Outcast

by Angie Arms

  Long after the soup was finished Evander awoke and ate four bowls, complaining that he was still hungry after she promised to give him not another bite. Then he slept again. So the days began to develop. When Evander didn’t sleep he ate with just a few moments to spare for conversation. She learned her lesson the first time and asked no more personal questions and it seemed Evander did as well. She was content to talk with him about his horse, the druids on Mona, and the coming winter.

  Chapter 11

  Evander awoke to the cool morning air coming in through the open door. Yes, today would be the day he would be getting out of bed despite what Jillian thought. That woman was far too demanding. For the last week she had been insisting he stay in bed despite the fact he had been growing stronger and stronger each day. That in itself was surprising considering the woman never had any meat to offer him, not even broth in the soup.

  He stretched his arms above his head, arching his back experimentally before continuing the stretch on down to his legs. Only slight pain was left, a slight stretching of the stitches where the skin was healing together. He was still some time away from full recovery. He needed that time to get all his strength back so he could kill those who had betrayed him. He owed them a slow and painful death for each one of the men under his command he had failed. But thanks to Jillian he had survived and he believed the only reason he was allowed to survive was to bring death to those he sought. The biggest obstacle was to discover who. Not that Evander was short on enemies but there were very few who would have the courage to do such a thing.

  He had had plenty of time to think about that day and the events that led up to it. He had to get back to the place he was attacked, before the snow began to fall in hopes there he might find an answer. He sure wasn’t going to accomplish that if he didn’t get out of this bed.

  Slowly so as not to aggravate his injuries and give Jillian a reason to send him back to the bed he sat up, swinging his legs over the side. He sat there a moment, taking stock of the dull pain in various parts of his body but it was no longer debilitating and obviously there was no reason he had to stay lying about. Not that he had to justify himself to that woman.

  Evander stood and his legs nearly collapsed under him. He was weak. How long had she been caring for him because he no more could wield his sword than he could fly? Willing himself to be strong he took a few steps to the table where he had to rest calling himself all kinds of vile names in his head for his weakness. On the back of a chair was a tunic, if it could be called that. The stitching was horrible, a child could do better. No wonder this woman wasn’t married, wife material she was not. Lacking anything else he donned it, surprised the fit was better than any he had had. If only the stitches weren’t so erratic it would be the best tunic ever made for him. The fabric was soft, attesting to the wealth this woman must have available to her.

  After some time passed he moved toward the door and felt the gentle breeze swirling about the cottage. He paused on the threshold taking in his surroundings. The cottage was surrounded by woods with no clear path to it, as if no one visited Jillian and she never left. The little yard was thick with grass and a fire pit sat in the middle. He remembered lying there when she had first found him, until the rain had driven them inside. He heard a river in the distance then the whiny of Amicus from behind the cottage.

  Drawing in a deep breath Evander straightened and moved along the side of the cottage, around the corner and managed to make it to the back before he had to stop again. He wasn’t sure if it was the site that met his eyes or if it was his exhaustion. Jillian was in a garden, bent over at the waist, the bottom of her tunic was pulled up between her legs and held by her belt, baring her long slender legs to him. With the bare legs and her rear sticking in the air he was mesmerized and did not see his horse until the animal trumpeted again as he pranced back and forth, blowing and staring in his direction.

  Jillian noticed Amicus’s reaction and turned gasping to find Evander leaning against the back wall of the cottage.

  “Do you feel you are well enough to be about?” she asked moving toward him. She seemed oblivious to the unconventional way she wore her garment and the lust that was building within him. She walked right up to him and laid a dirt stained hand on his bare arm. The blanket he had draped about himself was enough to cover his manhood that came to full attention when he looked down at that hand and even farther to the long shapely legs that took him back to the conversation he had had about her adventures with men.

  Before he could think about it, for her beauty and close proximity was all that mattered to him he laid his free hand on hers and pulled her toward him. Her eyes were trusting as her body met his and then his mouth covered hers. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t try to pull away but accepted his assault despite the fact it was a brutal one as his energy quickly drained.

  He released her and she stumbled backward a step. He expected her to flee but she held her ground staring at him as if she had never experienced anything of the sort nor had any inclination people just didn’t go around kissing who they wanted whenever they wanted. Was she a whore? She didn’t dress like one. Her tunic was of a fine material despite the way she wore it. Perhaps she had been the wife of a rich man and he had sent her here after she didn’t produce him any children.

  Pulling his eyes from hers, for he saw her desire in their dark depths which was a bit too much for him to abide in his condition, they fell on Amicus. The horse had become fatter since he had last seen him.

  “He is well cared for,” Evander said straightening his shoulders and standing taller so Jillian would not see his fatigue as he made his way to the little corral.

  “I take him out every day so he might graze somewhere else. As you can see he doesn’t have much left in there. He also loves apples.”

  He came to a stop at the fence and the horse was there to greet him with a snort and a push of his head that nearly sent him toppling backwards had Jillian’s hand not been there to brace him. “I thank you again. I never expected him to fare so well. Did you bathe him?” he asked in shock as he felt the soft coat under his hand.

  “He had your blood all over him.”

  “Was he injured too?”

  “Not a scratch. He doesn’t let just anyone near him. He nearly killed Teague when he went inside to feed him one day.”

  Teague, a lover? Why did he care? Suddenly Evander felt weak and afraid he would not be able to make it back to the cottage before it showed.

  “Sit here,” she said indicating a small bench like section of the fence that was wide enough to accommodate him. Draping his arm around her shoulder like it was nothing she lowered him onto the seat. As close as she was the scent of her filled his nostrils and he felt as if he were a stallion and she a mare in heat. Lucky for her, and him both since he did not have the energy to respond to his urges, she moved away.

  “I have to get the harvest in. It won’t be long now before the snow flies.”

  He sat silently watching her as she went about digging her vegetables seeing the puny things she harvested he had to surmise she wasn’t much of a farmer. He could care less however, just watching her was a joy as she bent, stooped and squatted, each movement with her bare legs and cloth defining her round bottom made him wish for his energy and killing was the farthest thing from his mind. When she finished she turned to him.

  “Are you ready to go back inside?”

  He said not a word but stood, using Amicus as an excuse as he paused to pat him when in reality he needed the time to steady his legs. He made it nearly halfway down the small incline when his tired feet tripped him up and he pitched head first into the grass and slide to the bottom nearly landing at her feet. Her dirty toes were within reach as were the legs he had been admiring all morning.

  “Oh dear,” she said dropping her basket and bending down took him by the hand.

  Her black hair fell forward, framing her face her tunic tightening around her hips and the juncture of her legs. Th
ere was one part of his body that wasn’t too exhausted to rise to the occasion. Frustrated he scowled at her, refusing the offer of her hand and rolled to his knees then ungracefully stumbled to his feet. For his efforts he got a silent glare from Jillian that burned a hole into his back all the way through the door.

  Once his eyes adjusted to the dark interior he settled himself in one of the chairs at the table. Jillian settled her basket on the table and began unloading the vegetables.

  “Do you never hunt?”

  Dark eyes darted to his and dark brows scowled. “I don’t like the killing or skinning. I would rather just eat what I can grow and find in the forest.”

  He stared at her for several minutes wondering if she truly meant something so ludicrous. “Do you not tire of the same thing?”

  “It’s not always the same thing. Each season has its own and you’ll find in the winter you’ll crave most anything.”

  “You could not even begin to know what hunger is,” he told her. For despite her lack of meat there were times in his past Evander had craved anything, had done anything to feed himself.

  Jillian shrugged, “You’re the one that asked.” She watched him another moment before turning away and going to the fireplace and began to build the fire up. He watched her squat there and cursed himself for his weakness all over again. Her bare feet were resting on the balls, her bare knees supported her on the hearth’s stones. The long legs disappeared underneath the bunched fabric but not before he saw the curve of her inner thigh.

  “Would you?” she asked impatiently turning to pear at him over her shoulder.

  He realized she had been speaking to him while he had been daydreaming about the legs and what lay between them. “What?” he asked stupidly.

  “When you are well would you hunt and dress the meat and I will cook it for us.”

  Evander studied her for a moment. Why would she think he would stick around long enough to hunt for her? “If I’m well enough to hunt I’ll be well enough to leave this isolated spot of earth.”

  Could the woman actually be daft enough to believe he would stay here? Why would he stay with her when he had murderers to seek?

  “Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said turning back to the task at hand.

  “When is the last time?” he asked. She swung around, still in a squat, her legs spread wide and for a brief moment he had hopes she would reveal the secret place of her womanhood but the cloth covered it well.

  He looked purposely at her spread legs than back to her confused eyes. “That a man settled himself between your long legs?”

  She did not appear shocked but rather confused for a moment before her eyes darkened and she slowly slid her rear onto the lip of stone her knees had been resting on before slowly closing her legs. He watched her swallow and finally she said, albeit tentatively. “Two years.”

  “How are you not dead?” he asked in shock and he watched her face drop.

  “I will do you the favor of bedding you before I leave. But I must get my strength back first unless you want to come over and get in my lap.”

  He watched her stand slowly and she took a few tentative steps toward him. Was she really going to slide herself into his lap and fill herself with him? She was an arm’s length away when she reached up and disengaged the bottom of her tunic to let the ends fall back nearly to the floor. Was it possible her bare feet poking out from beneath the lose fabric was more provocative than her bare legs?

  Evander looked at her and he read fear in her eyes as she looked at him. He slowly slid the blanket he had covered himself with from his lap and bared his throbbing self to her. Her eyes fixed on him there than back to his face.

  “Would you do better once your strength is back?” she asked in a bold voice as if she spoke of such things daily.

  “Now all I can do is let you ride me,” he said and that part of his body that was now the topic flexed itself in anticipation. “When I am well I will make you claw my back, cry my name as you wrap those legs around my waist and I hold your luscious backside in my hands.”

  She stared at him for so long he began to grow uncomfortable under it. “I will wait then,” she declared as if she made such arrangements all the time. “For now you must eat.”

  It came to no surprise the food she spoke of was soup. He was so tired of soup he felt like gagging. The only hope he had of getting Jillian under him then going after those men was to get his strength back even if it meant he had to eat twice as much soup.

  Chapter 12

  Evander stretched out on the bed but sleep wouldn’t come to him even in his exhausted state. Where was Jillian? She had shown him to the river, watched him bathe for a time but had hurried off in a panic. That had been before the sun set and now he was growing concerned for her. The world was a harsh place for a woman alone. He had little idea where he was and even less of an idea where Jillian would be. The uselessness that settled on him made him nervous, he was not a man used to the weakness she created.

  He never worried about a woman. He had never been around a woman long enough to feel protective of her. The one woman he had spent any time with he ended up killing so what he was feeling was not sitting at all well with him. Alaya’s betrayal had carved his heart from him, he had thought, until Jillian hadn’t returned by nightfall. It couldn’t be her tailoring he mused looking at the tunic’s stitching he rose off the bed, at least she had seemed better at sewing his flesh. He may not know where to look but at least he could look, he thought strapping on his sword belt. He had taken two steps when the door opened and Jillian was standing there.

  Her face was pale, her fingers gripped the door frame for support. She saw him standing there and she straightened, a smile crossed her face. “What are you still doing up?” she asked but she came no farther and he would swear her words were slightly slurred.

  “I wondered where you were.”

  Her smile grew wider, “Were you worried about me?”

  “Hardly,” he snorted quickly to dispel such a notion in her mind. “I’m just not well enough to feed myself.”

  The smile dropped from her face and he saw the weariness there. “What has happened?” he asked taking another step toward her.

  “Nothing,” she said but her eyes looked vacant as she moved passed. Her legs seemed unsure as she went to the table and sank down onto one of the chairs.

  Jillian was lying, he was surprised he could read her that well. Not that she seemed to hide herself from him. She showed her legs freely, let him know that she wanted him without playing any coy games. So why was she lying now? Had she been with a lover and she feared he would reject her for that. No, there was no hint of that, she was ill, he could see that much by the way she held herself. Her eyes were so vacant he felt cold panic rush through him.

  “You lie,” he said in a cold menacing voice that would make the most hardened of his soldiers shrink away in fear. Jillian merely gazed at him, a tired uninterested expression devoid of any of the playful spirit he had seen in her.

  Her brows didn’t snap together, just that bottomless gaze that left him yearning for her prior warmth.

  “Okay,” she relented. “I feel a bit ill. I didn’t mean to stay out so late. I was visiting with Mirna and Teague, I guess I grew a bit exhausted on the way home.”

  “You are still lying.” Two quick steps and he was upon her, grabbing her by the elbow and yanking her to her feet. Her body was limp, sagging lifeless against him. He felt if he let her go she would crumble. Dark eyes looked up at him and he saw the plea behind the fatigue that he believe her story.

  With one arm behind her back he bent and slid the other under her legs taking her off her feet. Thin arms came up to wrap around his neck, her head rested on his chest. Evander carried her to the bed he had been occupying and lay her gently down upon it. He turned back and closed the door but returned to her side, scooting her over leaving himself just enough room to lie down beside her. Pulling her into his arms sh
e was immediately asleep snuggling against him. It would be a long time before he found his rest however for he found himself worrying about the woman he held. What did it matter if she had a lover or was ill, he would be gone in a few days. His strength was quickly coming back. He was probably well enough to leave so why didn’t he.

  He must have dozed sometime in the night for when he awoke it was to find they were not alone. Mirna stood over him, scowling down at him. With a speed that had the old woman backing up Evander sprung from the bed. He reached for his sword but Mirna was quicker and placed a foot on its blade keeping it pinned to the floor. With a frustrated roar he straightened ready to strike her down.

  “It’s okay Evander,” Jillian said slipping between them. “You have to bar the door to keep her out.”

  “What do you want old woman?” Evander snarled moving away before he reached out and strangled either one of them.

  The priestess arched a brow and tisked at him. “I killed a deer and thought you would like to come eat with me and Teague.”

  Teague, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He nodded wondering again at his behavior. What did it matter if Teague was a lover? He didn’t know why but it did.

  Mirna laughed her cackling laugh then turned and left them alone.

  “Is she usually so strange?” Evander asked turning to Jillian.

  Dark eyes looked at him. Eyes that belonged to her, eyes that weren’t vacant but filled with her spirit. “That’s not even strange,” she declared in all seriousness.

  Despite the sober lilt in her voice Evander chose to believe she was teasing, but how far from the truth it actually was. Evander had never paid court to anyone’s daughter. Any father with any sense would see him coming and bar the door and send his daughter packing for the farthest relative. If he had he believed it would have gone something like dinner at Mirna’s.

  Upon entering the tiny hut, for it was much less than Jillian’s cottage. The hut didn’t even have a floor but the dirt floor was hard packed and as swept clean as a dirt floor could possibly be. The hut had one door and three windows, sitting in opposite walls so one could see all around the tiny structure. To keep the cool evening air out they were all closed and despite his apprehension when first walking upon it inside it was warm and inviting, if the people were not.