Falcon's Heart

Fear tightened the muscles in the kidnapper’s neck. He swallowed hard, unwittingly pushing his throat up against the tip of the blade.

As she dismounted, Marianne heard Ashforde ask, “Why would you think to go into battle against a knight without wearing your armor?”

She joined the men and realized he had asked a valid question, considering her kidnapper wore only a padded gambeson. The heavily quilted short tunic offered no safety against the thrust of a sword.

“We thought the odds were in our favor.”

Ashforde stepped back and ordered, “Get up.” After the man rose, he knocked the sword from the lout’s hand. “Tell your master this game is finished. Leave Marianne of Faucon alone.” He placed the edge of his weapon across the man’s throat for emphasis, adding, “You won’t be as fortunate the next time.”

When the sword lowered, the man took off at a dead run. But it wasn’t that man who captured her attention. It was the one who’d remained. Ashforde.

The sheen of sweat coated his face. His overlong hair, damp from his exertion, curled about his neck. Iceblue eyes glimmered with rage.

Warmth flowed through her veins. Her heart lurched before settling into an uneven rhythm. It made little logical sense. But she’d learned long ago that logic sometimes got in the way. She swallowed a gasp and bit back a smile.

His clothing, chain mail and weapons were of excellent quality, so apparently he had wealth enough. She’d just seen him in battle and knew without a doubt that he was strong and brave enough. While his rugged good looks made her heart beat faster, he seemed not to notice them, so he obviously was not vain. His speech was refined, so he would be considered intelligent enough.

There were many unanswered questions regarding Ashforde and she wasn’t at all certain she could completely trust him. But she could not deny the simple truth her entire being screamed—this was the man.

Rhys would not be able to find anything wrong with him. And if he did, well, she’d go over his head. It would be easy to throw herself on the mercy of her sisters by marriage.

The biggest obstacle would be Ashforde himself. How was she to convince him that a match between them would be well served? He seemed honorable, a man of his word…another smile twitched at her lips. Had he not himself threatened to kiss her into submission? What would it take for him to make good that threat?

He turned to look down the path and flinched. Worried about the wound she’d given him earlier, Marianne touched his arm. “Have you suffered further injury?”

Bryce couldn’t help himself. He laughed in disbelief. The woman had disobeyed a direct order. Yet she stood there inquiring about his welfare? She should be concerned with her own. Had the ordeal of killing a man left her in a state of shock?

“You were told to go join my men.”

“I know, but you were outnumbered.”

“Those men were inexperienced knaves. I was in little danger of losing life or limb.”

“How could you be certain of that? I only thought to help.”

Oh, aye, it was comforting to know that this woman, barely more than a girl, thought he needed her help in a fight. In truth, it was nearly more galling than he could bear. “While your brothers may require your assistance, I do not.”

When she finished laughing, a sound that set him more on edge than he already was, she said, “My brothers do not require assistance from anyone.”

Her laughing statement drew bile to his throat. To think, he’d once felt a moment’s guilt for using her as a pawn in his revenge.

He’d earned his title and lands by his prowess on the battlefield. He’d not become one of Matilda’s trusted men by any means other than the use of his sword arm. As much as he wanted to throw that fact in this woman’s face, he bit his tongue, adding the taste of his own blood to the bile.

By divulging that information he would only give away his plans. That was something he was not yet ready to do.

He could not prolong this discussion. If he did, he would end up losing what little control of his temper remained. “Get on the horse.”

“You are angry.”

If nothing else, she excelled at stating the obvious. “I would be concerned for any man who would not be angry.”

“I fail to understand. Why?”

Bryce felt that last thread holding his rage intact snap. He turned to face her. “Why?” To keep his hands from doing something he’d only regret, he tightened his grip on his sword until he thought his knuckles would break. “I do not require any more assistance from you than any of your brothers would. I have not lived this long by not knowing how to defend myself.”

“But—”

“Cease.” He lifted his free hand. Her shocked expression led him to realize that his fingers were curled into a fist. After unclenching his fingers, he said, “No. Do not say a word. I am a man, I know and understand my duties. And I perform them quite well. You, on the other hand, are a woman and it is obvious you do not know your duties. So, let me explain exactly what I wish you to do.”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Oh, please, do.”

He ignored the sarcasm in her tone. “You will do as you are ordered, without question. When danger strikes you will take yourself to safety and stay there until I tell you otherwise.”

“You will, of course, let me know when to eat, drink, sleep and relieve myself?”

It wasn’t her question that added to his anger, it was her sickly oversweet tone and the brightly false smile she pasted on her face.

Bryce reached over and grabbed the reins of the horse. Before he was able to stop himself, he picked Marianne up and nearly threw her onto the saddle.

“We will be at my camp soon. Once there, you will keep your mouth shut.”

“If I choose not to?”

What was she looking for him to do? Did her brothers truly permit her this much free will? Did they never seek to restrain her mouth or manners?

It was no wonder that Marianne of Faucon was still unwed. What man in his right mind would wish for a wife so contrary and stubborn?

If anyone was foolish enough to marry her and later discovered her willfulness, what could he do? He would likely be risking his own life if he so much as raised a hand to her. If she did not kill the man in his sleep, her brothers would take care of the deed for her. And Bryce doubted if they would make it a quick or relatively painless death.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, silently praying for the strength to deal with this woman.

As if through a thick fog he again heard her laughter. For some odd reason it brushed soft and warm against his ear.

“You did not answer me, Ashforde. What will you do if I refuse to follow your high-handed orders?”

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Marianne was leaning closer to him, smiling as if she had not a worry in the world. Perhaps it was time the woman learned that her brothers could not always protect her.

Before she could stop him, he pulled her off the horse and into his arms. Bryce fought to ignore the sudden heat rushing through his veins. He pretended he didn’t hear the loud, rapid tattoo of his heart in his ears.

With what he hoped was his most stern and commanding look, he glared down at her. The sparkle in her eyes and the half smile flitting at the corners of her parted lips was his first clue that he’d made a grave error in judgment.

Marianne reached up, ran her fingers through his hair and gently drew his head closer. “That took you long enough, my lord.” She brushed her lips against his, before pulling back to ask, “How much further do I need to go before you kiss me into submission?”

He closed his eyes and groaned. Dear Lord above, his enemy’s sister was out to seduce him.

And God help him, he rather enjoyed the thought.

Chapter Five