Warrior's Bride (20 page)

  Lady Marion had given him a job as squire to her son. She had incorporated a bedraggled orphan into her home right along with her other children. He and Wolf had been inseparable companions ever since.

  "You're very quiet" Lady Isobel coerced her horse to fall in step beside him.

  Brahan started. He shook off the memories, as he always did of those darker days in his early life. "Merely considering what you said about Wolf needing help."

  "He does need our assistance. I know it."

  "Your visions are that strong?"

  "I have no desire for this talent. Only bad things come of such a skill." She turned toward him, her color high. "Even so, what I saw leaves no doubt in my mind. It is Wolf someone is trying to harm and not me." Fear filled her eyes.

  "You do not wish to be a seer?"

  She shook her head. "It is not the path I choose."

  "We don't choose the path, milady. The path chooses us."

  Lady Isobel stared at him. Her expression betrayed a momentary puzzlement, and then realization dawned and hot color flooded her cheeks. A slight mist came to her eyes. "You?"

  "Aye, milady." An odd tension came to his throat at the relief he saw in her gaze.

  He remembered what it had felt like the moment he realized what magic and what evil he held inside him. The turmoil of strange, unsettling, and frightening emotions mixed with the headiness of power. "The visions are both curse and gift."

  "You know what it is like? To bear the burden?"

  "Aye." He knew what it was like. The gift of sight had cost his family their lives. His whole village had suffered when his mother had foretold a future the receiver did not wish to hear.

  He had learned through his mother that often it was best to leave the future untold. And yet, their very quest today could help save a man he cared about more than himself. If her visions kept Wolf safe, then that was worth any risk, or any price. He returned his gaze to Lady Isobel. "When you have your visions, does anything happen to you as a result?"

  Fear crept back into her eyes. "What do you mean?"

  He pointed to the white patch at his temple. "Whenever I use the Stone to foretell the future, I lose a bit of my essence. The whiteness of my hair indicates the cost to myself. So tell me, Lady Isobel, what do the visions drain from you?"

  She looked down at the reins she clutched tightly in her fists. "I do not know." Her horse reared its head, protesting the tension against its mouth.

  "Relax your grip and the horse will settle down." Brahan sensed she lied.

  Lady Isobel did as directed and the horse calmed.

  "Tell me the truth," Brahan challenged. "I might be able to help."

  Her brow furrowed. "I do not know for myself. My mother paid for the visions with her sanity."

  He frowned. "Explain yourself?"

  She shook her head. "I've told you more than I should have already."

  "Milady, your secrets are safe with me. For my lord's sake you must know I could never hurt you."

  Her back went stiff. "My father said words very like those to my mother," she paused, "each time he struck her."

  Brahan frowned. "Not all men treat women that way."

  Her gaze remained fixed before her. "The risk is too great. I—" She pulled her horse to a stop. Just then, the bark of a dog cut through the air. Her horse pranced at the noise, which came from the other side of a rocky outcropping that shielded their view of the forest beyond.

  Brahan tensed, bracing to leap for her horse's halter, afraid that in her inexperience her horse might get away from her. But she managed to put just enough pressure on the reins to keep the animal in place.

  The acrid scent of burning wood came to him, as did the sound of raucous laughter and coarse jests. He cursed himself for letting down his guard. He, a creature of these very woods, had been so intent on discovering Lady Isobel's secrets that he'd inadvertently endangered them all.

  Brahan came to a sudden, silent stop, signaling the others to do the same. He scanned the area. A curl of smoke floated up from a smoldering campfire just ahead. He searched for guards at the perimeter of the camp, finding none. All the men must be around the campfire, then.

  "Stay here," he commanded as he slipped off his horse and crept forward. He peered over the rock, his body stiff with tension, every nerve stretched.

  Half a dozen men lounged before the fire. They laughed uproariously and shouted suggestions to four bedraggled villagers, who scooted around a nearby tree, their legs bound by thick ropes. With unbound arms, they reached up, trying desperately to free a man who swung upside down from a stout tree branch, the chain of an iron trap clamped tightly about his left leg. The man's right leg was curled around the chain, absorbing the weight of his body, protecting his captured leg from being shredded by the trap.

  Blood obscured the man's face, but Brahan still recognized his friend.

  Anger heated his blood as his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword. Forcing his mind to go completely blank, Brahan reacted with what years of practice and repetition had taught him. His sword left its scabbard. He plunged over the rocky outcropping, killing two men before the others gained their feet.

  The clashing of swords mixed with the frenzy of the horses' hooves as they met their enemies head-on. No more than a moment passed since the first stroke of the sword, but already the ground was red underfoot, the air was choked with dust and smoke. Horses reared, their shrieks of fear adding to the general chaos that erupted. Brahan slashed his sword, relieving his opponent of his life as he made his way to Wolf. A heartbeat later, Brahan released the pin on the trap. The villagers caught Wolf in their outstretched arms, gently lowering him to the ground.

  What torture would the guards inflict upon him now? He would not reveal the information they wanted. No one would ever learn the location of the Seer's Stone from his lips. It was Brahan's secret, and his alone.

  Wolf rolled onto his side. He pressed his cheek into the soft earth of the forest floor. The heady combination of musty leaves from last season and sweet mulch filled his nostrils. Blessed ground. The earth beneath him meant he no longer swung from the tree with the jaws of the metal trap lashing into his leg. His arms and legs tingled as the blood returned to his limbs.

  "My lord." The words came softly.

 
Isobel
? Impossible. He lifted his cheek and tried to focus on the shape that came in and out of focus. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swept over him. His innocent bride would never come here. Only evil lurked in these woods.

  A feather-soft touch caressed his cheek, startling him. How long had it been since he'd felt such tenderness?

  His body shifted without his assistance, and he found himself on his back, staring up at the forest canopy overhead. Pinpricks of light forced their way through the trees, casting an eerie greenish-gold light that filled the space between sky and ground. Shadows moved about him. Most likely the guards, ready to further their torture. He tried to sit up, only to be pushed back against the earth. It startled him to find the hand that forced him back lingered on his chest. A delicate stroke moved to his arm, then down to his hand, twining about his fingers.

  His mind played tricks on him. Unimaginable pleasure flowed through his fingers, like a warm salve against the pain. He coiled his fingers, trapping the sensation, never wanting to let it go.

  In the next instant a lash of red-hot pain shot through his leg. He tensed, prepared to take whatever new torture they offered. But the pain ceased as quickly as it had come. His boot slid from his leg.

  "His boot is mangled, and the flesh around the mouth of the trap is bruised. The skin is broken, but the muscle appears intact," a voice said from near his feet A familiar voice.
Brahan
?

  "What of the bone?" a softer voice queried. "Did it snap the bone?"

  "Miraculously, nay."

  "There is so much blood."

  "I've seen worse and so has Wolf. The damage to his leg looks worse than it is. We need to get him home."

  "My lord." Isobel's voice filled his mind. "You're safe." The voice sounded thick with emotion. "We are taking you away from here."

  He struggled to will the darkness out of his mind, to see if it truly was Isobel who spoke to him, or some new trick. In the last hours of this torture, he'd discovered he could will his mind to do things when his body seemed to fail him. If he channeled all his energy into the effort of opening his eyes he might discover the truth. Slowly his lids lifted and his eyes focused on the face above him.

  Dark eyes glittering with moist brilliance gazed down at him. Isobel's eyes. She looked scared, and another strange, darker emotion lingered there as well. He had seen that look somewhere else recently. He struggled to pull the memory into the front of his mind. If he could only remember where ... .

  Her gaze fixed on his face and something connected. He saw Grange's image reflected there. He clenched his eyes shut, sure his mind failed him.

  As if his own senses meant to prove him wrong, he became chillingly aware of the damp earth beneath him, the scent of decaying leaves that surrounded where he lay.

  Why would he see Grange in Isobel's face? Was it some sort of sign, like the ones Brahan saw with the assistance of the Seer's Stone? Was there some sort of deception here? "How did you find me?" Wolf asked, turning toward where he had heard Brahan's voice.

  "It was not I who found you. For that you can thank your wife."

  "Isobel? But how? How could she know I was here?" Wolf turned back to the image he had seen. She was here. She was real. He searched her pale, drawn face. She looked as delicate as the most fragile blossom. And yet even the deadliest of nature's poisonous plants yielded flowers.

  With an effort he forced the thought away. Nay, it was all the years of his father's deception that led his thoughts on such dark paths. He would not believe such things of Isobel. She could only be what she appeared.

  He wanted to communicate his belief in her, yet he did not know exactly how to do so without scaring her further. He decided the simplest course of action was best. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss there, squeezing her fingers gently.

  A blush crept into her cheeks, warming her face, chasing away the fear. "We must get you home, my lord."

  Her fingers slipped from his. "Isobel?" he forced the words from his dry, parched throat, the words sounding as though they belonged to someone else.

  "Beside you, my lord. I'll stay beside you."

  Despite the darkness that entered his mind he forced a slow smile. Beside him. He liked the sound of that. He would hold her to that promise, just as soon as he was able.

Chapter Twenty

  Izzy watched the smile fade from Wolf's face. She eased his head into her lap, cradling him, sheltering him as much as she could. A groan escaped him at the movement. Tears sprang to her eyes at the knowledge that she continued to hurt him as her own father had done.

  "I'll bandage his leg," Brahan said. "Then we will have to move him."

  "He's lost so much blood," Izzy said, suddenly realizing that she knelt in soil made wet from her husband's blood.

  "He is strong." Brahan tied his own shirt about Wolf’s injured leg. Almost immediately, the saffron-colored linen sprouted a patch of red. But after a moment the seeping ceased as the bleeding stopped.

  The shadows overhead shifted. Light filtered down through the trees, changing from gold to red. Sunset was upon them.

  "We have to get him home before Grange or more of his henchmen appear."

  Izzy knew the urgency they faced, and still she could not move. The light seemed to hold her in place. Dappled red and gold sparkled around Wolf's body, bathing him in a glow that was both ethereal and serene. "Give me a moment with him, please."

  Brahan nodded. "I'll prepare the horses."

  "My thanks," she replied as he moved away, leaving the two of them in silence. Izzy looked down at her husband, savoring the softness of his head in her lap, of the strange closeness that had been thrust upon them unknowingly by her father.

  With trembling fingers, she brushed the grime and blood from his cheek. She'd never been the manner of girl who had fanciful wishes. Her life had been more focused on survival than anything else. And yet, at this moment, a wish bubbled up from the core of her being.

  If only she could be trapped no more by fate, by her father, by her own fears. Perhaps then a real life would be possible. Maybe even a life with this man.

  Izzy's gaze moved from Wolf’s face to the trembling daylight as it slipped into night. An almost magical moment where the light of day faded and the darkness of evening pushed forward. Time stood still. Her heartbeat slowed. And anything seemed possible.