by Lynn Lorenz
Logan caught Horse’s bridle and held it. “Bring me back my boy, Drake.” Dead or alive was unspoken, but I saw it in his eyes.
His voice pitched low so that only I could hear it. “Or don’t come back at all.”
I could see murder in his eyes. Perhaps he’d gone mad. I’d never seen such fierceness in him. “I have not forgotten I am sworn by my blood, body, and life to protect him, and my duke,” I hissed. That he had drawn his sword on me, and reminded me of my duty to him as his sworn subject, or as his lover, angered me. “I will return when I have Tomas. If I don’t, then know I died trying to save your son.”
Logan nodded and released the bridle.
Before I said more, I kicked my heels into Horse, and the three of us charged out the gates.
Chapter Eighteen
We rode to the edge of the wood where we’d found Joss, and I reined in my horse. The others pulled up beside me. The man slid off his horse and squatted on his heels, his eyes intent on the ground.
“Reed, what do you make of the tracks?” Peter asked.
Reed’s hands traced the markings, then he stood. “If I’m not mistaken, they have gone down the road and at a hard gallop.” He grinned up at me. “My lord, it seems they are being followed.”
“Followed? By who?”
“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say by a large forest bear.”
“Brute!” In all the confusion I’d forgotten about him. “Aye, he has tracked down the killers of children before.”
Peter’s eyebrows rose. “That is a story I’d like to hear some night, Drake.”
“I will tell it to you, if I have any nights after this.”
Peter set his jaw at my bitter words. I read sympathy in his dark eyes, but I neither wanted nor needed it.
“There is blood mixed in the mud of his prints. He may be wounded.” Reed frowned.
“He won’t stop until he’s dead,” I said. “We may find him along the way.”
Reed mounted.
“We ride hard; don’t spare the horses.” I told them. “I hope to catch them before sundown.”
“But they’ll drop before then,” Peter said.
“No, we’ll use the courier horses along the way. With fresh mounts, we’ll eat up the distance between us. They will have to slow and rest their animals, while we’ll ride hard.”
Peter’s face split into a grin. “Let’s ride.”
I led the way as we galloped down the road.
•●•
We found Brute, limping along the road, two hours later.
“Brute! Stay!” I called to him. He stopped and sat. If dogs could look relieved, that would have been the expression in his brown eyes.
I dismounted and went to him. He’d suffered a slash along his shoulder, but it didn’t look too deep. The loss of blood had slowed him.
“The first stable is not far.” I picked up the dog and hoisted him over the front of my saddle, then climbed up. Holding on to him, I kicked Horse to a trot and held onto the dog by his fur. He never made a sound, and his eyes stayed closed.
The duke’s pennant flew from a tree near a lane that veered off from the road. I took it, and we came to the little farmstead.
A man ran out, two boys behind him. “Hold, who goes?”
“The duke’s men,” I called. “We need fresh horses.” I got down, slid Brute off the saddle, and laid him on the ground. “Tend our mounts until we return for them.” I pointed to Brute. “My dog is injured.”
One boy ran to take our mounts, the other to the barn to saddle our fresh mounts. The man strode forward and looked down at the black dog. “That’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.”
“Can you keep him? He’s very gentle.” I looked up at him but I could see he didn’t believe me.
“Well.” He scratched his chin. “My woman has some skill with tending our animals. If she can handle our rams, I suppose she can handle the dog.”
The boys returned with the horses, and we mounted. With a wave, we headed back down the lane to the main road and continued after our quarry.
•●•
At dusk we’d covered more miles than I’d ever done in a day’s ride and our horses weren’t yet winded. I counted on that not being the situation for the men who’d stolen Tomas. Reed had slowed to look at the tracks. “My lord, they walk their animals. Two walk beside them. One horse is lame, I think.”
“Well enough. We go slowly from here. If I don’t miss my guess, they’ll make camp before the sun sets.”
Reed rode ahead of us, leaning from his saddle, his eyes on the ground. At last, he held up a hand. We stopped next to him.
“They’ve left the road here,” he whispered.
I nodded. We dismounted and tied off the horses on the other side of the road. Then we crept through the woods, Reed in the lead. They were so careless that even in the fading light I could follow their trail.
Reed stopped and pitched his voice low. “I smell smoke.”
The air carried it to us. “Just ahead.” I pointed. “Reed to the right, Peter the left. No one moves until I give the order.”
My men nodded, and we split up. I continued on the trampled path the kidnappers had made leading straight to their camp. I wasted no time pitying them for what fate awaited them at the end of my sword.
Kneeling in the bushes, I spotted my men. To the right, Reed crouched in a thicket. Peter stood beneath the branches of a low tree. I watched the camp and counted four men, their horses tied on a string behind them. No tents, just bedrolls.
Tomas lay on the ground with his feet and hands bound. His eyes were shut so I couldn’t tell if he slept or was unconscious. The men sat around a fire pit eating the last meal they would ever taste.
I stood and strode toward them. “So, this is what coward who steal children look like.” I stopped as they bolted to their feet and drew their swords.
Tomas cried out, “Drake!” His small voice sounded good to my ears.
“Cover your eyes and ears, Tomas,” I ordered. He drew his legs up and put his hands over his head. This would be no sight for a child. Tomas had fears and bad dreams enough.
I reached over my right shoulder and drew Ansel’s sword from my back scabbard. His would do well for this night’s work.
The first man to reach me died before he’d raised his sword to strike. I advanced, letting the men surround me. My sword sang through the air to slash open another’s belly. His guts spilled. He screamed as he tried to hold them in, then fell to his knees. I kicked him out of my way, and with a twist of my wrists, I pointed my sword backward under my arm, thrust, and caught the one trying to come at me from behind, then jerked the sword out and severed the disemboweled man’s head from his body.
Raising my sword to striking position, I faced the lone man. He scrambled to Tomas and snatched him up, his knife at the boy’s throat, and backed away from me, fear in his eyes.
No pity, no mercy.
“If you harm him, you will beg me to kill you in the end.” My voice dropped low.
His eyes darted around him as he searched for a way out. “No closer!” he screamed and waved the knife. Tomas’s eyes were clamped shut, his face screwed up tight as he dangled from the man’s grip.
If I moved, the knife would strike before I could. There was a movement near the edge of the clearing. I let my eyes flick to it, then back to the man.
“Right.” I shrugged. “We seem to be at a stalemate. Tell me, before you die, did Duke Weathers order this?”
The man barked a laugh. “Weathers? No, we were a scouting party. Just fortunate to stumble upon so rich a catch.” He grinned at me, now sure that he had the upper hand.
Peter slipped up behind the man, grabbed the hand that held the knife to Tomas’s throat, and drove a blade into the bastard’s back.
With a strangled cry, he dropped Tomas and fell to the ground. I rushed to Tomas and picked him up.
Peter kneeled at the man’s side. “He lives.” He l
ooked up at me waiting for his orders.
“Kill him.” I turned away and left Peter to his work. He deserved to finish the kill.
“Mercy, m’lord!” the man begged.
I walked away carrying my precious prize.
Peter’s sword sang. With a soft thwack, he took the man’s head off.
I reached the woods, well away from the scene of the slaughter.
Tomas whispered, “Can I open my eyes now?” He shivered in my arms.
“Aye, son. Open your eyes.” I kneeled and put him down. Drawing my knife, I cut his bonds.
“I knew you would come, Drake!” He threw his arms around me and wept as I hugged him tight to my chest, careful not to crush the child in my relief.
Peter came to me. “I thought you were going to give a signal.” He rolled his eyes at me.
I shrugged. “I forgot. Thank you for not waiting.” He gave me a tilt of his head.
Reed joined us, his eyes large as he stared at me. “I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life.”
“That is why Drake is commander and not me.” Peter grinned.
Reed nodded, as if some argument between the two men had been settled.
I rose, Tomas in my arms, and we returned to the horses. The ride back to Marden would take the entire night.
“Ride or rest?” Peter asked.
“We ride. I don’t want to keep Logan in doubt.”
I mounted, and Peter passed the boy up to me. I sat him on my lap, and he leaned against my chest. His shivering had stopped, and before too long, he fell asleep.
We rode at an easy canter, then walked the horses, then galloped. We reached the pennant marking the stable and continued past. We’d send grooms to swap the horses and retrieve Brute later.
My thoughts were elsewhere. Had Joss lived or died? The thought of him dying alone without me to hold his hand hurt too badly. I’d feared to fail Logan and Marden; instead, I had failed the boy I’d hoped to make my son.
Bitterness rose in my heart, anger at Logan, frustration at not being with Joss.
The castle emerged from dawn’s mist.
Logan stood at the gate as if he’d never moved from the spot. When he spotted us, he charged down the road, his hair flying out behind him. By all the gods, even in my anger at him, he was still beautiful to my eyes.
“Tomas!” he shouted as he came up to my horse.
The boy roused, looked around, and then found whom he sought. “Da!” His arms stretched to Logan, and I let him go to his father.
Logan clutched him tight and buried his face in Tomas’s hair, kissing him, murmuring soft words between his hard sobs. I rode on.
Dead or alive, Joss waited for me inside the castle.
•●•
I climbed the stairs two at a time and half ran to the boys’ room. Catching my breath at the door, I steadied myself for what lay beyond it, then entered. Joss lay on his bed under a heavy blanket pulled up to his chest. Not over his head, as was the custom for the dead.
My breath blew out as I went to him and kneeled by the bed. His color looked good, and the cut over his eye had been sealed with two neat black stitches. There was some black and blue on his cheek and under his eye, and I calmed myself by thinking what boy hadn’t had his eye blackened.
“Joss.” It was a whisper, barely a sound, but his head moved and he opened his eyes. He met my gaze and smiled.
“Did you find Tomas?” His voice was strong. Relief rushed through me like a surging tide.
“Aye. He is with his da.”
“I’m glad.” He looked at the wall. “I’m sorry, m’lord. I couldn’t stop the men. I had Tomas’s shirt and tried to pull him back, but the man hit me and I let go.”
“Joss. Look at me. It wasn’t your fault. They were big men.” My hand reached out to brush the hair from his brow, and he turned back to me.
“Did you kill them?” His voice was hard and angry.
“Aye.”
He gave me a curt nod, then reached out his hand for me to take. I held it tight.
“Joss. I want to ask you something.”
“Aye, m’lord.” He waited.
“Would you mind not serving as my page?”
Joss’s face fell and his shoulders hunched. “You don’t want me anymore?”
“Not as my page.” I shook my head. “I want you to be my son. If you’ll have me.”
He straightened and pointed to his chest. “Me? Your son?”
“Aye. But only if you want to be.”
He fell silent and I could see his mind work. “But what if you marry and have a real son?”
Indeed. Some truth was needed, but not all. “I will never marry, Joss.”
He took it in, frowned and said, “Are you sure you want me?”
“You are the best boy I know. There is no one I want more.” I smiled at him.
“Not even Tomas?” His eyes were wide.
“Tomas belongs to Logan. I want you to be my son.”
A smile broke over his face, and he wept. I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. “I love you, Joss.” I kissed his head and gave him a final embrace, then let him lie back on the bed. “Get some rest, son. We’ll talk again later. I’ll bring up some broth for you.”
“I will, Da.” He tried it out on me, and I smiled at him. He grinned back, looking happier than the day I gave him that small wooden horse he cherished.
I watched as my son rolled over on his side, tucked his hands under his cheek, and closed his eyes. I rose, stepped out, and pulled the door shut.
I crossed to my room to start packing.
Chapter Nineteen
I wrapped my leather journal with Ansel’s story in a cloth and placed it in my saddlebag. Of all the things I owned, it meant much to me. I left the quill and inkpot; I could get those wherever I landed.
The door opened behind me. Logan stepped inside, shut the door, and leaned against it.
“What are you doing?” His voice was soft.
“Packing.” I moved to my trunk and opened it.
“Don’t leave.”
I closed my eyes and let my longing for him wash over me. Anger and hurt surfaced to burn my eyes and harden my heart. I didn’t answer him, but continued to search through my clothing.
“Drake. Please. I’m sorry.” He came to me, but didn’t touch me. Even he had to feel the anger that oozed from me. “I was mad. Frightened. Terrified that Tomas had been killed or maimed.”
He spoke the truth, and I knew it, but he’d hurt me, and the wound was fresh and deep. I wanted him to hurt also. Wanted him to feel what I’d felt. His doubt in me. Let him doubt my love, I thought. I wanted him to beg me to stay.
“Please. My love.”
I snorted. “Does love doubt? Is your love so weak it wavers?”
I could feel his flinch, as if I’d struck him. I sighed. Was this really what I wanted? If I let this go on, would I destroy us both?
“My love is strong, Drake. What do you want me to do to prove it?” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “If you want me to beg you, I’ll beg you. If you want me on my knees, I’m on my knees.” He fell to his knees and took my hand. “Kiss your hand and pledge myself to you?” His lips were warm and soft against the back of my hand, and I could feel his tremble as he held mine.
I felt myself slip, and my resolve for pain and hurt crumbled. Could I ever resist him? His green eyes implored me.
“I love you. I want to grow old with you, Drake. When the gods take me, I want to look into your eyes and say your name with my last breath. I want to feel your lips on mine at the end.”
I bent, wrapped my hands in his long hair, and pulled him to his feet.
“This is what I want.” I pulled his hair back, exposing his throat. “I want to mark you, and I want everyone to know that your lover claims you.” I lowered my mouth to his skin, biting and sucking the cords of his neck as he moaned my name. It was hard and rough, and it made my rod stiffen in a sweet
agony.
“During the day you will wear your hair pulled back so everyone can see the mark of your possession. At night, you will wear it down because that is the way I like it. To please me and only me.” I laved my tongue up his throat and took his ear between my teeth, controlling his head, my hands still buried in his hair. Gods, I wanted him.
Logan melted into me, his hands fisted in my shirt. “Aye, to please you. Anything, just don’t leave me,” he gasped.
I could feel his hardness against mine.
I pulled him to the bed and pushed him down. “Take off your clothes.”
Logan stripped as I watched, and lay back on the bed. His long blond hair spread out across the pillows and spilled over his shoulders. His green eyes glittered as his hand stroked his cock.
I pulled off my boots, untied my laces, and removed my breeches. He watched, his mouth open, that sweet tongue of his wetting his lips, making me want him. Naked, I sat astride him at his waist, and ran my fingers through his hair.
“Tell me you love me, Logan.”
“I love you.”
I thumbed his nipples to hard points, then bent to take one in my mouth. I suckled him as a baby takes a breast, drawing not milk, but cries of pleasure from him.
“You are mine.”
“I am yours.” His eyes shuttered as I licked up his neck, over his jaw, and to his mouth. I ran my tongue over his lips, giving him a taste of me, then sat back.
I stroked my cock, then moved forward. Logan opened his mouth and took me. Pleasure shot through my rod, to my sac, then coursed through my belly. Logan sucked me; his tongue flicked the rim of my cock’s head, then delved into its eye searching for a taste of my cream.
My hips moved in lazy thrusts as I enjoyed his mouth and the magic of his talented tongue. My sac tightened, and I groaned.
“Oh no, not yet. I will fuck you before I spill.” I backed off and kneeled between his legs.
“Fuck me, my love.” Logan’s eyes held mine, and I could see his hunger.
I oiled my cock, then spread some on his sac and along his valley. Leading my cock to his sweet hole, I pressed in, then pulled his hips up to me. I fell forward and shoved my cock inside him.
Logan cried out. Pain, pleasure, or a mix, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel him tight around me, to see his beautiful face as I fucked him, and listen to him call my name.
