SeducingtheHuntress (8 page)

“Dad’s here,” she breathed. But at Reuben’s still form and
ashen face, all joy fled. Alarm shot through her. “You need to get out of
here,” she whispered urgently. But when he stood his ground she grew more
panicked. “Damn it, Reuben, now! Before they—”

Boots clomped on the landing. A sharp rap sounded on the
door before it swung open.

Her breath hissed. Soldiers! What the hell? How had they
found out about Reuben? His kind—
nightmixes
and even the non-shifting
black panther were protected now by order of the king—unless Reuben had done
someone harm.
Holy shit
. Had someone discovered he’d kidnapped her?

Her heart bounded in her chest. The soldiers would execute
him!

She stepped toward the lead soldier, who was no doubt the
captain of the guards. She saw his eyes flare before he looked left then
right—anywhere but at her. Guess he wasn’t used to a strange woman dressed only
in a towel. Hope flickered then burned. Perhaps he was a gentleman beneath that
hard veneer of a soldier?

Perhaps he’d understand if she explained?

She took a breath. “It’s not what it looks like. Reuben
didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Isabella, it’s not necessary.” Reuben’s words for a moment
didn’t register. But what did was the quiet resignation behind them.

The captain bowed his head before sinking onto one knee, the
other soldiers behind him following suit. “Greetings, Prince Reuben,” said the
captain.

Isabella didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She just stood there,
her mouth hanging open. Her shock absolute.

“Captain,” Reuben nodded tightly in return, seemingly
totally unconcerned about his state of undress.

“The king sent us when your return was delayed,” the captain
continued, his eyes lowered and his respect fully evident.

Reuben nodded. “Of course he did.” He let out a weary sigh.
“I’m prepared for my return. Just…give us five minutes alone.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

The soldier pivoted and he and the dozen or so other
soldiers exited the front door and closed it behind them, giving them the
privacy Reuben had requested.

Her knees felt about ready to buckle as she looked at him,
really looked. He was royalty. He was a prince. His form blurred.
Bloody
hell
. She was crying again.

She should have known by the way he carried himself, the
arrogant set of his broad shoulders and the commanding voice that he was no
commoner. While she…she was little more than a peasant with shorn hair dressed
in ugly boy’s garb.

She hadn’t thought too much about the future, especially
knowing Reuben planned to let her go. But deep down she had wondered if maybe
things would turn out differently and that maybe she had a chance with him.
That somehow, someway, after everything that had happened they could work
things out, make a life for themselves together, even if that’d meant leaving
her village behind to be with him. God, she was pathetic.

Reuben blew out a heavy breath before taking a step toward
her. “I’m sorry, Isabella. I should have explained.”

She took a step back. “Yes, you should have. I let you in on
my deepest, darkest past and yet you had the biggest secret of them all!” She
shook her head, despair biting deep. “How you must have laughed at me.”

“No, it was never like that,” he gritted out. He sighed
heavily, pushing an outspread hand through his hair. “Perhaps this way is
best,” he muttered. “You’ll put all this behind you. Move on.”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Everything put neatly
into a box, nothing to concern yourself about.” Her hands clenched on the
towel. “Well I’m sorry,
Prince
, but I’ve been hiding from my emotions
too many years already.”

His eyes flashed. Hope? Need?

No. She was reading into things because she wanted them so
badly to be true.

“Then how
do
you feel?” he asked. “I need to know
that much at least if we’re to come to some sort of arrangement.”

Arrangement?

Fury surged. And as if on its own volition her hand lifted.
The stinging slap across his face rang out sharp and loud. “You bastard. I’m
not some cheap mistress to be used and disgraced until you’ve had enough of
me.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” he said in a strained
voice. “I’m aware how much you value your freedom. I would never ask you to
sacrifice that.”

Goddess, couldn’t he see she’d fallen in love with him?
Couldn’t he tell that her freedom meant nothing when she faced a lonely future
without him by her side?

“No,” she refuted, her throat tight. “You value your own freedom,
not mine.”

His jaw tightened even before she let her towel slip and she
gathered what clothes she could and tugged them on. She hardly cared that her
pants were ripped and caked with blood, she was more concerned with the shirt
she had no choice but to borrow from Reuben. His scent filled the fabric and
she wanted to tear it off her head and burrow into it all at the same time.

He lifted a hand, as if about to argue the point. His hand
dropped and he said quietly, “Allow me to take you home.”

Gathering her pride, she looked up and said, “Thank you, but
no. Just give me a horse and point me in the right direction. I’d prefer to be
by myself.”

“Isabella, I…” He paused, took a deep breath and said
quietly, “Very well.”

What she never expected was for him to stride forward before
taking her in his arms and gathering her close. His mouth dropped onto hers and
he kissed her with such restrained tenderness she could have wept.

He pulled back, his stare drinking her in—as though
memorizing her every detail, knowing he’d never see her again. “Then I guess
this is goodbye, my Bella.”

Isabella took a steadying breath as she rode into the
all-too-familiar clearing, where forty or fifty mud and wood huts were
scattered far below a gentle downward gradient.

It seemed as if it’d been months, not six days ago since she’d
ridden out from her village with no room for any other emotion but the
vengeance that had burned hot in her veins.

How things had changed. Right then she could have been
someone else who was coming home, a person who’d become as different as night
was from day.

She only prayed her father hadn’t give up on her being
alive, hadn’t given in to his grief.

Her bow and arrows strapped to her back was a reassuring
weight and she reached behind to touch them, so very thankful to have them once
again. It was the one and only material possession she still had of her
brother’s, the one thing she’d wanted of his despite the fact the weapon hadn’t
protected Benjamin when he needed it most.

How perverse that Reuben had returned her most prized
possession to her, even though he’d been her target, the man she’d aimed to
kill.

She’d accepted the bow and arrows from him and strapped them
to her back, then sat in the saddle of her borrowed horse, her emotions tangled
up inside, tying her tongue and stealing her voice.

With the soldiers looking on and Reuben intense and brooding
all at the same time, flight had seemed the only option. Managing a jerky nod
as thanks, she’d swung her gelding around and pushed him into a canter, forcing
herself not to look back.

If she had she doubted she would have had the strength to
leave at all.

I didn’t even say goodbye.

The gelding tossed his head, bringing her back to the
present. She relaxed her too-tight grip on the reins and leaned forward, giving
the horse a reassuring pat.

She had to stop thinking about Reuben. Being a
nightmix,
he
would never have been a permanent fixture in her life anyway, no matter how
much she might wish otherwise. Being royalty made him ten times as out of
reach.

A bird called out before it took to the air with a snap of
wings. Bees droned overhead, the scent of pine and honey sharp in the air. Wood
smoke bit into the air, and though she couldn’t see or hear any human activity,
without a doubt lookouts would have seen her coming long ago and warned her dad.

Would her father see the change in her? Would her friends?
Dear lord, did she want them to?

The huts looked out of place on the hillside, worn and made
tired by the elements, much like the people.

She swallowed, longing for the enduring log cabin she’d left
behind, along with the man within it. One of her hands fluttered to her chest.
When had the
nightmix
suddenly become a man?

When I finally saw him for the real person he is
underneath. A compassionate, kindhearted person who’d do anything for the
people he loves.

As her thoughts wandered she let the weary gelding pick its
way through the grass and to the worn trail that led to her father’s house. The
two-story structure was the only real house in the village, their merchant
background giving them the funds to build something more permanent.

But her dad had found out the hard way that no amount of
money in the world could protect the people he loved.

She blew out a shaky breath. At least she could reassure her
father that she was alive. At least one of them would be happy at her return.

People began to appear from their huts, their silent stares
following her as she rode past. Seemed they were stunned she’d come back alive
and in one piece. Or perhaps they sensed her despair.

The door banged open in her house and her father appeared in
the doorway, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched her approach.
Even from a distance she could see his bleary eyes. Goddess, he looked as if
he’d aged a decade, his usually neatly trimmed beard scruffy and unkempt, his
face lined and hollow.

One of his dogs barked greeting from its kennel nearby, its
tail whipping the air. Then her father was running toward her, reaching her even
before she dismounted from the horse and all but fell into his arms.

“I don’t believe it,” he said raggedly. “You’re alive.
You’re really alive!”

At her silence and the smile she tried to muster, he drew
back and peered at her. “You’re okay, aren’t you? When we saw the blood on your
horse we thought…” He shook his head, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper.
“That
nightmix
didn’t find you? Didn’t touch you?”

If he only knew, she thought despairingly.

“Of course not,” she lied. What did it matter if she wasn’t
telling the truth? It saved a lot of turmoil and it wasn’t as if her father
would ever find out. “I’m just really tired,” she elaborated.

“Of course you are, my darling,” he said, nodding
understanding and seemingly uncaring that his eyes were wet. “You can fill me
in on all the details after you’ve rested.” Turning to the ever growing crowd
of villagers, he pumped a fist into the air and roared, “Tomorrow night we
celebrate the return of my daughter!”

Going by the sudden enthusiastic cheers and clapping,
everyone was all too happy to revel in her homecoming. Pity she felt nothing
short of numb and wanted only to curl into a ball and sob herself to sleep.

Jacob motioned someone forward to take care of her mount. As
the gelding clopped away she was grateful her dad refrained from asking where
she’d found another mount. And whose extra-large shirt it was that she had on.
But she was even more grateful for his supporting arm as he led her to their
home.

He’d organized their maid to run a bath on her arrival, and
she lay in it for long minutes, luxuriating in the feeling of being clean after
almost a day of hard riding. It was only when she lifted a leg to soap her skin
that the neat little stiches in her thigh caught her eye.

Reuben had only ever treated her like a princess…his
princess.

She heaved an exasperated sigh and clambered out, water
sloshing as if an angry sea. She dressed into her usual garb that was blessedly
clean, though much looser than what it was six days ago.

Her eyes steered clear of the mirror. She didn’t need to see
her weight loss to know she was different. Reuben had turned her from a girl
into a woman. A woman with too many yearnings and secrets.

One of the villagers had knocked on the door and kindly left
behind a big tureen of chicken and vegetables. Isabella sat at the table with
her father, trying her best to be a dutiful daughter and managing three or four
mouthfuls of the stew along with a half mug of tea, before she made her excuses
and retired to her bedroom.

All she wanted was to lick her wounds in private. All she
wanted was to forget the one man her mind couldn’t stop dwelling on.

Tiredness pressed upon her the moment she stretched out on
her mattress of cushions. But she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not
with her thoughts going round and round about the man she’d left behind.

But then she closed her eyes and the world around her
slipped away.

She cracked open her eyes to full sunshine. A smile pulled
at her lips and a strange sense of anticipation filled her belly—until she
registered she was back in her own bedroom.

Reuben’s cozy log cabin with its crackling fire was never
going to be her home, no matter how much she yearned for it to be. Perverse
really that the one place she’d wanted desperately to escape from was now the
one place she wanted desperately to be.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes. Reuben would never again
loom in her vision with his assessing stare and thoughtful expression. She
would never experience the wonder of his kiss, never fall apart in his arms as
he possessed her with both tenderness and stunning savagery.

Her movements were stiff and uncoordinated when she finally
made an effort to get up and pull on some clothes. She grimaced at her weight
loss, tying a
darfe
around her waist to keep her pants from falling
down. Though her shirt was baggy, at least it wasn’t about to fall off.

“Ah good, you’re awake at last,” her father said when she
walked into the sitting room.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, aware his face
already looked much more animated than when she’d seen him for the first time
yesterday.

“All night and most of the day.” He chuckled.

She put a hand to her mouth, resisting a little smile. The
sleeping in thing was getting to be a bit of a habit.

“The men have already been out hunting wild boar and deer
for tonight’s celebration,” her father added.

She cleared her throat. “A party really isn’t necessary,
Daddy—”

“But it is.” He shook his head, his smile fading fast. “I
thought I’d lost you. I nearly went out of my mind with grief! But now you’re
back and I realize just how lucky I am that you’re safe.”

If only he knew how close she’d come to dying. Yet another
little secret she’d gladly keep to herself.

He took a sip of his hot tea, his stare shrewd. “So how
did
you survive that long out there on your own?”

“Do we need to talk about that now?” She was no longer in
the mood for more lies and half truths, wasn’t in the mood to side-step how
wonderful a
nightmix
had treated her. Her father would never understand.
Worse, he’d probably never forgive her.

He nodded, releasing a heavy sigh. “I’ll let it go…for now.
Just rest assured that we’ll find the
nightmix
who eluded us and we’ll
slaughter it.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, even though she knew Reuben was
safe and back in his kingdom, prince of his domain. “Please don’t,” she
whispered. “If there’s one thing I did learn in the time I was away, it’s that
I don’t want any more violence and bloodshed.”

Her dad’s brows drew low over narrowed eyes. “My god,
Isabella. What happened to you out there?” he asked roughly.

“Survival happened to me,” she said awkwardly, busying
herself by pouring more tea from the pot.

His face turned thoughtful. “I’ve had a lot to consider too.
And in fact I spent half the night thinking about what was best for my little
girl’s future.”

“I’m not your little girl anymore.”

Reuben had seen to that.

Jacob sighed. “Exactly.”

Her hands linked around the warmth of her mug when she
asked, “Daddy, what’s this all about?”

One of his thumbs pushed idly back and forward along the lip
of his mug. “You’ll find out soon enough. But for now,” a sudden grin split his
face, “we have celebrations to attend.”

Isabella returned to her bedroom to find their maid had laid
a gown out on her bed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, emotions churning at
seeing one of her mother’s best dresses.

Her dad’s footfall sounded behind her. “Your mother would
have wanted you to wear it,” he said hoarsely.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that dressing up in
her mother’s finery was the last thing she wanted. But somehow, with the fine
white material clinging to her slender shape, the sheer material leaving little
to the imagination, she discovered she could pretend she was a princess. And
her prince was out there waiting for her.

It was a charade she kept up even after she stepped out the
door with her father by her side. Dusk was just settling in, streaks of red and
burnt orange on the far horizon. A fire glowed in the distance, where a pair of
whole pigs and a deer were roasting, turned by willing hands on a large
hand-forged iron spit.

One of the village musicians strummed out sensual notes on a
stringed
jae
. He was accompanied by someone thumping out the heavier
beat of a
pak pak
. Already couples were up and dancing, drinks in hand
and laughter spilling free.

“Go on, enjoy yourself,” her dad said, aware of her love for
music and dance.

She stepped forward, wishing that her prince really was
going to come and rescue her. Except there was nothing he needed to save her
from anymore, except her self-pity. Her eyes watered. She pushed back her
tears. She’d never been one for crying until recently, she wasn’t about to let
it become a habit.

She accepted a drink, and then another. The alcohol, the
music, her empty stomach and the supposed joyous occasion all quickly went to
her head. One of the men pulled her up to dance around the fire. She couldn’t
help but laugh—though she felt almost numb inside. He twirled her around and
for a nanosecond she could swear she saw the red eyes of a
nightmix
through
the dark trees.

A short, sharp pain squeezed her chest and for a moment took
away her breath.

Madness! Yes, that was it, she was going mad.

Another man downed the last of his drink and joined them on
the makeshift dance floor. She giggled, surrendering to a surge of hysteria.
She wasn’t dancing with men. They were still boys compared to Reuben. Another
manic laugh slipped free, but going by the pleased look on the men’s faces and
the light in their stares, it seemed at least one of them imagined they’d be
getting lucky tonight.

Her smile dimmed. Goddess, no. Just thinking about being
with another man had her belly cramping with nausea.

Reuben stopped in the deep shadows of the trees and stared
at Isabella as she danced. Longing warred with deep, dark jealousy at the men
crowding around her. But it was the laughter spilling from her lips that caused
red-hot pain to pierce his chest.

Had he been wrong about her? Did she not love him the way he
loved her?

His beast stirred. He quelled it. But not before he wondered
if she’d seen the feral gleam of his red
nightmix
eyes.

His hands squeezed into fists. For the first time in his
life he was tempted to entice his beast out. Not to slay the men who danced
with his Bella, but to put fear in their too-seductive stares and uncover the
weakness he sensed behind their hearts.