Bound to a Warrior Read online

  Duncan placed a finger to his lips and Mercy nodded.

  They heard it then, footfalls and none too light, which meant possibly more than one person.

  “I heard something, I tell you.”

  “Shut up.” Someone scolded harshly.

  Silence immediately followed.

  Duncan wondered how many soldiers were out there. A pair or more? Whatever waited for them, defending themselves would prove difficult being shackled together.

  The footfalls grew closer and then stopped. Duncan again pressed his finger to his lips and Mercy nodded. He was glad she understood it was not only silence he sought from her but no movement as well. The smallest rustle and the soldiers would be on them.

  They waited, for how long neither knew, though it seemed an endless amount of time, and finally, hearing nothing, Duncan signaled Mercy to follow him. Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened as if questioning his decision.

  He squeezed her hand to reassure her and signaled for them to move again. This time she didn’t hesitate, she followed. They both treaded cautiously, making as little sound as possible, still wary of what waited for them in the mist.

  They had taken only a few steps when they collided with the two soldiers.

  Duncan was quick to react, his large fist met the one man’s face and he stumbled and fell. He turned to lay low the other soldier and saw that Mercy had already landed a good blow to the soldier’s face. Blood poured down his nose and he looked dazed. She took advantage of his stunned posture and landed a kick to his leg that sent him sprawling.

  Duncan turned in time to land several blows to the returning man and as he stumbled to regain his footing, Mercy stepped forward and with her free hand claimed the fellow’s sword, retrieving it from the scabbard. She was quick to slip it into Duncan’s hand and kept her chained arm close to his, giving his sword hand free rein.

  The other soldier recovered, though blood continued to pour from his nose, and with several foul oaths spewing from his lips, he charged Duncan. He was no match for Duncan’s skilled hand, and with one swing he ended the man’s life.

  He had no time to worry over Mercy, who was trying frantically to keep pace with the rhythm of his movements, though it wasn’t easy for her. It actually appeared as though she flew through the air when he had given a good thrust.

  The last soldier didn’t hesitate to attack. He gave a wild cry and charged forward. Duncan remained where he was, feet braced firmly on the ground, his hand ready to swing and he saw that Mercy kept her eyes on his hand, prepared to follow.

  Duncan waited until the man was close enough, the fool thinking he had an advantage with them shackled together. It was the last mistake he would ever make. Duncan killed him in one swift blow.

  He didn’t waste a moment. “We take their swords and whatever else is on them that we can use.”

  Mercy nodded and when they were done, Duncan took only one sword and two dirks, slipping one into his boot and the other at his waist. He also sheathed the sword in the scabbard he had fastened around his waist.

  “We go,” he said and clasped her hand before marching forward into the mist.

  They traveled for hours before Mercy voiced her fatigue and hunger.

  “We’ll stop, but not for long,” Duncan said, scouting the area in a glance and choosing a secluded spot behind two large boulders.

  Mercy sighed with relief as she lowered herself to the ground and leaned back against the rock.

  Duncan took the food from the sack and handed her a hunk of cheese and an apple. If he allowed himself to linger on her lovely face he would feel even guiltier that he was pushing her so hard. Weariness was evident in her slow movements and a smile that barely made it to her mouth, but he had no choice. He had to keep them going. He had to get them to his land where help would be at hand.

  “You fear more soldiers are about?” she asked.

  “I’m hoping that only two soldiers were sent to cover this area, since the terrain is more difficult. They would assume we would avoid it.”

  “They believe I slow you down.”

  “Being chained would slow down a pair, but for a pair who works together, it would not be a hindrance,” he said and smiled. “We work well together.”

  “We do, don’t we?” she said and though she attempted a smile, a shudder grabbed her first and ran through her. “You have killed men before, haven’t you?”

  Duncan cursed his own stupidity. He had been so obsessed with getting them out of there and as far away as possible that he had never considered the effect of Mercy seeing two men killed before her eyes.

  He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, but somehow he sensed that wasn’t what she needed. “Yes, I have, but you haven’t, have you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I have never seen a man killed.”

  “Yet you entered the battle like a brave, seasoned warrior, without fear or delay.”

  “I was fearful,” she admitted, “though it was of dying.”

  “The best weapon when in battle…survival.”

  She turned her lovely sapphire eyes on him and he was glad to see that their brilliant color hadn’t dimmed.

  “I want to survive, Duncan,” she said adamantly. “I know not what the future holds for me, but I do know I want to live.”

  He eased her into his embrace, though she went willing. He cuddled her close in the crook of his arm and she rested her head to his chest as she so often did.

  “You’ll survive, Mercy. I promise that you will survive.”

  Her head shot up and her eyes turned wide with fear. “You must survive too. Promise me that you will survive.”

  His heart swelled with how much she cared for what happened to him and a wide smile surfaced of its own accord. “We’ll survive together.”

  “Promise me.”

  It was such a ferocious demand that he answered quickly. “I promise.”

  “And you best keep it, Duncan MacAlpin.”

  “Is that an order?” he asked teasingly.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “And who are you to be giving me orders?”

  Her eyes softened and her voice turned gentle. “Someone who cares about you.”

  Her tender words first stabbed at his heart and then punched his gut and he wasn’t even in battle, or was he? If he was, it sure wasn’t familiar tactics that were being used. And how the bloody hell did he battle unfamiliar foe?

  Uncomfortable in foreign territory, he figured the best thing was to move to more familiar terrain.

  “If we pick up the pace we could reach the outskirts of my land in possibly two days.”

  She moved away from him. “I will do my best.”

  “Finish eating, so we can get moving,” he said.

  She handed the uneaten apple back to him.

  “Eat it, you’ll need your strength,” he urged, feeling guilty that his own misgivings caused him to hurry her.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He grew annoyed, though it was at himself. “You’re barely a wisp of a thing. You need to eat.”

  Her chin went up. “I may not be stout like some woman, but I’m strong enough.”

  He immediately regretted his words. He had hurt her and that hadn’t been his intention. “I worry that I push you too hard.”

  He was surprised that she smiled.

  “You push your warriors, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, since you have claimed me a warrior woman, then I expect nothing less from you.” She rested a hand to his chest. “And you should expect nothing less from me.”

  She was a courageous one and his respect for her grew.

  “Then let’s get moving and get home,” he said.

  She bounced up and tugged on the chain. “Come on then and see if you can keep up with me.”

  “There you go challenging me again.”

  “Are you up to it?” she teased with a smile and a cock of her hip.

  He lau
ghed and tugged her to him, his hands resting at her waist. “One day I’m going to show you just how much I’m up to it.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said in a singsong voice.

  Her breath was sweet, her lips moist like plump fruit, her cheeks flushed pink and he told himself not to do it. The warning rang in his head over and over.

  Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her.

  He told himself to step away from her, but he could only go as far as the chain would allow. That wasn’t far enough. She was close, much too close to ignore. Turn your head away. Don’t look.

  But he didn’t listen, his glance strayed back to her lips. They waited for him, slightly open. His heart raced as her tongue peeked out to wet them, the tiny tip slowly moving around, covering every inch until they sparkled like the morning dew on a freshly bloomed rose.

  Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her.

  The warning rang like thunder in his head and finally realizing that a storm brewed if he didn’t take heed, he turned and reached down for the sack of food. Turning back to look at her once again was a mistake, for he saw something in her eyes, something he couldn’t deny. He saw that she wanted him to kiss her.

  He dropped the sack, reached out, yanked her up against him and brought his lips down on hers.

  Chapter 11

  Mercy found herself in Duncan’s arms and his lips on hers before she realized what was happening. Mercy forgot everything. Time stood still. Nothing existed except the kiss. His lips proved as powerful as the rest of him. They took command, melting her senses. And though the intrusion of his tongue at first startled her, it took only a fleeting moment for her own to respond. It was as if his tongue had invited hers to dance and she couldn’t resist.

  She didn’t know when she slipped her arms around his neck, or when her body gravitated up against his, or when she realized she never wanted this heavenly moment to end.

  His hand roamed down her back and over her backside to cup her buttocks and press her more intimately against him. And that’s when she felt the first tingle of heat between her legs and as their kiss deepened, the sensation turned into a steady, aching throb.

  She was lost, utterly lost in the magic of his kiss and…

  Fool!

  Her mother’s angry voice was like a splash of cold water in the face that cooled her ardor immediately. And she could think of nothing more than her mother admonishing her not to get lost in a kiss. And under the circumstances this wasn’t the time or place to allow herself the pleasure.

  She eased the kiss to an end and reluctantly stepped away, though Duncan planted his hands on her waist and refused to let go.

  They stood silent, staring at each other, and Mercy wondered if her unrequited passion showed so vividly in her eyes as Duncan’s did in his. And she clearly knew, or perhaps clearly felt, that if something wasn’t done they would soon be locked in another kiss that would end far differently than this one.

  She mustered up the courage to say, “Your kiss has been claimed.”

  He grinned and though he tried to urge her to him, she refused to budge, digging her boots firmly in the ground to keep a safe distance between them.

  “You cannot tell me you didn’t like it,” he said confidently.

  “I certainly will not deny that I liked it,” she said, “even more so than the first kiss.”

  His grin faded and his dark eyes narrowed. “Who is it you compare me to?”

  She smiled. “When you first kissed me was the first time I had ever been kissed. While I cannot deny I enjoyed that kiss as well, this kiss was more…” She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to find just the right words. One came to mind and her smile turned generous. “Memorable.”

  Duncan appeared confused, shaking his head. “I was the first to ever kiss you?”

  She nodded.

  “No man’s lips but mine have touched yours?”

  “No man but you.”

  He looked at her strangely for a moment and then reached out to brush her lips with his fingertips. “They belong to me now.”

  Belong.

  Mercy had not wanted to belong to anyone. Her mother had belonged, and while belonging could have benefits, in the end it proved worthless.

  Mercy again took a step away from him. “Neither my lips, nor I, belong to anyone.”

  He seemed surprised by her response, and she assumed he would argue the point. He didn’t, though she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he thought differently from his claim. By not arguing he was simply choosing not to debate the matter with her. And she as well would not waste precious time on it.

  She belonged to no one and that was that.

  “I am pleased you thought my kiss memorable,” he said. “I will strive to make all kisses that follow even more memorable.”

  “There’ll be no more kisses,” she said candidly, “except of course for the one I promised you once we are freed.”

  “Afraid to kiss me again?” he challenged.

  Truth be told she was, but that was not a truth she intended to share with him.

  “We have no time for kisses. We must concentrate on staying alive.”

  His smile faded and he stepped forward, taking her hand. “You’re right about that. We do need to focus more clearly on our situation, but”—he paused and his smile returned—“there’s always time for kisses.”

  To prove it, he gave a quick kiss to her lips.

  She silently cursed her body for instantly responding to his playful kiss. And she grew annoyed with him, for he kissed her for one reason and one reason only, to prove that he could. He had no intention of paying heed to her declaration that there would be no kissing. He was letting her know he would kiss her whenever he pleased.

  The worst part was that she had no doubt she would eagerly respond.

  Don’t let him control.

  All well and good for her mother’s warning, but how did she stop him when she so enjoyed his kisses?

  Duncan made sure to keep a keen ear and eye on his surroundings as they continued on their journey. Neither was talkative and he had expected that, the kiss having had a profound effect on them both.

  The idea that his lips had been the only ones to have kissed Mercy left him feeling extremely possessive of her. It was as if he had branded her his and branding was for marriages, not kisses. So why did he feel like this? It irritated him, and yet he couldn’t shake the thought. Not to mention that rage overwhelmed him, if he even gave brief thought to another man kissing her.

  No one had that right, but him. He, and only he, could kiss Mercy. And kiss her he wanted to. Their kiss came as natural as the dawning of the day and continued to rise with as much fervor and heat as the sun did. And like the sun that joined completely with the sky did it finally settle and slowly descend, and that was how he felt with Mercy.

  How then could he stop himself from kissing her again, or could she stop from responding? He was no fool. He knew that she wanted to kiss him again as much as he did her, and they would. They’d both be foolish to think it wouldn’t happen again, but if Mercy felt better dictating otherwise, he’d let her.

  She’d come to her senses sooner or later. Future kisses would see to that and then? He grinned with thoughts of the future.

  By the time they found a stream they were both so parched that they fell to their knees and hungrily drank.

  Mercy stopped drinking before Duncan and was startled by her reflection in the water. Her face was smudged with dirt, her long black hair wasn’t only an unsightly mess, but its brilliant luster was gone, and exhaustion stamped its heavy mark around her eyes. Her mother would be mortified by her disheveled appearance and frankly, so was she.

  That she had a reasonable excuse for looking so unkempt was no excuse at all to her. And she felt a sudden need to tidy herself up as best she could. She leaned over the water’s edge and with a scoop of her hand splashed a generous amount in her face. She didn’t
care that it trickled down her neck and over her blouse, she simply wanted to rid herself of the grime.

  She scrubbed her face and neck with her hand and gently patted around her eyes. She wished she could have taken her clothes off and dunked herself in the refreshing water. And while she didn’t doubt that Duncan would eagerly agree and join her, it wasn’t a wise idea.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Startled by Duncan’s firm declaration, Mercy turned to face him. And the truth and caring in his dark eyes had her saying, “You truly mean that, don’t you?”

  His laugh was gentle, just a slight ripple though it came deep from his chest, and for some reason it sent a tingle through her.

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You are a beautiful woman.” He smiled and ran a finger down her wet cheek. “Grime and all.”

  Mercy sat back on her haunches with a slump. “I am rumpled.”

  He laughed. And when she sent him a scowl, his laughter instantly ceased.

  His hand slowly reached out and cupped her chin. “You look like a woman who has been at play with her wee bairns, or busy in the field working alongside her husband, or tending the cook fire so that her family can eat a hardy meal. Or running to survive so that someday she can have bairns and a loving husband, and that, my wee lassie, is true beauty.”

  “Thank you, you are generous,” she said. Her mother may have filled her head with becoming a kept woman, but it was always Mercy’s dream to find a man who would love her as much as she loved him and that they could share a life together. Duncan’s words had reminded her of that dream, and she wished with all her might that miraculously her dream would come true.

  “I am truthful and that makes the difference.”

  “Chivalry and honesty, you will sweep me off my feet if I’m not careful,” she said with a smiling laugh.

  “Another challenge, I am sure to win,” he declared confidently.

  A heavy rustle of leaves sounded, as if someone approached and they both swerved around, Duncan’s hand quickly moving to the hilt of his sword.