Bound to a Warrior (4 page)

Though her stomach no longer yearned for food, she did as he asked, for he was right. She had to fortify her body when possible, since there was no telling when next they would eat.

A chilly crispness filled the night air, though Mercy wasn't as cold as last night, but then she had been naked, her clothes soaking wet. And tonight they even had a blanket to help keep them warm.

She didn't stop to think whether they would snuggle together for warmth once again, it seemed to be expected. Once stretched out on the pallet of leaves they nestled
together in each other's arms with the comfort of old lovers reunited.

“Much warmer than last night,” Duncan said, “even without a fire.”

“And our stomachs are at least somewhat satisfied,” she added. “So it seems that our lot has improved.”

His arm tightened around her. “For now, but our journey is far from over.”

She nestled her cheek against his chest, the familiar scent comforting. “We work well together, therefore, we will do well together.”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “We make a good pair.”

Mercy laid in silence listening to Duncan's steady breathing while sleep crept over her. His words danced in her thoughts and she smiled.

They did make a good pair. How sad that they would have to part.

D
uncan woke early the next day, and though he would have much preferred to let Mercy remain comfortably snuggled in his arms, he knew he couldn't. He had to get her feet bandaged and they had to get moving. There was no telling where the soldiers were by now, or if a larger contingent was sent to track them. Besides, not being able to travel the main roads would surely hamper their progress.

He hesitated a moment more, lingering in the warmth of her body pressed so intimately against his. They might not be naked this time, but that didn't stop him from remembering the swell and curves of her enticing body. He would not at all mind coupling with her.

He silently cursed his own tempting thoughts that instantly turned him hard. And he didn't favor Mercy waking to his arousal pressed against her. They had enough to concern themselves with, without her needing to worry that he'd take advantage of her. Not that
he wanted to take advantage of her. He rather hoped it would be a mutual coupling.

Stop thinking about it, you fool!

That's right
, he silently berated himself.
Keep it up and
—

He shook his head, taking his own words the wrong way and making him harder than ever. There was only one way out of this.

He pulled away from Mercy abruptly saying, “Wake up. We need to get started.”

Startled, Mercy bolted up, hurriedly rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said curtly. “We just need to be on our way. No telling how many soldiers are on our trail.”

She yawned, rolled her shoulders and winced. “I miss a soft mattress.”

“Lucky you are that you once had one. I've had no more than a pallet.”

For a moment she appeared a bit anxious, but recovered quickly. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“What of love?” he asked.

“What of it?”

“Love lasts forever.”

Again she startled, though didn't recover as quickly. “You truly believe that?”

“Don't you?”

She shrugged. “Men love when it's convenient for them.”

“Not all men.”

“You have never told a woman you loved her for the sake of the moment?” she asked.

“No. Never,” he answered tersely. “There is only one woman I will pledge my love to and that is the woman I take as my wife. She will be my partner, my lover, my mate for life. I will love no other but her, and she will love no other but me.”

“Then she will certainly be a lucky woman,” Mercy said.

“And I will be a lucky man.”

She leaned forward, closer to him, nervously chewing at her bottom lip as if she was uncertain to reveal something, so he was rather disappointed when she said, “You're right. We better get going.”

“I'll tend your feet,” he said, reaching for the sack that had held their food.

Mercy took the sack from him and began tearing off a strip. “I can manage it myself.”

He would have protested, but she looked determined and there was no time to argue. They truly did need to get started.

When she finished, he noticed that she winced when she slipped her boots on and it bothered him to know that the day's journey might prove painful for her.

She held up the sack. “I just took some off the top edge. This way the sack is still useful to us.”

Duncan snatched the blanket up, folded it, then shoved it in the sack. “How are your feet?”

“They will do fine.”

He had to smile at her determination. “You'll let me know if they become too painful.”

She was about to respond when an unfamiliar noise startled them both. Duncan motioned for her to remain silent and she nodded.

Suddenly a hare hopped into their lair so fast that Mercy would have screeched if Duncan hadn't clamped his hand over her mouth. He cautioned silence with wide eyes and a shake of his head. For an animal to scurry in fright could mean only one thing…something chased it.

“You fool, you missed it,” a male voice chastised.

“It's around here somewhere. I'll get it,” said the other man with gruff irritation.

“It's long gone and I'm long hungry,” the other fellow complained. “Now let's do what I said and get us some fish to fill our empty bellies.”

Duncan removed his hand from Mercy's mouth and leaned forward to peer through the brushes as best he could without stirring them. The hare remained where he had landed as if he sensed it was a safe spot.

“I'm telling you the two are dead,” the one said. “I don't know why we have to waste time looking for dead people.”

“You want to tell the king that?”

The man must have shaken his head since the one fellow spoke again.

“Fine. Then let's get our bellies fed.”

“No need to hurry,” the man complained. “The dead ones aren't going anywhere.”

Their footfalls finally faded to nothing, but Duncan and Mercy, along with the hare, remained perfectly still and silent. None of them wanted to take the chance of being caught. Finally, the hare made the first move, hopping off.

Still, Duncan chose to whisper. “We need to move fast and quietly.”

Mercy nodded.

“Stay extra close so that the chain does not make noise,” he said.

Watching every step they took, Duncan and Mercy left the protective covering of the bushes and quietly made their way in the woods, opposite from where the two soldiers had gone.

It was at least three hours before either of them spoke. And it was with a quick nod to the heavens that Duncan said, “A storm brews.”

“Then we best pick up the pace,” Mercy said, doing just that.

Duncan matched her new rhythm, having thought the same himself. But then the will to survive could certainly produce parallel thoughts. Or was it that they were similar in nature, thus thought alike?

How odd that they should work so well as a pair when they barely knew each other. Normally, it took time to get to know one another and yet it seemed that Mercy and he were far from strangers, or even acquaintances. They were more like old friends who long understood each other. And yet he knew little about her.

The thought had him asking, “Will your family search for you?”

“The last of my family is gone.”

He almost halted in his tracks, but caught himself and kept his pace. “If you have no family, where will you go?”

“I have friends,” she said.

He noticed her response held a hint of hesitation. Assuming her situation was more precarious than she admitted, he offered her a safety net.

“You are welcome to remain with my people as long as you'd like.”

“That's kind of you, and while I may rest my weary feet for a few days, I will no doubt soon be on my way.”

He smiled and said, “As you wish.”

However, he had no intention of letting her take her leave on her own. A beautiful woman just wouldn't be safe traveling alone and for some reason he felt her safety his responsibility.

A crack of thunder had them both stopping abruptly and casting anxious glances to the heavens.

“It won't be long before the rain starts,” Mercy said.

Duncan was conflicted. He wanted desperately to forge ahead regardless of the weather, gaining as much ground as they could. He doubted the storm would stop the soldiers, which would make travel even more dangerous for him and Mercy.

He knew their chance of survival would increase the
closer they got to his home. Sentinels were kept posted on the far perimeters of the land just for that reason, to make certain that approaching clansmen reached home safely.

“You don't want to stop, do you?” Mercy asked.

He voiced his concern. “I doubt the soldiers will stop.”

“Then we can't.”

“We'll get soaked again,” he said.

“That doesn't matter,” she said. “We keep going and dry out when we can.”

He grinned. “I wouldn't mind you naked in my arms again.”

“Enjoy it while you can, Highlander, nothing lasts forever.”

He surprised himself when without forethought, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her up against him, settling his mouth close to hers.

“Love,” he whispered. “Love lasts forever.”

A startling crack of thunder should have broken them apart, but it didn't. They remained pressed against each other, their eyes locked and their lips so close that one small pucker, and they would kiss.

It wasn't the first falling raindrop, but a few fat ones that finely separated them and had them quickly resuming their journey. They kept ahead of the storm for a distance until the heavy rain caught up with them and in no time they were both soaked through.

It didn't stop them though, they kept going, their clothes
soaked to their skin, their hair dripping with rain. Duncan glanced her way now and again and wondered if perhaps the torturous ordeal would bring her to tears. But when he looked, he couldn't tell if she was crying, since rain was falling continuously down her face.

It wasn't until several hours later when the storm grew worse, the wind howling and whipping around them so severely that Duncan tucked Mercy in the corner of his arm and bent his body partially over her to protect her from the ruthless squall, then decided they had no choice but to stop.

They were lucky to stumble upon a small cave. It was barely big enough for the both of them, but at least it offered shelter from the storm.

“We need a fire,” Mercy said, shivering.

Duncan was already looking to see if the cave had anything else to offer them, and he smiled when he saw enough small broken branches to serve well as kindling. He didn't have to say a word to her; she must have followed his glance as they bent together and began picking up the wood to start a fire.

They kept the campfire near the mouth of the cave, though far enough back so that the rain and wind wouldn't disturb it. As soon as Duncan got the fire going, he removed the blanket from the wet sack and with Mercy's help spread it nearby to dry. Then they huddled together in front of the flames.

“We made good distance until we were forced to stop,” Mercy said and quick as a wink slipped her blouse over
her head and twisted the rainwater out of it. “Hurry and do the same,” she urged. “We'll hold my blouse and your shirt by the fire and hopefully they might dry enough for us to put them back on tonight.

He didn't protest, especially since he worried that if her full, bouncy breasts and those tight hard nipples stared at him for the entire evening, he would do something regrettably foolish.

Duncan followed her leave in rubbing himself dry with his free hand, at least the top part of him. He had yet to remove his plaid and actually didn't want to. While the wet wool dampened his desires, it certainly couldn't keep entire control of it. And every time she leaned over closer to the fire, her breasts swinging loose and free in front of her, he ached to reach out and cup one in his hand.

He could almost feel the mound resting heavily in his hand and then all he'd have to do is run his thumb over that taut nipple and–

“Watch out!” she yelled and yanked their chained wrists back. “Wet or not, you near singed your shirt on the flames.”

She stirred restless. “We best shed the rest of our wet garments.”

“That's going to be a problem.”

“Why?'

He was blunt. “I want nothing more right now than to lower you to the ground and couple with you.”

M
ercy froze, her mouth agape, staring at Duncan. “That's not going to happen.”

Duncan shook his head, running his fingers through his long hair and squeezing the water out the ends before he asked, “Why?”

She didn't know how to respond and floundered in an attempt to supply an adequate answer.

“I could understand if you believed in love,” he said with a casual shrug. “But since you don't, why not enjoy a good toss when you can get it?”

Again she couldn't find the right words and she wondered was it because she didn't know herself? If love remained in question for her, whatever was she waiting for?

“Your silence confirms that you have no answer.” He reached out and ran a gentle finger along the side of her face. “It also tells me that you probably have never been intimate with a man and you're simply frightened of the
first time. I promise you that you would enjoy me nestled between your legs.”

Mercy brushed his hand away, his once tender touch now feeling more like a branding iron. She had no intentions of being like her mother, branded by a man and subjected to his whim.

“Why is no concern of yours,” she snapped.

“Besides being courageous, you're feisty. I like that.”

She reached out and poked his bare chest. It was solid and made her realize that wit was called for rather than anger. “And I like that you're chivalrous.”

“You're forever going to remind me of that, aren't you?”

“As often as necessary,” she said with a smile.

“If you should change your mind—”

“I shall let you know.”

“How?” he asked with a teasing glint.

“Why, I shall simply tell you, of course.”

“You'll tell me that you want to couple with me,” he said as if confirming her response. “You will say it clearly so it could not be misunderstood.”

Mercy took a step closer to him, though not close enough that they should touch. She then reached out and did what she had seen her mother do time and again to the man who had kept her. She caressed his lips with the tip of her finger over and over and over again as she said, “I want you, Duncan. I want you now.”

Mercy only intended it as a demonstration.

Duncan took it differently.

She was in his arms and his lips on hers before she had a chance to react and by then she realized she liked the taste of him. His kiss wasn't hungry, sloppy or hurried and he didn't grope her. His arm remained taut around her waist while his lips simply took command.

And though she had never been kissed, it didn't matter. She did what came naturally to her and tasted him with all the enthusiasm of a novice ready and willing to learn. And she didn't want to stop. She wanted to go on tasting him, until a tingle started between her legs and she felt the urge to press closer, more intimately against him. She knew then she had to stop, or soon passion would take command and the choice would not be hers. And hadn't her mother told her endlessly that when a woman controlled the passion, she controlled the man? Right now, at this moment, she needed to be in control.

Reluctantly, she broke away from him, her lips lingering for one last moment on his before she took a step back.

“That is how you shall know I want you,” she said a bit breathless and trying to ignore his flaring nostrils and heaving chest.

He looked about to speak and then, as if thinking better, shut his mouth tightly.

“Perhaps we should leave our remaining garments on to dry,” she suggested.

He nodded, turned toward the fire and continued to remain silent.

She chose to do the same.

She suddenly realized she was still bare-breasted and wished to slip her blouse back on. But it was too wet, as was her skirt. She needed to get her garments dried and with hours yet before nightfall, it was possible that her blouse could dry. Then she could slip it on and her skirt off, leaving her long blouse to provide cover.

She moved to gain distance, forgetting they were attached, and yanked him along with her. He stumbled, though righted himself without touching her, and then in unison they sat before the fire.

Where once she felt comfortable with him, she now was apprehensive. She blamed it on the kiss. The kiss had changed things between them. How or why, she wasn't sure. She only knew that things were now different.

A twinge in her foot reminded her that she had not attended to her sore feet, and she quickly set to the task, besides her boots needed drying. The wet leather gave her a bit of a struggle and after her effort produced a grunt and a groan, Duncan reached out and took command.

He pushed her hands away and with a gentle yank had her boots off in no time. He did the same to his own and placed both hers and his near the heat of the fire. He then turned and slipped his hand around her ankle and lifted it to rest on his crossed legs.

“I can see—”

A quick raise and snap of his hand had her protest dying on her lips. Now was not a good time to argue with him, so she let him have his way.

He was gentle as he unwrapped the swath of cloth she had used to protect her blistered toe. He examined it, raising her leg to get a better look. When he was done he did the same to her other foot.

She thought him done, since he draped the strips of cloth over the boots. And with her feet more chilled than aching, she wanted to warm them by the fire. But when she started to slide her feet off his legs, his hand quickly stopped them. Then without a word he began to rub the warmth back into one.

She never expected his large hands to be so nimble. He massaged her sole with deep, thrusting strokes, chasing the chill from her feet. Then he tenderly worked heat into her toes, taking his time until each one glowed pink. After finishing the one foot, he worked on the other. And she simply sat with her eyes closed and enjoyed as the heat spread from her feet up along her body.

Somewhere in her head she was reminding herself that she should be more concerned with making certain her blouse dried, but convinced herself that her feet were just as important.

Suddenly she recalled her naked breasts and the consequences of not seeing that her blouse dried. It meant sleeping completely naked in Duncan's arms again. And after their kiss, she didn't think that was a wise idea.

He stopped just as she opened her eyes, and she was relieved that no comment was necessary. She stretched her feet out far enough so that the fire's heat would continue to keep them warm. She then fussed with arranging her
blouse as best as possible to dry, hoping he would follow her lead. Gratefully he did, and they once again settled quietly in silence.

She didn't care for the uncomfortable silence between them. She missed the ease in which they had talked with one another and the sense of safety she had felt with him. The kiss had simply ruined everything, but yet…

She couldn't deny that she favored his kiss, unexpected as it was and with no sense of expectation; it had been a memorable experience. And if she was honest with herself, one she wouldn't mind experiencing again.

Stop being foolish, Mercy.

Her mother's sharp warning rang clear in her head. She had expected it; even though her mother was dead, her lessons had been drilled too deeply for Mercy to ever forget. Her mother would expect her to use Duncan for what she could get from him and then be done with him. After all, he was not a man of means or power and thereby worthless to the likes of her mother.

But if he could keep her safe and provide a safe haven until she could find better, then her mother would advise her to do whatever was necessary, and that included coupling with him.

Her mother had warned Mercy not to waste her time on love—that it was a grievous condition that brought only pain and suffering. She recalled the rare few times she heard her mother crying. She had been young and her mother's sobs had ripped at her small heart and she wanted to comfort her, but when she had tried, her mother
yelled that this was what loving a man did to you and don't be foolish enough to ever let it happen.

And so she was left confused about love and men. Her mother told her not to worry, since she would see that a generous marriage arrangement was made for her. However, her mother had made a foolish and costly decision, and now Mercy was on her own.

“We will need to find food in the morning.”

Mercy was so relieved that Duncan had broken the silence. Being alone with her thoughts didn't help, since it made her realize the true precariousness of her situation.

“It would be nice if we could catch a fish or two, but that would require a fire to cook them,” she said disappointed.

“There are farms throughout this area. We're bound to come across one soon.”

“The tenants may fear helping us.”

“Or they may be as kind as Bailey and his wife. And if not we'll survive on the last of the fall berries and apples, if we can find them. Then when we arrive at my home, Mara will have a feast prepared.”

He spoke the woman's name with such fondness and glee that Mercy couldn't help but ask, “You love this woman?”

With a broad smile and a glint of joy in his eyes, he said, “With all my heart and I have since I was born.”

Strangely, she felt a pang of relief. “She's your mother.”

Duncan shook his head. “My mother died giving birth to me and my father died shortly after in battle. With no other family left to care for me, Mara and her husband Carmag took me in and raised me as their own along with their son Trey, who is but a year younger than my twenty and seven years.”

“So Trey is like a brother to you.”

Duncan nodded. “So are Reeve and Bryce, who arrived at Mara and Carmag's doorstep one cold snowy night. Bryce was barely five years and Reeve just four years and they clung to each other for a good week until they finally realized they had found a good, safe home.”

“They're brothers?” she asked happy that she was learning more about Duncan and relieved she was feeling comfortable with him once again.

“No. They met along the road after their farms had been destroyed and their parents killed.”

“Clan war?' Mercy asked.

“If the clans aren't battling themselves, they're battling those who wish to claim sovereignty over Scotland.”

“But it is being whispered that the true king will return soon and his reign will bring peace,” she said.

“Many hope and pray that it is true,” he said and reached his hand out to feel his shirt. “Almost dry.”

Mercy eagerly felt her blouse. “Mine is dry. Now I can put it on and take my skirt off and leave it to dry.”

Duncan stood along with her. She wasn't surprised that he turned his head away while she removed her
skirt and maneuvered herself into her blouse. Then she quickly spread her skirt out to dry.

She let him know he could turn around with a quick, “All done.”

His dark eyes took in all of her much too slowly and lingered much too long in certain areas. And while the linen blouse provided sufficient covering, she also realized it tantalized. Her mother taught her that a single revealing garment could entice a man more than if a woman stood naked before him.

“You should know by now that I'm extremely attracted to you and that kiss we shared makes me want to sample more of you.”

She felt a nibble of the same, but it would be unwise to let him know that now. He would assume that she was willing, when actually she was curious. And curiosity could be a dangerous thing.

“And presently, I wish
only
for the safety and warmth of your arms,” she said.

“Does that mean you will still keep your promise of that kiss when we are free?”

She smiled. “A promise is a promise.”

“Then I promise you the safety and warmth of my arms for as long as you need them.” He grinned. “No matter how difficult it is for me.”

She laughed softly. “You are an honorable man, Highlander.”

“There you go forever reminding me.”

“I don't think you need reminding. I believe it is your nature. It is simply who you are.”

“Keep that thought strong,” he said, his hand going to his waist. “Since I'm about to take this annoying wet wool plaid off and stand naked in front of you.”