Bound to a Warrior (14 page)

T
he day remained clear, though a chill hung in the air. Duncan draped the blanket around Mercy like a shawl.

“What have you to keep you warm?” Mercy asked.

He grinned, and realized he had been grinning more than usual lately, and that made his grin grow even wider. “I have you.”

She shook her head.

He hugged her to him. “Just the thought of you heats every inch of me.”

She laughed and gave him a playful shove. “There will be none of that, or we'll not get very far today.”

He took hold of her hand. “Right now, I'm pleased to be where I am.”

“I admit the same,” she said, “but all good things come to an end eventually.”

“Not with us,” he said adamantly.

He didn't like that she didn't agree or that she didn't respond at all. But then could he blame her? It had been
a difficult road for them, but more so for her. He at least had his family to return to, she had no one. And though it was different now, she still had faced the prospect of being on her own. Not a good place to be for a woman.

“We can cover much ground today,” she said and began walking.

He was right by her side, their hands still firmly clenched as if in fear of being separated even though the shackles made that impossible. It was their way to remain connected and it would always be until the day the heavens separated them and even then he would fight to remain with her, for he had no intention of ever losing Mercy, not even to death.

The day and land proved gracious to them. The terrain was pleasant as was the weather and so they covered more ground than they had expected. A brief meal under a large oak and a few kisses and intimate touches that promised a night of lovemaking and they were off again.

With their thoughts overly occupied they didn't realize that they approached the border of Pict territory. And unknowingly they slowed their pace, their steps more cautious.

Mercy turned to Duncan. “There's something wrong. I can feel it.”

“A few more feet past these woods and we leave Pict land.”

She shook her head. “I thought we would have another night of peace.”

“I hadn't realized we covered as much of a distance as we did, for I thought the same.”

“Beyond, we are once again vulnerable to the king's soldiers?”

“Aye, the possibility exists once more.”

“How far to your land?” she asked.

“If we kept a good pace we could possibly reach it by nightfall.”

Her slim fingers tightened around his. “What if we remained on Pict land for one more night?”

“As much as I'd like that, there is a chance that being this close to the border, the king's soldiers might venture across. And while I have no doubt the Picts are watching, I would not feel as safe as we did at the cottage.”

She nodded. “You're right, I but hoped.”

“Once home we'll need not worry about it any longer.”

She looked up at him. “And the chain will come off.”

He nodded, though he knew in his heart that while free of the shackles, their love forever chained them together and he liked the thought.

“Let's be done with this,” she said bravely.

“We will finish this, so that you and I can begin.”

He didn't like that she didn't smile or verbally agree with him, she simply nodded.

They continued on, drawing ever closer to the border until finally Duncan stopped.

“Not far ahead we leave Pict land. The forest grows thicker, which means more places for the soldiers to hide,
and more places for us to take cover. We will need to remain silent and alert, and watch our steps.”

“Much like we did before.”

“Only this time we are a stone's throw away from my land. Once on it and spotted by the sentinels we should be safe.”

“I'm ready.”

She sounded to him as she did the day they had jumped off the cliff together, confident even though fearful.

“We'll make it,” he assured her.

She smiled then. “I have no doubt.”

Her smile and belief in him was reassuring and their next steps began the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

 

It had been several hours since they had left Pict land and Mercy could feel the difference. The air had chilled considerably and apprehension hung heavy around them. Every crack, squawk and rustle had them stopping to listen and observe, which slowed their pace. But it couldn't be helped. They needed to be more cautious than ever. They were much too close to being free to make a foolish mistake now.

Duncan tugged at her hand signaling her to stop. He crouched down and she followed. He quietly cleared a small patch of earth with his hand, then with a small twig drew a map of sorts. He was attempting to show her the distance until they reached his land.

It wasn't far off and she assumed that he felt that
this was the area that they could be most vulnerable to attack.

She nodded her understanding and they once again were on the move.

Mercy silently prayed for their speedy departure from the area to safe ground as she kept keen eyes on the surrounding forest and the path they traveled. Talk wasn't possible even without the danger of being heard. The rough terrain demanded complete attention.

Thick dead branches lay strewn around and sizable rocks, partially hidden by earth and time, jutted out unexpectedly, catching a foot or scraping a leg. More than once Duncan's quick response prevented her from falling. And each time there was no annoyance or judgment in his dark eyes, simply concern.

She could feel exhaustion begin to claim her limbs and, as before, she ignored it and plodded on. There would be time enough to rest once they reached safe ground.

She was grateful, however, when a short time later Duncan signaled for them to stop and take a brief rest.

She leaned against a thick tree trunk allowing her weary limbs to rest while Duncan busily looked about. She knew she had only a few moments and a nap wasn't possible or wise, but she closed her eyes hoping to pretend when she opened them that she had napped for a couple of hours.

Her eyes sprung open and she tensed when she heard the crack of a branch and immediately looked to Duncan to see if he had heard it too. He had. His eyes were
wide and his finger pressed to his lips, reminding her to remain silent.

“Watch where you're stepping, you fool.”

The low and angry whisper seemed to surround them and all they could do was remain still and wait.

“We've seen no sign of them,” the man said angrily. “I tell you, the Picts got them.”

“They better not have,” the other man retorted sharply. “The king now wants her alive.”

The man grumbled. “What if she's already dead?”

“I wouldn't want to be the one to tell the king that.”

Their voices faded along with their footsteps.

Mercy decided that it would be best if she appeared perplexed as to why the king would want her kept alive. So she was surprised when Duncan stepped close to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I'm sorry.”

“No need,” she murmured and with light steps they set off again.

The overheard conversation seemed to have upset them both, their thoughts being elsewhere, when suddenly they both stopped and realized they heard the snort of a horse, or were there more than one?

It drew closer, louder and Mercy felt for sure there were several horses and they were about to surround them. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. They couldn't have traveled this far, have gotten so close to safety only to be caught.

And why in God's name did her father suddenly want her kept alive.

Duncan stepped behind her and pressed his mouth near her ear. “No choice. We must run.”

She nodded knowing he was right. It would be harder for the soldiers on horseback to keep up with them through the dense forest. Their only recourse was to run as fast as possible, keep ahead and pray they reached safety and help before the soldiers reached them.

“Ready?” Duncan asked and locked his hand with hers.

She nodded and gave her chin a tenacious tilt.

He grinned, kissed her quickly and nodded.

She took off with him. Her short legs were no match for his long ones and so she had to pump doubly hard to keep up with him. She jumped fallen branches right along with him and while he could easily vault boulders, she couldn't. So he swung her up so that her foot grazed the boulder and then he would see that she landed safely on her feet.

The pounding of the horses' hooves rumbled the ground beneath her feet and she was certain that any second they would be pounced upon and captured. And so she kept up the grueling pace.

They whipped through a grove of trees that surely would slow the horses down and hopefully put more distance between them. The happy thought had her smiling, though it was wiped from her face fast enough
when her foot caught the edge of a rock and she went tumbling forward.

She felt her arm jerked back but not before the side of her head bounced off a rock. She didn't know what pained her more, her arm or her head? She had no choice but to ignore both, though it was difficult with the blood that ran from her head wound down her face and over her eye.

She couldn't let Duncan know and was glad it was on her right side, where he couldn't see it. If he saw the blood he would certainly want to stop and tend to it and they couldn't. The distance they were gaining would be lost, and by no means did she intend to be the cause of their capture.

They made it to a small clearing and Duncan halted abruptly and took a quick look around. The sudden stop sent dizziness spinning through her and she thought she would faint.

Don't you dare faint
, she warned while trying to keep Duncan from seeing the blood.

“A few feet ahead,” he said and tugged her forward.

She ran as best she could, even though her arm hurt terribly and her head wound throbbed. They would be on his land soon enough. Sentinels would spot them and they would be safe. All would be well.

You can do this, Mercy. Stay strong
.

She continued to silently encourage herself even though she felt her body grow weak. She refused to surrender to
the pain, refused to be the cause of their capture, refused not to conquer the pain.

Her body, however, had different plans and she knew that soon she would collapse whether she wanted to or not. She had to alert Duncan.

“Duncan,” she cried out, though not loud enough, for he didn't respond.

She was fast losing strength, not even having enough strength to squeeze his hand. With what little she did have left, she raised her voice and called out to him again. “Duncan.”

He turned and she made sure he could see the blood running down the side of her face and into her eye.

She wasn't quite sure since her vision had turned fuzzy, but he looked as if he paled badly and stopped so abruptly that she collided with him.

“My head,” she managed to say, and the last thing she remembered was Duncan scooping her up in her arms and running.

L
ow chatter surrounded Mercy and she struggled to get past the fog that not only muffled her hearing, but also muted her vision. She tried to move, but the pain that shot through her head brought an abrupt end to her efforts. Instead, she continued to listen.

It took her a moment to recall where she was and what had happened and when she finally did, she grew more alarmed. Duncan was speaking to someone. Had the soldiers caught up with them? Was he bargaining for their lives, or was he biding time hoping she would wake and be ready to help him?

She couldn't let the pain interfere, no matter how badly it hurt. If he still had his sword or dagger, he would need her to help use it. She would remain still, let no one know that she regained consciousness and learn what she could from the chatter.

“I can't believe you tracked us that easily.”

That was Duncan, no doubt keeping the enemy engaged
in conversation. She had to find out how many he faced, if only one, they had a chance.

“It's laughable how easy it was.”

She didn't recognize the direct, strong voice, but one thing was certain—this man was confident, which meant he believed he held the upper hand. Mercy continued to listen.

“Make fun of me, and I'll see you suffer for it.”

Mercy would have smiled at Duncan's terse response if she could, but she still didn't want anyone to know that she was regaining strength.

“You make me laugh.”

He certainly wasn't laughing, though she thought there was a hint of humor in the soldier's voice, or was it smugness?

“Get off your damn horse and come over here.”

Mercy wondered if Duncan was attempting to get the soldier to move closer so that he could strike. Did he have a weapon ready? Was he prepared to use his free hand, since he most certainly believed her useless to him? Was there some way she could help?

“You dare command me?”

His voice boomed, though not threateningly, but with authority. Whoever this soldier was, he certainly wasn't afraid of Duncan.

“I'm waiting.”

Duncan was ready and so was she. She would not fail him.

She heard the soldier's approach and thought to give
Duncan's hand a squeeze, but she was afraid the soldier might see. She waited, relieved that the pounding pain in her head was diminishing, though her stomach tightened in anticipation.

“What the hell?”

Mercy didn't wait to find out what had surprised the soldier, she bolted up, assuming Duncan had plans to attack and needed her help. Pain not only shot through her head, but also her right arm and all she could do was reach out, grasping for Duncan before she began to slip back into the fog.

“Mercy! Mercy!”

Duncan's shouts assaulted her like a blow to the head and she scrunched her eyes against the pounding sound.

Mercy heard the soldier ask, “How badly is she hurt?”

No, she thought, fighting against the fog that attempted to claim her. A soldier would not concern himself with her injures. If not a soldier, then who was he?

“A head wound, and I'm not sure how much damage I have done to her arm.”

“Is the arm broken, and why the hell are you chained to this woman?”

“I don't think it's broken, but her head wound needs tending. And I'll explain about the shackles later.”

Mercy surmised by the concern and ease in which they conversed that they knew each other. Could that mean they were on Duncan's land? Was this man one
of his warriors? If so, that meant they were no longer alone. There was someone there to help them and Mercy squeezed Duncan's hand as she uttered his name.

“You're safe, Mercy,” Duncan said. “My brother Trey is here and we're going to get you home.”

Relief rushed through her and helped dissipate the haziness. Not wanting to suffer through another bout of pain, she slowly worked her eyes open while remaining perfectly still. It took several moments to see clearly, and though she should be more concerned with her condition, she was eager to meet one of the men Duncan called a brother.

Mercy glanced up at the man. She hadn't expected any resemblance since Duncan had mentioned the men he'd been raised with weren't truly his brothers. So she wasn't surprised to see the difference in the two men. Where Duncan was tall and broad, Trey was tall and lean. And where Duncan's features were strong and rugged, Trey's were decidedly handsome. And both had long hair that fell past their shoulders, Duncan's earthy brown in contrast to Trey's dark auburn.

She also took note of Trey's eyes, the color hard to describe since they appeared to change color as she gazed at them. Were they blue, or green or of a golden hue? She simply couldn't be certain, but one thing was for sure; the ever-changing color was his shield. He was a private man who allowed no one to trespass.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Trey,” she said and smiled, though a grimace fast replaced it. She closed her eyes
against the pain for only a moment, not wanting to fall back into a stupor. And opened them slowly, realizing that the pain faded more quickly than before.

“It's my pleasure as well,” Trey said and smiled.

His smile dazzled, though certainly not intentionally. He was simply a handsome man whose smile added to his fine features. She doubted this man ever lacked for female companionship and yet…

Her gaze drifted to Duncan and her heart soared. Here was the handsomest of men, at least to her. His rugged features bore courage, good-nature and compassion and made him a man that every woman would most certainly find a desirable mate.

“I tried to stop your fall—”

Mercy pressed her fingers to his lips. “You got us to safety. I'm only sorry I couldn't have helped.”

Duncan grinned and once again Mercy's heart took flight. She loved his half smile. It played with the senses, making you wonder who you truly dealt with, leaving him an enigma to most, though not to her.

“It was no chore to carry a wee bundle like you,” Duncan assured her.

“Then I suggest we tend to this wee bundle and be on our way,” Trey said, “before one of the roving bands of soldiers find us.”

“Duncan, please help me sit up,” Mercy said.

“In a moment,” Duncan said. “First, let me cleanse your wound and give you more time to regain your strength.”

“I'm feeling stronger,” she assured him and as if to
demonstrate, she wrapped her fingers tightly around his. Though if she were more honest with herself, it was because she wished to feel his strength ripple along her fingers and up her arm until it finally settled completely over her.

Sure enough, he returned the squeeze that shot a ripple of strength rushing over her, the intensity causing her to shudder.

Duncan quickly asked, “Are you all right?”

“Just wishing this done,” she said.

“It will be done soon,” Duncan assured her.

“And we should reach home by nightfall and then your shackles will be removed and you both shall be free,” Trey said.

Neither Mercy nor Duncan replied, and Trey took note.

 

Duncan kept a sleeping Mercy cradled in his arms as the horse plodded along.

“It is good that her wounds are minor,” Trey said walking alongside the horse.

“I thought the head wound worse at first, but was relieved it wasn't. The arm, I'm afraid, will be sore for a while longer.”

“Mother will be there to help,” Trey said. “Now I have waited long enough, tell me how it is that you are chained together.”

Duncan would have much preferred to inquire about the mission, but he couldn't take the chance to speak
about it in front of Mercy even if she was asleep. No one must know or even suspect. Therefore, he would need to wait until he was home and free of Mercy to speak with Trey and the others.

“Soldiers arrived at a croft that I had just come upon and was gratefully partaking of the water offered me.”

Trey nodded. “You didn't want to jeopardize the farmer's life by opposing them.”

“Or his wife and two children. They chained me before we left the farm and then a short time later we met up with a large group of prisoners and it wasn't long before I found myself chained to Mercy.”

Trey stopped him when he got to the part where the soldiers were ready to kill them. “Wait a minute. It seems that you both were chained together with the express reason of being killed. Now the king may be going crazy killing off men of a certain age that could be a threat to his throne, but why her?”

“I figured that perhaps it was her misfortune to simply be chained to me, or perhaps she had
displeased
a nobleman.”

“She's a kept woman?”

Duncan smiled and shook his head, glancing down at Mercy sleeping peacefully in his arms. “No, I discovered she's not.”

Trey grinned. “And how did you discover that?”

“With a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” Trey scratched his head.

“Her first kiss,” Duncan said with a huge smile.

Trey shook his head. “How is it that a woman as beautiful as she has never been kissed?”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“What do you know about her?” Trey asked.

“She's courageous, adventurous, determined and”—he grinned—“we fit nicely together.”

Trey stopped so abruptly he almost tripped over himself. “You've fallen in love with her.”

Duncan wasn't about to admit it to him before he spoke the words to Mercy.

Trey laughed. “You have! Damn, Reeve, Bryce and I are going to have a good time with this.”

“I'll kill you if you breathe a word to them.”

“About all of it, or just the falling in love part?” Trey chuckled.

“I'm warning you, Trey. I beat your ass once and I can do it again.”

“You were eight and I was seven. I think this time it would prove more difficult.”

“You're tempting me to prove you wrong,” Duncan warned with a snarl.

Trey continued chuckling as he resumed walking. “And the wee woman will be helping you to fight?”

Duncan had to grin recalling all the times over the last week that Mercy had fought so bravely by his side.

“Don't underestimate her,” Duncan said with pride. “And aye, she'd be right by my side.”

Trey nodded. “Perhaps then she's a good match for you.”

Duncan didn't respond, his thoughts lost in the knowledge that Trey was absolutely right. Mercy was a good match for him. Even though they had been forced upon one another, they had adapted to their shackles easily enough. They learned how to work together as one, to depend on each other, to trust each other and under the most difficult of circumstances.

She hadn't shed one tear or complained. She had done whatever was necessary for their survival, even stripping naked on more than one occasion. It had taken a tremendous amount of courage to trust him, let alone share such intimacy with a stranger. And Mercy had done it all without a whimper or grumble.

Mercy woke on and off during their journey, spoke briefly with Duncan and then returned to a peaceful slumber.

“She's exhausted, isn't she?” Trey said.

“It hasn't been easy, but she's proved herself a tenacious warrior,” Duncan said.

“We'll stop at Harold the smithy before proceeding to the keep. He'll see to freeing you of that chain.”

I'll sleep alone tonight.

The thought disturbed Duncan. He liked falling asleep with Mercy wrapped snugly in his arms and he liked even more waking up with her snuggled against him. He didn't like that his arms would be empty this night and the spot beside him in bed cold.

He glanced down at her and couldn't help but think
that she was right where she belonged, always belonged, and always would belong.

He made the decision fast, as if he needed it confirmed immediately. “The morrow is soon enough for the chain to come off.”

“Mercy may think otherwise,” Trey said.

“She's exhausted and injured,” Duncan said firmly. “I will not make her suffer through having the chain removed this evening.”

“She might prefer them removed sooner rather than later.”

Duncan glanced at her wrists. The salve that Bliss had put on their wounds made the skin look less raw and certainly eased the pain. But he wondered if perhaps they both would be left with scars, a constant reminder of their time joined together.

She stirred in his arms, her eyes drifting open.

“We're almost home,” he said softly.

“Food and bed,” she said with a smile.

“I agree,” he said and then whispered, “especially the bed part.”