoughts. There were no subtle or blatant hints at getting her in bed. He wasn’t confronting her on the issue she could talk. Or demanding to know why she’d always maintained she’d couldn’t. She knew he was curious and it would come, but for now, he was intent on securing them.
It was as if before had been someone else. This man, this Stephano, was a protector. His only goal seemed to be her welfare.
He’d started a fire in the hearth because of the chill. He’d claimed this high up he could see the stars through the chimney. She hadn’t been so certain, but after he set a small blaze, and the circular room didn’t fill with smoke, and his grin had grown, she had to admit he was right.
Even better, he’d brought food with him. At least a dozen of the squares she’d given the men, plus two dried-out scones she could warm by the fire. There was a serviceable pot, and a kettle hanging neatly on hooks by the hearth, but without more supplies she couldn’t make them a meal. She settled near the fire, feeling the aches from her fall begin to settle in now that they were somewhat secure.
“Well, Garret’s a regular pack rat.” Stephano pulled out a few apples and a large hunk of dried cheese she’d served two nights before.
“Didn’t he eat?” she asked, but took the apples and cheese. Their fingers brushed and a shiver woke her exhausted body. She shrugged it off and focused on how much she needed sleep, not Stephano.
Stephano shrugged. “I saw him inhale everything you gave him, but you did always give him extras.”
She smiled at the grumble and poked him in the shoulder, indicating toward his knife. He handed it over and went back to work. He pulled out the dried meat she’d passed out that morning. It seemed ages ago.
“We will sleep here tonight?” She broke the scones apart one-handed with some difficulty, but managed it. It was easier to set them by the hearth. But tackling the knife and the tiny bit of cheese was too much. Stephano was busy shoving a chair up and under the door latch. She hated to bother him, but the cheese would be good for them and melted it would be tastier. She decided to wait and watched him test the barrier then brush his hands on his breeches after. He caught her looking at him and shrugged. He was so masculine when he did that. She supposed all men had manly body language, but to her, Stephano had perfected certain moves that made her insides feel weak.
“Yeah, tonight and a few days more.”
She nearly dropped the knife. She fumbled with it, caught it barely and stared at him. “But—”
He was watching her now with a cocky grin. “We have to get that arm mended.” The reminder made her nod. He’d used his torn shirt to make a sling for her, adding another layer of soft cloth to her neck where the sling rubbed. Her arm was heavy, but now it was secure against her chest. She fumbled with the knife again, trying to set it down and Stephano took it, and the apple.
“What were you trying to do?”
“I wanted to slice the cheese and apple. If we put it on the bread…”
“Ah, I see.” He sliced the cheese quickly, then picked up the apple and peeled it effortlessly. With the same confidence, he sliced it thinly, eating a slice before grinning and handing her a few. He can cook. The thought made her feel warm inside. A warrior who can cook and kiss me so I forget everything else. What else can he do? She imaged anything he put his mind to. She smiled as he layered the apple on the cheese perfectly, then sat back and cut more slices for them to share. She almost felt…normal. Except she missed Brennan terribly and the men.
“Do you think they are…?” She couldn’t say tortured. “Being harmed?”
His expression was thoughtful. The tie holding his hair back had slipped so that some of the longer ends fell forward on his face. Her fingers itched to fix it. “I think they’re strong. All of them. I think we’ll find them. I’ll do all I can, so will Garret,” he added around a mouthful of apple.
“I will too.”
He didn’t laugh or tell her not to be silly. He reached out and brushed his hand over her hair, cupping the side of her face after. A shiver of awareness prickled in a wave down her body. Her mouth went dry and for some reason all she could focus on was the indent in his upper lip, how perfect it appeared beneath the bristle he needed to shave. The whiskers would no doubt be rough on her lips, but his
lips on hers had been incredible hot and soft. I want to kiss him again. Does he know?
“Yes.”
For a moment she thought he was answering her inner thoughts, then she saw his lips lift in a sexy smile. She returned it, confident he hadn’t read her mind. He would simply kiss me if he had. But his eyes…they were the oddest color. She still couldn’t decide on them. Maybe they change like he does.
“You will do more than I’m sure any of us want you to do, but we’ll get them free. If they’re being held,” he cautioned then held up a finger to silence her. “First we need to see to this slice,” he touched her face where the brambles had burned her, “and this arm. Then we can go to the rescue.”
She hoped so. If the Faye had them… Why didn’t Brennan listen to me? I’ll never forgive myself if he is hurt. I should have done more to make him listen.
Stephano tapped her nose, surprising her. “Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Do you have a brother? A sister?”
Her question seemed to confuse him. “No, I mean, at one time, sure, I had several of each. My mother had more children than she knew what to do with, thus, I became a Spartan.”
“What does that mean?” Now she was confused. He sounded as if he were teasing, except there was a bitterness there, under his light response. Is he serious? His mother gave him away?
“Spartans train the young to be warriors, often taking children from other cities, or regions, towns, you know, and turn them into warriors. I was a fighter at seven winters, brave enough to go with them on campaign.”
Shocked now, she couldn’t hide her dismay. “At seven? Seven years? You fought?”
“No, no, they had us there to run errands and such, but it was battle and only the strongest of us were given the honor.”
“But, but…your mother. She must have worried!”
He bit into his apple slice and chewed, eyeing her in an odd, almost calculating way, almost as if he wasn’t certain she spoke sincerely.
When he kept silent, she said, “No mother could even see her child go to battle and not be worried.” She picked up her uneaten apple slices, handing them to him. He took them but there was something different about him now, something almost…irritated. Nervous, she fiddled with her arm, rubbing along the stone and her flesh. The Siren had called him a man of Sparta. If that was a place, is that why he is a Spartan? Then Ajax is as well. Did both of them begin fighting at such a young age? What mother could let her child go? She eyed his stern profile, but he glanced her way so she averted her eyes. I would never let my children out of my sight. Anything could happen to them…or to me.
“Does it hurt?”
She glanced up at his question, then realized he meant her arm. “No, no, I was thinking…maybe you can break it free?”
“Is it surrounding your hand?” He seemed alarmed at the idea. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t feel anything.”
“Then we’d better try something else. If you can’t feel me doing something, I’m not sure I should try to break it free.”
The hesitancy in his tone was clear. She wasn’t sure if the stone was covering her hand or was her hand. A shiver of fear fluttered along her stomach. If my hand is stone… She worried it as she tried to get the scones off the hearth. Why would she want to hurt me like that? To make me think… About what? Stephano? I don’t want him. No, no, I don’t. She glanced at him and her heart skipped a beat then raced back to a faster pace. Do I?
“Here.” Stephano moved her aside gently so he could pick the scones up and set them on the small table he’d found. “The meat too? Or maybe we save it?”
“You should eat some, but I’m fine—”
“We’ll have a little of both.” He pulled a large strip of the meat off and handed it to her, before he tore another off for himself. His annoyance seemed to have lifted. He smiled at her and lifted his scone in a mockery of a toast. “A meal fit for a king, eh?”
She smiled and laughed at his wink. “Hardly a king.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m not a king.” He took an enormous bite of his hot scone and cheese as if to prove that.
She nibbled hers, realizing when she did how hungry she was. If she was, he would be more so. She pushed her top half at him but he shook his head, mouth still full. It was amazing how men ate. It was like they were afraid the food would disappear.
“Do you think the temple is evil?” If it was, then it wasn’t the Siren. Maybe she was one of many evil beings guarding the sacred place. “What if it does something while we sleep?”
Another grin flashed over his handsome features. She felt an ache in her body in answer. She tried to ignore it. It should have been far easier now. The fear for Brennan and the men she’d grown close to, and her arm, not to mention nights without sleeping and her body aches, should have made her other issues easy to disregard. If I keep myself in constant danger, I would never affect anyone, except myself. But that wasn’t true. The longer she sat, eating and talking with Stephano, the more she wanted to run her hands over him, touch his hair, feel the thud of his heart against her palm…and other parts of his body. The thought of touching him, stroking him the way he’d stroked himself, had her clenching her inner muscles down on emptiness.
“Nothing will get you while I’m here.”
That wasn’t true. Alone with him, something would get her, and even now had her breathing increasing in tempo. Her needs swelled higher than the aches from her fall. He seemed to her more handsome than ever, more desirable than ever, too. Even the way he dusted off his hands and grimaced at the dirt on them held her attention. She knew he was tired, but he didn’t show it. His eyes were red-rimmed. He’d done a quick clean-up, but he had dried blood on his forearm, not his own, she knew, and there was a slash on his wrist she doubted he felt. A warrior through and through. He came for me, not the men he travels with. She took his hand and lifted it to show him the slice. “You’re injured.”
He stared down at the wound. “That’s nothing.”
“Well, you should clean it. You and Garret found someone back on our trail?” she guessed.
“Yes. Slavers. But they weren’t the real threat, were they?” He sounded bitter. “What happened? Did you get knocked off your horse?”
She frowned remembering how quickly she had hit the ground. “Yes. Maybe, I mean, I don’t know how. I was upset with Brennan, he wouldn’t listen to me—”
“Because you can’t talk.”
She rolled her eyes.
He grinned. “Go on, I’ll behave.”
It was so softly spoken she almost didn’t remember the first time she’d heard him say that. Then with a rush of heat, she vividly recalled his kiss and embrace. She ducked her head, wishing suddenly he wouldn’t behave. “I don’t think you know how to behave.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Well, I think I’m doing a fine job at it. We’re alone. I’ve been waiting for this chance since you fell into my arms that first time you saw me—” She tried to correct him and he talked over her. “So, we can do a few things. Clean our wounds, then sleep, or we can see if I can’t show you all you’ve been missing.”
She gaped at him, caught off-guard by his statement.
“I suggest we clean up and rest, but I’m also not going to disappoint you if you had other ideas—”
“I do not have ideas,” she lied.
He gave her a knowing smile as he rose to his feet, offering his hand to her. She took it with a great deal of trepidation. Her heart was racing so fast she thought he might hear it. If he did, he didn’t say. He merely helped her to her feet and guided her to the bed.
But once there, he settled his hand on her shoulder and brushed her hair back. A distant, almost thoughtful expression pulled at his eyebrows together. “That’s because you’re scared and hurting from that fall. When we have your brother back, and your arm is normal, and we’re in my real
m, then you’ll have ideas, but for now, sit, let me see about those scratches and you can see to mine.”
Chapter Fifteen
Maeve sat, unsure who this man was. Stephano was a rogue, a scoundrel only after the next woman to warm his bed—for a romp in it, no more. He wasn’t kind and caring. He wasn’t thoughtful and serious.
But as she watched him pour water into the kettle and push it expertly over a warm but not too hot section of the fire, she began to realize she had been wrong about him. The Siren only said what she thought as well, but now…
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was a good man, a strong, good man. His mother gave him away. He’s fought all his life. What if he doesn’t know how to care for anyone, or be cared for? Maybe that’s why he doesn’t stay with women.
While she tried to work out what made Stephano the man he was, he’d found a cloth in the satchel, examined it and shook it out after, then poured some of the water over it and twisted it until some sprinkled the hearth. Seeming satisfied he turned and she ducked her head, caught staring. It was hard not to. His body was fascinating. He moved differently than Brennan. Quicker, more assured she thought, not sure why.
“I can see to yours first,” she offered.
“Ladies first. Here, I won’t hurt you.” He held the cloth away from her reach. She sat back but he smiled and waited for her to give him permission, reminding her of when she’d tended to his lip. She glanced at it but the bite mark was long gone. She was a little disappointed at that, but nodded, realizing he was waiting for her.
He cleaned the cuts on her hand first. They stung, but he was gentle. Her stone hand frightened her, and he seemed to avoid it too. His touch was careful—much more than Brennan ever was when she hurt herself. Brennan was always gruff. She knew he didn’t realize it, but he sometimes hurt her when he tended to her wounds.
