The Barbarian's Pet (11 page)

“Does this not make you happy?”

“It is very generous,” she said, guarding her feelings as he guarded his. “I thought I was forever yours.”

“Forever mine in my heart perhaps,” Griffen said, “but you need your freedom. I will not be the cause of your suffering. You wish to return to your flock, and so you shall.”

There was a finality to his words that made Sariah feel as though she were being torn apart from the inside. She sat silent, wrestling with sudden conflict. If she were to open her mouth and ask to stay with him, would he understand her care? Or would he reject her as he seemed to think she had rejected him?

She wished with all her soul that she could turn back time to before the heated tempers and frayed nerves and unsay the terrible things she had said, but her lips would not move. She had been so definite, so bold in her comments. How could she possibly turn around and tell him she had not meant them as she said them? How could she say that she wanted to be by his side, when in truth her yearning for home was tearing her apart?

Griffen took six of his men and commanded the rest to stay behind and await his return. The small contingent then set off on horseback, Sariah sitting on the back of Griffen’s mount, her arms wrapped around his waist to keep herself from falling.

Every step closer to her homelands was a step back in time. She recognized the place the king’s men had first made camp, where she had laid eyes on Griffen the very first time. A burned-out blackened circle marked the fire pit where he and she had circled one another in primal battle.

She made a small sound of regret as they passed by, Griffen not acknowledging the place at all. Perhaps he had forgotten. Perhaps, now that he was returning her, he would forget her entirely. She would become one of his entertaining stories to be told around the campfire, the shepherd girl he had taken as his pet for three moons before turning her loose.

Blinking back tears, Sariah tried to focus on the good. She would see her family soon, the sheep she loved to tend. She would have her life back, a life lived in the plains and wilds and fields of a land more beautiful than any other part of the world. It would be good, she told herself. This was not the end of something special, it was a return to the real world, to her life as it was supposed to be.

Griffen spurred his horse and ordered his men to ride at a fast gallop. He seemed eager to be rid of her, and Sariah could not blame him. His every kindness had been spurned, his rule disrespected. He could not be expected to know that she had even a little tenderness for him.

“
Halt!
”

Griffen drew his mount to a skidding stop. At first Sariah saw nothing but the broad expanse of his back and did not understand why they had come to such an abrupt pause. The moment she looked over his shoulder, she understood. Dark plumes were rising in the distance, fires from the direction of her home. Their dark reaches stood out plainly against the blue of the sky and the bright green of the fields.

“What is that?” Sariah asked the question even though she knew the answer.

“Be brave, Sariah,” was all Griffen said as he urged his mount and men forward once more, albeit with much more caution and care. Swords were drawn in case of battle, and all Sariah could do was cling to Griffen’s back and hope against hope that what they all suspected had happened was somehow just a misunderstanding, a trick of the wind, or a fire from another place.

The last few miles of the journey were undertaken in grim silence. They rode over the final rise and Sariah’s heart shattered. The village was gone.

The huts that had been built by her father’s hand lay in ruins, burned and kicked to the ground. A few corpses of dead sheep were littered here and there, discarded with brutal disdain for the important role they had once played.

She opened her mouth to scream, but there was no sound fitting for the agony that racked her soul. She slid from the horse and collapsed to the ground, her limbs suddenly too weak to hold her. Griffen scooped her up almost as soon as she fell, cradled her against his chest and began making soothing noises more appropriate for an infant than a grown woman.

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “Close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes, but the scenes played themselves out there all over again.

“They’re gone,” she said. “Just… gone…”

Griffen carried her away from the scene, unwittingly taking her up to a hillock upon which she had sat alone many a night, watching the moon rise over grazing clouds. He sat down and cradled her in his lap, pressing kisses to her cheeks to catch the tears that flowed silently.

“What will become of me?” The question slipped from Sariah’s lips before she could stop it.

“I will look after you.” The reply came swiftly, and had she heard those words hours earlier, she would have believed them, but he had been on the verge of saying goodbye to her forever until the grisly discovery.

“You need not burden yourself,” she said, trying to find whatever remaining scraps of bravery still existed in her gutted spirit. “I am a chore.”

She felt his muscles flex as he stiffened. “You are not a chore. Do you know how reluctantly I made this decision? Sariah, I only ever wanted to let you go back to your family because that is what you told me you wanted, over and over again. Even after we made love, you wanted your freedom. The riches of a king were not enough for you. I wanted you to be happy. And now I see that I have made an error like none before. I allowed my softer nature to dictate my actions, and I almost left you here, undefended against the barbarians who performed these crimes. I am sorry for your loss, Sariah. I will hold you while you grieve, and I will bring those responsible to justice, but I will never, ever allow you to think for a moment that you are not wanted.”

She felt the force of his words, a burning desire that went beyond the physical. Amidst the most powerful grief of her life, Sariah felt the strangest peace settling over her, a calm that sank into her bones. She was still saturated with sorrow, but a knowing that went beyond the horror of the moment seemed to be telling her that all would be well. That made no sense. All was not well. The only home she had ever known had been torn apart, burned, razed to the ground. Her father’s memory was nothing but ash, her mother… she could not begin to think of what might have befallen her mother.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whimpered. “I can’t seem to move, or feel, or do anything.”

“You’re in shock,” Griffen explained. “It might seem like you’re not experiencing emotions, but they’re there, just hidden by your body’s natural reaction to seeing more than any two eyes should ever see.”

“Griffen!” Rafe approached the pair, interrupting them with welcome news. “No human remains,” he said. “It looks like everyone was captured; there’s a trail to the east.”

“Captured?” Sariah had never felt a spark of hope so bright.

“Looks like a dozen or so people went that way, maybe more, maybe less.” Rafe scratched his beard. “They have a day’s start, but they’re on foot…”

“We move. Now,” Griffen said, he stood up, hauling Sariah to her feet. “I’m sorry you are involved in this, but time is of the essence. There is nowhere safe to leave you. You will have to come with us.”

“I want to come,” Sariah said without a thought. “I want to find my family.”

She practically ran to Griffen’s horse, avoiding the carnage around her as she swung herself up to the saddle. Griffen was right behind her, his bulk nudging her forward with his hips as the horse broke into a swift canter.

Rafe followed, as did the rest of the escort in swift succession. Griffen nudged his mount into a gallop, tearing over terrain at a speed Sariah had never experienced before. She grabbed hold of the horse’s mane to steady herself just as Griffen took hold of her, ensuring she did not fall as the stallion’s hooves flashed over grass.

Sariah scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of her family or the other villagers. This was land she knew well, every rock, every bush. They rode hard for as long as the horses could handle it, but it was only a few miles before Griffen slowed the mount to a canter, and then a trot.

“Why are we slowing down!?”

“He’s starting to lather,” Griffen said. “We have already come a long way today. If we wear our horses out, we will not reach your villagers at all. We must pace ourselves.”

She knew he was right, but the tension of going slowly when she knew faster was an option almost made her cry all over again. More than anything, she wanted to know if her mother was alive, if the villagers had survived the ordeal.

“Why would barbarians take villagers?”

“I don’t know,” Griffen said in tones that suggested he had some idea, but did not want to put voice to it.

“They’re just old people,” she continued. “They’re not going to be any good as slaves, or…”

“Try not to think about it,” Griffen counseled her. “Think about finding them and nothing else. We must be single-minded in this, or we will sap our strength with fruitless worry.”

He was right. Griffen was many things, but foremost among them he was a leader. In difficult times, he seemed to have an inborn sense of what to do and what to say. His every action was decisive, his speech bold. She could not imagine a better ally in a trying time.

“Griffen,” she said his name softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For telling you I wanted to leave you,” she said. “I miss my family terribly but… I… am fond of you.”

“Fond of me, pet?”

“I… didn’t want to leave you,” she admitted in a small voice that was almost lost in the sound of the horse’s hooves moving over rocks.

“No?”

She wished she could see Griffen’s face, read his expression, but all she could see was the horse’s neck, his ears twitching forward and back as he listened to Griffen’s cues.

“Will you forgive me, for the things I said?”

“There was never anything to forgive, Sariah,” he said, clenching her curved form closer to his body. “I heard your anger and your pain, and I saw the loss in your eyes. I promise you, if it is in my power, I will restore your family to you.”

She believed him. The odd sense of calm returned, a queer knowing that all would somehow be well. It did not block out her worry or her grief, but it tempered both. She found herself leaning back against Griffen, her body relaxing to roll more easily with the horse’s motion.

They rode that way for a very long time, until the light began to wane and Rafe declared that it was time to set up camp. Griffen reluctantly agreed. He seemed just as eager as Sariah to find her family and it seemed to pain him just as much to stop before they were found.

“I am sorry,” he said as Sariah slid her weary body from the horse and into his arms. “The animals need rest and watering, and we need to eat. We will resume our search at first light.”

“I understand,” she reassured him.

She was in dire need of a rest and watering herself. Not accustomed to spending much time on the back of a horse, the hours had worn their way into her rear and left her uncomfortable. Sariah found herself walking bowlegged, stopping a few dozen feet from the fire the men were building, her stomach rumbling, her muscles fatigued to the point she was happy to slump down in the scrub nearby and simply watch what was going on.

Griffen came to sit behind her, his long legs extending either side of her as he pulled her against his body and held her close. Not a word passed between them as the fire was sparked and light began to flow skyward from broken branches.

“I have been where you are now before,” he murmured. “My father was captured during a battle fifteen years ago.”

“Did you find him?”

“Fifteen years ago, I became king,” Griffen said, answering her question indirectly. “But that was a battle and my father fell leading his men. There is no sign of any bloodshed here, and the chances of finding your family alive are much higher. Do not lose hope.”

Sariah sat in silence for a moment. Griffen had been her captor, her lover, but she had never seen his pain before. In the gathering darkness, she felt his loss along with her own.

“You must have been young,” she said.

“Seventeen,” he replied. “I should have accompanied him into battle, but he insisted I command the defensive forces. He was right. Our hold was attacked and surely would have been overrun if not for the presence of my regiment.”

“And your mother?”

“She died six months later, of a broken heart,” he said gruffly. “She adored my father with a passion I have seen in few women. When news of his death came, she stopped eating aside from the smallest amounts and faded away. It was as though she had died with him.”

“I’m sorry,” Sariah said, turning to look up at him. His brown eyes were lit by the fire, warmth and sorrow combined. “You must have been very alone.”

“I had my men, my advisers. A kingdom needs a king, but it is not run by a king alone,” Griffen said. “There was an entire court to support me, and fortunately there were no pretenders to the throne. My succession was smooth and unopposed.”

“Even then, they knew not to cross you,” Sariah observed.

“I had been groomed for the throne,” Griffen agreed. “And I have been fortunate enough to enjoy popularity with my people who prefer security and order to the wild ways of the barbarians that stalk this land.”

“Have you forgotten that you are a barbarian too?”

“Well, by blood, yes,” Griffen admitted. “My grandfather was the chief of a tribe, not a king, but my father’s work and mine has been to bring the tribes together, create something more than scrapping groups killing one another over water and sheep and gold. The barbarian life is short and brutal. We can live better than that.”

Sariah found him more handsome in that moment than ever before as he spoke with passion for his station and for his people. Griffen was a man of vision; his brawn and his barbarian features tended to hide the loftier aspirations he had for the future of his kingdom.

She lifted her lips and impulsively placed a kiss on his mouth.

“What was that for, pet?” He smiled down at her.