Embroidered Fantasies t-5

by N. J. Walters

  “She said you didn’t eat much when you woke.”

  She couldn’t really be mad at Sednar. He was simply concerned about her well-being. She took the blanket from him and shook it out, spreading it near the edge of the water. Sitting cross-legged, she took in the beauty around her.

  Both men removed their swords, keeping them at hand as they sat, one on either side of her. It was only then she noticed the weapons. How she missed two four-foot swords was beyond her. It was probably because she’d gotten so used to seeing both men with them constantly. They strapped them on the moment they woke in the morning and laid them by the side of the bed each night. Their weapons were such a part of them, she didn’t think they even noticed them.

  “Why are you always armed?”

  Sednar plucked a long piece of grass and chewed on the end. “There are wild animals and enemies to worry about.”

  “Even in your own home?” She noticed they were never unarmed, not even in their own keep.

  “Especially there.” There was a contemptuous edge to Radnor’s words that made her turn toward him.

  “Why?” It was now or never. “Tell me about your older brothers.” Neither man seemed surprised by her question. “What have you been told?” Sednar asked.

  “Nothing good, I’d wager. We Craddocks are not exactly the most popular family.” The mocking tone in Radnor’s voice made her heart ache.

  She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’ve heard dark warnings and mutterings about your eldest brother especially. And your sister,” she added.

  Radnor snorted. “I’m not surprised. Leon Craddock was the vilest creature ever born. If you don’t count our sire.”

  Sednar gave a bark of laughter but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. She could feel the brothers’ pain. It was a living and palpable thing. “Craddocks take what they want. They steal and fight and cheat to get it. Isn’t that right?” Sednar turned his gaze to Radnor who picked up the tale.

  “If you don’t, you’re seen as weak. And the weak are beaten, ridiculed and abused.

  Might was right in Leon’s world. Two of my brothers tried to steal a woman from another family. They were killed. That only made Leon worse. He hated the Bakra brothers with a passion.”

  Now she was totally confused. “But isn’t your sister married to one of them?” Sednar nodded. “Leon had promised her to the Luther brothers and went to get her back from the Bakras. He failed.” There was obviously a lot more to the story than that, but Sednar had already moved on. “There are four Bakra brothers so they have two brides.”

  Roxanne nodded as she sorted through the facts they’d told her. “Okay, I follow that. What happened then?”

  Radnor sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Our family has a history of such things. That wasn’t the first time one of our older siblings tried to steal a woman from another family.”

  She knew this wasn’t a pleasant or easy thing for them to talk about, but she had to have answers to her questions. “What about your sister?”

  “Genita grew up to be a fine woman in spite of the rest of us. Leon treated her no better than a slave. When he threatened to give her to the Luther brothers as a bride, she objected. He beat her.” The lack of emotion in Radnor’s voice was chilling.

  “What happened?” Roxanne kept her voice low and soothing.

  “We could never help her.” Roxanne could sense Sednar’s pain. “If we showed her any attention or tried to intervene, Leon would only beat her worse. I’d try to deflect his attention with humor.”

  “What about you?” she asked Radnor, knowing in her heart he wouldn’t stand there and do nothing while his sister was being beaten. It wasn’t in him.

  Radnor rubbed his hand over his face. His eyes were bleak. “If I was lucky, I could deflect Leon’s attention my way.”

  Roxanne stilled as the implication of his words sank in. “You mean you took the beating for her.”

  “Not often enough.” There was disdain in his tone. She knew he remembered every time that he hadn’t been able to prevent his sister from being harmed. Radnor shook his head. “I helped her escape. Gave her some provisions and got her out of the keep.” He turned to Roxanne. “I sent my only sister off by herself with no protection. What kind of a man does that make me?”

  “One who had to make a difficult choice.” Unable to hold back any longer, Roxanne reached out and placed her hand on Radnor’s arm. The muscle beneath was like iron.

  “You were the youngest brother. If what I’ve learned over the past few days is true, then Leon’s word was law. He would have killed you if he’d discovered what you’d done.”

  “It wasn’t enough.” Radnor shook off her hold and walked a few feet away, staring out over the water.

  “What happened to Leon?” she asked Sednar.

  “Leon was killed during a challenge fight. Hamid was wounded when he tried to interfere. It was just another dishonorable act in a long line of them.”

  “You and Radnor chose not to continue in your brothers’ footsteps. The keep is prosperous, the people well cared for.”

  “For all the good it does.” Radnor turned on his heel and stalked back to the edge of the blanket. He practically threw himself to the ground and stared out at the water, brooding. “They have long memories. But I really can’t blame them. Not one family living here hasn’t suffered because of a Craddock.”

  “But not you,” she informed him. “Or you.” She gestured to Sednar.

  “It doesn’t matter.” The resignation in Sednar’s voice hurt her to the depths of her soul. “They may never accept that we’re different from our brothers. In this world, sometimes your family name is all you have. And there are times you’d be better off without it.”

  The fact that they hadn’t taken up where their brothers left off was astounding.

  Roxanne had done some research and plenty of reading on domestic violence after escaping Michael. It was often passed down through families. Sons learned from their fathers. It took strength of character and conviction to break that cycle. That was what Sednar and Radnor had done.

  Or at least, that was their story, the voice in the back of her head warned. She shoved aside her misgivings. Radnor and Sednar were good men. She’d never have allowed them to touch her so intimately if she didn’t trust them on a deep level.

  She started to speak but was cut off when Sednar placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her close. “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. Radnor grabbed his sword and rolled to his feet. The blade cut through the air with a whistle as he held it in front of him. Sednar unsheathed his sword, slowly getting to his feet.

  “Stand between the horses, Roxanne.” She immediately responded to the command in Radnor’s voice. Something was obviously wrong. She looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary as she hurried to stand between the two horses. Suddenly, she was very glad they were both massive beasts. Their bulk protected her.

  “Is it an animal?” she asked, envisioning bears and dragons and other wild beasts.

  She truly had no idea what kind of creature might be lurking in the forest. Her knees were shaking and she wrapped her arms around her waist to comfort herself. Neither man even glanced her way, their gazes locked on the woods beyond. She heard it then, the sound of crashing in the brush.

  Three horses burst from between the trees. Two of them bore large brutal-looking men with bushy black beards and long hair. The men wielded long, sharp swords as they approached in a threatening manner.

  But it was the man on the third horse that made every ounce of blood drain from her face. Her body trembled. “No,” she whispered. “This can’t be happening.” She blinked but the man didn’t change. She’d recognized those cold blue eyes and that nasty smirk anywhere.

  “Roxanne?” Sednar’s voice reached her as though from far away. She wanted to answer him but couldn’t find her voice. Nor could she tear her gaze away from the specter from her nightmares.


  The strangers were bearing down on them. Radnor stepped in front of her, blocking her view. She reached out and grabbed the side of Xander’s saddle as her knees almost gave away beneath her. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she swiped it away with the back of her hand.

  “Halt!” Radnor’s authoritative voice rang out across the clearing.

  “You’re not welcome on Craddock land, Luthers,” Sednar added, his tone hard and cold. “What do you want?”

  Roxanne shifted so she could see around Radnor, needing to confirm her worst fears. Sure enough, the man tipped his blond head down and smiled at her. A shiver of fear raced down her spine.

  “Hello, Roxanne.” Her ex-husband sat back and calmly faced Sednar and Radnor.

  “You have something that belongs to me. I’ve come for my wife.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fear left a bitter taste in Radnor’s mouth. Not fear for himself, but for Roxanne. He stared at the large man seated calmly on the horse next to the Luther brothers. There was an arrogance, a cruelty about him that reminded Radnor of Leon. This was the man who’d abused Roxanne.

  He studied his opponent, noting the cocky look in his eye. This was not a man used to losing. There was a sly tilt to his mouth as he smiled at Roxanne. He was enjoying terrifying her.

  The man was dead. He just didn’t know it yet. No matter what else happened, Radnor promised himself he’d kill this man. How he was in Javara was a mystery.

  Perhaps the tapestry had brought him here to face Radnor so he could free Roxanne from her ex-husband’s tyranny.

  It didn’t matter if Roxanne stayed in Javara or went home, he wanted her safe. He loved her enough to set her free if that was her choice. Resolved, he stepped forward.

  “Roxanne is no longer yours.”

  Sednar stepped up next to him. “Get off our land.” Shoulder to shoulder they faced their enemies. The Luthers needed to die for all the crimes they perpetrated on a daily basis. They were too much like Leon, killing and stealing, beating down those weaker than themselves, rarely facing men as equals.

  Agmar Luther, the elder of the two, leaned back in his saddle and grinned. “As soon as we get what we came for, boy.” He spat on the ground in Sednar’s direction.

  “In Javara, a woman belongs with her husband and his brothers.” His smile grew wider. “And we’ve just adopted Michael Talbot as our brother.” Roxanne moaned behind him. Radnor didn’t dare turn to comfort her. He needed to keep his eyes and his attention focused on the men in front of them. He felt her presence, smelled the perfume of her skin as she stepped up beside him. Radnor swept out his arm to keep her from standing in front of him.

  She reached down and gripped his forearm. He could feel her hands quivering.

  Still, there was no sound of fear in her voice when she spoke. “We’re divorced, Michael.

  You no longer have any claim on me, legally or otherwise.”

  “Now, babe. You know that’s not true. You’re mine until I say you’re not mine. No judge or piece of paper is gonna change that. I told you that back in California.” He spread his arms wide. “I came all this way to get you. That should tell you something.”

  “Yes, that you’re an obsessive maniac.”

  The corners of Michael’s mouth tightened. “You’ll pay for that.” Radnor could tell the man was struggling for control. Good. That was a weakness that could be exploited.

  “After our reunion, I plan to let my brothers take a turn with you.” Agmar laughed. “We lost one woman promised to us by the Craddocks. It’s only fitting they should provide us with another.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you, Michael.” She scowled at the Luther brothers.

  “And you two are pigs.”

  “I like a woman with spirit,” the younger Luther brother quipped. “More satisfying when you finally break her.”

  “Surely you don’t expect those two to save you.” Michael sneered as he pointed at Radnor and Sednar. “They’re Craddocks. They’ll save themselves first.” Roxanne’s trembling deepened and Radnor pushed her behind him. “Enough. Fight or leave.”

  Radnor gave a sharp whistle and Xander charged forward with Sednar’s mount beside him. Not pausing, Radnor gripped the pommel with his free hand and swung himself in the saddle. “Run, Roxanne,” he yelled as he pounded toward Agmar Luther.

  Sednar would take the younger brother.

  Agmar roared as he charged forward. Both horses reared. Xander’s heavily shod hooves came down hard. He had size and weight on the other horse. Plus, he was like his master. Losing was not an option. Keeping control of his horse with his thighs, Radnor brought his sword down in a sweeping arc. Agmar ducked at the last moment and avoided getting decapitated.

  His opponent’s sword shot out and Radnor threw himself to one side to avoid getting gutted. He pulled himself back up on top of Xander and wheeled around to face Agmar. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roxanne running across the field with Michael in pursuit. He wanted to break and run but couldn’t with Agmar pounding at him with his sword. Radnor prayed that Michael wouldn’t kill Roxanne before he could save her.

  Roxanne’s heart was hammering so hard it was an actual physical pain in her chest.

  When Radnor had told her to run, she’d run. There was nothing she could do to help them there. In fact, she was probably a liability, taking their attention away from the men they had to fight.

  The Luthers. She shivered, sweat coating her body and seeping into her eyes as her feet flew across the grass. Seemed that, even here, Michael could find other men as vicious as himself.

  The tranquil scene of moments before rang with the sound of whinnying horses, cursing men and the crash of deadly steel. Those swords weren’t just for decoration.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder and was momentarily dazzled by the display of physical prowess between horses and men as Sednar and Radnor attacked.

  She blinked and would have screamed if she’d had the breath. Michael was heading toward her, his horse getting closer and closer with each passing second. The woods.

  They were her only hope. Maybe she could hide. There was no doubt in her mind that Radnor and Sednar would come for her.

  She couldn’t even contemplate the possibility that they wouldn’t win the battle. A vision of the two of them lying in the dirt, their bodies cut open and bleeding, their eyes lifeless took her breath away. She shoved aside her panic and forced herself to keep moving. They would be fine. They had to be.

  She loved them.

  Fine time to admit that to herself. What a fool she’d been, ready to toss aside true love because she was afraid of what the future might hold. Who knew what was in the future? Bitterness filled her. She might not even live long enough to have a future. Not if Michael had his way.

  And what did she have to go back to anyway? A job that really didn’t fulfill her. No real friends. A small apartment and some things.

  A new sense of determination filled her. She would survive this. She’d survived her marriage with Michael and he would not destroy her now. She wouldn’t let him. And when this was over, she was going to have her say to the two brothers. If they still wanted her to stay, she’d make her choice.

  But first, she had to stay alive.

  Sednar blinked the sweat out of his eyes as he battled with the younger Luther. Ivan was a master fighter, but like his brother, he had a quick temper and no patience. That made him careless. Sednar thrust his sword downward. Ivan caught it with the edge of his. Sparks flew as the blades skated against one another. Sednar drew back and attacked again.

  He’d had years of practice with his older brothers. And unlike most, many of his so-called training sessions had been a matter of life or death. Leon or any one of the rest of them would have killed him, or at least maimed him, if given half the chance. Only Radnor had been different.

  The three youngest—him, Radnor and Genita—had somehow escaped the curse of the Craddock family. Maybe their older siblings
had taken all the meanness. The gods only knew that they’d had more than their share. The Luthers were no different.

  Sednar saw a flash of color and watched helplessly as Roxanne fled across the field with Michael in pursuit. In fact, the bastard was taunting her. Giving a roar, Sednar doubled his efforts, driving hard. The horse moved with him, an extension of his body.

  He silently thanked Radnor. The man knew how to train horses and there were none better on Javara than the ones they were on.

  Dust flew, mingling in the air with the sharp crash of steel and the mutter of curses.

  Finally, Ivan made a mistake. Losing patience, the younger Luther struck out, committing himself totally to a killing strike, giving himself no room to pull back or maneuver.

  Sednar twisted aside and ducked to avoid the blow. He brought his right arm up, slamming it as hard as he could toward Ivan. His blade found flesh and bone. Steel slashed through the younger Luther’s body, coming out the other side. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise and he gasped, not quite able to believe what was happening.

  Only the strength of Sednar’s arm and the strong steel of his sword were holding Ivan upright.

  Sednar yanked his sword out and watched, dispassionately, as his opponent slumped to one side and slid from his horse. Using his knees, Sednar whirled his horse around in time to see Xander leaping at Agmar. Like an avenging god, Radnor held his sword with both hands and plunged it into his opponent’s neck. Blood flew, spattering horse and rider.

  Radnor didn’t even wait to see Agmar fall. He wheeled his horse around and headed after Roxanne. Sednar shivered at the bloodlust in his brother’s eye. Michael Talbot had better run if he wanted to live.

  Falling in beside each other, the two brothers guided their mounts across the field.

  Hooves pounding, stirring up dirt and grass with every step, they plunged into the forest.

  Roxanne weaved in and out of the trees, jumping over downed logs and thick roots.

  Behind her Michael swore. As far as she knew, he hadn’t ridden a horse before arriving in Javara. She used that to her advantage. She paused by a large boulder, leaning against it as she sucked air into her starving lungs. Her arms were covered in shallow cuts and dotted with blood from the slaps of the branches of the trees she’d shoved her way through. The undergrowth was getting thicker, but that was in her favor.