The Mercenary's Marriage (2 page)

“Where did he go?” Voices rose as the men
came to an abrupt stop where they two of them had been standing
moments before.

“What are you men doing out there?” A voice
called out from the parapets overlooking the enclosed garden.
Immediately every man in the group tensed and their apparent leader
saluted to someone out of Darius' sight.

“We thought we saw someone out here, sir.”
The leader below called.

“The gardens have already been searched,” the
unseen man informed them. “Take your detail into the dungeons. They
have not been investigated yet. Keep your eyes open for secret
passages or hidden rooms.”

Obediently, the group reformed their ranks
and trot-marched in the direction of the nearest entrance. Darius
watched and listened until all the echoes dwindled away to nothing.
The small girl he was trapping against the tree stopped trembling.
Looking down to make sure she had not chosen the escape of the
pampered lady and fainted on him, he encountered her grave green
eyes examining his face.

He did not look cruel. Brice came to this
conclusion in spite of the minor scars marring the smoothness of
his face. Maybe it was because his eyes were so expressive. She was
wondering how the largest and deepest of his scars affected his
smile. It started near his temple and made an almost smooth path to
about an inch above his jaw line. It was old and had long healed to
the darkness of damaged skin. Then he turned from his scrutiny of
the building and looked at her. All thoughts of his face
immediately vanished from her mind.

“We are going back in.” He must have seen the
surprise and fear that crossed her mind for he continued. “Stay
with me and you will be safe. The men will not bother you now I
have claimed you as mine.”

“Will you have to…” she had forgotten the
words he had used. She looked away. It was hard to think with those
eyes watching.

“Convince them,” he said for her. She looked
up to find his eyes laughing again. The laughter did not reach his
the rest of his face though.

“Will you?” She asked.

“For your sake, let us hope not.” He stepped
away and offered her his hand. “Come, now is our best chance.”
Hesitant, but uncertain she had any alternative; Brice took it.
Immediately his large warm hand gripped hers and he headed to the
entrance opposite the way from the men had taken.

She was small and her legs so much shorter
than his; Darius found himself adjusting his stride so he was not
dragging her along behind him. He needed to get back to the king.
The girl might know something useful.

She stopped and dug in her heels the moment
the entrance to the hall was in sight. He delayed his reaction
until he had pulled her behind the heavy column next to the door.
Turning, he backed her up by her shoulders into the shadow of the
wooden pillar and blocked the only escape. He towered over her in a
way that anyone who saw him would not be able to see her, though
they would definitely wonder what he was doing facing a wall.

“I need to report to the King,” he told her.
She was shaking so badly he could hear her teeth chattering. Most
likely, the memories of the massacre that had taken place in the
room were now filling her mind. He had not removed his hands yet
and he was afraid if he did now, she would collapse. “He is going
to have a few questions for you, but after that, I might be leaving
you with him.” Moving his hands from her shoulders to each side of
her head, he lifted her face so she was forced to meet his eyes.
Their green depths were glinting with unshed tears and her bottom
lip trembled despite her obvious fiery resolve that it not. “If you
wish to be safe, stay with the King if I leave. He will enforce my
claim on you, but if you leave his presence, I cannot vouch for
what will happen. Do you understand?”

She nodded slightly before pulling her head
from his hands to again study the hard tile floor.

“Ay, Darius.” A voice called from behind
Darius. Darius turned away from the girl to greet Ewian. “I have
been looking for you all over. What did you find in the garden that
the others were so….” The man stopped abruptly when he caught sight
of the girl. “Ah, a little brown bird.” He smiled slowly. “I would
not wish to share her either.” Darius did not allow his annoyance
to show; countryman or not, Ewian had better keep his distance from
this little brown bird.

“I was about to report to King Jenran,”
Darius said. “Are you doing the same?”

“Oh, no.” Ewian took a step in the opposite
direction. “I was just looking for you. I will be going now.” He
quickly disappeared the way he had come.

“The King will only want to ask some
questions,” the man said again when the other had disappeared. The
other man had looked similar in coloring to her captor, but his
eyes had been brown and his build not as tall. Bracing his arm
against the column to her left, the one called Darius leaned down
closer to her face. “Remember you are not out of danger yet.” Brice
found her eyes looking into his. “The king will honor my claim.
Near him or me you will be safe; but anywhere else until the word
has spread you are in grave danger. See you do not leave my
side.”

Abruptly he drew back and took her hand
again. Turning, he thrust open the door and strode back into the
room she had fled only moments before. Brice willed herself not to
panic as she was pulled with him.

She swallowed carefully and looked around.
The room was much the same as she had last seen it. There were
fewer men moving about and her master's body was covered with the
hearthrug, but the tables were still overturned and the red-haired
man still sat in the master's carved chair. Her captor made his way
directly to this man. Pausing in his approach, a few feet from the
man, he bowed and shot her a glare. Getting the idea she was
supposed to show respect, Brice managed a weak curtsy. She would
have fallen over if he had released her hand.

“Ah, Darius, a successful pursuit, I see,”
the red haired man said. “Rise and approach; I wish to question the
girl.” Lifting her head, Brice found the new man's eyes on her
face. They were dark brown. After a gentle prod from her companion,
Brice stepped closer as the man looked her over.

“What is your name?” He was looking with
interest at her bare feet. She felt her ears warm. They were
probably muddy after the trip through the garden.

“Brice, sir,” she answered.

“Sire or your majesty,” her captor informed
her.

Brice's eyes flew to the red-haired man's
head; only then did she see the gold circlet among the dark curls.
She immediately dropped her eyes and wished the ground would
swallow her. “Pardon me.” She had no doubt her ears were red.
Thankful they were beneath her hair, she corrected herself, “Your
Majesty.”

“'Sire' is fine, child.” The king actually
smiled. He then addressed the man behind her. “Where did you catch
her?”

“The garden, Sire,” the man answered. “She
was making for the back gate.”

The king nodded and then asked, “Slave or
free?”

“Slave,” the man said. Brice almost touched
the heavy leather collar around her neck, but managed the last
minute to restrain herself. It was well hidden beneath her
clothing.

“Whose?” The king returned to looking her
over.

“I would guess she was a lady's maid from her
hands. The calluses are not hard enough for a kitchen wench.” Brice
felt the man shift. “But she runs like one accustomed to running.”
The mercenary's thoughtful tone sent shivers up her back.
What
else did he know?

“What do you mean, Darius?” The king asked.
Brice felt his eyes leave their survey of her and meet the man's
over her head.

“She was not always a lady's maid.”

“Well, then, lady's maid,” the king said
engaging Brice's eyes. “Were you in contact with the lord's
daughter, Gwendolyn?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Was she well?”

“Yes, sire.” That was an odd question to ask
her.

“And the babe?”

This time there was no mistaking the oddness.
Brice was confused. “What babe, sire?”

“Has not Gwendolyn recently given birth to a
child?” The king's face was at total odds with his tone. His voice
was inquisitive, but his eyes were calm, cold, and calculating. “Or
perhaps she has suffered a miscarriage within the past few
months?”

“Is she large with child?” the man behind her
asked.

“None of these things are true,” Brice found
herself saying. Had these men gone mad?

Surprise crossed the king's face as he
dropped his eyes. After a moment, he rose from his chair in one
smooth movement and crossed to the covered body only a few feet
away. “Micrey,” the king said to the corpse, “You were too crafty
for your own good.”

“There was no child.” The voice behind her
was weary sounding. Brice turned to look at the man the King called
Darius. When he met her eyes, she was surprised to find them to be
sorrowful.

Just then, the main doors opened with a crash
and the other Ratharian and a large group of men entered dragging a
young farmer.

“Sire, we found this man hiding in the wine
cellar.”

The king nodded and waved them away. “Have my
horse brought up to the entrance. We are returning to camp.”

The men retreated and the Ratharian paused
long enough to bow and say, “Yes sire,” before disappearing after
them.

“We break camp tonight.” The red-haired ruler
abruptly declared. “Darius, see that the orders are spread.”
Turning to leave, the king would have left the room, except Darius,
her captor, spoke.

“I wish to have my claim be made legal.”

The king paused and turned to regard Darius.
“Why? The other men…” he broke off. “Very well,” he said as he
turned back toward the door. “When we reach camp, I will see what I
can manage.” He disappeared through the open door.

“Come.” Darius directed the order toward the
girl. She turned a puzzled face toward him.

“Why did you attack us?”

Darius blinked. It took him a moment to
realize that she wanted to know the purpose of the siege and the
attack. Obviously, she would be aware of the drama playing out
around her and would have questions.

“Later.” He started toward the door the king
had just used. Turning back to see if she was following, he found
she had not moved. He clarified, “I will answer your questions
later; I promise.”

For a moment, Darius wondered if he was going
to need to use force again to bring her along. Wishing with all his
heart there was more time to reassure her, he took a step back in
her direction. “I will come,” she said. He looked up to see her
eyes watching him with a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Then, come,” he replied. He crossed to the
door and swung it open as she approached. Obediently, she
followed.

Darius put his arm protectively around her
shoulders the moment they stepped into the hall. He drew her along
with him as he made his way to the main courtyard, where the king
would be preparing to ride out to their camp outside the walls.

Brice initially was uncomfortable with the
mercenary's arm across her shoulders. He was very tall and the
closeness of his frame made her feel even more insignificant and
weak. He seemed to be making his way to the main courtyard, which
was probably where the king was preparing to leave. After assessing
that fact, Brice concentrated on keeping up with the man's long
strides.

“Have you ever ridden?” Darius asked
suddenly.

Shaking her head, Brice managed a breathless,
“No.”

“Then you best ride with me,” he announced as
they approached the main doors. Pausing before they reached them,
he turned her to face him and glanced quickly up and down her body.
“No shoes, no cloak,” he muttered. “Guess we will have to make do.”
He smiled down at her and Brice felt her mouth drop open. His smile
was amazing when it involved his whole face.

Ignoring her reaction, Darius swept the door
open and stepped out into the courtyard. The air had cooled
considerably and an instant chill traveled up Brice's legs from the
cold cobbles beneath her feet. The space was loud with the chaos of
a departing troop. Horses neighing, men shouting, and the sound of
metal horseshoes on stone echoed against the barren walls. The raw
volume made Brice want to cover her ears, but she found she could
not. His grip on her forearm was too strong.

The mercenary pulled her with him into the
wild madness and she soon found herself praying he would not lose
her. He was the only stable island amid the sea of horses' legs,
rushing men, and dogs.
Where did the dogs come from?
She
hadn’t noticed any signs of dogs before. Suddenly she was thankful
her captor had prevented her from running. She witnessed enough
hunts in her lifetime to know how an animal was brought down by a
pack of hounds. The insane fear of the hunted creature was
frightening to see let alone experience.

“There you are.” A voice broke through the
loud clamor from above them. Looking up, Brice could just make out
the outline of a man on horseback. “Your horse is over by the
stables.” The horse stepped sideways with a plaintive whinny as a
man next to his head hollered a curse at the top of his lungs. A
massive hoof came down heavy, only inches from Brice's foot.
Instantly she shrunk back against the very solid form of the man
behind her. Without looking from the horseman's face, Darius
enfolded her within the fall of his cloak and almost completely
behind his body.

“Meet you back at camp,” the stranger called
as he urged his beast into the churning mass, and then he was
gone.