Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  “Wait.”

  Brynn paused, even though Marek tugged at her hand.

  “I have rented a cottage for the night not far from here. Join me for dinner. Stay the night if you like — there is plenty of room.”

  Brynn turned to Marek. “We do need a place to stay tonight. It would be safer than returning to the tavern,” she told him.

  After a silent deliberation, Marek tipped his head in approval.

  “I will need to find Talon first.” Brynn smiled at her brother, a glint of happiness shining through.

  “Who is Talon?”

  “He is my son.” She answered with a pride only a mother could have.

  Michael’s brow narrowed, visibly stirred. “You have a child?” His reaction seemed more like a declaration than a question.

  “Does this news upset you?”

  “No.” Michael was quick to reply, perhaps with a bit too much haste. “I didn’t know you were alive, let alone married.” Michael’s eyes drifted to Brynn’s hand tightly engulfed by Marek’s. “To this Archaean.”

  “Many things have changed, Michael.” Since you abandoned me and left me to die.

  ~~~~

  “It is only for one night, Niall. You can come with us, or stay in the village — the choice is yours.” Brynn fiddled with the leather straps on her saddlebag.

  “I cannot do it, mistress. I’m sorry, but I just cannot.”

  “I understand, Niall. I will not think ill of you.”

  Niall’s eyes darted in all directions, as if keeping watch for spying enemies. “An Engel, mistress.”

  “He is my brother, Niall. I cannot explain this right now, but in due time. I must use this opportunity the gods have given me to salvage what I can.”

  “That Engel is not your brother,” he told her. “He cannot be trusted.”

  Brynn had heard enough. “I will see you in the morning then, Niall?”

  “Aye. You have a dagger with you?”

  Brynn scoffed. “Niall, I will be fine. Marek will be with me.”

  “And the boy?”

  “Niall, we will be fine. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Satisfied, Niall allowed Brynn to leave the stable with her mount.

  ~~~~

  “It isn’t much, but there is a bed in the back and a loft for the boy, and it is quiet.” Michael ushered Brynn into the modest cottage.

  “And where will you be?” she questioned.

  “I will take the cot next to the fireplace. I haven’t been successful in the ways of sleep as of late.”

  Brynn chuckled. “I would have to say the same.”

  “The room is back here.” Michael crossed the cottage to the single door and opened it. “You should find it comfortable enough. The boy—”

  “Talon.” Brynn corrected. “His name is Talon.” Something deep inside told her that Michael hadn’t been expecting to learn she had a child.

  “He will be all right in the loft?”

  “He will stay with me.”

  As if taking his cue to enter, Marek appeared at the threshold, cradling his sleeping son. “He hasn’t even stirred.”

  “He has had quite enough excitement today, with the tournament and meeting his uncle. Tuck him into bed, and I will see to him later.” Brynn pulled back the coverlet before allowing Marek to place the armful of dangling limbs safely in bed.

  Marek removed Talon’s boots, kissed him on the forehead, and drew up the blanket tight under his chin.

  “If you don’t mind, Marek, I wish to speak to my brother alone. You’re exhausted and need your rest. I’ll be in shortly. You need not wait up for me.” Brynn placed a palm on his cheek.

  He took it, brought it to his lips, and kissed the tender skin just above the leather cuff she wore to cover the Engel mark etched in her skin. “Wake me when you return, my love.”

  Brynn met Michael out of doors. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders to ward off the night’s chill. “They are beautiful, are they not — the heavens?” She stared at the sky, dark as velvet, mesmerized by the stars flickering like tiny, shimmering gems.

  Michael tilted his head to the darkness. “He truly loves you.”

  “Aye, he does.”

  “And do you love him?” Michael lowered his gaze to his sister. The moon cast harsh reflections on his skin, its paleness turning an ashen shade of gray.

  Brynn inhaled a long, slow breath, held it, and then released it through her nose. “We both know you fill the time with frivolous words, Michael.”

  “I only seek conversation.”

  “You have never been a good liar.”

  Michael’s sudden interest in the fraying fabric on the sleeve of his tunic gave him enough pause to choose his words carefully. “You know why I must do it, then?”

  She spoke with a soft calm, her eyes never wavering from the night sky. “I do. I have seen it in my dreams. There is still time to choose a different path, ’tis why I’m here.”

  “You were always different, Brynn. You were never on the same path as the rest. There is a certain quality about you that mystifies, and it breaks my heart to have to do this. But I have no other choice. Had I known there would be a boy involved…” His words faded into the silence.

  “How much longer do I have?” Wiping away the tears with her fingers, she pressed her palms to her face to cool her burning cheeks.

  “They come at dawn.”

  So soon. A panic started to manifest itself inside her chest. Her heart beat in her throat, making each breath a strain. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t had enough time to prepare. Brynn shoved her fingers in her mouth and bit down just to keep from screaming. Stay strong. “Promise me this — promise me you will not harm my son.” Brynn moved closer to Michael and forced him to meet her eyes. “Michael. Promise me this.”

  He couldn’t ignore her insistent plea. “What would you have me do?”

  “Hide him. Steal him away. Let his father take him home. You are obviously a man of great importance now — think of something. I would have expected this sort of thing from Father, but you… you, Michael? Never in my life would I have thought you—” She couldn’t go on. Saying the words out loud would only intensify the pain. “I… I must go.”

  Michael hooked her arm with his as she walked past, sending her spinning about. “Brynn, don’t act the fool.”

  “Do not fret, Michael, I will trust you no more.”

  The paper in front of her was nearly impossible to see under the dim light of the single tapered candle sitting faithfully next to her on the desk. She feared she might set her hair on fire should she venture any closer. Brynn paused her fervid writing to rub the sleep from her eyes. Oblivion threatened to consume her, but she fought it, pushing her writing to the forefront of her mind. She must finish before the dawn.

  Checking her pages for the last time, Brynn sent up a silent prayer to the gods and wrapped the binding around the pages, securing the knowledge inside. She rose from the desk, found her satchel, and added the book to its contents.

  Brynn allowed her eyes to linger on the rise and fall of Marek’s chest, her breaths falling in stride with his. Steady and rhythmic, it calmed her. The once-sharp edges of his mouth and jaw now lay slack and soft, lost in peaceful slumber. Removing her gown, Brynn crawled into the bed and settled in, cradled between her warrior and her son.

  She kissed the back of Talon’s head when he nuzzled in close. She breathed in his scent, the smell of soap still lingering in his hair from days gone by. A salty wetness rolled over her lips and down to her chin. It remained there long enough for another tear to join then plopped to the linen below.

  Marek stirred behind her, his fingers finding a new resting place on the curve of her hip. He caressed the flatness of her belly before wrapping his arms around her torso and engulfing her with his warmth. He kissed the crook of her neck in a slumberous wake then soon drifted back to his dreams.

  Her head fit perfectly under his chin, and she snuggled close, the
thump of his heart beating a steady song in her ear. Brynn closed her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Betray Me

  Brynn woke before dawn. She dressed in the dark, checked the position of her boot knife, and carefully removed Marek’s weapons from the bedroom. Michael’s absence was noted, his cot empty.

  Trusting Michael wouldn’t harm an unarmed man, she hid Marek’s swords and daggers in the cluster of bushes lining the back of the cottage. Brynn knew full well the ramifications of Marek’s temper, and allowing him a weapon would only add to the chaos. A few small rolls of bread from the evening meal still sat on the small table, and Brynn took them, placing them in her satchel. Talon would need them. She decided he would need to leave with her when the Engels arrived. Weighing the options, it seemed the lesser of two evils. Marek would need to ride on the wind to reach his brothers in time, and having Talon would only slow him down. Time was of the essence.

  With the letter she had written tucked safely in the bodice of her chemise, Brynn slung the satchel containing her writings and precious books over her shoulder. She took a deep breath, gathering her strength and courage. She would need to rely on both when the Engels arrived.

  ~~~~

  Marek burst through the door, his trousers hanging loose about his hips, unfastened. He gripped the threshold like an imprisoned madman — spouting slanderous words at the band of horsemen surrounding his family. “You fucking son of a whore! I will kill you! Even if I have to do it with my bare hands, I will tear your beating heart from your chest!” His hands balled into tight fists, the knuckles turning a ghostly white against the redness of rage.

  Brynn’s wrist cuffs lay untied next to her feet, the mark of Westmore clearly visible.

  “Marek, please, calm yourself! It is your turn to trust me!” Her attempts to calm the situation were slowly turning against her. Brynn hugged Talon close to her side, keeping him away from the Engel soldiers encircling her. The boy couldn’t understand the harsh Engel words and his frightened stance drew the mercenaries closer.

  “He brought soldiers to kill us and you want me to fucking calm down?” Marek narrowed his glare on Michael. “Tell me, how much? What amount of silver could possibly tempt a brother enough to carry out his own sister’s death warrant?”

  Michael wouldn’t meet Marek’s eyes, nor would he answer the question.

  “There will be no more killing!” Brynn huffed. “No one needs to die! Michael, bring me to Lord Westmore. I know that is what he truly desires, and I will go with you — willingly — if you promise me you will not harm my husband. You are a man of honor, Michael. There is no honor is slaying an unarmed man. He carries no weapon and therefore is of no threat. The bounty for my return will outweigh the price of his head by tenfold. Leave him be, take me and the boy with you, and no one, including your own men, will have to die here today.”

  Michael’s jaw twitched — he contemplated her proposal.

  “Brynn, what the hell are you doing?” Marek said.

  “Keeping us alive,” she answered.

  “And if he follows?” Michael questioned.

  “He will not follow,” reassured Brynn, locking eyes with her warrior. “He will go home to his brothers.”

  The silence seemed to suck the breath from her chest. She prayed Michael would not make another foolish decision.

  “Very well.” Michael decided.

  Brynn turned up her eyes to Michael, a slight pout curving her full lips. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Allow me to say goodbye?”

  Michael nodded, granting her temporary freedom from the Engel confinement.

  Taking Talon by the hand, she raced to her husband and wrapped her arms around his chest. She pressed her cheek against his skin, the pounding of his heart echoing in her ear. “Take the parchment from my hand,” she whispered.

  Marek brought his hands to meet hers, removed the small, rolled parcel from Brynn’s fingers and cupped it securely in his palm. He grasped her wrists, brought them around to his chest and hugged her frame before kneeling low to say goodbye to Talon. “Take care of your mother while you are gone. You are going on an adventure, but I will meet up with you soon, aye?”

  Talon nodded. “I will, Da.”

  “Such a good boy.” Marek pulled his son in close and slipped the piece of parchment under the cuff of his own boot before standing to embrace his wife one final time.

  Brynn drank in the color of his eyes. “Say you will come for me?”

  “I will always come for you,” he reassured, pressing his lips to her ear. “Even in death.”

  “Your swords are behind the cottage… in the bushes. You will need them after I am gone.”

  He brought his mouth to hers, bidding her farewell with one last kiss. With the salt from her tears still fresh on his tongue, he backed away, releasing his woman and son into the arms of his enemy.

  Brynn mounted her horse, secured Talon in the saddle, and gathered up the reins. Four Engel soldiers closed in around her, leading her away.

  Michael lingered behind with two of his men, blocking Marek’s vision of her. “See that he does not follow.” Michael instructed, circling his horse around Marek. “And be quick about it.”

  When Michael cantered away, Marek retreated into the cottage, barred the door and bolted to the back bedroom where he donned his tunic, fastened his trousers, and pulled the parchment from his boot. He tugged at the binding twine and unrolled the letter.

  The Engels rammed the barricaded door. The cottage shuddered beneath the assault.

  My Love,

  Do not fret for me. I have foreseen the coming events, and you must put your trust in the gods that all will be well. Do not follow me. Gather your brothers in arms. You haven’t much time. You will find us in the White Forest. Once I’m gone, everything you need will be in the book.

  Kill him.

  Forever yours,

  Brynn, your loving wife

  Confused, Marek returned the parchment to his boot. The cottage shook once more as the Engels broke through the entrance. Marek unlatched the window shutters and promptly dove through the opening, landing in the bushes below. His fingers touched leather, and he scooped up the weapons, slinging a scabbard over each arm as he leaped to his feet and rounded the cottage. He found both soldiers waiting for him near the broken door.

  Marek paused, catching his breath. He crossed his arms behind his head, each fist grabbing a sword and pulling it free from its sheaths. He swung them in a great arc, waiting for his opponents to strike. Marek tilted his head from side to side, the vertebrae popping under the pressure. “Who wants to die first?”

  The Engels charged at once, their swords drawn for battle.

  Marek let loose his rage in a fury of steel and with a strength so powerful he cleaved his closest attacker in two with the first strike.

  The second Engel saw his companion fall in a heap of blood and guts and stopped mid-swing. The color drained from his face, and the soldier turned his back to run. His escape came to an abrupt halt when the blade of Marek’s dagger lodged securely in the man’s upper thigh. The Engel fell to the ground.

  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.” The man wept like a child, raising his hands above his face in a defensive stance. “I have a family.”

  Marek pressed the tip of his sword to the Engel’s throat and cocked his head to the side in disbelief. “Really, Engel? That is the plea you give me? You have a family? Well, your captain just stole mine.” A half-crazed laugh spewed from Marek’s throat.

  “I was only following orders, Archaean.”

  “And I act of my own free will.” With one quick thrust, the sword penetrated its intended target, nearly severing the man’s head.

  Marek gathered his weapons, packed his gear, and tacked his horse. If he didn’t tarry, he would reach his home by the sea in three days’ time. He could only hope his men would still be near — and alive.

  ~~~~

  Michael shift
ed in the saddle, the leather groaning under his weight. He twisted and scanned the hills behind them, searching the tree line.

  Brynn couldn’t help but notice his fidgeting. Michael never could hide his emotions well. Her father had once told him during an argument that it would be his downfall, and she was beginning to think he was right.

  Michael motioned to a nearby soldier, and the man dutifully urged his mount forward. “Go and see what is keeping them.”

  “There’s no need for that, Michael,” Brynn told him. “Your men are already dead.”

  Michael’s menacing stare fixed on her. “And what makes you think that?”

  “Because Marek is what legends are made of. He is the greatest of warriors, and his love will conquer all. The only reason you are still alive is because I made it so.”

  “I don’t wish to kill you, Brynn, for I have loved you as a sister since the day you were born. We accepted you even though your mother proved to be a whore. My orders were to kill you, and I will if I must.”

  “It will not be here, nor will it be this day, but you must know you are going to die, Michael. We all are going to die.” Brynn ended the Engel conversation then and returned her focus to the path in front of her.

  Her thoughts turned to her dreams, wishing she could open her book and unscramble what was left of the puzzle. The images were still scattered in incoherent pieces. She had seen faces, heard familiar voices, but she couldn’t define the significance of them. Brynn had an inkling of where they now traveled. Judging by the position of the afternoon sun, they journeyed south. Each passing hour brought her closer to the Engel border… and to the ravens.

  The journey was unforgiving and relentless. Talon tired easily, and the Engel soldiers grew increasingly agitated with the frequent stops and the whines of a child, who just wanted to go home.

  “Brynn, you need to quiet him. My men will silence him otherwise.”

  “Do you have children, Michael?”