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Authors: Iris Johansen

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BOOK: The Beloved Scoundrel
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Jordan set him down and grasped his wrist. “Run for the hill!”

He glanced back as they started up the steep incline. Soldiers were streaming out of the gate.

A bullet whistled by his ear.

At least they’d had no time to launch a mounted attack. In another minute he and Alex should be out of range. Once they reached the horses at the top of the hill, they should be safe. It was nearly impossible for anyone to overtake horses from the ravin’s stable. He must just make sure to block the boy from those bullets spitting from—

The ravin!

“Dammit, no! Go back!” Jordan shouted.

She paid no attention. She galloped down the hill with two horses in tow and reined in her stallion before them. “They saw you! I told you it was a stupid—”

“Be quiet,” he said through clenched teeth. He tossed Alex onto the smaller horse and slapped the animal on the buttocks to send it at a run toward the ravin’s forces on the hill. “And get out of here!”

The ravin’s eyes blazed at him. “You get out of here!”

Another bullet whistled by him as he pulled himself onto the saddle. “That’s my intention. If you would—”

He did not hear the bullet, but he saw the ravin’s eyes widen in horror.

“Jordan!”

C
HAPTER
14

T
he red tents billowing on the barren Bordlin plain looked like a cluster of radiant butterflies that had mistaken a desert for a garden.

Marianna could see a number of people milling about, but they were still too far away to recognize. Any one of them could be Jordan.

Or none of them.

“What if they aren’t here?” she whispered.

“They will be here.” Gregor started down the hill. “Come. We will go and find your Alex.”

She nudged her horse into a trot. Her heart was pounding, her palms cold and clammy. She must not be nervous. God would not let Alex or Jordan die and that monster live.

But God had let Mama die.

As she and Gregor drew closer, she quickly eyed the crowd who were gathering to greet them. No Jordan. No Alex. No Ravin.

The tents. They had to be in the tents. Just because she didn’t immediately see them was no sign they
were not here. The ravin’s forces would not have abandoned them at Pekbar—

“Marianna.”

Alex!

He stood several yards away, garbed in ragged trousers and shirt, a broad smile on his face and a wooden basin in his hands.

She slipped from her horse and was running through the crowd toward the small figure. He looked like a Gypsy boy, she thought tearfully, all tousled black curls and big dark eyes.

“Alex!” She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms. “Alex, you’re—”

“Let go. I can’t breathe,” Alex said gruffly. In spite of his words, his arms were holding her just as tightly. “Stop crying, Marianna. I’m quite all right.”

She pressed her cheek to his. She had forgotten how endearingly fragile his child’s body felt in her arms.

“You’re getting me wet,” he said impatiently. He had evidently tolerated enough affection for the moment.

She drew back but kept her hands on his shoulders. She wanted to keep on touching him, assuring herself that he was here. “I’m sorry.”

A smile illuminated his face, and his fingers went up to touch her tear-streaked cheek. “You’re wet too. You’re going to drown us, Marianna.”

“Are you well? Did they hurt you?”

A shadow crossed his face, and his gaze slid away from hers. “A little.” He quickly called beyond her shoulder to Gregor. “Hello, Gregor. You’re a day late. We got here yesterday afternoon, right on time.”

He chuckled. “I regret my tardiness. We took a
longer route to avoid running into your former hosts. It is good to see you, lad.”

“It’s good to see you, Gregor.” Alex knelt to pick up the basin that had gone flying from his hands when Marianna had grabbed him. “I have to take this to Jordan. The wound—”

“Wound!” Marianna inhaled sharply. “What wound? Are you hurt?”

“No, I told you, Jordan—”

“Jordan’s hurt?” She jumped to her feet. “How bad? What—”

“Hush, Marianna,” Alex said. “If you would listen, you’d know by now.”

She stared at him in astonishment. The maturity and authority that echoed in his words were foreign to the Alex she knew. And the change was not only in his voice, she realized. His face was thinner, the baby fat gone, and dark circles were imprinted beneath eyes that met hers with a fearless clarity.

“Jordan isn’t hurt either.” He turned and started across the camp, motioning for her to follow him. “It’s Ana who was shot.”

“Ana!” Gregor was off his horse in a heartbeat. “Where is she?”

Alex pointed to the large tent at the edge of the camp. “It was a bullet that—”

Gregor muttered something beneath his breath and ran toward the tent.

“He doesn’t listen either,” Alex said in disgust. “She’s not badly hurt. Jordan says the wound in her shoulder is clean. It’s only a question of keeping it so.”

She tried to keep her tone casual as she asked, “Jordan is well then?”

He nodded, and suddenly his expression was filled with enthusiasm. “It was splendid. We climbed a rope up the wall and— Well, Jordan climbed it and then pulled me up to the rampart. Next time I’ll do it myself.”

“There will be no next time,” she said firmly.

The shadow returned, wiping the childish enthusiasm from his face. “I hope not.”

But he was not sure. All the security he had known at Cambaron had vanished, and he was again the little boy who had thought a warm blanket a treasure in a cold world. It was not fair. Anger soared through her. “I promise that you’ll be safe now. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No, but sometimes bad things happen that no one can stop. I forgot that.” He straightened his thin shoulders. “But if you try hard, sometimes you can make it better.”

What terrible things had happened to him in these weeks that he had tried to make better? “Alex, are you—”

“Jordan was worried,” he interrupted. “He said you were in no danger, but last night after supper he rode up to the hills. I think he was watching for you.”

“Was he? I don’t see why. He was telling you the truth. I was quite safe, and Gregor and I didn’t have any grand adventures like you did.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if you did,” he said shrewdly. “You’d be afraid I’d be worried.”

Another flash of maturity. “Well, I’m anxious to hear all about yours.”

“When I have time.” He frowned. “Ana needs me now.”

She looked at him in astonishment. “The ravin?”

“Ana,” he corrected. “She helped save my life, you know. Now I have to help her.”

“I’m sure she has many people here to help her.”

His jaw set. “
I
have to do it.” He looked toward the tent. “There’s Jordan. Here’s the basin, Jordan,” he called out. “Shall I fill it with hot water?”

Jordan.

He was standing in the entrance of the tent looking at her.

“Jordan?” Alex demanded impatiently.

“Oh.” He tore his gaze away from Marianna. “Yes, please.”

“Come on, Marianna.” Alex ran toward a steaming kettle hung over a small fire outside the tent. He stopped and faced his sister. “Why are you just standing there?”

Marianna didn’t realize that’s what she was doing. At the moment she wouldn’t have been aware of fire pouring from the heavens.
He
was alive and well and staring at her as if …

What? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

He was alive.

“All went well?” Her voice sounded breathless even to herself.

“No, but we got the boy. That’s what’s important.”

“Yes.” She must stop staring at him. Everything she felt had to be written on her face. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for retrieving what I lost.” He paused. “How are you?”

“Didn’t Gregor tell you? Everything went just as you planned.”

“I didn’t ask how the plan went,” he said roughly. “How are
you
, dammit?”

Leaf-green eyes that could quickly change expression from cynicism to humor. She had lived for years with the toughness, sensuality, and dry wit that was Jordan Draken, and yet now everything about him seemed new to her.

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Gregor wasn’t telling the truth. Something happened.”

Something of extreme importance to her but not to him. She shook her head. “It wasn’t pleasant seeing Nebrov again, but it wasn’t terrible either.”

“Marianna, help me.” Alex’s demand broke into her awareness. “Hold the basin.”

She hurried over to the fire and did as he asked. She kept her gaze averted from Jordan as Alex carefully ladled hot water from the kettle into the basin.

Jordan was behind her but not touching her. She had not heard him move but felt his presence with unerring instinct.

“Your hands aren’t steady,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll burn yourself.” Both of his arms reached around her, and his hands covered hers. “I’ll help you.”

His touch was warm and strong; the familiar scent of him filled her nostrils. She hadn’t been trembling before, but she was now. He had held her like this during that first moment of surrender at Dalwynd, and memories were flooding back. “I don’t need this.”

“I know.” His words were nearly inaudible. “But I do.”

Alex threw the ladle back in the kettle and took the basin from her. “Is that enough, Jordan?”

“No.” Then he glanced at the bowl. “Yes.” His
arms fell to his sides and he took a step back. “Take it into the tent.”

“I’ll go with you,” Marianna said. She couldn’t stay here with him. She was too shaken and vulnerable, too aware of all the things of which she would have been robbed if he had died at Pekbar. “How did she become wounded?”

“The alarm was given as we were climbing down the wall. I told her to stay on the hill but, as usual, she paid no attention. She galloped down to bring us our horses.”

“She saved your life?”

“She is quite sure she did. In truth we had time to reach the hill, and I would have much preferred not to have been forced to worry about her as well as Alex.” He smiled. “But it was quite a splendid effort, and I think you may have to do another window of her. She appeared more Valkyrie than Galahad.”

“Who shot her?”

“One of the guards. I cannot put a name to him. We were in something of a hurry when we departed Pekbar.” His lips thinned. “But I made sure that whatever his name is, it would be immediately engraved on his tombstone.”

“But the ravin will recover?”

“Ana,” Alex corrected her as he moved toward the tent.

Jordan’s brows raised. “For some reason he resents the use of that title.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” She started to follow Alex, and Jordan fell into step with her. He was so close, his thigh brushed against hers as they walked. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“He may not answer me,” she said, troubled. “He’s changed.”

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?”

“I have no idea. He won’t talk about it.” He glanced at her. “And I wouldn’t ask him, if I were you. He’ll tell you when he’s ready to do so.”

“But perhaps it’s only … it may only be temporary.”

Jordan was silent.

“You don’t think so?”

“No.”

“You don’t appear concerned. They
hurt
him.”

“I’m concerned that they hurt him but not about the change. I know you regret it, but he’s stronger now and better able to defend himself.” He suddenly chuckled. “And to attack in turn.”

“Attack?”

“You’ll see.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to precede him into the tent. “Probably in the immediate future.”

She frowned in puzzlement as she entered the tent.

Gregor was kneeling beside a sheepskin pallet on which lay the ravin. Alex was moving brusquely about the tent, putting down the basin, gathering clean cloths from the table.

Gregor looked up and smiled at Marianna. “She is not badly hurt.”

“I’m very badly hurt,” the ravin corrected sourly. “I’m in great pain, and I’m having to put up with the most supreme indignities.”

“She is always bad-tempered when she is ill.” Gregor’s big hand gently brushed back a lock of hair
from her forehead. “With a tongue as foul as a swamp bog.”

“How disgusting. And untrue.” She glowered at Marianna. “Why are you staring at me? Does it please you to see me weak and helpless?”

She did appear a trifle drawn, but her innate forcefulness and fire still burned brightly. “I will tell you when you display either of those qualities,” Marianna said. “At the moment I recognize only bad temper.” She glanced at Gregor. “And a tongue as foul as a swamp—”

“Enough. I’m surrounded by enemies.” She glared at Alex as the little boy dropped to his knees beside her. “No! Go away.”

He paid no attention as he dipped a cloth into the hot water.

“Jordan, why did I bother to save your life if I am only to be tormented by this fiend?”

“Bad judgment?” Jordan suggested.

Alex untied the bandage on the ravin’s shoulder to reveal a puckered, swollen wound.

“You will not touch me,” she said forcefully.

Alex carefully dabbed at the edge of the wound.

BOOK: The Beloved Scoundrel
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