Too agitated to remain still, she began to pace the floor. Was there no one she could trust?
“It doesn’t matter what I know,” Gryff said quietly. “You’re safe now.”
She shook her head. “No.” Feeling suddenly chilled, she scrubbed her hands up and down her arms.
He regarded her speculatively for several moments. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No,” she said, wide-eyed. “Of course not.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” she asked, her voice thick with righteous indignation.
“Sounds that way.”
She stared at him, speechless. In all her life, no one had ever talked to her like that. Had she been at home, she would have had him flogged. But she wasn’t home, she was…where? Even with her memory restored, she had no idea where she was or how to find her way to Tarnn. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stay here.
“You okay, princess?”
“Why did you call me that?” she asked sharply, then blew out a breath. She was over-reacting. There was no way he could know who she was.
He frowned at her, then shrugged.
“Well, thanks again,” she said. “I’m going now.”
Gryff made a sweeping gesture toward the door. “Don’t let it hit you on the butt on the way out.”
With a nod that could only be called regal, she opened the door and stepped out of the shack.
Gryff stared after her. He should feel relieved, he thought. And he was. Relieved that those two killers had been after her and not him.
Kicking the door closed, he reached for a cigarette and lit it. He took a long, deep drag. Damn and blast, what was he thinking, to let her go off alone like that? He still didn’t know who she was, though he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was royalty. She had that air about her.
Damn! What was he doing, standing here smoking a cigarette, when someone obviously wanted her dead?
He told himself he didn’t care. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn’t forget the frightened look in those blue-green eyes, or the way she had felt in his arms.
Knowing he was probably going to regret it, he tossed his cigarette into the fireplace, grabbed his jacket, and went after the woman.
* * *
Marri walked away from the tavern, stopping only when it was out of sight. She felt a sense of hopelessness as she glanced around. She had no idea where she was, or which way to go, or where she could find help that she could trust.
She didn’t know anything about finding her way in a strange place. Never before, in all her three and twenty years, had she ever been away from the safety of her home, never associated with anyone who wasn’t a trusted friend or a member of her family. Maybe she should go back to Gryff. In spite of the recent attack by Artur’s assassins, she had felt safe with him. Even though he was obviously of peasant stock, she was sure he would protect her with his life, if necessary. Or was she just imagining things? After all, what did she really know about the man? Or about men, for that matter?
She was still trying to decide what course to take when she had the unshakeable feeling that she was no longer alone.
Fear came quickly - a sudden churning in the pit of her stomach, a coldness in her limbs.
Someone was behind her. She was sure of it! Were there more of Artur’s men out there, watching her?
Reason vanished, replaced by surging panic and the innate instinct for survival. With a wordless cry, she bolted into the darkness, her only thought to escape whatever stalked her in the night.
She screamed as a heavy hand closed over her arm.
“Hush, it’s me.”
She relaxed instantly at the sound of his voice. Anger quickly replaced relief.
“What do you mean, creeping up on me like that?”
“Hey, I’m sorry, princess.”
“What were you thinking, to scare me so?”
“I’m thinking I should have left you out here alone, that’s what I’m thinking,” he retorted.
That was the last thing she wanted. “No, please…”
“Where are you headed?”
“To Tarnn.”
“Tarnn?” he exclaimed. “That’s way the hell and gone on the other side of the Brynn Sea. How the hell did you get here?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted a hand to her head. “It’s all so vague.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
She frowned. “I was getting ready for bed. Talitha brought me a cup of tea…I don’t remember anything after that until I found myself in your establishment.”
He grunted softly. “Who’s Talitha?”
“She was my nanny when I was a child. Now’s she my chambermaid.”
“Sounds like she drugged you.”
“Don’t be absurd. Talitha has been in our family for years. Why, she was born in the keep only a few years before I was.”
The keep. Gryff swore softly. Damn and blast, maybe she really was a princess!
“You don’t really think she would…” Marri broke off, unable to say the words. It was beyond reason that Talitha would do such a despicable thing, and yet…who else could have done it? Talitha always tasted everything before offering it to Marri…no! It couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. If she couldn’t trust Talitha, then she couldn’t trust anyone.
“We can’t stand out here all night,” Gryff said. “Come on back to my place. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You’ll take me to Tarnn?”
He nodded. Hell, if she really was a princess, there was likely a nice reward involved, and he could sure as hell use it.
Marri stared at him. She didn’t want to go back to that horrible shack. Men had died there, men who had been sent to kill her, but it seemed wiser than tromping off through the desert in the dead of night by herself. She didn’t know where that wolf was, or what other dangerous creatures might be lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on her. Murmuring her thanks to Gryff, she lifted her skirts and followed him back to the shack.
Later, lying alone in the dark, she wondered if she had made the right decision. What did she know about Gryff, really? Nothing, she thought, nothing at all. Except for the shivery way he made her feel. It occurred to her that, in his way, Gryff might prove even more dangerous than Artur’s assassins.
Chapter 3
Marri woke at first light to find Gryff standing beside the bed. She stared up at him, wondering what he was doing in her bedroom, and then she remembered - he wasn’t in her bedroom. She was in his.
She drew the covers up to her chin, trying not to notice the width of his shoulders beneath his long-sleeved black shirt, or the way his faded trousers hugged his long legs. She clenched her hands, stifling the unexpected urge to reach out and run her fingers over his beard-roughened jaw, down his long, muscular arms.
“Get up,” he said without preamble. “We’re leaving.”
With a nod, she pushed the covers aside and reached for her shoes. Last night, feeling troubled and uneasy in her mind, she had slept fully clothed.
Rising, she tried to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt even though she knew it was useless. Never in her life had she felt so dirty and disheveled. Did he think she always looked this way, Marri wondered, and then chastised herself for caring. His opinion of her was of no consequence.
Wordlessly, he thrust a thick slice of dry brown bread into her hand.
She stared at it with distaste, her mouth watering when she recalled the enormous breakfasts Malia had prepared ~ poached eggs, wafer-thin slices of ham, honey cakes and peppermint tea.
When her stomach growled, Marri took a bite, thinking wistfully of fluffy scones, warm from the oven and smothered in butter and wild honey.
Marri sighed. No point in hoping for what she couldn’t have. At the moment, she was lucky to have a piece of bread. She was surprised to find it tasted better than it looked. At a
ny rate, she was too anxious to be on her way to worry about breakfast. The sooner they left this place, the sooner she would reach Tarnn and the safety of Aisley Cloister, where her older sister, had taken her vows.
Marri followed Gryff into the other room. He swung a pack over his shoulder, glanced back to make sure she was behind him, and left the shack.
Outside, Marri blinked against the early morning light. Overhead, the sky was a bold, bright blue. Rolling foothills loomed in the distance, barren and brown beneath the harsh desert sun. A few spindly trees near the shack provided scant shade.
Marri shook her head. Why would anyone want to live in this desolate place?
“Let’s go.”
She looked at Gryff, standing beside a two-man Landskiff. Surely he didn’t intend for them to travel in that old thing? It was rusty and dented; the windshield was cracked, one of the front lights hunk askew.
He shrugged as if reading her mind. “It’s this or your own two feet,” he remarked sardonically. “And it’s a hell of a long walk to Tarnn.”
She waited for him to open the door for her. When he didn’t, she reached a tentative hand toward the handle, half-expecting it to fall off in her grasp, surprised when it didn’t.
Gryff climbed in the other side, tossed his pack behind the seat, and fired the engine. The whole craft shook as it coughed and sputtered to life. He had to admit, it wasn’t much of a vehicle, but it had been the best thing he could steal on such short notice. It would have been faster to hop a transport to Tarnn but that required tickets and identification. He didn’t know about Marri, but he didn’t have any papers and he didn’t dare show his face in a space port, not with Serepta’s bloodhounds on the prowl. The last time he had considered using a transport, he had seen his photo and description posted at the ticket window.
Marri grabbed hold of the door handle, hanging on for dear life as the craft shot forward. Walking might have taken longer, she thought, but it would undoubtedly have been much safer.
Gryff turned to her after an extended silence. “So, why don’t you tell me about yourself? How’d you wind up here, in the armpit of the galaxy?”
“I told you, I don’t remember.”
He grunted softly. “Any idea who sent those guys after you?”
Shrugging, she glanced out the grimy window. Should she tell him the truth? Did she dare trust him? She didn’t know a single thing about him. What would he do if he knew her younger brother was trying to usurp the throne? Though she had no proof, she was certain that Artur had killed their two older brothers. Caddin had gone hunting one morning and never returned. She could still remember her horror when his body had been brought home. The physician said he’d broken his neck, likely in a fall from his horse. Marri had refused to believe that was the cause of death. Caddin had been an excellent horseman. There was no horse he couldn’t ride. He had never been thrown.
She had been equally horrified when her other brother, Cobb, had been found dead in his mistress’s bed a little more than a month later, the same day Orlani had mysteriously disappeared. Artur had claimed that was proof of Orlani’s guilt, but again, Marri refused to believe it. Orlani might have been Cobb’s mistress, but Marri knew her brother and Orlani had been very much in love, though they could never wed.
When Marri’s mother, Amerris, learned of the death of her second son, she had gone into deep mourning and left the keep. Cobb had always been her favorite child. No one, not even Marri’s father, knew where Amerris had gone.
Marri had voiced her suspicions about Artur to her father, but he had refused to listen to anything she said. Artur was a quiet, gentle boy, her father had insisted vehemently. Everyone from the lowliest housemaid to the parish priest knew Artur was harmless. Why, he wasn’t even strong enough to participate in battle games with the other men. The mere sight of blood sickened him so that he stayed behind when the knights went hunting or rode off to war.
But Marri had seen the other side of her youngest brother, the side that tortured helpless animals and bullied the servants when no one else was looking. He delighted in frightening the keep’s children.
She frowned, wondering why Artur hadn’t killed her outright, as he had Caddin and Cobb. She blinked back tears. In spite of what she knew of Artur, in spite of what she suspected, she still found it hard to believe that he had killed her brothers and wanted her dead, as well. He was the baby of the family, born four years after Marri. He had been such a sweet infant, such an adorable little boy with his tawny hair and bright blue eyes. She had loved him with all her heart. How could he have turned into such a monster? And how could she convince her father that the lad he doted on was a murderer?
She shook her head. Surely she was mistaken. Despite everything, she couldn’t make herself believe her brother meant to kill her. She had no designs on the throne, wanted only to join her sister at the cloister. Indeed, she would have done so years ago if her father hadn’t objected. He had given one daughter to the church, he had said adamantly, and that was enough.
“You’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on if you want my help,” Gryff said, breaking into her troubled thoughts. “I have to know what we’re up against, who else might be after you, and why.”
She hesitated a moment before answering. “I think it’s my little brother, Artur.”
Gryff looked at her, one brow arched. “Your brother? What’d you ever do to him?”
“Nothing. He’s…he’s unstable. You know, not quite right in his head.” It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She had once seen her brother throw a kitten from one of the tower windows just to see if the animal would land on its feet. It might have been excused as a youthful prank had Artur not been a man fully grown at the time.
She felt Gryff watching her, waiting for her to go on.
Marri folded her arms over her chest. She couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t tell him that Artur’s lust for the throne had turned him into a killer. Not until she knew him better. Not until she knew, without a doubt, that Artur had hired those two assassins.
“It’s the truth!” she exclaimed, discomfited by his unblinking gaze.
“Lady, I can smell a lie a mile away, and that one stinks.”
She felt a rush of heat climb into her cheeks. “That’s the second time you’ve called me a liar!”
He shrugged. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”
“He wants to kill me,” she said, “but only because he’s troubled in his mind.”
“Okay, princess, if that’s the way you want it.”
She looked at him sharply, wondering again if he knew who she was. But how could he? He couldn’t. It was impossible. With a sigh, she looked out the window again, her thoughts as dreary as the countryside.
Gryff concentrated on the road, which had become increasingly rough. He couldn’t force her to tell him anything, he thought, then grunted softly. No doubt he could force her, but the idea didn’t appeal to him. One thing he knew for sure, she was afraid of more than a younger brother who wasn’t quite right in the head.
He slowed the Landskiff. The road was little more than dirt and rocks at this point. The trees that grew in the area were stunted and dry. There was no other vegetation to speak of save for a few dried husks and shriveled plants.
He hated this place. Perhaps, after he’d seen the woman safely to Tarnn, he would go home. He could see it clearly in his mind, the tall mountains, the rivers that ran blue and clear both summer and winter, the trees that were ever green, the multitude of flowers that dotted the hillsides, the lacy ferns that grew along the lakes and streams. It was a verdant land, green all year long except in the high mountains where it snowed during the winter.
“What are you thinking about?” Marri asked.
“Home.” He answered without thinking.
“I thought the tavern was…?”
“Hell, no.”
“Have you been away a long time?”
“More than five years.”
“W
here do you live?”
“In the mountains of Nardinnia.” Once, his family had raised the best cattle and the most coveted horses on the planet. But Serepta had put an end to that.
“Do you have people there?” Marri asked. He seemed like such a solitary man, she couldn’t picture him as part of a family.
He shook his head. They were all gone now, destroyed by Serepta in a fit of pique.
“Why don’t you go back?”
“I can’t.” It was the first place Serepta would look for him.
Serepta. She was a witch without equal. Thinking of her, of what she had put him through, sent a shudder of revulsion down his spine. She had told him once that, should he ever escape, she would not rest until she found him again.
“And I will find you,” she had said, her voice as cold as Brynn Tor’s icy sea. “I will find you and flay the flesh from your bones an inch at a time. And then I will heal you and do it again.”
One look into her hell-black eyes and he had known she meant every word. But it hadn’t kept him from trying to escape at every opportunity, no matter the risk. She had chastised him each time, each punishment worse than the last, but he had craved his freedom the way some men craved drugs, had been willing to endure any pain, any torture she could devise, to be rid of her. She had burned his flesh with hot irons. She had whipped him until his back was raw. She had kept him chained in a small, dark room until he thought he would go mad. It had been the worst torture of all.
Lost in thought, Gryff paid little heed to the woman until he heard her stomach growling.
He slid a glance in her direction. “We’ll stop at the next tavern and get something to eat.”
She murmured a quiet thank you, then went back to looking out the window.
Gryff blew out a sigh, wondering what in blazes had prompted him to offer to take her to Tarnn in the first place. Though he had no love for tending bar in a rundown tavern, he had been relatively safe there, responsible for no one but himself.
He glanced at Marri once again. Her hair fell down her back in a thick braid, her skin golden brown and unblemished, her features delicate but not weak, and her figure…it was nicely rounded in all the right places.
Donovan's Woman Page 2
