Bound to a Warrior (9 page)

Once again he saw that his decision to have Mercy make her home with his people had been a wise one. He yawned. Reaching good solutions always did that to him, made him sleep better.

Now he could get a good night's sleep and in a matter of three, possibly two days, they should be home and safe. The chains would come off and they would be free.

And then he would make love to her.

B
y late morning Mercy was feeling the fast pace they had kept since dawn. Her calves hurt and her feet ached and her back caught in pain now and again, no doubt from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. And if that wasn't enough, her stomach growled in want of food, the morning meal having been woefully inadequate.

Still, Mercy forged ahead, hoping that all she endured would be worth it, that somehow she would find a home and a peaceful life. Perhaps the seer's prediction was true and the rightful king would reclaim the throne and bring peace to Scotland. She hoped and prayed it was so, for his arrival would mean her survival.

She wondered what Duncan thought and asked as they continued walking. “Do you believe the rightful king of Scotland will claim the throne?”

“Do you believe the wrong king sits on the throne?”

“I cannot say for sure, only what I have heard,” she answered.

“Which is?”

“That Kenneth the third who sits on the throne is no descendant of Cinaed, the first King of the Scots. And to be rightful king, ruler of the Scots, he must be of his bloodline.”

“So it is told. It is also told that Kenneth took the name of the true kings of Scotland before him, but has not an ounce of Cinaed's blood in him.”

“Then the seer's prediction could very well be true,” she said with a shake of her head. “Though I must admit the prediction makes no sense to me.”

“It need not,” Duncan said. “Only he who would be king needs to understand it.”

“But the prediction says that when he meets death on his own, that is when he reclaims the throne. If he meets death, how can he ever sit on the throne?”

“The one who will be king will know and that is all that matters.” He smiled. “You seem to know the prediction well.”

Mercy nodded, not wanting to tell him how her mother had repeated it often enough while trying to determine how to find this king and, Mercy assumed, offer her only daughter to him.

“Recite it for me,” he said.

“Do you not know it?”

“Not particularly well.”

Mercy cleared her throat and in rhythmic tone began, “When summer turns to winter and the snow descends, the reign of the false king begins to end, four warriors ride together and then divide, among them the true king
hides, when he meets death on his own, that is when he reclaims the throne.”

“And the Scottish people celebrate,” Duncan cheered.

“You favor the true king?”

“A true king serves his people. The present king serves no one but himself.”

“What do you think will happen to King Kenneth?” she asked.

“That will be a decision left to the true king,” Duncan said, taking her hand as they maneuvered around a rocky path. “However, those who have suffered under his reign might demand his death.”

“Hasn't there been enough death?”

“Blood is always spilt in the battle for freedom.”

Mercy knew the truth of his words. Whether it was a country's battle or an individual's, freedom came with a high price. She fought for her freedom now, more so since she had finally tasted it. No longer did her mother dictate to her, or plan her future without thought to her daughter's hopes or dreams. And though her mother's death saddened her, she also felt a preponderance of guilt for the relief it brought her. That left only one person with the power to decide her future and he already had.

Once she survived the king's edict, then she would truly be free.

Duncan wrapped his arm quickly around her waist before he brought them to an abrupt halt.

She turned wide eyes on Duncan and as soon as she saw how his glance carefully scanned their surroundings
and how his head turned slowly, as if searching for a sound, she knew enough to remain silent.

With his arm secure at her waist he walked them both to an outcropping of large boulders nearly encircled by trees, then slipped behind the biggest one.

“Did you feel the ground rumble?” he asked with barely a whisper.

She shook her head. She had been too lost in her thoughts to notice anything and knew that would not happen again. She would not let it.

“I believe riders approach.”

Mercy felt her skin crawl with fear. If it were a troop of riders, they would have no chance against them. Their only option would be to hide. But if the troop remained in the area, it would only be a matter of time before they were caught. And they were so close to Duncan's home, so close to safety.

She squeezed his hand without realizing it, and when he returned the squeeze it not only comforted her, it gave her resolve. They had faced and survived difficulty together and now was not the time to surrender to her fear.

She was not alone. Duncan was with her and together they could do anything.

Her body froze when she heard it, a distant rumbling that sounded like thunder, but wasn't. It was a troop of soldiers headed their way. If they remained where they were, they should not be noticed. But then there were scouts to worry about. Could one have already spotted them?

They would need to be more vigilant and take roads less traveled, delaying them once again. Then there was the vast moorlike area they had to cover. Could the troops be going there in hopes of setting a trap for them?

Mercy let her mind conceive what it would. Then she would discuss the possibilities with Duncan and see what could be done.

She squeezed his hand again and this time he looked over at her. His dark eyes so intense suddenly softened and he leaned over and brushed his lips across hers, teasing a response from her, then returned his attention to the sound that reverberated through the ground beneath them.

Mercy reveled in the light kiss. She would not have wanted to meet death without having shared a kiss with Duncan one more time. Now she was ready; with Duncan at her side she was ready for anything.

She maintained her silence and her courage as the riders' approach grew louder. Just before it seemed they were upon them Duncan turned and flattened himself against the boulder just as Mercy had done.

She knew Duncan could not take the chance and be seen, though it was difficult not to have a peek and see how many there were. It took several minutes for them to pass, which led Mercy to believe it was a good size contingent. The king was certainly determined to see them dead.

The dreadful thought caused her to shudder and as it trickled from her body to Duncan's, he stepped in front
of her. He kept hold of her hand, pressed his body to hers and rested his mouth next to her ear.

“I will keep us safe and do you know why?' he murmured.

His warm breath tickled her skin and if his mouth hadn't rested so near she would not have heard him, that's how low his murmur. She shook her head.

“Nothing—” He paused and faintly kissed the tip of her ear. “Nothing, not even the king's men, is going to stop me from making love to you.”

She didn't have to worry about remaining silent, she was stunned speechless and glad for it, since she didn't know how to respond. Instinct, however, did and when his lips moved past hers, she captured them with her own and kissed him.

Their lips barely had time to enjoy each other when they heard.

“Turn around nice and slow, unless you want to die before her.”

Duncan moved his lips off hers and mouthed,
How many
?

She had to raise herself on the tips of her toes to glance over his shoulder. And when her feet were once again planted fully on the ground she mouthed,
One.
He moved slowly away from her, and as he did, his hand carefully slipped over the handle of the dirk tucked at his waist. The problem was that it was his hand that was shackled to hers. What did he expect her to do?

She studied his eyes and it took only a few moments for
her to get the gist of what he wanted her to do. With the breadth and width of him concealing her from the soldier, she had little worry of being seen, and acknowledged her assent with a smile.

He returned her smile and slowly moved away.

The soldier grinned victoriously, though it didn't last. Duncan's slow movements changed in a second as he rushed down on one knee and in one fluid motion thrust the dirk forward into the soldier's stomach, Mercy in rhythm with his every move.

One more thrust to his chest finished him and he fell to the ground dead. Mercy watched his blood pool beneath him until the ground appeared saturated with it. She placed her hand to her stomach and couldn't help but imagine how differently this scene could have played.

Suddenly her view was blocked by Duncan's chest and without thinking she pressed her face right in the middle where his shirt separated. His warm, damp flesh, the quick beat of his heart, his familiar, rich scent and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist brought such a sense of safety and relief to her that she feared she just might weep.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “You should not have to see this as well as be part of it.”

“But I do,” she said and raised her head to meet his dark eyes. For a moment she stared speechless into those dark absorbing depths that so keenly expressed his profound concern. And her heart swelled with the magnitude of his compassion, or was it more than that? There was
something…something in his eyes she couldn't quite understand, though felt the need to.

“Why?” he asked with a shake of his head.

She realized then that they both had stood speechless, staring at one another until finally Duncan had snapped out of whatever had hold of them and had spoken.

“It teaches me how to survive,” she said with a bravado that wasn't quite as courageous as it sounded.

“I told you that you will survive, I will make sure of it,” he said sternly, as if annoyed she doubted him.

She placed her hand to his chest and spoke softly. “And I will make certain you survive. Remember we work well together.”

He smiled and chuckled, jingling the chain. “I couldn't do it without you.”

“That you couldn't,” she agreed with her own smile.

Duncan walked her away from the lifeless body, but not from the protection of the boulders. “We need to be extra vigilant.”

“How is it that only one soldier found us?”

“He's probably a scout that covers their rear and somehow caught wind of us,” he explained. “Once he doesn't return they will send others to search for him.”

“Which means the area will be swarming with soldiers soon enough.”

“A good reason for us to take cover and travel no further today,” he said.

“I know it might be more difficult, but perhaps we should consider traveling at night.”

“Traveling the woods and land at night can be treacherous.”

“It appears traveling during the day is just, if not more, deadly,” she said and could tell by the squint of his brow that he was considering the suggestion.

“It would take us more time.”

“Want to be rid of me so soon?” she teased.

He leaned down, their noses almost touching. “I want this chain off and then…”

There was no misunderstanding the fiery passion in his eyes and suddenly she felt that for the moment it was better they were shackled together.

“We better go,” she said.

He gave her a quick kiss. “You're right. We need to get out of this area and find a place to rest until dusk.”

Carefully, they made their way out of their hiding spot and when relatively certain no one lurked about, they darted across the path they had traveled and disappeared into the woods hoping to take a wide berth around the contingent of soldiers that continued on the road not far ahead.

Travel soon grew burdensome as they attempted to forge a path through the dense woods. How they would be able to accomplish the same feat at night was a question that troubled Mercy. But then her accomplishments had been many since being shackled to Duncan and time and again she was grateful for his presence.

She nearly tripped on a fallen branch, though caught herself quick enough. She silently admonished herself
for not concentrating on her steps. She had to be ever watchful of each and every step she took. And so she turned her attention to what was important and silenced the endless chatter in her head.

Mercy wanted to shout out her joy when Duncan finally stopped a few hours later. They had not taken a minute's rest and lord, could she use a minute, or a few, maybe an hour or two.

“You're worn out,” he said glancing down at her.

She wanted to be courageous and deny the truth, but she simply couldn't. She was bone-weary from all that had taken place today and she needed a small reprieve, to refresh and grow strong once again.

“Aye, that I am,” she admitted.

He smiled. “I'm glad you admitted it, for I feel the same myself.”

“Good,” she said, though quickly added, “not that it's good you're worn out, but that I feel less guilty knowing you require rest as well.”

“Then rest we shall have,” he said and before he released her chin, he kissed her softly and then took her hand as he headed for a thicket of bushes.

She was becoming all too accustomed to his kisses, even looking forward to them. She considered that perhaps the lovely and often intense feelings she experienced with him were the prelude to falling in love. If that was so she was in trouble.

She would dearly love to remain with his clan, build a life there and even continue to explore her mounting
attraction and desire for Duncan. Unfortunately, that was a dream that would not see fruition. She simply could not allow it to, no matter how enticing it seemed. In doing so she would endanger many lives, just as she had Duncan's.

She could not allow herself the luxury of believing she could have a normal life. It just would not happen, not now, perhaps not ever, unless of course the seer's prediction proved true.

Sorrow stabbed at her heart. Her father had not been a loving man. He could even be harsh at times, though it had been worse when he simply ignored her as if she didn't exist. She had wanted for nothing, except of course his love, or a minor demonstration of it. Time had taught her that she was more of a pawn for her mother and father to use in their games for power and influence. It explained why she was treated well, though not cherished, why she was taught various languages, why she was schooled in the manners of the high-born. Her mother wished to match her with the king who would claim the throne. Her father planned to sell her to the highest bidder, and she would be as her mother, a kept woman.