Denise Lynn - At The Warrior's Mercy

It took more than a few moments, but finally her breathing returned to normal and she noticed the voices below filtering up through the floor. Charles was still below, his voice was loud enough to be heard clearly as he demanded she come out of hiding. A demand that would go unmet.

‘Why is he so intent on finding you?’

She jumped at the sudden break in the quiet of this room. Uncertain how to respond, she remained silent.

‘You didn’t lie to me, did you? You aren’t a runaway wife?’

‘No, I did not lie. Thankfully, I am not his wife. But I could have been.’

Beatrice frowned. Why had she added that last bit? Maybe the gentleness of the stranger’s gravelly voice had lulled her into giving away information best left unspoken.

‘Perhaps now is the time to discover your story. How is it you could have been, but aren’t? Is he your betrothed?’

She shifted on the bed, so she could look at him, then shook her head. ‘My parents wouldn’t permit it.’

‘Mayhap they had their reasons?’

‘I am certain now that they did.’ She wished that they had shared their reasons with her, instead of just insisting he was not suitable.

‘Ah, but yet here you are without any chaperon at hand, being chased by him. Did he kidnap you and somehow you escaped?’

‘It was no kidnapping.’

‘So you went with him willingly and when he tried to take what was not his, you ran.’

‘Yes.’

‘Obviously you’d known this man for a while.’

‘Nearly three years.’

‘I suppose you thought that having conversed with him in the company of others made you believe you could trust him in private.’

She felt the flush rush up her neck to cover her face.

His soft laugh drew her attention, prompting her to ask, ‘What do you find so amusing?’

‘You,’ he answered simply.

‘Why me?’ As far as Beatrice was aware, she’d done nothing anyone could consider amusing in the least. Nothing about this day had been amusing.

‘I trust you do not gamble, for if you did, your face would give you away.’

What an odd thing to say. ‘How so?’

‘Your flushed cheeks tell me plainly that you and your would-be suitor were not always chaperoned.’

To her horror, her cheeks flamed again. ‘That is none of your concern.’

‘Concern is not my intent. I thought only to point out your inability to lie.’

‘Since I was not raised to do so, then perhaps my lack of skill is a good thing.’

‘Certainly. At least until you find the need to do so.’

‘Hopefully, I will never find myself in dire enough straits where I need to lie.’

He nodded, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in what she assumed would be another laugh at her expense.

However, he didn’t laugh, or even smile, instead he said, ‘I would guess it is now your intention to return to the safety of your family.’

Since he was basically stating the obvious, she only nodded in reply.

‘And when they ask where you’ve been without the oversight and guidance of your lady’s maid or at the very least a guard, you’ll tell them what? That you slipped away under the cover of darkness with your lover?’

Beatrice closed her eyes. He had a point. Since everything had gone awry so suddenly, leaving her more worried about her safety, she’d given no thought to tomorrow or the days after, let alone the day she’d arrive at Warehaven.

She most certainly wasn’t going to tell her parents that she’d run away from Montreau with Charles. With her luck they would force the two of them to wed just to save her reputation. She’d rather die than become Charles’s wife.

When she didn’t respond, he suggested, ‘You will lie to save face.’

She twisted the edges of her once-fine sleeve in her hand. ‘Yes, you are correct. I will lie to them. But not to save face.’

‘Oh? Then why? Surely not to save the man who so obviously caused you such distress that you ran away in the middle of the night.’

‘No!’ she nearly shouted. She swallowed, hoping to soften her tone before adding, ‘He can rot in Hades for all I care.’

At that comment, the man did laugh and, to her amazement, Beatrice found that she rather liked the sound of his mirth. It was deep and full, an honest laugh that seemed unforced.

‘Well, at least you hold no misguided hope that he’ll change his underhanded ways.’

‘That is not likely to happen.’

The man frowned and leaned forward to slowly study her before asking, ‘Did he harm you? Is there any reason I should go below and show him the error of his ways?’

‘You sound like my brother.’

‘I doubt that. I’m sure your family would go down there and soundly trounce the fiend long before they thought to ask your blessing.’

That much was true. She shook her head. ‘No, he did not harm me. I knocked him out with a water pitcher before he could do more than pull me into his tent and threaten me.’ Thankfully the rounded metal bottom of the ewer had made just the right contact with his head.

‘Ah, so he does need to learn the benefit of manners.’

When he rose, Beatrice frowned. What was he up to?

He headed towards the door and she gasped, guessing his intent. ‘No. Do not. He is accompanied by two other companions who are just as vile if not more so and I wish them not to know for certain that I am here.’

‘I heard him just as plainly as you did.’ He rolled his eyes before removing the timber bar from the door. ‘He already knows you are here. Either he saw you enter, or someone below told him about a woman seeking help. He and his companions aren’t going to leave without you in tow.’ He turned back to face her, adding, ‘I am not about to let that happen. Besides, three men who see fit to terrorise a defenceless woman will prove little threat to my well-being. Once I have finished with them they’ll think twice about not keeping their distance from you.’

His words only served to increase her confusion. ‘Why would you do that for me? I am not a member of your family. You know me not.’

‘You are a lady alone in need of help. Should I turn my back and leave you to your fate when I know how unpleasant that fate will prove? No. I have enough stains upon my soul without adding another that I could have easily prevented.’

Beatrice sprang from the bed and rushed to grab his arm. ‘No. Please. Do nothing. I’ve caused you enough trouble already.’

He easily shook off her hold. ‘Quiet yourself. I have every intention of returning you to your family and I’ll not have them question your safety while under my care.’

‘No. I—’

But before she could beg him not to confront Charles, he’d stripped off his tunic, tossed it on to the bench and was gone.

She wrung her hands. What was she to do now? She didn’t want him to put himself out for her, no matter how much she appreciated his kind offer of help. However, she didn’t want him to return her to her family, because then she’d have to explain everything to them and she wished to avoid that at all costs. On the other hand, she most certainly didn’t want to risk him losing a fight with Charles and his friends because that would only leave her at their not-so-tender mercy.

She raced back to the small table, grabbed the pitcher and then emptied the water out of the window. Instead of standing here fretting, the least thing she could do was be there to lend a hand if needed.

By the time she made it to the bottom step the fight was all but over. Charles and one of his friends were prone on the floor of the inn. The third man was winded and backing towards the door as her rescuer pummelled him with fists to the stomach and face. She blinked and nearly missed the punch to the man’s jaw that sent him flying from his feet, backwards out the door to the boisterous delight of those watching.