by Nicole Locke
‘The way I see it, you owe me, girl. And there’s only one way a disgusting creature like you could pay me back.’
Two sets of hands clamped on to her arms. She cried out and kicked. Too late. Her eyes focused on the bit of parchment; she forgot the men.
‘Is she ours now?’ The one on her left sneered, his breath heavy with onions.
‘Such a price you paid, how could she not be yours?’ Rudd’s snake expression turned to her. ‘Can you imagine any man would pay a price to be between your legs? But these men paid plenty. They seem to like their women damaged. Your ugliness is lining my pockets.’
‘Never had a burned one before,’ Onion-breath said with glee. ‘Last one was crippled and remember the blind one?’
The man on her left closed his eyes like he savored that memory, and she yanked her arm to hide her revulsion.
‘Our agreement was I had her first.’ Rudd tossed the parchment behind him, his hands immediately at his belt.
‘I get the ugly half,’ Ale man breathed.
‘No, I get the ugly half,’ the other argued.
In her struggle, Helissent yanked the men several feet before they dug their heels into the mud. Terror, like ice shards, struck underneath her skin. It was going to happen. She couldn’t stop it.
Rudd laughed. ‘I don’t want any half except what’s down below. Just shove her face in the mud. I don’t want to see it for a moment before I get the skirts up and over her face.’
The men chortled, their manacled hands loosening. ‘No!’ She pulled her arms free and ran. Her heart pumped; she tasted the iron of blood in her mouth. As she feared, her right leg immediately dragged behind her. Pounding of feet on the cold dirt behind her, pain in her arms as the men grabbed and shoved her to the ground. The wet mud momentarily masking the taste of blood in her mouth.
More pain as a knee jammed into the small of her back. She threw her body to the left, kicked out, made some connection. Another hand on her ankle, yanking it to the side. Too far out, her legs were now widespread.
She screamed and tried to kick again. Grunts and harsh breath from the two men pinning her to the ground. She fought harder, a foot pounded into her ribs, a fist on to her cheek.
None of her struggles drowned out Rudd’s laughter as he strolled up to them. His hands were at his waist, loosening his belt knot.
Waves of sickness crashed over her. Her lip was split open, but she wouldn’t give in. Gathering what was left of her breath, she screamed again before a muddy hand slammed against her mouth.
An unearthly growl resounded as a man leapt out of the darkness. His cape swirled like a vortex of black; the arc of his sword glinted like shards in the moonlight before he went out of her line of sight.
‘Let her go,’ he snarled.
His cold voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Terror gripped her harder. Let her go, let her go for what? The two men tightened their grips and laid heavily on top, suffocating what was left of her air. Through her watering eyes, she saw Rudd securing his belt. A supplicant expression now masked his face. She knew that curve of his lips when he wanted to appease a customer.
‘Here now, this is none of your concern,’ Rudd said. ‘It’s late and there’s nothing to see. We only want a bit of privacy.’
‘You harm a woman. You’ll get no privacy except in death.’
The words were menacingly calm. He had a sword. Why weren’t they getting off her? She yanked her mouth to get some air and a sharp prick bit into her side.
She was going to die. The men held her down with a knife. She prayed it would be a quick death.
‘She’s willing,’ Rudd said, pointing towards her. ‘See how she lays still?’
There was a harsh staccato of heavy breath from the men holding her down and one started nervously smacking his lips. She could feel they wanted to run, but the knife against her side held firm and they didn’t move.
‘I’ll say this only once more. Call. Off. Your. Men.’
‘See here...’
A whoosh of breath and a sharp thump of one captor’s body like someone kicked him down. Then utter stillness as the knife released against her side. Onion Breath let go of her arm, scrambled before he slumped heavily on to her with a sharp cry.
Her eyesight dimming, she watched Rudd’s smug face draw white with fear as he ran towards the trees and disappeared.
A yank of one body above her released her legs, another released the rest of her. She tried to push herself away, but her arms wouldn’t work. Her legs jerking, she clawed the mud to flee from the man she hadn’t seen, but who she was certain just killed two men.
A hand upon her back. ‘Careful.’
She lashed out. Too slow to strike him. Too vulnerable on her back to run away. She froze, expecting a knife in her stomach.
Instead, the man crouched near her, his elbows resting on his legs, his hands hanging between them. Empty hands, his scabbard bare and no sword at his feet.
‘You’re safe now. They’re gone.’ The voice was no longer cold, but laden with an awkwardness in the cadence as if he was unused to giving comfort.
The full moon’s light revealed his tall and angular shape coiled with predatory strength even in his relaxed stance. Shadows and a hood covered his face, but she recognized the distinct masculine chin, and full bottom lip.
‘It’s you,’ she gasped.
Chapter Four
Holding her breath, she tried to sit up. Agony in her ribs.
‘Stay still,’ he said, a sharper tone to his words like he cut them against a blade, or wanted to cut another with it. ‘Is anything broken?’
Pounding beginning in her head, her cheek throbbed, and she tasted blood on her lips. She kept her eyes closed and eased down in the mud again. Her thundering heart hurt her chest almost more than where they’d kicked her. But she could move her arms and legs, and the stabbing pain in her chest lessened when she didn’t breathe deeply. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t stop shaking.’
‘I need to take you somewhere.’ He glanced beyond her and cursed.
It was then she heard the hurried footsteps and the sudden stopping of them. ‘Taking care of strays again?’ said a dry, but friendly voice. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, but she didn’t dare move her head yet. The giant, perhaps?
‘They’re not dead; I hit them with rocks. But if they wake, and I’m like this, I’ll use my sword.’
‘Well, for your sake then I’ll drag them into the forest—’
‘There’s another in the trees.’
‘How unfortunate for him.’
‘Make sure they’re divested of wealth and weapons.’
The man gave an exaggerated huff. ‘I’m a mercenary, remember? Is she hurt?’
They talked over her like she was dead. Parts of her were throbbing already, but she was alive and had suffered much worse. ‘I’m fine.’
‘She’s hurt,’ her shadow man said. ‘Her cheek...perhaps her ribs.’
‘Left cheek?’
‘Does it matter?’ her shadow man asked.
Helissent did risk moving her head as she heard the other man heave up the lax weight of one of her attackers. ‘I wanted to be sure I left them in the same condition they left her. Except I think I’ll take their...shoes...too.’
For one blazing moment, she wished he’d leave them worse off. But one look at her rescuers faces, and she knew they would be. Despite their easy banter, their faces were dark, their eyes speaking of a violence she had never committed, but had almost been victim to. Whatever happened to the men, they would be worse off than her.
‘Is there somewhere you can get help?’ he asked.
She turned her attention to the man still crouched beside her.
Nowhere. Her home was with Rudd, wh
o’d just sold and tried to rape her. Her last view of him was him fleeing. Would he stay away for a night? ‘My home is behind you.’
‘Anywhere else?’ he pressed.
‘No, there’s no one else.’ His expression darkened. He didn’t like her answer, but what choice did she have? She pushed herself up, took heart that she stayed up this time. ‘I can get there myself.’
He adjusted his crouch. ‘I’m going to lift you now.’ He reached out and suddenly stopped. ‘This is no time for propriety.’
At his unforgiving tone, she realized she’d inadvertently stiffened as he leaned over her.
It wasn’t propriety that caused her to stiffen. No one had touched her since John and Anne, and before that, the healer, Agnes. No one. Not even when money or drinks were exchanged had she felt the brush of fingers. Travelers gave her a wide berth because she horrified them, regulars because they remembered her healing and didn’t want to hurt her.
But this man, this stranger, hadn’t hesitated. It startled her.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just—’
‘That man’s going to wake and we’re not going to be here.’ Without warning, he simply lifted her.
Held. She was being held as if her entire body was of little consequence.
No, he held her securely in a way she’d never been held before. She was acutely aware of the heat of his body, the smell of leather and evergreen, the way his chest rose and fell with his breath. Knew exactly where his arms touched her underneath and his hands. His hands—how they cradled her arm, the outside of her thigh.
All of it intimate suddenly as if they weren’t outside with a vast forest at her back and clear night skies above. Her and only...him.
His hood partially fluttered when he lifted her. This close, she could see him if it wasn’t dark. As if he could sense her scrutiny, he shifted his head away from her gaze.
‘It is you, isn’t it?’ she said, before she stopped herself.
Almost imperceptibly, he tightened around her. ‘Does it matter?’
Did it matter that the one man who gave her a compliment on her baking, who rescued her from rape and maybe death, was the same? To her, very much. To him, probably not.
His long strides quickly covered the distance to her home, to her only sanctuary that wasn’t any more. Stopping at the door, he asked, ‘Are there any others here?’
She shook her head, and he opened the door. His only hesitation was as he took in the main living area, and the one closed door that indicated Rudd’s room.
Thankfully, her pitiful home was dark and covered in shadows. ‘You can put me down.’
‘You need to lie down. I want to see the extent of your injuries, and if I can do anything. I have salves I can bring for you.’
There were hardly any candles. And she didn’t want this man seeing her home, or her bed shoved under the crooked eaves in the back corner.
The only indication of privacy was from the coarse torn sacks she had sewn together and hung from the eaves. They were far too short, and hung only on one side, but they blocked her view of Rudd’s door. She had once had a more proper room made by the innkeepers. Nailed-up boards and heavy quilts. When Rudd moved in, he claimed he was cold and took the quilts and yanked down the boards. He had been displeased when she made herself a cruder bit of privacy, but thankfully, he’d remained quiet about it.
‘I have salves here.’ Many of them. Her skin was sensitive to heat, to cold, and she often injured herself in the kitchens. Her skin could hardly take a scratch. ‘I can care for myself.’
She hadn’t had to take care of herself like this in a long time. Tonight reminded her how it felt to be helpless. She hated it more than the pain. She knew what it took to heal a body and straining it when it was already damaged wasn’t wise. However, right now she just wanted him gone and she held her ground, though it was starting to cost her.
‘I’m not harmed,’ she said. ‘Set me down.’
‘It’s the shock. You’re trembling—when it eases, you’ll feel the pain. We need to care for you quickly.’ He looked around the room like he was trying to find an answer. It was too dark for him to see her bed and he slowly lowered her to the ground, but he did not let her go. One hand around her waist, the other at her elbow.
So easy to lean against him, and for an odd suspended moment that was exactly what she wanted to do. Instead, she stepped away from him. Only to stumble as her legs gave and his hold tightened.
‘Your bed,’ he said firmly.
She was trembling so much she couldn’t hold herself up. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘We waste time arguing this. My man is out there.’
How could she have forgotten? One man against three. She nodded her head towards the corner and he half-carried her there, batted away the thin hanging sacks and set her down on the bed. Instant relief for her throbbing leg, but a sharp pain in her ribs. Swiping her tongue against the blood flowing from her lip, she tried to control her shaking body.
It was overwhelming to have this man in the same room with her. Rudd was large, broader, but somehow he didn’t take up as much space. She hurt, felt sick, the last thing she wanted was to humiliate herself in front of him, and yet she simply sat as he stood over her.
She couldn’t quite see him. Yet some odd pressure built between them and reverberated around the room. He was a stranger and yet familiar in a way she couldn’t comprehend.
Silence held suspended between them as his hand went to the dagger at his waist, then his scabbard.
He glanced at his hand, then lowered it as if remembering what he’d left behind. The sword he pointed at the men. But he had knocked them unconscious with rocks when he could have easily killed them. It was another indication of the caliber of man he was. That he was well trained and honorable. But she didn’t know the other man, who was a giant and sounded like he relished battering those men.
‘Will he be all right?’
The room was dark, but not absolute. She could almost see the lifting of his arms, the untying of his cloak. Hear the heavy fabric pool to the floor.
‘Your man, out there,’ she explained. ‘Rudd’s unharmed. He could return and then—’
He made some sound, amusement and disbelief like her question surprised him. ‘Nicholas can hold his own.’
There was something dangerous about his amusement and she was brutally reminded they were mercenaries. Hired swords. Men who made their living on violence and killing. Yet, she wasn’t afraid of him. He had been kind to her and liked her cakes.
‘Do you want them?’
He suddenly stilled.
‘The cakes,’ she explained around the split in her lip. ‘There’s twenty-five of them cooling in the kitchen.’
He jerked as if the words she gave were a blow he wasn’t expecting—was he disappointed there weren’t fifty?
Her stomach dipped. He’d saved her tonight and gave her enough money for fifty cakes. This was how she repaid him, by being a thief. ‘I don’t have the money to return it to you.’
‘No money. No...cakes.’ He stepped back, another, turned as he found the table in the middle of the room and lit the lone candle there.
For one brief moment the entirety of his face was lit, then he moved away. It was enough for her to blink. To wonder if tricks played with the shadows or if the pain affected her eyesight. No one could be that beautiful.
She moved to stand. ‘I’ll get the salves.’
‘Stay. Direct me,’ he said from the shadows.
The lone candle flickered in the small dark room. It illuminated enough so when she pointed behind him, he could find on a smaller table against the wall a pitcher, basin, and linens she kept there for her skin. When he stepped forward to pick up the small clay pot, the candlelight flickered against his half-turned body.
> She’d only seen him in the dim light of the inn and while there she was too busy to linger, to watch. Now he was standing and all she could do was see him.
His face was still in shadows, but the rest... The rest of his body spoke of wealth and a masculine symmetry of strength that could only come from years of training. She’d never seen a man built like him. Elegant. Lethal.
He removed the lid, sniffed it and jerked back.
Her smile stung her split lip. ‘It takes some getting used to.’
‘Is this it?’ He covered the top with his hand.
She nodded and couldn’t hide her wince.
‘Where does it hurt?’
She wasn’t trembling at all now. In the quiet cocoon of darkness, her heart had stopped racing. She hurt everywhere. Her cheek had swollen, her cut lip throbbed. Her legs and wrists where they’d restrained her burned. Mostly she was having difficulty breathing. ‘Here.’ She pointed to her ribs.
Another hesitation on his part. ‘Is there anyone else to care for you?’
‘I care for myself. I can do this.’
‘Not this.’ She felt his frown. ‘I’ll need to feel if you have any broken ribs. I won’t be able to feel it over that dress. You’ll need to remove it.’
His words were suddenly firm, like he expected her to protest. He was probably used to women with modesty. He couldn’t know she’d lost that as a child when the healer kept her naked for months, when the innkeepers applied the honey salve over the areas of her body she couldn’t reach.
She wasn’t modest, it had been burned away from her, but she was very much aware of how she looked to others, who hadn’t seen the worst of her scars. Along her torso, her scars were deep slashing grooves where the flaming rafters had pinned her before she could free herself.
A pounding on the door made her jump.
‘It’s Nicholas,’ a male, muffled voice called out.
Her stranger opened the door. ‘They’re taken care of,’ Nicholas reported holding out a sword. ‘But the third returned and...’
‘What did he do to you?’ she gasped. Both men glanced her way.
