“I do nae understand.”
“Yeah, sorry. It would be so much easier to explain if there was one in your time.”
She pressed her lips together, refusing to encourage him to differentiate between her time and his time.
They fell into silence then as the path through the woods became littered with fallen logs and branches that hung in their way. Several times, Dermot shouted at them to duck when limbs came at them. Each time, she did as she was told, and Reikart would press his body over hers so he was the one scraped by the branches if they had not ducked low enough. Their ride went on like that for so long that her backside grew numb and her face stung from the wind blasting against it. The sun went from slashing through the thick canopy of woods to disappearing altogether. Night was advancing on them.
Her stomach growled and she would have killed to relieve herself, but she was not about to be the one to call them to a halt, especially given they were trying to reach Castle Hightower before the traitor Donald did. As their horse galloped across the land, Reikart deftly guiding it through the woods, she tried to sit stiffly and not relax against him, but eventually, fatigue overcame her and she became aware of her back pressing against his hard chest. His arm tightened slightly against her ribs, and he said, “Sleep. I have you. I promise.”
Her father had promised to always be there. Her brother had promised to keep them safe once her father had died. Her once betrothed, Cedric Cullum, had promised to wed and protect her. Men did not keep promises.
“I’d be a fool to trust ye,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
“Yes, you would,” he replied, surprising her. “But right now, you don’t have much choice. If you get some sleep, you’ll be better prepared to rescue your sister and break the spell my brother has put on her.” He was teasing her, and she should not smile, but her lips didn’t listen and they tugged upward.
Who’s the clot-heid now?she thought as she closed her eyes and sank into his embrace. His warmth surrounded her, and his woodsy, manly smell comforted her. She felt protected, which was utterly ridiculous considering everything, but it was true all the same, and even as she fought sleep, it claimed her.
He hadn’t held a woman in his arms like this since Amanda and a feeling of guilt and surprise gripped him at how much he enjoyed the sensation of Deirdre against him. She was small boned and fragile. Breakable. Like Amanda had been breakable.
Jesus H. Christ, why the hell had he offered to retrieve the cross with this woman? He didn’t want to be responsible for her life or death. He didn’t want to spend that much time with her and get to know her, to feel any connection to her. For years he had painstakingly avoided even the remotest possibility of putting himself in a situation that could lead to involvement with a woman. In fact, his relationships in general had taken a blow since the accident. He’d cut off ties with everyone but his brothers. He’d tried to do the same with them, but they wouldn’t let him. They’d just kept inserting themselves in his life until he’d given up and let them in as much as was possible for him anymore. It hadn’t been until his dad’s hospitalization that his emotions had run past lukewarm since the accident. It was as if that night had turned him on full blast, and he was having trouble shutting off that valve.
Deirdre whimpered in front of him, and he pulled her closer, his instinct to protect her pounding through him. Whether he liked it or not, they were going to be together for a while, and he sure as hell was not going to let anything happen to the woman, not on his watch.
Up ahead of him, Dermot came to a sudden halt, jumped off his horse, and began running back toward them. Reikart pulled up on the reins, bringing their horse to quick stop, and skimmed his hand over the dagger Rhys had given him, as well as the bow and arrows.
“Trouble,” Dermot said when he reached them, his sword already drawn.
“What sort of trouble?” Reikart asked as Deirdre stirred in his arms.
“I do nae know. I heard a scream, Did you nae?”
Reikart sure as hell wasn’t going to admit he’d been lost in thoughts over not wanting to get involved with a woman again. “No,” he said, and before he could say anything else, a woman’s scream ripped through the silence once more. A female figure burst over the hill, followed by a man who was chasing her.
Recognition froze Reikart’s blood at the same time Dermot swore.
Christ. Mom.
It was his mom. The man chasing her stopped suddenly and withdrew a bow and arrow. Somewhere in the distance, another woman screamed, and Dermot started running toward Reikart’s mom. He’d never reach her. The knowledge chilled Reikart, even as he grasped the bow Rhys had given him.
Before he had the arrow out of its quiver, Deirdre had dismounted, seeming to know what he was going to do and that he needed room to make the shot. Time stood still as he nocked the arrow, drew the string taut, then let the arrow fly. It whistled through the air past his mom as she continued in his direction and lodged into the shoulder of the man who had just tried to shoot her. The man bellowed as Dermot reached Reikart’s mom and knocked her off the path to safety.
Another scream cut through the night as Reikart dismounted where Deirdre stood. “Stay behind the horse,” he ordered, stepping around it to gain a view of the man at the other end of the path. Dermot and his mom were nowhere in sight now, but the man who had attempted to shoot her was raising his bow once more, even as Reikart did the same, both striving to be the first to shoot. Reikart nocked another arrow, drew back the string, and this time, he sent the arrow straight toward the man’s heart. His aim was true, and the man staggered, then fell to his knees clutching his chest. Reikart raced toward him, and his mom emerged from the underbrush and into the path once more.
“Reikart!” she screamed, pointing at him. “Behind ye!”
Reikart turned, less concerned about the man he’d just struck. Deirdre ran for them, and Reikart realized his mom was concerned about Deirdre. He swung back around as Deirdre reached his side, and as she attempted to pass him, he caught her by the arm, seeing his mother had drawn a dagger.
“Mom, no!” he bellowed as she raised the dagger as if to throw it.
Deirdre’s eyes widened, and she gasped, shoving at Reikart. “Let me go!”
“Why? What is it?” he asked.
“That’s Nigel ye struck. I just—” A sob broke from Deirdre that squeezed Reikart’s chest. “I just want to know if Yearger died quickly or was in pain.”
Christ…
Reikart’s mind flashed back to the accident for one moment, cradling Amanda. The doctors had said her death had been instantaneous. He let Deirdre go, seeing her race past his mother, fall to her knees, and lean over the man, Nigel. Then Reikart moved swiftly to his mom, exchanging a quick look with her while grabbing her hand and tugging her toward Deirdre. When they reached her, sobs were racking her body and she was shaking Nigel by the shoulders. He was already dead.
