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Her hand dropped to her sword from habit rather than actual fear. She didn’t trust the Parlanian man of course, but she knew she could kill him with relative ease. There was no need to fear him. “They wouldn’t be here yet.”

“Those messenger pigeons of Zeke’s are a wonder, aren’t they?”

She shrugged and hoped he would take the hint and go away.

“I’m looking forward to seeing your home of Solonia. I’m sure you miss it, but your assistance in Parlania has been invaluable.”

“I wasn’t there to help you. My job was to protect Deomo Sinda.”

He fell silent as if finally comprehending her dislike of his company, but he didn’t leave.

“Cara, I know I’ve done nothing to cause this distrust and hatred you carry toward me and all Parlanians, but I respect your feelings. We’ve earned such suspicions. Perhaps with people like you to always remind us we can assure that no future generations endure such depravations.” His boots swished through the dew-soaked grass as he returned to their camp under a grove of trees. Who cared whether he thought he deserved her scorn or not? Arrogant bastard.

But she tolerated his presence, worked with him and other slimy Parlanians, if only so she wouldn’t disappoint Juston Steele. Three Realm soldiers besides Zeke had remained in Parlania with her while the settlement worked at rebuilding itself. Much of Zeke’s work had centered on the university and its valuable contents.

Cara hated Parlania. She hated the blonde-haired men, the hollow-eyed women, the parentless children and the toll their pain took on her. For all intents, Roth Celebria and his Realm wife, Claudia Turan, ruled the newly freed kingdom. There was so much work to be done rebuilding their society and helping the people heal as best as they could. When she could arrange it, she took guard duty over the former leader and his henchmen as they worked the spring planting or repaired buildings in the city. Seeing all those strong, once proud men wearing the slave collars always cheered her. Still she wanted her duty here in Parlania to be done.

Today was another test of her personal fortitude, but of another kind. Today she must see Captain Brady Gellot of the Realm. It’d been more than half a year since she’d watched him ride away from Parlania. The tall, dark-haired warrior of the Realm always wrapped her in tangles.

Her warrior self trusted him to fight beside her. She knew he was as good a man as any of that species could be, and often she’d enjoyed conversations with him. But sometimes his blue eyes looked too deeply into hers with that direct, unflinching honesty of a Realm warrior.

ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 8

She could admire his lithe, graceful body as he rode his horse or engaged in swordplay, but to look on him as anything more frightened her.

The admission stung her, but there it was. It had taken nearly a year among the poor, broken women of Parlania to admit to herself this crippling fear of men. She used rudeness to keep men at an emotional and physical distance. Her impolite ways had turned Brady’s friendship to ashes right before they fought the battle in Parlania. And therein lay her dread and anticipation of this day.

She didn’t want to see the coolness in Brady’s eyes as at their last parting. But she did want to gaze upon his handsome face and hear his deep voice that could be so warm and full of humor. It was so confusing.

She didn’t want a man in her life. Did she? She’d seen couples locked in romantic embraces, but she couldn’t imagine allowing a man to hold her so intimately. Not even Brady Gellot.

And what did she know of men and their whims? A man like Brady could have his choice of willing, whole women. Why would he even think twice of a woman like her even if he didn’t know her horrid history? Then again, hadn’t he looked at her with a special interest all those months ago? No, he deserved a normal, healthy woman.

Shadows of movement stirred the fog across the river. The sun had risen more than two hours ago though it had made little dent in clearing the thick mists. Brady was bringing three warriors to replace the Realm men who’d been trapped here for the long months of the rainy winter and the early spring. The men were as eager to return to their families and home as she was. But until Juston sent another to take over the duty as protector to the Deomo, she would remain without complaint in cursed Parlania. Unfortunately, today that meant playing host to Brady Gellot.

Brady was to spend only two days in Parlania, gathering a report and exchanging news, before returning to the Realm with the men. She wouldn’t have to tolerate the discomfort of his presence for long.

She recognized Zeke in the moody swirls of the mists as he led someone to the bridge on the other side. Even with the fog and distance, she knew it was Brady. He stood a bit taller than Zeke and was much wider through the shoulders. His lean hips moved with the swagger of confidence she admired and wished for herself. And then there was his hair. Even as short as he wore it, the dark mass rose in unmanageable tufts and curious angles. It begged to be brushed and smoothed into obedience, though she’d never seen it tamed. Even when wet its wild spirit broke free.

She knew how the conversation between the two men would go. Brady would trust the bridge as little as she did. But he was an excellent swimmer unlike herself and would brave the shaky walkway. No one could force her to try the ropes. A fall into the Watara’s icy spring flood would be death for someone with her limited skills.

Brady looked across the river and after a moment lifted his hand in the Realm’s way of greeting. She had no choice but to return it. After a brief lift of her hand, she slipped back toward the trees and the meager cover of their still bare limbs.

Her heart thudded in an irregular cadence as if it too was unsure how to think of this disturbing man. Two days in his company? Within the hour he would cross the river and she still didn’t know if she was excited or fearful.

* * * *

ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 9

“You walked over on that?” Brady reached over his head and touched the twine.

The ropes stretching across the muddy river were as thick as his wrist, but that was still pretty thin to put his feet upon.

“I crossed at first light, sir.” Zeke Oman gestured at the massive, old oak that served as anchor for the rope bridge. “We put this rope up last fall and then Roth and some men climbed hand over hand across the river to set the others. A number of us have traveled back and forth regularly.”

“Are you telling me to buck up, Oman?”

Zeke grinned. “Trying to assure you it’s completely safe, sir.”

Brady snorted but he patted the revolver hanging at his hip. “I trusted you when you asked me to try this new gun so I guess I’ll trust your next invention.”

“I’ve heard the rumor you’re pretty good with it, sir. Did you bring more rounds? The men guarding the disposed shepherds have been carrying them.”

“Two hundred rounds in one of my packs and someone else has another two hundred.”

“Let me help you settle those packs, sir. You don’t want to be off balance crossing the bridge.”

Oman shifted Brady’s packs around, putting the heavy bullet bag in the very middle. He had another pack with a change of clothing and a wide variety of other items and then the bundle made up of his sleeping mats.

“Want me to go first, sir?” one of the Realm men asked.

“No. You guys would never let me forget it.” Heights or dangerous bridges didn’t frighten him. It was the glimpse of the thin, feminine form he’d glimpsed waiting across the river that slowed his feet. She’d come to meet them, damn it.

Cara had been much on his mind over the long winter months. Not that he hadn’t tried to forget her in the company of other women. His lingering fascination with the blonde-haired woman frustrated him. She’d made it abundantly and rudely clear she had no desire for his company, and there were many other women who felt differently. Still, her dark eyes visited his dreams with their secrets and mystery. Her too-thin body, unlike the more rounded forms of most Solonians, should not have attracted him. But it did. Now he would have to spend hours in her company, something neither of them would wish. Yet duty demanded it.

He checked the thin leather loop that held his pistol secure in its carefully designed sheath.

The first few steps on the ropes weren’t too bad. But once he’d worked his way out to over the roaring flood, the bridge swayed wildly.

“Take smaller steps,” Zeke shouted from the bank. Only one man could cross the rope bridge at a time so the others watched.

It did help to take short, careful steps but each one required looking down at one’s feet.

The muddy water swirled and rushed below him at what was surely four times its usual summer depth.

He paused and looked downstream. Less than half a mile to the east, the river dumped its load over a cliff and beyond sight it would join the sea. The rugged terrain and treacherous riverbank prevented any close exploration of the cataract. He heard the waterfall as a distant growl so powerful it spoke louder than the roar of the river below his feet.

Halfway across, he caught the rhythm of walking the ropes. He glanced at the far bank and saw most of the party had moved closer to the bank and watched him approach. Cara stood in the shadows of one of the thick trees anchoring the bridge ropes. She looked thinner than ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 10

ever, almost frail. He was close enough to see the frown on her face. No surprise there but she seemed to be looking up the stream and not at him.

Her hand dropped to her sword and she ran toward him. She stopped at her end of the bridge and shouted at him. He couldn’t hear but followed her gesture to look up stream.

A tree barreled toward him, half submerged perhaps, but the part riding on top of the river poked higher into the sky than his head. It would take out the bridge and him along with it if he didn’t get off of it. But the bridge wasn’t designed for rapid transit. He had no choice but to continue with measured steps.

He wasn’t going to make it. More people joined Cara in shouted encouragement. The closer he was to shore before the tree tore out the bridge, the better his chances of swimming to safety. Could even his excellent swimming skills match the strength of the river?

The sun broke through the chilly fog so the ropes sparkled with the moisture caught on them. The sudden glare nearly blinded him.

He squinted and glanced up river. Something struck him in the head and flipped him off the bridge. Gritty water filled his mouth as he went under.

* * * *

The tree snagged for the space of a breath on the bridge and then tore free. Ropes snapped, branches cracked, and the uprooted giant swept over Brady. Cara glimpsed his light brown shirt for one dreadful moment before he was pushed under the dark waters.

She raced along the riverbank, keeping pace with the tree which again hesitated as one of the trailing ropes from the bridge caught on something unseen beneath the frothing water.

Brady’s hand and then his head appeared on the far side of the trunk. He pulled his torso out of the water. Blood ran from his temple in a brilliant scarlet ribbon in sharp contrast to the colorless river. He looked at her with dazed eyes for a moment, but the tree broke loose and careened toward the narrow gorge leading to the waterfall.

“No!” The roar of river and cataract drowned her scream and those from behind her.

She ran forward, her lungs afire as she jumped over rocks, bushes, and a downed sapling.

Each obstacle put her further behind Brady. The tree rolled part way over and he went under for a moment before crawling back to the surface. She tripped over something and scrambled quickly to her feet. The bank held ever more obstacles and many more than she could negotiate quickly.

She took a deep breath and ran the few steps toward the river. She dove toward the tree.

The water slapped her body at the same time cold reality slapped her senses. What was she doing? She splashed awkwardly and kicked her legs. Her hand touched a branch of the tree.

Climbing hand over hand along the slippery limb, she gained a hold on the trunk. Her soaked clothes tugged at her as if unseen hands pulled her toward the bottom. After a few unsuccessful, exhausting attempts, she pulled her body on top of the bucking trunk. Not far beyond her, Brady struggled to pull himself further out of the water. His packs hung down his back and added unnecessary weight.

“Drop your packs!” The falls pounded her ears with its throaty roar.

He looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes widened at the sight of her. His shouted answer was lost in the overwhelming cacophony of the coming disaster.

They both crawled along the thick trunk until their hands touched. For once she wasn’t disturbed by the touch of a man. Despite the icy water, his fingers felt warm against her nearly numb fingers.

“Did you fall in?”

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She read his lips more than heard the words. She shook her head and gripped his hand tighter. For some reason, her coming death didn’t frighten her. She didn’t want Brady to die with her, but it was a comfort that she wouldn’t die alone as she’d always feared. Soon all her nightmares would end. Her soul deep shame, the hate and the anger that marked her existence would all be gone. Hopefully their deaths would be quick and relatively painless.

“You fool!” Brady screamed. “Why did you dive in? Why?”

The walls of the cliffs rushed by and her entire body vibrated with the noise. She wrapped both her hands around Brady’s left hand and looked into his eyes. The sun shone on them like a perverse joke of nature and lit his eyes to the same color as the sky. She read sadness and regret there and felt them in the way he squeezed her hands. He looked forward then, and she followed his gaze with hers. The water frothed with wild, brown waves. Not far ahead the world dropped away. She could see nothing but sky and then a momentary glimpse of the sea far ahead and below them.