Bound to a Warrior (17 page)

“Be gone with you, you fools,” Reeve commanded.

The brave soldier stood and bowed. “M'lady, your father the king wishes your safe return. Please come with us.”

Mercy couldn't see Duncan's face, but she felt his body tense solid and if the glares Reeve and Trey sent her were any indication of Duncan's reaction…she was in trouble.

M
ercy had hoped she could slip away before her identity had become known. Now that it had she had no choice but to bargain for Duncan and his family's safety. She kept her courage strong as she told the young soldier, “Tell my father that unless he can guarantee the safety of this family and land that I will not be returning home.”

Duncan's voice suddenly boomed from behind her. “Tell the king his daughter will never be returning home. She belongs to me now…Duncan MacAlpin.”

“You wish to ransom her?” the soldier asked.

“Clean your ears out, you fool,” Reeve yelled. “Did you hear any mention of a ransom?”

“I don't understand,” the soldier said.

Duncan wrapped his fingers around Mercy's and raised their chained wrists high. “The king gave her to me and I plan on keeping her.”

“The king did no—”

Duncan didn't let him finish. “The king wanted her
dead. Now he changes his mind and wants her back.” He shook his head. “No. She stays here with me.”

“I shall inform the king,” the soldier said.

“Make sure you do,” Duncan warned.

The soldier turned and helped one of his fallen comrades to his feet before disappearing into the woods. Warriors arrived then, following the ragtag bunch to make certain not one lingered.

When Reeve and Trey lowered their heads and walked away, she knew it had been by Duncan's silent command. She had expected he would want to speak with her about this right away and she couldn't blame him. She only hoped he understood.

She wanted to face him and discuss the matter and he must have had the same idea for his hands settled snug on her waist and with a lift and a twist she was suddenly sitting sideways in his lap, his arm snug around her.

She spoke first. “I'm the king's bastard daughter.”

“And you didn't think it was important to tell me that?”

There was no anger or accusation in his tone. However, Mercy thought she heard disappointment.

“You were a stranger—”

“Not for long,” he said.

“True,” she agreed, “but I believed it best for us both if my identity remained unknown.”

“Perhaps at first I could see the reason in that, but not later,” he said. “You should have trusted me.”

“I did—” She shook her head. “I do trust you.”

“Not enough to tell me who you really are.”

“You know who I am better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” he said.

She tensed and raised her chin. “Being the king's bastard daughter has little to do with who I really am. I revealed my true self to you. If you cannot see that, then you are a fool.” She had to stop a moment and swallow down the catch in her throat. And then with courage she wasn't sure she had, she said, “It's time for this chain to come off.”

They exchanged not a word on the return ride and when they stopped at the smithy, a mix of emotions rose up to choke her. She wanted to be free of the chain, but she didn't want to be free of Duncan and she feared that just might happen.

Harry, the smithy, was short and round and strong as an ox. He examined the metal cuffs and the thick chain, scratched his partially bald head and looked them over again.

“This is best left until tomorrow,” he announced.

Mercy almost laughed at the sense of joy that assaulted her, though it was mixed with apprehension of what was to come.

“Are you sure of that, Harry?” Duncan asked.

He scratched his bald spot again, then nodded toward Mercy. “It's her I worry about. She's a wee wisp of a thing and if I don't take my time and I'm not careful, I could break her wrist.”

“Then tomorrow it is,” Duncan said and after a brief
chat about how Harry's family was doing, they left.

They walked back to the keep alone. Trey and Reeve had gone ahead taking Duncan's stallion with them. She wished he would say something and then again she was afraid of what she might hear. And then part of her was angry with him for not understanding and another part understood why this troubled him.

Her emotions so overwhelmed her she felt as if she was about to burst.

They entered the keep, his parents along with Trey and Reeve sitting at one of the long tables and benches. They all looked over at them and it was Mara who waved them over to join the family.

While Mercy understood that his family was probably concerned about this matter, she felt that she and Duncan should first discuss it privately, and so she told him just that.

“I wish to go upstairs and talk.”

“And I wish to speak with my family first.”

His decision disturbed her and she bristled.

“This affects them as well,” he said.

She shook her head annoyed and a slight dizziness assaulted her, though she ignored it. “Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I was concerned how my presence here would affect you and your family's safety?”

“Then you should have told me the truth,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And what would you have done?” she asked slapping her free hand to rest on her hip.

His eyes narrowed and he brought his nose to within an inch of hers. “I would have—” He stopped abruptly.

She glared at him. “Go on, tell me what would you have done when you discovered the woman you were chained to was the bastard daughter of the king?”

Mercy could have cringed when she realized she had raised her voice to a near scream. Everyone stared at them and she simply shook her head at her own foolishness. Not a smart reaction since it caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her. Her stomach turned queasy and her head grew foggy.

She couldn't faint now, she just couldn't. It would make her appear weak or needy and she didn't want either. She had survived much these last few weeks and she would survive more and she would fight. Yes, she would fight for Duncan.

Her hand felt heavy but she managed to lift it and rest it on Duncan's chest. She couldn't remember what it was she wanted to say.

“Mercy?”

She heard his concern and she wanted to smile. That was her Duncan, the man who worried about her, the man who protected her, the man who fought to keep her safe.

It came to her then. She wanted him to know that she loved him but for some reason her thoughts and mouth weren't working as they should and only one word spilled out. “Help.”

 

Duncan scooped her up into his arms and yelled, “I have you. Do you hear me, Mercy? I have you. You're safe.”

“Stop screaming at her,” his mother ordered as she reached his side. “She's just fainted. She needs rest, not charging into battle.”

“Then why didn't you stop her?” Duncan asked accusingly.

Reeve joined them, slipping an arm around his mother's shoulders. “So are you going to take a stick to him now or later?”

“Watch it or I'll take a stick to you,” Mara warned. “And as far as you—” She pointed to Duncan. “Not only does Mercy have a mind of her own, but you had it in your head that you wanted her to go with you. So you both got what you wanted.”

Reeve grinned and went to say something, but his mother cut him off.

“Not another word, Reeve. Mercy needs tending.” With that she was shoving Duncan toward the stairs. “Get her into bed. She needs food and rest to restore her strength.”

Duncan had her up the stairs and in bed before her eyes began fluttering open.

“You best wake up,” he encouraged. “We have much to discuss.”

Mara swatted his arm. “Not tonight. She's had enough.”

“But—”

Mara placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. “Let it be. She needs your caring right now, not your anger.”

Duncan nodded and gave his mother a hug.

Mara smiled and patted his arm. “It will all work out in due time. Now let's get her out of these cumbersome garments and into something that will help her rest. You start undressing her while I go get what we need.”

Mercy opened her eyes just as Mara left the room.

“I've orders from my mother to disrobe you,” Duncan said with a grin.

Mercy nearly sighed. There was her old Duncan, the one she was familiar with, the one who she knew cared for her beyond reason.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, though when she tried to smile, her head pained her and she winced.

“You're not feeling well.”

His concern comforted her, but she wished to reassure him. “Just a bit out of sorts.”

“You'll rest tonight,” he insisted.

“You'll stay with me?”

He rattled the chain. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“But do you want to?” she asked, her eyes focused on his.

“I'm right where I want to be.”

He sounded certain enough, and besides, he squeezed her hand and locked his fingers with hers. That was a
sure sign he didn't want to go anywhere and that they would fight this battle together.

“You've done nothing,” Mara scolded as she rushed into the room.

Mercy corrected her. “He's done everything for me.”

Mara looked to her son, smiled and then turned to Mercy. “Well, he's about to do more.”

Duncan worked alongside his mother and in no time they had Mercy out of her garments and into a white, soft wool nightdress and tucked beneath an even softer wool blanket. Mara then took a couple of platters of food from the table and placed them on the chest next to the bed where Duncan sat. She added pitchers of wine and mead. When she was finished she gathered Mercy's discarded garments.

“I'll repair these garments so they'll be ready to wear when you are,” she said. “Now it's time to get some food into you and then time to rest.”

“And Duncan too,” Mercy said.

Mara nodded. “Sleep well and I'll see you both in the morning.” Mara stopped at the door and turned and though she spoke to Mercy, she looked to her son. “One thing, Mercy, our parents don't define us. We define ourselves.”

Mercy looked to Duncan ready to talk, but he silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips.

“No more tonight,” he said. “There's time enough tomorrow or the next day or the next.”

She smiled as his finger slipped away. He was letting her know that he didn't intend for her to go anywhere. He wanted her right there with him. And so she gratefully let it be for another day.

While the food was appetizing, she found she wasn't hungry, which seemed to concern Duncan.

“Just eat a little,” he cajoled offering her a small piece of hard cheese.

She was about to tell him she just wasn't hungry when she realized that if she did he would stop eating so that she could sleep.

“Maybe a little,” she agreed.

He smiled as she took the cheese from him. “A little will do you well, while a lot will do me even better.”

She nibbled on the cheese as they sat in bed, his back braced against the thick, hand-carved headboard and her head rested on his shoulder. She thought about how irritable they had been tonight and then about their first bout of grouchy angriness and how it was settled.

She laughed softly. “You and I were grouchy tonight.”

“And you find this humorous?”

“I recalled how we decided how to handle such a situation,” she said and cuddled in the crook of his arm.

He lifted her chin and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “If only you were up to it, I would make love, oh slow and gentle to you, until sunrise.”

She sighed knowing she didn't have the stamina, already sleep was creeping over her. “I wish it could be
so, but sleep will soon claim me, though I would prefer your touch to claim me.”

He quickly disrobed using the knife on the table to cut away his shirt from the shackle. Then he slipped beneath the blanket easing her down on the mattress with him.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, “and my touch will take you into dreamland.”

And it did.

Mercy slipped into a gentle slumber as Duncan's fingers worked their magic on her warm skin.

D
uncan hadn't expected to sleep so soundly but he had, his eyes drifting open with the sunrise. Mercy didn't stir, hadn't all night, since they were in the same position they had fallen asleep in.

He stared at her, the bastard-daughter of the king. He had never given such a possibility thought. That she was daughter to the king had stunned him, especially since he was fighting for the true king to claim the throne.

What did trouble him was why the king had changed his mind about wanting his daughter dead. He couldn't help but think that it might have something to do with him. Had the king discovered their mission? Did he think his daughter could provide him with information? And how did he confide the truth to Mercy when he'd been sworn to secrecy?

Also while it had disturbed him that she hadn't told him of her identity, he could understand why. It was just that he wanted to know that she trusted him enough to confide anything to him and yet…

He couldn't offer the same…he had taken an oath.

Falling in love with her had come so naturally and he had assumed the rest would follow just as naturally, even though he had his mission to tend to. But now it was all different.

Now he had fallen in love with the king's daughter. A king he intended to dethrone.

She stirred in the crook of his arm and then settled once again.

He brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face, a face so lovely that he never tired of looking upon it, and never would.

Today they would be free of each other, though not truly. It wasn't these metal cuffs and chain that bound them. No, love had somehow sneaked in and fettered them more than any shackle could.

He only hoped that the chains of love were strong enough to overcome the obstacles they were about to face.

A soft rap on the door drew his attention and he called out in a relatively low voice, “Enter.”

He wasn't surprised to see his mother, garments draped over her arm and her stitching basket on the other. She had never missed hearing a thing he and his brothers had said through the years, even if she had been across a room or field. For awhile they had believed that she had possessed magical hearing, but then her sight had also been magical, since she had caught them at just about every trick and tease.

“She slept well?” his mother asked.

“Aye, as did I,” he said knowing it would be her next question.

“Good, I'm pleased that last night's troubles didn't keep the two of you from sleeping,” Mara said. “I thought it best if you both ate with the family this morning.”

Duncan knew it was a summons rather than a request.

“I'll help Mercy get into fresh clothes when she's ready and then we'll eat and then it's off to Harry to free you of these chains.”

“You have it all planned do you?” Duncan grinned.

Mara retained her smile, but her words warned, “There's work that needs doing.”

Duncan's grin faded and he nodded. “I know.”

“Can I help?” Mercy asked.

They both turned to see her waking with a yawn and a stretch.

“That's if you don't mind,” Mercy said. “There's much I've been taught to do.”

“You can help with the stitching,” Mara offered.

“Oh, I can do much more than stitch,” Mercy informed her. “I can run every aspect of a keep and I am excellent with numbers.”

“You read and write then?” Mara asked.

“Aye, Latin, French and most of the Gaelics.”

Mara looked to Duncan and nodded. He knew what she was thinking. Mercy would be a good one to have on their side, but then that would mean betraying her
father. And though her father might have wanted her dead, would she want the same for her father?

He also wondered why she hadn't told him of her many talents before this, but with his mother present he wasn't about to broach the subject. Then again, perhaps he should remember what she had told him last night.

You know me better than anyone
.

“I'll help anyway I can,” Mercy said.

“Well, for now that would be getting up and dressed so that you can join my family for the morning meal,” Mara said.

Duncan not only sensed, but he saw her hesitation as she struggled to sit up. He reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her up to sit. She leaned against his arm and he had easily come to realize that it was her way of seeking protection and comfort. He knew what troubled her and what she needed from him.

She glanced up at him with pleading eyes.

Damn if her glistening blue eyes didn't do him in. They mesmerized and he'd about do anything for her when caught in their beauty.

He had to shake his head. “If you can battle soldiers and emerge victorious, then you will have no trouble sharing a meal with my family.”

“I wouldn't be too sure,” Mara said and laughed. “Now let's get you dressed. And you—” She pointed to Duncan. “Get your plaid on and be quick about it.”

Duncan obliged and in no time the three were leav
ing the room, delicious scents growing stronger as they descended the stairs.

They never reached the table. A young lad hurried into the room with a message from Harry. “He's ready for you.”

“We'll take a bite with us,” Duncan suggested.

“Suddenly I'm not hungry,” Mercy said clinging tightly to Duncan's arm.

He felt the same, though made no mention of it. Soon they would be able to walk away from each other. After spending every moment with her for the last several weeks, he wondered how it would be without her. He'd find out soon enough.

“Freedom!” Trey and Reeve yelled, jumping up off the bench with broad smiles and tankards high.

“They tease,” Duncan said to Mercy.

“But who? You or me?” She smiled and walked away, forcing him to follow.

He was surprised by her sudden, determined gait and that she remained a few steps ahead of him, not beside him or with her hand clasped in his. Once outside her steps took on a more rapid pace.

“Anxious to be free?” he asked curious as to her sudden rush.

She didn't stop or turn around. “I have a promise to keep.”

“A promise?” he asked rubbing his chin.

“You don't remember?”

It struck him then. “I get my kiss.”

He rushed forward, with no doubt what looked like an idiot's grin on his face, and scooped her up into his arms. “I can get us there faster.”

They laughed, and though Duncan was eager for her to kiss him, once the chains were removed, everything would change.

 

Mercy turned her face away as the hammer came down on the edge of the metal cuff braced on the anvil. She thought her wrist would shatter from the vibration, but she kept her fear to herself. Duncan had withstood the ordeal without complaint or grimace and he was free, his metal cuff gone. She intended to do the same, though she was glad he remained by her side, not leaving her to face this on her own but to share his strength.

Harry had insisted that he remove Duncan's cuff first, explaining that it would be safer for Mercy.

She braced herself for another blow and this time she couldn't help but wince.

Harry grumbled beneath his breath.

“What's wrong?” Duncan asked, stepping forward, though Harry had warned him to keep a distance.

“This cuff is heavier than yours,” Harry explained. “I've seen it used before on prisoners the king wants to make certain can never escape, can never be free.”

“You can get it off, can't you?” Duncan asked.

Harry rubbed his bald spot repeatedly.

Trey suddenly appeared, a bit out of breath. “We need to talk now.”

“I can't leave her,” Duncan said and looked to Harry. “Can you?”

Harry examined the cuff again and again rubbed his bald spot.

Reeve arrived. “Father's waiting.”

“He won't leave her,” Trey said.

“You're free, she's brave, so say you. What's the problem?” Reeve asked.

Duncan ignored them both and focused on Harry. “Tell me you can get the damn cuff off her.”

“I can get it off, but I can't promise I won't damage her wrist doing it.”

Duncan turned to his brothers. “Tell Father whatever it is must wait. I will not leave Mercy to go through this alone.”

“It sounds important,” Mercy said, not truly wanting him to go, but not wanting him to think that she couldn't handle it on her own. She didn't want to think she couldn't handle it alone. She might have Duncan right now, but there was no telling what the future would bring, especially with her father wanting her to return home. He was a man who always got his way and didn't care what he had to do to get it.

“It will wait,” Duncan said, sending his brothers a sharp look that had both of them taking a step back.

“Is there anything we can do?” Reeve asked.

Harry stared at Reeve a moment, then he looked down
at the metal cuff on Mercy's wrist, then back at Reeve again and nodded. “There just might be.”

“What can he do?” Duncan asked, slipping his arm around Mercy's shoulder.

“I've seen no one with the strength of Reeve,” Harry said. “There's not a one of us fool enough to go up against him, except you and Trey and Bryce of course.”

Reeve laughed. “I always knew my brothers were fools, but it's good to hear that someone agrees with me.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Harry grumbled.

Duncan sent his brother another scolding look and Reeve quit laughing, though retained a grin. Mercy was beginning to see just how close these men were for in the short time she had been introduced to them, they had without question or hesitation been there for each other.

“Explain, Harry,” Duncan said.

“Reeve's arm strength goes far beyond mine,” Harry said. “It's possible that with one blow he could crack the cuff making it easier to remove. Of course if he used too much strength he could shatter the cuff and her wrist along with it.”

Duncan turned to Reeve, though spoke not a word.

Reeve stepped forward. “What say you, Mercy?”

He was so lean one would never expect that he possessed such strength, but having witnessed how he had disposed of the soldiers, she knew otherwise.

“I trust you,” she said and smiled.

“Good lord, you're a beauty,” Reeve said. “And lord knows I could never damage such beauty.”

“Enough,” Duncan said irritably. “Get to work and you
better not
damage her.”

“Or what?” Reeve teased.

Duncan's grin spread slow and confidently. “I'll tell Mother.”

“That's cruel,” Reeve said and the brothers laughed.

Mercy joined in the laughter. She had never known such close family ties. Family that you could depend on no matter what and who accepted you for who you were, not who you were expected to be.

Harry demonstrated to Reeve what he needed him to do. And Mercy was relieved to see that Reeve displayed not a hint of doubt that he could manage it.

Reeve approached Mercy, hammer and pin in hand. “Turn your head away in case any metal splinters go flying.”

Duncan stepped to her side and positioned his body as a shield between her and Reeve. “Keep your face pressed against me.”

Mercy didn't argue. She much preferred burying her face against Duncan's naked midriff, since he had yet to slip on the shirt he had brought with him, than watch Reeve battle the cuff.

A fine sheen of perspiration covered Duncan's skin, the familiar scent filling her nostrils. It brought back memories of their journey and the many times they faced the possibility of capture and death together. And the times they had lain naked in each other's arms, not yet loving,
but protecting. And she felt safe once again, protected and this time loved.

She waited with much less worry, confident in Reeve.

The blow came quickly, sending a vibration up her arm and throughout her body. Duncan's arm had instantly wrapped around her and she knew he had felt the blow along with her.

“Perfect shot,” Reeve cried out.

Mercy had to see for herself, though she knew the metal cuff was gone. She felt the weight gone from around her wrist. She peeked past Duncan and sure enough her wrist was bare, free of the metal constraint that had joined Duncan and her for weeks.

The skin was no longer raw, thanks to Bliss's salve, though it continued to heal, and she wondered if it would leave a scar, though she needed no reminder of the time she had spent with Duncan.

She felt a swell in her chest. They were separated, free of each other. No longer would they spend every moment together. The thought made the swell grow until Mercy thought it would consume her.

“Are you all right?” Duncan asked.

She lifted her head with some difficulty, though she didn't let him know that. “Aye, I'm fine.

“And you're finally free of my brother,” Reeve said, giving Duncan's arm a slap.

“Can we go now? Father's waiting,” Trey reminded.

Mercy didn't want Duncan to go. She felt as if he was being ripped away from her and though it was foolish, she felt that once they separated they might never be together again.

“Are you sure you're all right?” Duncan asked, his hand resting on her cheek.

She wanted to tell him that she was far from fine, that she was frightened now that they were apart, worried that her father would come claim her, concerned that they would never ever be joined so solidly again.

“Go. I'm fine,” she assured him while trying to believe it herself.