“Do I really have a choice?” she asked, though more to herself than him.
“Did you ask that of Owen? Did he not take your honor into consideration? Did he not give you the choice of returning home to your brother and properly request a marriage arrangement between the two of you? And didn’t his rescue seem a bit too convenient?”
“All valid questions, though what of you?” Wintra demanded. “How do I know if you are truly one of my brother’s warriors sent to bring me home?”
“As I told you, I am an honorable man. All you need to do is ask.”
So Wintra asked, “Are you one of my brother’s warriors sent to bring me home?”
Torr leaned close to her, his mouth barely an inch from hers. “No.”
For a moment fear gripped her, and then she realized that Torr had mentioned that the woman Cree loved was his sister. “You are not one of my brother’s warriors,” she said with confidence, “so why did he send you to fetch me?”
“Your wit is sharp—at times.”
She chose to ignore his jibe, instead reminding him of her query. “Why were you sent?”
“Your brother had pressing matters that needed his attention, so I volunteered.”
She had actually been surprised when Cree had not been with the troop of warriors that had arrived at the abbey to take her home. Cree had always promised her that he would come for her himself. The thought had never entered her head that anyone would be as foolish as to dare pose as Cree’s warriors. But she could see her brother sending one warrior to bring her home. A warrior he trusted without a doubt—a worthy man.
“What matters?” she asked curious to know if these matters actually concerned his soon-to-be-wife.
“Orders from the King that required his immediate attention.”
Relief tugged at her heart. She was happy her brother had found love, though worried that she did not matter to him anymore. He was all she had after their mum had died. He had always been a good and loving brother and had taught her many things. Thanks to him she could swim, fish—clean and cook the catch herself—and handle a dagger. She had wonderful memories of hot summer days spent with Cree either fishing or swimming, after chores had been done. He had even proclaimed her a better fisherman than he was.
Another tug caught her heart. She had missed her brother very much and was eager to see him.
She startled when Torr gently tapped the tip of her nose and asked, “Lost in thought again?
“Memories this time.”
“Good ones?”
She smiled and nodded. “Very good. Cree always treated me well.”
“Then there isn’t any reason to think that he would do otherwise now, is there?”
He was right. There wasn’t any reason to think that Cree would deny her happiness with the man she loved. He wanted her happy; he had told her that many times. And Cree was a man of his word.
She sighed. “You are right.”
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. She may have agreed a bit grudgingly, but nonetheless she had agreed. Could she actually be a woman who saw reason? His smile grew. Stubborn and reasonable? Now that was a strange combination for a woman.
“I am glad you agree. It will make our journey home that less difficult,” he said.
“And the sooner we get there the better.” She tucked the blanket around her as best she could and struggled to get to her feet.
Torr’s hand was at her arm in an instant to help her and once she was steady, and the blanket tucked more firmly, he let her go.
Wintra went over to the chair that held her clothes and felt them. She turned to Torr. “They are dry, except for the hem, but I can sit by the fire once I am dressed and let it finish drying. Turn around,” she said with a twirl of her finger at him.
Another smile he could not hide surfaced. “I have seen all of you already. What difference does it make?”
“That could not be helped. This can. Now be a gentleman and turn around.”
“Yes, Princess,” he said with a gallant bow before turning his back to her, “though if you need any help…”
She gave up on telling him not to call her Princess. Besides, it was beginning to sound more an endearment than an insult.
“I will do just fine,” she assured him, then took a look at her torn grey wool dress.
She slipped it on relishing the warmth, though not for long since she realized after fussing with it that the tear down the middle had rendered it useless. “Now what?” she said aloud without realizing it.
Torr turned, and she grabbed the ripped wool to hold it closed as he approached her.
“The tunic will cover it,” Torr said, and shook his head, “though the dress will remain open beneath and will not keep you warm enough.”
He rubbed his chin, thinking and admiring the bulge of her breasts where her hands gripped the material closed. He couldn’t help but recall the feel of them and gave his head a quick shake. That was not something he needed to be thinking about right now, especially since it was beginning to grow him hard.
“A plaid,” he said with relief. “We’ll wrap one of the plaids around your midsection and with your tunic over it that should serve to keep you sufficiently warm.”
With the fire behind her and Torr in front of her, she was presently more than sufficiently warm. It seemed all he had to do was stand close to her and her body got hot and tingly. And worst of all, she was beginning to like the tingles, look forward to them, and grow ever more curious about them. Could the sensation really be as wicked as the nuns had warned about?
“That is a dangerous way to look at me,” he whispered harshly, his face close to hers.
“What way?” she asked, not realizing she was looking any particular way at him.
“As if you want to devour me.”
“I do
,” she thought, though she heard the words all too clearly and realized she had said them aloud.
“Your choice, Princess,” he said and lowered his lips to hers.
She did not think about it. She met his lips and the tingles running through her sparked a burst that consumed her entire body and kept her lips hungry on his.
Virginal, eager, excited.
That was how she kissed him and damn if it wasn’t the most delicious kiss he had ever tasted. He let her have her way, though he guided until his patience, or more so their need, grew too great, and then he took control. He slipped his hand down along her back to cup her backside and press her against him. He then urged her up against his hard arousal as his tongue penetrated her mouth and kissed her senseless.
Wintra thought she would die from the sheer pleasure that continued to grow and devour her all at once. She had startled when his tongue had entered her mouth and at first she thought it wicked and she should not allow it, but the pleasure it brought chased away her doubts and fears. Never—
never
—had she ever thought a kiss could be so delicious or that she would not want it to ever end.
Damn, he would have her on the bed and be inside her in no time if he did not stop kissing her. But damn if she wasn’t intoxicating. One taste would never be enough, two might not be either, forget three, he did not want to ever stop kissing her.
A whip of wind against the door tore them apart and sent Wintra’s stomach roiling in fright. Her hand released the material and pressed at her stomach, and she shivered.
Torr reached out and with a firm arm around her waist to keep her close and a hand to her ripped garment to try and keep it closed, he tucked her against his side.
Before she could snuggle even closer against him, the door burst open.
Owen stood there, his eyes quickly taking in the scene and growing ever wider with anger. “Get your hands off her you wretched beast.”
Before either of them could say a word, Owen stepped aside and four warriors hurried in, though there was barely room for them. Torr shoved Wintra away from him, though she grasped at his hand as he did, but he yanked it away just as the warriors descended on him.
“You’re making a mistake,” Torr said, after not resisting the men, though receiving several blows anyway. “Cree sent me to bring his sister home.”
Owen stepped forward then. “I am supposed to believe that when it appears as if you have taken advantage of this poor, innocent young woman?”
Wintra stepped forward. “Torr has done no such thing.”
“You are young and virginal and know not what you say. I will take care of everything. You have nothing to fear,” Owen said and turned as if dismissing Wintra. “Take him and secure him in the lean-to with his horse. It is where animals belong.”
“I have warned you,” Torr said as they shoved him toward the door. “When Cree finds out, you will pay.”
Owen waved him off, and the warriors shoved him so hard out the door that he fell into the snow.
Wintra hurried to go to him, but Owen shut the door, stopping her in her tracks. She turned furious eyes on him. “You have no right to treat him like that.”
Owen ignored her remark and demanded. “What went on here?”
Wintra stared at Owen, seeing a far different man than the one she had come to know. She had thought him a man with fine features, but not so now. His blue eyes, much paler than Torr’s vibrant ones, held a murderous look, as if he fought to control himself. His jaw was so taut that his chin appeared to jut out or had it always been that way? He was also slimmer than she had first thought or was she comparing him to Torr and finding him lacking. And his dark hair, always so perfectly groomed, was in complete disarray making him appear a wild man out of control.
“Answer me, Wintra,” he yelled.
She took a step back, keeping a firm hold on her torn dress, his eyes having darted to her breasts. Why was it that she felt much more naked and vulnerable in front of this man, she supposedly loved, than she had in front of Torr?
Her answer came easily. Owen stood in front of her with anger oozing out of every inch of him, whereas, she had seen and felt only concern from Torr.
He took a step toward her.
She raised her chin along with her hand to ward him off. “Not another step.”
He heeded her warning and remained where he was and softened his tone as he said, “I do not mean to upset you. I just want to know what this animal did to you.”
“Torr is not an animal. My brother sent him to bring me home and that is where I want to go.”
“But our plans—”
“Have changed,” she finished. “Now let Torr free, and we will all proceed to my brother’s home.” Her brow scrunched a moment, and then she asked, “Who are those warriors with you?”
“My friend sent them to escort us to his home.” His eyes narrowed and his voice turned firm. “And that is where we will be going. Torr can return home and let your brother know that you are safe with me and that I wish to arrange a marriage between us.”
Where had his dictatorial attitude come from? Where had the kind and thoughtful man that she had known gone?
“We will stay the night and leave at dawn,” Owen said. “The snow has turned to a trickle and should stop soon. By morning, we should be safe to leave.” He walked over to her and took her hand.
She had all she could do but to pull it away.
“I will overlook this discretion and see that you do not suffer for it. I doubt that Torr will admit to Cree that he had his way with you, too fearful of what he would suffer. We will wed and put this unfortunate incident behind us.” His tone turned harsh and anger punctuated his words. “And you will be grateful and be an obedient wife.”
Fool. Fool. Fool.
Dear Lord, how could she have been so blind to this man? And worse what did he truly want from her? She had to get home to her brother. Cree would keep her safe from Owen.
So would Torr.
The thought had her thinking. If she could get to Torr without being noticed and free him, they could escape together.
“Did you hear me, Wintra?” Owen yelled and grabbed her arm, squeezing it so tight she winced. “You will learn not to have your head in the clouds so much when you are my wife. You will obey my commands without question, starting now.” His eyes grew wide and he licked his lips. “Show me your breasts.”
She was stunned, though she responded fast enough. “I most certainly will not and when my brother hears ab—”
The harsh slap sent her head reeling to the side and instead of fear rushing through her, anger grabbed hold.
“You will show me more than your breasts before this night is over. I will lay claim to you and your brother will not be able to refuse us marriage, for you will be spoiled goods.”
“Though not spoiled by you, and I will make certain my brother knows that.” Wintra spat at him and blood hit his cheek.
He hit her again, letting go of her as he did. She fell to the ground, and he grabbed a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “When I return, I am going to spend the next few hours teaching you how to be an obedient wife and your first lesson will be,” —he pushed his plaid aside and stroked his enlarged member— “to take me in your mouth and learn how to pleasure me, which you will do at least twice a day from this day on or suffer the consequences.”
This time he stunned her speechless. How could he expect such a wicked thing of her? Surely, he was perverse and, if so, what other wicked things would he demand of her? She had to get to Torr.
Owen walked to the door saying, “You had better be naked and on your knees when I return or I will beat you senseless.”
Wintra stared at the closed door for a moment, and then shook her head. She had no time to think on what a monster Owen was or why she had never realized it. Another reason why being raised the last few years in the abbey had not been a wise choice.
She quickly wrapped the plaid around her midsection as Torr had suggested, then she slipped on her tunic that hung over her one shoulder, and pulled her boots on. She gathered their blankets, rolled them and tucked the roll under her arm to press tightly against her side. Then she slipped Torr’s cloak on and placed hers on top of his before scooping up the broken leg chair that waited to be added to the fire and held it firmly in her hand, making certain her cloak concealed it.
She opened the door, expecting it to be guarded by one of the warriors. “I need a moment in the woods.” The warrior did not refuse her; she had not thought he would, though it was a chance she had taken. She had concluded by Owen’s actions, defender and protector of her honor in front of the warriors, that they were not aware of his evil nature. And she couldn’t be sure if they would believe her if she made them aware of his intentions. So her only reasonable choice was to get to Torr.
“Don’t you worry,” the guard said as she trailed behind him into the woods, “that animal will get what he deserves.”
Did they plan on hurting Torr? Did Owen plan on contacting her brother at all? And what had he told these warriors? She suddenly worried not only for her safety, but Torr’s as well. She had misjudged Owen badly. And she not only suffered for her foolishness, but others were suffering as well. No more. She would rectify her folly and be more select when it came to trusting men.
“A moment of privacy, please?” she asked when the guard had stopped in a secluded area.
“I can turn around, but I cannot go off and leave you alone. If anything happened to you, Owen would be distraught. He loves you very much.”
The thought that Owen had convinced him of that sent shivers through her and more than ever she wanted to get away from him.
“That will be fine,” she said and cringed at what she was about to do to this innocent man. As soon as he presented his back to her, she tossed her cloak back off her arm and, with a prayer on her lips that she didn’t do any great damage to the man, swung the chair leg as hard as she could at his head.
He went down with a thud. She gave it a moment to see if he moved and when he didn’t she took off, reciting multiple prayers for the fallen warrior. She had kept a sharp eye on her surroundings when they had headed into the woods and had mentally planned her route to the lean-to so as not to be seen. She approached, from behind it, cautiously. She did not know how much time she had before she was discovered missing, so she did not want to waste a moment.
Torr was tied with rope to a worn board that he could easily break with one good yank, but if he did the lean-to would collapse on top of him. Only one warrior stood guard in front, facing Torr, as if at any moment he expected him to break free.
He was so intent on his duties and with the snow-covered ground cushioning her approach, he didn’t hear her coming until it was too late.
“We have to get out of here,” she said stepping over the fallen warrior to get to Torr. She went to work on the rope, her hands trembling as she struggled to free him.
“Look at me.”
His demand was so sharp that she responded without thought.
“He hit you?”
“Please, I want to go home.” She hated that she sounded as if she begged him, but the thought of what Own would do to her if she did not get free had reduced her to pleading. She returned to working on the rope and once loosened, Torr managed to free himself the rest of the way.
She slipped her cloak off as he did that, and then slipped his cloak off handing it to him and hurried hers back on. She then repositioned the rolled blankets under her arm since they had done a good job of keeping her warm.
Torr untied his horse and with a gentle hand to the animal’s face and softly whispered words, he guided the horse out of the lean-to. He cocked his head at Wintra, directing her to follow, and she stayed right on his heels.
When they were not that far from the cottage, Torr stopped and pressed his face to his horse and whispered something, then he tapped the horse on the backside and the horse snorted and hurried through the snow as fast as he could.
It was then they heard the shouts.
Torr scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, and then he took a leap over a patch of snow into a bush. They both fell to the ground, though Torr was quick to get to his feet and scoop handfuls of snow to dump on the bush. He then grabbed hold of her hand and hoisted her off the ground and had her tucked behind another bush in seconds.
No soon as he did, then Owen and his men came into sight. Even with the distance that separated them, she could see the fury on his face.
“He took her. Get the horses. We go after them,” he ordered, his face burning bright red.
It was not long before the whole troop was barreling down the same path that Torr’s horse had taken. They waited a bit longer to make certain no warrior lagged behind or returned, then Torr took her hand, and they hurried off.
They walked for hours until finally Torr stopped and announced, “We rest, but just a bit.”
Wintra dropped the blanket roll on the snow and sunk down on it.
Torr hunched down in front of her, taking gentle hold of her chin to glare at the swelling at the corner of her mouth. “What happened?”
Wintra didn’t know if she could ever tell anyone what Owen had said to her. She was too embarrassed for being such a fool and thinking he loved her, and she would not dare repeat what Owen had expected her to do.
Torr ran his thumb tenderly over her lips and softly urged, “Tell me, Wintra.”
There it was again—concern—and not only in his voice, but in his deep blue eyes as well. She found the words spilling out before she could give it another thought. “He told me that I was spoiled goods and that my brother would have no choice but to arrange a marriage between us. And he demanded that I show him my breasts and when I refused he hit me. Then—” She stopped there, not certain that she could say more.
Torr’s heart pounded with anger, though he kept himself calm. He released her chin and once again urged, “Tell me the rest.”
“I cannot repeat the wicked thing he said to me, though I will tell you that he ordered me to be naked and on my knees when he returned.”
Anger continued to pound at him, though relief that Owen had not touched her pushed some of the anger aside. Owen was going to suffer for what he had done to her and suffer even more for what he had planned to do to her. He would see to it himself and enjoy every minute of it. But at the moment Wintra was more important to him.
“Your quick thinking saved us both. You are a courageous woman.”
“Stubborn,” she corrected with a smile. “I knew my only chance of escape and survival was to get to you.”
Torr leaned closer, his lips not far from hers. “I will always be there for you, Princess, and I promise I will always protect and keep you safe.”
Now that she gave it thought, Owen had never spoken about keeping her safe. And recalling what he had said to her about not allowing her head to be in the clouds was just unimaginable to her. Her mind had wandered since she was young. It was a way for her to learn and work things out. She did not know what she would do if that was taken from her.
Why she asked the question of Torr, she did not know. It just spilled out, which seemed to be the way when she was with him. “Do you mind that my head is in the clouds so much?”
“Your deep thoughts,” he clarified with a smile.
She nodded and smiled as well, preferring the way he phrased it compared to Owen.
“Owen accused you of having your head in the clouds?”
She nodded again.
“Owen is a worthless excuse of a man.”
“And what am I for not realizing that?”
“An inexperienced, young woman, which is why there are arranged marriages.”
She shook her head. “But I do not want someone choosing who I will wed. Do you?”
“Sometimes we have no choice.”