The Blooded Ones

by Elizabeth Brown

“But why? I–”

  “Because kissing ye like this makes me want ye more.”

  “Then kiss me again,” she insisted. Her heart raced and her pulse pounded in her ears when he looked at her, filled to bursting with knowing he wanted her. It seemed she had waited her entire life and it could only be him. She resolved to see it through. Let me be with the man I love, she thought, before I must wed a stranger.

  “No. Ye know not what game you play, nor how it will end. Yer too young to…”

  “I’m not too young. You know I’m not.””

  “Kyra, please…this is madness.”

  “But you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  He closed his eyes and his words were shallow through tight lips.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Then you will show me,” she whispered.

  “Do you truly know what this means?” he answered. She nodded. She knew what she was doing, she was certain. If she were meant to be a wife to an Englishman, then she would do her duty, but she would at least have a notion of what it meant to be with one she loved. She did love him, after all, the flustered man who held her. It was him she thought of when her father proclaimed her betrothal, and when the Chief announced it was John Basse she would wed she thought her heart would be torn from her chest.

  They lay together afterward side by side, hands entwined, staring up at the willow leaves above them. She worried he was angry, but she did not regret it. She would never regret a moment of their stolen time, even when she became a wife to another.

  “They’re making me wed John Basse.”

  “What?”

  “I have no choice. My father arranged it.”

  He rolled over and covered her body with his, leaning on his upper arms as he looked down at her.

  “I will speak to yer Da. Do ye think I would let ye marry another, after this?”

  “After this? But you would let me marry him if ye hadn’t swived me, wouldn’t ye? So what is the matter of it?”

  “You think that’s all ye are to me?”

  “You didn’t want to do this. I made you.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Ye made me? I think not,” he said.

  “You didn’t want to.”

  “I have always wanted ye, ye wee besom! Have I not met ye here, every day I could steal away, even knowing yer father would kill me if he found out?”

  “We’ve been friends forever,” she whispered.

  “Aye, friends. And now ye’ll be my wife.”

  “But what about John Basse?”

  “I’ll not let ye marry another. Ye could be with child—my child—did ye ever think of that?”

  She paled. No, she had not considered that notion.

  “My father will kill you,” she whispered.

  “Aye,” he agreed with a sigh. “He will.”

  When the village was in view she made to run toward it, frustrated tears blurring her vision, but he pulled her back into the sanctuary of trees. He kissed her hard as if he meant to possess her, then softer as he brushed away her tears. She twisted her fingers in his hair, holding him close when he tried to draw back. Panting, he rested his forehead to hers.

  “Go inside. I will follow to speak with yer father,” he murmured.

  “Today? Ye mean today?” she whispered, glancing off toward the Northern Hall.

  “It must be today,” he insisted.

  “I will wait for ye.”

  “No, go to yer mother. I must speak to yer Da alone.”

  She stepped back away from him, and although their hands were still entwined she avoided his gaze. The depth of what they had done felt like a weight across her chest, and she prayed her father would not hurt him when he found out. Chief Winn was not known for being a subdued man, and in fact, when it came to his family he behaved like a rogue. One simply did not argue with her father; once his will was declared, it was done.

  “Ye do not need to do this,” she said softly. His round brown eyes narrowed into slits as he squinted down at her.

  “I canna let ye wed another when I’ve taken yer maidenhead.”

  She felt the confusion rise again, that sliver of doubt.

  “So it is only because of that ye’d ask for my hand? If that is yer only concern, then consider yerself free. I willna speak of it. I’ll marry John Basse and pretend it never happened,” she whispered, turning her back to him. She heard him chuckle softly and she was not at all pleased. His hands fell onto her shoulders, gripping her gently as he spoke close to her ear.

  “D’ye think a man would not know, lass? For a woman who knows it all, ye know too little,” he teased. She swung around.

  “I know ye wouldna stopped my marriage if not for today,” she snapped. He frowned.

  “I would have if I had known! Ye should have told me!”

  “Ye dinna seem interested!”

  “I was! I am! For the love of Jesus, woman, why do ye think I return here to meet ye, when I know yer father would see me dead? It’s not to shoot rabbits, that’s fer sure!” he shot back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

  “So ye pretended to be my friend?” she hissed. He threw his hands up in the air.

  “If I came to ye as a man wishing to bed ye, I’m damned. If I came to ye as a friend, I’m surely damned. What answer would ye have of me, ye thorny hellcat? What, then?” he bellowed.

  “Ugh!” she screamed, her voice echoing shrill through the woods. He lurched forward and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “Are ye daft? We’ll be seen, and then yer father will never give me his ear!”

  “Well, what would you have my ear for, Englishman?”

  Kyra felt her blood drain to her toes as her father and uncle stepped into view. Uncle Chetan wore a smirk, but her father was not amused in the least. He looked quite murderous, in fact, and by the way Morgan swallowed hard she could see he noted it as well.

  “My daughter. Unhand her,” Winn ordered in a clipped tone. Morgan dropped his hand.

  “Da,” she said. He scowled at her and uttered a half-hiss, half-grunt condemnation, so she clamped her mouth shut. She was sure her cheeks must have been scarlet.

  “I thought I told you to stay away from my village, boy,” her father said.

  Morgan ignored the question and stepped forward, pushing Kyra slightly behind him. Uncle Chetan tried to hide his amusement as he placed a hand on Winn’s shoulder.

  “Do not kill him now. Wait until after the meal, brother,” Chetan advised. Kyra shot him a seething glare over Morgan’s shoulder.

  “I-I would ask for yer daughter’s hand. I wish to wed her, without delay,” Morgan said bravely. She felt her heart soften a bit with his words. Perhaps he did care for her, after all.

  “Oh? Why so quickly?” Winn asked through gritted teeth. Kyra closed her eyes. Surely he would not tell her father. He would not…would he?

  “Because she is no longer a maid, and I would not forsake her.”

  She was suddenly shoved out of the way when her father reached for Morgan’s throat. Uncle Chetan tried to pull him off, but it was no use. Winn pinned him up against a tree and lifted him onto his toes as he gasped for air.

  “Da!” she screamed, scrambling to grab his arm.

  “I’ll kill you!” Winn shouted. “She’s betrothed, you bloody fool! And you!” he hollered, turning on her. “Have you no sense?”

  “Oh, great Odin!” she snapped, rolling her eyes as the men struggled. She was thoroughly tired of men questioning her intelligence.

  “Odin will not help you, Kyra! Go to your mother, I’ll speak to you later,” he ordered.

  Morgan shoved Winn, surprising them all as Winn took a step backward. Although his face paled, Morgan grabbed Winn’s collar and shoved his face close to her father’s.

  “Ye’ll keep yer hands to yerself, ye hotheaded fool!” Morgan shouted. Winn’s eyes flared wide. She felt her heart skip as her father drew his knife and put the blade to Morgan’s neck.

 
“Please,” she pleaded, grabbing Chetan by his tunic when Winn ignored her. “Stop them!”

  Winn let go of Morgan before Chetan could intervene. Morgan staggered backward against the tree but recovered quickly, standing up straight to face her father. Winn’s chest heaved, his eyes narrowed on Morgan.

  “Leave. Never return here.”

  Winn turned to Kyra, grabbing her by the upper arm. She bit back the hot tears as he hauled her back toward the village.

  “I love her. I will marry her.”

  Abruptly her father stopped, shaking his head. She tried to twist her arm away but he was not yet ready to let her go. Morgan stood defiantly in Winn’s path, refusing to retreat when Winn approached.

  “Ye do?” she asked.

  “I do. I’ve always loved ye,” Morgan replied. She ignored the chuckle from her uncle.

  “I didn’t know –” she said.

  “How could ye not? Dinna I tell ye as much when we –”

  “Enough!” Winn roared. “Must I kill you to stop hearing this?”

  “You cannot kill him, brother,” Chetan interrupted. Kyra thought he winked at her, but she was not certain. “He once saved your life, do you not recall?”

  Kyra winced when Winn released her. He placed his hands on his hips, pacing away a few feet before he glared at the three of them. Chetan motioned at Morgan to follow.

  “Come with us. My brother may want to kill you later,” her uncle quipped.

  CHAPTER 19

  Winn

  WHEN JOHN BASSE ARRIVED unannounced, Chetan offered to help Winn look for the wayward Kyra. At the time, he believed his brother only meant to help, yet as Winn sat staring at Morgan White, he suspected Chetan knew what they would find all along.

  He glared at Young Morgan across the expanse of the long table. Yes, as a child Morgan had delivered a message to save Winn’s life, but Chetan was surely mistaken if he believed that fact might keep Winn from gutting the man. With every moment that passed, his desire to throttle Morgan grew, and it took all his willpower to stay in his seat.

  Kyra sat next to her mother, her gaze focused on the far end of the table where Morgan sat with Keke. He noticed Maggie elbow their daughter, and the way their heads tilted together as they shared whispers between them. His fury only flared more knowing his wife had no issue with what Kyra had done.

  Seated to his left was John Basse, who did not seem at all displeased with the lack of attention Kyra graced him with. If Winn had not been so blinded by anger he would have questioned both the unannounced visit and John Basse’s disinterest in his daughter. Chetan, however, was the most jovial of the group, chuckling with Eric and making sure to include John Basse in their discussion as Winn sulked at the head of the table.

  “I thank ye fer this meal, friend. I regret the short visit, but there is much I need to discuss with ye,” John commented as he shoved a piece of meat in his mouth.

  “My home is yours, as you know,” Winn replied. “The husband of my daughter is always welcome at my table.”

  Chetan snorted and took a gulp of ale as he smiled.

  “Ah, well, yes, of course. The reason I trouble ye today is –”

  Winn dropped his tankard and jumped to his feet, his chair slamming over onto the floor as he rose. In the few moments his attention turned to John, Kyra had left the table.

  His vision blurred crimson as he went after her. He should have killed Morgan on sight. And his daughter? She needed to be inside, at least making the pretense that she liked the company of her suitor. How could she behave in such a manner, when there was so much at stake? It cut him to know his daughter had so little care for her people. They needed the alliance with the English to survive.

  “Get back inside. You’ll take my seat next to your betrothed,” Winn barked as he approached his daughter. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her dark hair trailing back off her face in the evening breeze. He did not care for the way she glared at him, unaccustomed to defiant behavior from her. Yes, she had always been strong willed, owed entirely to her obstinate mother, but this was much worse.

  “I will not. And I shall not marry him. Ye canna make me!” she shot back. Her lip quivered but she held her ground, even when Winn came closer.

  “Yes, I can,” he growled. “I will.”

  She shook her head.

  “I love Morgan!”

  “It matters not! You will do your duty!” he bellowed. He heard Maggie approach but he shrugged her hand away, too focused on the defiant young woman in front of him.

  “Winn –”

  “Leave us, wife,” he snapped.

  “Ah, a word, if ye please, Winn.”

  He turned at the sound of John’s voice. His daughter’s betrothed stood nervously next to Maggie, and Winn immediately regretted his rash display of anger. Kyra’s cheeks blared bright pink, her blue eyes so like his own reflecting every bit of her fury. John cleared his throat, scraping a finger around the collar of his shirt as if he could not find words for what he meant to convey.

  “Well, have at it,” Winn replied. He knew his voice was curt, but considering the circumstance, he thought John might forgive him.

  “I beg yer leave; I must confess why I called upon ye. I ask release from thy marriage contract. I know we signed on this matter some years ago and I do not intend to change our terms, but if ye would grant me this consideration…”

  Winn did not hear most of what was said after he realized John was breaking his vow. He watched Maggie go to Kyra, and the way Kyra smiled in relief. Chetan negotiated with John, and in the end their alliance survived and John was free to marry another. They would move to Basse’s Choice as planned, regardless of the lack of marriage bond.

  After John gave his regrets and left, Winn looked for Kyra. She stood with Maggie, arms entwined, silent as she waited for him to act.

  “Chetan,” Winn said, his voice low. “Show Morgan back to town. If he tries to return here, kill him.”

  Winn ignored the gasp from his women. He turned away from them and went back into the Northern Hall.

  Winn did not return to his longhouse until morning. When he looked in on Kyra, he was not shocked to find her pallet empty and her horse missing. Considering the events of the previous day, he decided to set out alone to retrieve her, unwilling to ask for help when he knew it was his anger that drove his daughter away.

  If there was remorse in his heart, he did not know. Yet despite his sheer frustration at the woman his daughter had become, he would not allow her to wander into trouble.

  For her flight, he blamed himself.

  For keeping the truth from her so that she did not truly understand the dangers in town? That was his burden to bear as well.

  Winn did not know where to find Morgan White, and he did not wish to waste time. When he arrived in town he went directly to the tavern, confident that Benjamin would know where to find the young Englishman. Although Elizabeth City had expanded since his last visit, the tavern was easy to find. All he had to do was follow the trail of soused men to the door.

  The stares were easy to ignore. With a purposeful gait he made his way to the back, his eyes scanning the establishment for a glimpse of his brother. To his dismay, there was no sign of Benjamin, nor of anyone else he recognized. The only attendant was a comely serving wench, tending the place alone. Disgusted with his poor fortune, he left to resume his search.

  As he entered the alley behind the tavern, he felt a presence behind him. The footsteps were hesitant, likely a slight man, and whoever followed him made no attempt to tread quietly. Without turning, he drew his knife.

  “I have no quarrel with you, stranger,” Winn said slowly. “And I have no time for trouble. Be on your way and I shall be on mine.”

  “Yer searching for the girl, are ye not?”

  His swift movement startled the woman, for in the span of a moment he swung around and snatched her by the arm. It was the wench from the tavern. She cried out when he slammed her up
against the wall, her head hitting the wood with an audible thump. Her eyes glistened but she did not cry, her mass of dark hair shielding most of her face as she glared at him.

  “Unhand me!” she hissed.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, ignoring her request. He squeezed her arm and shook her, thrusting his face close to hers. “Tell me!”

  “I will! Why de think I followed ye, if not to help? She was asking questions inside and he saw her. Agnarr knows what she is – they’re riding to Wakehill now. Ye can catch them if ye ride hard.”

  Winn loosened his grip but did not allow her to flee.

  “And you? You know what she is as well?” he asked. Although he did not relish the thought of harming her, he would not let her live if she was in league with Agnarr Sturlsson. He did not understand her duplicity, but it was even more of a reason to cut her throat with little remorse.

  “I – I…yes. I do know what she is,” she said softly, her face losing color as he raised his knife.

  “Your loyalty leaves room for question, my lady,” he murmured. “Why should I not kill you now, since you betray your own kind?”

  He saw her throat constrict as she swallowed.

  “Agnarr’s not my kind, and I am loyal to my husband. It was he who asked me to watch fer ye, ye ungrateful cur!” she shot back. She lowered her tone a notch when he pressed his knife into her neck. “Benjamin said he will not let him harm her. My husband will keep his word.”

  Winn released her, his breathing shallow. So his brother had taken a wife amongst his enemies? There seemed no bounds to his treachery.

  “Benjamin may be your husband, but that will not save you if we meet again. Pray no harm comes to the girl. Yours will be the first heart I cut out if she is damaged.”

  She slumped back against the wall as he left her. He would spare no accomplice of Agnarr’s should harm come to his daughter. Not Benjamin, nor his wife.

  CHAPTER 20

  Benjamin

  WHEN HE NOTICED HER enter the tavern, the breath left his chest in a rush. It had been years since he saw her, a headstrong girl with her mother’s temper and her father’s dark hair. Yet there was no doubt that the young woman before him was his niece, grown into a stunning beauty who captured the attention of every man in the room. In another time and place, Benjamin might have been proud to call her kin, but at that moment, he had a dangerous problem.