Bound to a Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  “At least rest for a bit and let me tend to your sore feet,” Dolca said, turning to Mercy.

  “Is my discomfort that noticeable?” Mercy asked.

  But it was Duncan who spoke. “You should have told me you were in pain.”

  “There was nothing you could have done, and I refuse to allow my sore feet to slow us down.”

  “You are a stubborn one,” he snapped, angry with himself for not noticing.

  “Stubbornness is sometimes necessary,” she said, though not defensively, but rather matter-of-factly.

  “And it is necessary, if you two are to survive,” Dolca said. “There is talk that the king searches frantically for someone.”

  “Who?” Mercy asked anxiously.

  “Some surmise it is the true king,” Dolca said.

  Duncan realized that Mercy had squeezed his hand hard when she had asked who, as if in fear, then her grip relaxed when Dolca answered. Had she expected a different answer?

  “The king is a fool if he believes the Highlanders will not protect their own,” Dolca said. “Old, young, fit or not, Highlanders will protect the true king and see him on the throne.”

  “If the seer’s prediction is true, why has the true king not yet made himself known?” Mercy asked.

  “He is wise to keep his identity secret,” Dolca explained. “He would be in grave danger otherwise. When it is time, he will step forward and lead his people. Until then the present king will do anything to protect his reign, and that includes killing innocent Highlanders.”

  “A good reason for us to take our leave sooner rather than later,” Duncan said, knowing no one was safe from the king’s men, not even an old woman.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Dolca said with a smile. “I plan on being around to see the rightful king take the throne.”

  It didn’t take long for Dolca to tend Mercy’s blistered feet and Duncan was pleased to see the relief on her face.

  “They feel better already,” Mercy said after slipping on her boots and turning to Duncan. “You best be careful, or you’ll not be able to match my pace.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Not likely.”

  “Why don’t you two sit by the fire and rest a bit, while I gather a sack of food for you to take with you,” Dolca said.

  “Can’t we help?” Mercy offered.

  Dolca grinned. “Chained as you are, you’d be more hindrance than help.”

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” Duncan asked, wishing to repay her kindness.”

  Dolca nodded. “Survive.”

  Duncan worried about the trail he planned to take. It was a route he had traveled many times and one he favored. It allowed him time alone, time to think and time to appreciate the beauty of his homeland. He loved the mist that capped the mountains and drifted down into the valleys. He loved the way the land dressed for the different seasons and watching the wildlife at play. Most of all he loved the peacefulness that pervaded his soul when he walked amongst nature. This was his home. This would be his children’s home. And he would gladly give his life to protect it.

  While he was accustomed to the treacheries of hill walking, he feared Mercy wasn’t. And there were many hills to traverse and slopes that could prove not only difficult, but tiring. Did she have the stamina to conquer them?

  There were alternative routes, but more than likely the soldiers were covering them. Not familiar with the treacherous hill terrain in this area, the soldiers were more likely to avoid it, giving him and Mercy a better chance of reaching their destination safely.

  So far Mercy had proven herself a determined one, but the land could sometimes be unforgiving and only brute strength and endless willpower could combat it.

  He glanced at Mercy from the corner of his eye. Since leaving Dolca’s a couple of hours ago she hadn’t spoken a word and he wondered what occupied her thoughts. He knew little about her, almost nothing, though in another sense he felt he knew her well.

  If he voiced his concern to her, she would no doubt tell him that she was up to the task. Signs, however, had warned him otherwise, her feet quickly blistering, her hands not a callous or scar on them, her gracious manner when speaking with others. It was obvious to him that she had to be part of the gentry. What he wished he knew was what had happened that she had lost her status?

  “Let’s stop a moment,” he said, slowing his steps.

  “We haven’t been walking that long,” she said in protest, halting her steps.

  “I know.” He took her hand and her slim fingers quickly closed around his as he led her to sit with him on a large flat boulder. “We need to talk.”

  “About?” she asked, relaxing against him.

  Strange how he expected that of her; he would have thought it odd if she hadn’t rested against him. He hastily cleared his thoughts and answered, “The terrain we’re about to face can at times be uncompromising.”

  “This whole ordeal has been uncompromising from the start, but what choice do we have? We do what must be done.” She smiled at him. “I will do my best not to slow us down.”

  “This way will take more time.”

  “But it is safer, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “It is not a guaranteed safety and we may reach a point where we cross paths with the soldiers, but by then we should be on my land and there will be others to help us.”

  “Then it’s the path we must take.” She took the sack from him, reached in and brought out two apples. “To fortify us.”

  He took one from her and for a few moments they sat and enjoyed a small repast and then once again were on their way.

  By late afternoon gray skies had moved in overhead and Duncan feared another storm was brewing. The weather seemed to be at odds with him reaching home. They could stop now, though he preferred to climb the next hill before they stopped for the night.

  He looked to Mercy keeping a good gait beside him. As was her way, she had not uttered one complaint, but he could see the tiredness creeping over her lovely face and hear it in her mounting sighs.

  He took hold of her hand and she slowed and glanced up at him.

  “Do you think you can make one more hill before we stop for the night?” he asked, nodding toward the distance ahead.

  She gave a look and chuckled. “That little thing? We’ll be over it in no time.”

  He admired her courage, knowing her feet and legs must be protesting, and he smiled. “Then we will rest and feast.”

  “That’s reason enough to conquer that hill.”

  With hands remaining clasped, they made it to the hill in no time and were soon starting up the steep slope. It was easy at first and Duncan believed as Mercy had suggested, they’d be over it fast enough.

  But halfway up, the terrain changed. It turned rocky, making footing more difficult and dangerous, and costing more effort on their part. A few times he and Mercy had almost lost their footing and he was quick to keep a tight hold on her.

  They slowed their pace and climbed more carefully, finding it necessary to hold more tightly to rocks and sturdy branches as they climbed.

  “A bit more and we’re there,” he encouraged and she nodded, her breathing too labored to speak.

  Anxious to reach the top only a few feet away, Duncan gave a push forward, grabbing a jutting rock and finding another good rock to plant his foot on, when suddenly both rocks gave way under his weight. He reached out frantically, trying to grab onto something, anything, but whatever he touched crumbled in his hand. With nothing to latch onto, he went plummeting backward and Mercy went with him.

  Chapter 8

  Mercy couldn’t avoid the dirt and stones that rained over her. She wanted to glance up at Duncan, just a step or two ahead of her, to see what was wrong, but it was impossible with the falling debris.

  Then with a sudden shock she was violently wrenched away from the hillside and found herself tumbling down the rocky terrain. Duncan swiftly grabbed her around the waist and yanked her against him. He
shoved her face against his chest and wrapped his solid body tightly around her. She clung to him just as tightly as they tumbled over and over and over; rocks, stones and sticks jabbing them everywhere.

  It seemed an endless fall when finally they reached the bottom, rolled and slammed into a tree trunk. Mercy was too stunned and frightened to speak. She wanted nothing more than to remain in the protection of Duncan’s strong arms.

  “Are you all right?” he asked with an anxious breath.

  “I think—” Her breath caught and she fought to regain it.

  “Easy, Mercy, easy,” he urged, his hand soothing along her back.

  She tried too hard to breath and she was soon grasping for breath.

  Duncan sat up taking her with him, his arms remaining steady around her. “Calm down, lass,” he said softly. “You’re all right. I’m here.”

  She gasped a couple more times, though his reassuring words soothed her, and then she was finally able to calm herself and breathe easily.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “You’re doing well.”

  Once Mercy fully reclaimed control, she felt foolish. Lord, she had jumped off a high cliff shackled to a stranger and landed in deep water when she couldn’t even swim, and she had not felt the intense fear that she had a moment ago.

  She was even more embarrassed when she shuddered uncontrollably.

  Duncan drew her gently against him. She was quick to rest her head to his chest, quick to admit how wonderfully comforting his hard muscles felt and quick to appreciate the soothing rhythm of his strong, rapid heartbeat.

  “I lost my hold and my footing,” he said, blaming himself.

  “You kept hold of me though.” Another shudder racked her body.

  His arms tightened around her. “Since we’re already shackled together it was the wisest action to take.”

  She shook her head, though it remained resting against his chest. “No, you didn’t have time to think, only react. And it was to protect me.”

  He slipped his finger under her chin and with a little tug had her looking up at him. “Know well, Mercy, that I will protect you whether or not we are shackled together. I will always be there for you.”

  “Your chivalry is showing again,” she smiled softly.

  “That is your fault,” he teased.

  “How so?”

  “You constantly put me in situations where I have no other choice.”

  “I’m not the only one who puts us there,” she reminded with a poke to his chest and he winced.

  “You’re hurt,” she said sitting up, her hands rushing to spread open his shirt. She grimaced as soon as she caught sight of a large bruise beginning to form on the side of his chest just below his nipple. And it looked as if it deepened in color as she stared at it.

  She reached out and with delicate strokes ran her fingers over the darkening wound, accidentally brushing his nipple with her inquisitive touch.

  He jerked, his body stiffening and she was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He took her hand in his and eased it away. “Better to leave it to mend.”

  “You will rest,” she ordered and moved away only to wince herself.

  She immediately pulled up her blouse to search for the painful spot. She cupped her full breast, flinching as she squeezed and forced her plump bosom up so that she could examine the damage beneath.

  “Does it look bad?” she asked, unable to see all of it.

  His hand reached out, but retreated before he touched the tender spot. “It’s not that large and the color has yet to deepen.”

  She let the blouse fall back in place and turned a worried glance on him. “Do you have pain elsewhere?”

  “I’m fine,” he reassured her and reached to pick a few twigs from her dark hair. “And you?”

  She tended to him as naturally as he did her, brushing dirt and debris off his shoulders and plucking twigs from the ends of his long hair before answering, “A throb in my ankle, that’s all.”

  With quick and deft hands, he lifted her skirt.

  Though he assumed privileges meant only for a husband, that was the way of things for the moment. She had no choice. She hadn’t had a choice since she had taken the plunge off the cliff with him. That day that decision had not only physically bound them together, but had also forced them to start sharing some privileges meant only for husband and wife. So here she sat allowing him to lift her skirt and not at all upset by it.

  “It doesn’t look bad. A small abrasion, that’s all,” Duncan said.

  She smiled with relief. Happy that it is was nothing that would slow them down.

  “Then let’s conquer that hill and be done with it,” she said, though hesitant to stand. “That is, if you feel up to it.”

  He grabbed her elbow and hoisted them both up. “There you go challenging me again.”

  “Are you up to it?” she asked.

  He leaned his brow against hers. “I’m always up to it, woman.”

  “Then let’s see how much fortitude you have.” She turned toward the hill, but he grabbed her arm and she looked back at him.

  “I’m thinking I may need some incentive.”

  A twinkle danced in his dark eyes, but the jut of his chin warned that he was serious.

  “And what would give you the impetus to climb?” she asked curiously.

  “A kiss.”

  “I’ve already promised you a kiss when we are free of our chains,” she reminded. “And you have kissed me once already.”

  “True enough,” he agreed with a nod, “but this time I want to kiss you with permission.”

  Mercy was fast to detect the danger in that situation, and yet her first thought was that she had very much enjoyed their first kiss and longed for another. And so she answered without sparing it anymore thought.

  “Then you may kiss me.”

  His eyes rounded, as if he didn’t believe her. “You promise?”

  “You have my word,” she said. “You may kiss me once we finish the climb.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “No, not when we finish the climb. I want to kiss you when and where I choose.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he interrupted. “You gave your word for the kiss and no more. Now it is in my hands.”

  “But—”

  His raised hand warded off her protest. “No. It’s done.”

  “I want a warning—” She just wasn’t fast enough. He interrupted her again.

  “No. A promise is a promise and the promise is a kiss, no more.”

  “That’s not fair,” she complained.

  He laughed and tweaked her chin. “All’s fair when it comes to kissing.”

  Mercy wanted to argue with him, but she knew it was senseless, she’d get nowhere. She had given her word and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing but wait for him to kiss her and the prospect fluttered her stomach.

  Her hand hurried to rest in the spot that continued to flutter wildly in hopes of somehow stopping it.

  “You’re hungry?” he asked.

  She was glad he didn’t realize her true discomfort. “Yes, though not enough to keep us from climbing.”

  He rubbed at his stomach. “My hunger is growing.” He turned his head searching the area. “We best find where that food sack landed so we can feast after the climb.”

  Duncan and Mercy stood at the foot of the hill and looked up.

  “It appears bigger,” Mercy said, “more a mountain than a hill.”

  “That’s because it conquered us the last time,” he said. “Once conquered, fear sets in, hope dies and most give up.” He took hold of her hand, wanting to reassure her. “This time I’ll watch my step.”

  “I trust you,” she said with a soft smile. “You are the gallant warrior come to my rescue.”

  He felt a stab of guilt. While he had wondered over why one of the gentry had been taken prisoner, it stood to reason that more than likely the ki
ng had fancied her, or one of the powerful warlords wanted her. It was simply bad luck that she had been chained to him, since it was he the soldiers wanted and planned to kill. She was an innocent in all this, and his guilt soared with that acknowledgment.

  They once again started their climb, Duncan more careful, though only because she was with him. If he had been on his own and fallen, he would have cursed the damn hill and returned to climb it with vengeance. He couldn’t do that chained to Mercy. He had her safety to consider.

  Step by careful step, they climbed and, as before, the terrain turned rocky and more treacherous. Duncan paused when they reached the spot where he had previously lost his grip. He looked around and was more watchful of the rocks he chose to grab.

  His hand latched on to a sturdy rock when he heard the rumble of falling rocks below, and he instantly tightened his grip on the ragged stone and locked his fingers with Mercy’s just as she lost her footing.

  “Duncan!”

  Her frightened scream tore at his heart, but his firm grip stopped her from falling too far and from taking him with her.

  “I’ve got you,” he reassured her with a shout. “Find a firm footing.”

  More rocks went crumbling and he knew that the hill was protesting their presence. It had had enough of their trespassing and wanted them gone. It was a strange thought to some, but not to those who knew the land.

  “Stay still,” he yelled. “I’m going to pull you up.”

  She weighed little. It was no struggle at all to pull her up beside him. As soon as he did, her free arm wrapped around the back of his neck, and she tucked her head beneath his chin, resting her face in the curve of his neck.

  Her chest heaved, her slim body trembled and she clung to him for dear life.

  “Hold on, I’ll get us to the top,” he said.

  “I can do it,” she reassured him, though he was well aware that she was trying to reassure herself.

  “I know you can, but leave this to me.”

  “If you insist,” she said, her voice quivering.

  “I do,” he said, and almost kissed her forehead. He had no intentions of wasting his kiss on a reassuring peck. When he kissed her, she would remember it—and no doubt would he.