A Warrior's Promise (2 page)

Chapter 2

B
ryce walked them a good distance into the woods, finding a secluded spot where no sooner did the lad's small bottom hit the ground than his fingers dove into the sack and grabbed a hunk of bread. Chomping away, he again reached in and grabbed a sizeable chunk of cheese, breaking it apart and hastily offering Bryce the heftier portion.

Bryce took it, watching the lad devour the food. That the lad was starving and undernourished was obvious. Both his worn, green wool tunic and brown linen shirt beneath were a size too large for him, as was the patched gold wool vest he wore. His brown leather boots were well past worn, a small end toe peeking out from one of many holes.

He had wide, inquisitive, dark eyes with long lashes to match, a pert nose, and a round face that held not a scar or trace of ever having been in a fight, though it was smudged with dirt. His hair was a blend of colors from soft brown, to rich gold, to a deep honey color. And the length varied just as much as the colors, sticking out here and there and falling just below his small ears. It looked as if the lad had taken a knife to it in a fit of fury, yet somehow the crazy results fit him.

In spite of his skinny stature, the lad had been brave though foolish, his mouth speaking when it was better kept shut. But then, he was young and had much to learn, like all young lads. Bryce had been impressed by his courage and the common sense to latch onto someone larger than himself rather than try to outrun the king's soldiers. They surely would have caught him and treated him to a severe beating. And no doubt the woman who had accused him of thievery would have encouraged such an unfitting punishment. She had played the injured party well and seen a chance to be compensated; otherwise, she would have gladly seen the lad suffer.

“Where do we go from here?” Charles asked in between bites.

“That's a good question,” Bryce said, thinking on what to do since the lad had unexpectedly happened into his life. He had a mission to accomplish, an important one. He and his three brothers, not by blood though as close, had been working and planning to see that the true king of Scotland was seated on the throne. They were growing ever closer to achieving that goal, and this mission Bryce was on could very well prove the turning point.

Did he continue on with it? Could he trust the lad enough to help him? Or would he prove a hindrance? The only way to find out was to learn more about the lad.

“Tell me of your family or where you come from,” Bryce said.

“Why? What does that have to do with where we're going?”

He was a bold one, especially since he by no means had the strength to defend himself. Bryce reached out and snatched a chunk of bread from the lad's hand. “It will determine where we're going.”

“Wondering if I have the wit and strength about me to keep up with you?”

If the lad was larger, Bryce would have reached out and wiped that quirk of a smile off his face. But he restrained himself, reminding himself that he was a skinny thing a good wind would blow away.

Instead, he confronted the lad. “Do you?”

“I have enough sense to know when to avoid things, when to meld with the shadows, and when to hold my tongue.”

Bryce chuckled. “You might want to practice that last one.”

“And listen to those bigger than me sprout stupidity and ignorance?”

Bryce settled a cold, hard stare on him. “Do you think me stupid and ignorant?”

“Does it matter?”

Bryce could not believe the audacity of the lad, and he had to smile though his response reflected otherwise. “You will do well to watch that tongue and answer me rather than question.”

“Or what?”

Bryce leaned forward, his voice low with a hint of warning. “Do you truly wish to find out?”

The lad swallowed hard, his wide eyes growing ever wider, and shook his head.

Bryce leaned back to once again rest against the boulder. “Good. Now tell me, where do you come from, what of your family?”

“There's nothing to tell,” Charles said reluctantly. “I'm on my own.”

Bryce admired his caution. No doubt he was doing the same as Bryce, trying to judge just how much to trust. Besides, there were too many lads like him forced on their own for various reasons, some having lost one or both parents, others a bad situation driving them away to survive on their own. He could continue to pry, but he doubted it would do any good. What he did learn, or rather confirm, was that the lad was a fighter, a survivor, and he just might be worth taking along.

“Your age?” Bryce asked, concerned he might be too young for such a risk though it seemed that past events and experiences might have matured him well beyond his years.

“Five-and-ten years,” Charles replied with haste.

Bryce didn't believe that for a moment. “More like two-and-ten or three-and-ten years.”

The lad's eyes blazed with anger, and he looked about to retaliate, but snapped his mouth shut though not for long.

“And you?” the lad asked boldly. “How many years are you?”

Once again the challenging smile surfaced, and Bryce suddenly realized that Charles reminded him of his brother Reeve. Not in stature, but in nature. Reeve believed himself always right and was quick to defend or fight, and fight he could, taking down more men alone than with his brothers' help. Charles had Reeve's confidence, and it made Bryce like the lad even more.

“My age is no concern to you,” Bryce said, thinking it seemed like yesterday he was the lad's age, though lucky to have family who loved him. Now he was seven-and-twenty years, his family as strong as ever and growing. His brother Duncan and his wife expecting their first child anytime now, Reeve and his wife Tara happily wed. Trey having lost the woman he loved and vowing never to love again, and Bryce the only sensible one, avoiding love until their mission was complete.

“Forgot how old you are?” Charles asked with a chuckle.

Bryce ignored the jab. There were more important matters to discuss. “I'm more interested in your age and experience. Can you handle a horse? Are you skilled with weapons?”

“I sit a horse better than most, and while I can wield a sword, my skill lies with a bow.”

Bryce liked that the lad did not boast, he simply stated fact, but there was one more question. “And women?”

Charles's chin shot up. “What about them?”

“Have you known many?”

Charles stared at him, chewing at his lower lip.

Bryce burst out laughing. “Your silence speaks loudly. You're a virgin then.”

Charles took offense. “What of it? What difference does it make?”

Bryce went silent, his soft blue eyes turning icy cold. “It makes a difference. A lad who has never lain between a woman's legs can do foolish things when the urge strikes. And if I choose to take you along on my mission, I need to know I can depend on you even if you have the urge for a woman.”

“What about your urges?” Charles asked.

“I'm a man with vast experience. I can control mine. You're just a virgin lad who probably will spill his seed before you can even get inside a woman the first time you try.”

“Are you sharing that from
your
past experience?”

Bryce almost reached out and grabbed the lad by the neck. Then he could easily choke that stupid grin off his face.

“You don't have to worry,” the lad said. “I don't want to just rut like most men do. I want to love the woman whose legs I settle between.”

Bryce cringed. “That's even worse.”

“You have no use for love?”

“Believe me when I tell you you'll rut before you find love. And as far as love? There's a time and a place for it; otherwise, it can rob your sanity and interfere with everything.”

“You have loved?”

“Good Lord, no.” Bryce almost choked, spitting the words out. “I have been spared, and I intend for it to remain that way until I complete the task that has been assigned to me.”

“This task. You wish me to help you with it?”

“The thought has crossed my mind.” And the more Bryce talked with the lad, the more he thought it could prove beneficial having him along. He was quick-witted, could run like the devil was after him, and if he was as good with a horse and bow as he claimed, then he definitely could prove an asset. Besides, if he was five-and-ten years, he was man enough to take on the challenge, gain the experience.

One uncertainty haunted him, and so he asked, “Can you follow orders without question?”

The lad's hesitation gave Bryce his answer.

“I do not know your nature well enough to answer,” Charles finally said. “You rescued me, but for a price, and now I owe you and must work for my freedom. I am obliged to obey you, but without hesitation?” Charles shook his head. “It would depend on what you ask of me.”

Once again, Bryce admired the lad. He was brave enough to speak the truth, an honorable trait for sure. This lad was trustworthy. There was just one last thing to ask, and though he might be taking a risk doing so, he didn't think the lad had any love for the present king, being he had been chased and threatened by the king's soldiers.

“Do you believe King Kenneth the true king of Scotland?”

The lad studied him with cautious eyes and turned the question back on him. “Do you?”

“I have my doubts.”

The lad's face broke out in a wide grin. “You fight for the true king, don't you?”

“Would you fight for him?”

“Aye, I would,” Charles said, nodding vigorously.

“Good; then you now know that anything I ask of you will be for the good of Scotland.”

“What do you ask of me?”

Bryce leaned forward and lowered his tone. “There is a spy in King Kenneth's court, and news is that the king knows of his presence though not his identity. The information this person has learned is vital to the true king, and he must be found and rescued.

The lad jumped up. “I will strike a bargain with you.”

“A bargain?”

“Aye, I will gladly help you with your mission; do whatever you ask of me, if you will help me with mine.”

“You are on a mission?” Bryce asked surprised and curious.

Charles nodded. “King Kenneth had his soldiers take my da prisoner, and I intend to rescue him.”

“Sit,” Bryce said, “and tell me what happened.”

T
ears were close to choking Charlotte as she sat on the ground, but she swallowed hard and forced them to remain locked away. She had to show this Highlander warrior strength, or he would never agree to take her along in exchange for helping to free her father.

“My father, Idris Semple, holds no allegiance to any particular clan. After mum died, we began to wander around Scotland. My da is a man of great curiosity, which has brought him great knowledge and with it a reputation that has caused problems. Many believe him a conjurer.”

Charlotte paused, waiting to see if the mighty warrior would somehow display distaste or fear though she doubted he feared much. His strength was evident at a single glance.

When he showed no reaction, she continued. “His only powers are his vast knowledge, but the king believes otherwise. One day, my da was on his usual early-morning stroll when he spied a troop of soldiers. He hurried back to the small abandoned cottage we had been occupying for a few months and insisted I hide in the woods. He feared they would do me harm.”

“He knew they were there for him,” Bryce said.

Charlotte wasn't surprised at his perception. She had realized soon enough that the warrior was not only a man of strength but of intelligence as well, which was why she had to be careful, very careful. He was growing comfortable with Charles, the lad, even feeling him fit and worthy enough to help him with an important task. But if he discovered that she was Charlotte, the lass, she feared the consequences. Not that she worried he would harm her. He was an honorable man and would probably send her off somewhere safe, where she would be looked after and protected. And that would not do. She intended to rescue her da, and to do that, she had to keep her identity secret.

She nodded slowly. “My father is not a big man. He is short, though spry, and has not the strength to fight off a pack of soldiers; nor would he. He would reason it a useless action and find another way to deal with them.”

“He went without protest?”

“Yes, he did, and all because of me,” she said angrily.

“Yes, he did it because of you,” Bryce agreed, “but not to protect. Think, Charles. Your da is a man of reason. And therefore he knew that if you were not captured, you would make every effort to rescue him, as well you should. I would do the same for my da.”

This was good. To him she was a lad honor-bound to family. Yes, her masquerade would serve her well though her heart broke recalling how her father had, in the most authoritative voice he could muster, ordered her to seek safety with a strong clan and not worry about him. How could he think she would desert him? They had argued briefly, for there was no time to debate the matter, and before they parted, she had sworn to him that she would not let him suffer at the king's hands. She would follow and free him.

“Then you will help me rescue him?”

“I would be honored to help you and offer you and your da a home with my clan for as long as you like.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said, choking back tears that wanted desperately to break free. And those tears weren't only because she was grateful for the help, but also the offer of a home. While she had enjoyed the many adventures she and her father had had, of late she had been longing for a more permanent dwelling.

“Do you know where he was taken?” Bryce asked.

She shook her head. “I followed but couldn't keep up with the horses.”

She couldn't tell him the truth, that when the soldiers had disappeared from view, she had returned to the cottage. Quickly, she had shed her garments and slipped into her da's. She had taken a knife to her long hair, chopping at it until she felt she resembled a lad, gathered a sack of food, and was soon following the horses' trail. Her father had taught her to track, and she had been glad she had learned well the task.