Danger's Kiss (45 page)

Rose shivered at their treachery.

The pilgrims had traveled for a few hours when Father Peter declared ‘twas time for a rest.  He called the company to a halt beneath a grove of elms bordering a flower-studded glen.

The old apple-cheeked woman took the priest’s words to heart.  She collapsed beside a rotting stump and in moments was snoring away like a well-fed hound.  Most of the others dug in their satchels for bits of bread and cheese they’d brought along or hefted skins of quenching beer.

Rose licked her dry lips and swallowed thirstily.  She’d been forced to abandon all her provisions when she’d leaped from the horse.  It hadn’t occurred to her to purchase spare provender at the inn.  She supposed she’d been so preoccupied with evading death at the hands of Gawter’s men that she hadn’t considered she might well die of starvation on the road.

At least they’d stay at a manor this eve, where they were likely to be fed generously.  There she’d eat a small supper and cache a bit of food for the next day’s travel.  Meanwhile, rather than stand about with her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, she decided to stroll across the daisy-strewn meadow to let Wink stretch her wings.

Behind her, the soothing murmur of voices diminished as she crossed the grass.  In the midst of the glen, Rose loosed Wink’s leash from her jesses.  The instant the falcon was released, she took to the sky.  Rose lowered her hand, massaging the muscles of her arm, which ached with the burden of carrying the bird for so long.  She smiled as Wink circled overhead.  How free the falcon flew, unbound by worry and the weight of the world.

For a long while the bird turned lazily in the sky, skimming past the emerald tops of the trees, her tawny wings fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Rose envied the falcon’s freedom.  Ever since learning of her betrothal, Rose had felt trapped, like a leaf caught in a swift current, tossed at a whim, steered by destiny.  The thought that she had no control over her own future filled her with dread.

Wink dove suddenly and soared past, rising high again in the sky, and Rose shielded her eyes with her arm to watch the bird’s antics.  The falcon might not see well enough to hunt, but she’d never lost her love of speed.

After a while, in the distance, Rose heard Father Peter summoning the pilgrims to continue their journey.  With a light sigh, she held her gloved hand aloft, beckoning Wink.  The trusty falcon obediently glided down, alighting on her wrist, and while Rose secured her jesses, Wink plumped her feathers as if boasting of her flight.

How the man stole upon her unawares, Rose didn’t know, but the instant she wheeled around, the dark, chained felon filled her vision like some giant raven swooping down to carry her off.  Her heart slammed against her ribs, and a rough gasp was ripped from her throat.

A dozen fears coursed through her brain:  she was alone; she was cornered; he meant her harm; no one would help her.  And yet she stood frozen to the spot, as if by some perverse enchantment.  Though every instinct told her to run—run now, run fast—her feet wouldn’t budge.

Instead, as if she moved through honey, she slowly lifted her gaze past the ominous shackles and the heavy chain linking them, up between his powerful arms to his massive chest, past the dark scrub of his strong chin, settling on his wide mouth.  He didn’t speak, and the continuing silence frayed her nerves until she could bear it no longer.

"What is it?" she whispered, her nostrils flaring.  "What do ye want?"

Surer than a falcon on the hunt, he grabbed her free wrist.  She yanked back, but his grip was firm.  She glanced down.  His great scarred knuckles seemed to devour her trembling hand.  The iron of his shackles was cold upon her wrist, and she swallowed hard as the links of the chain softly clanked against her sleeve.

Against her will, her gaze was wrenched back up to his face.  He frowned, and she noted the color of his eyes.  Gray.  Unrelenting gray.  Cold, hard, sinister gray.  The color of consuming fog and impending death.  A scream gathered in her throat, and she drank in a lung full of air to give it voice.

"Hush," he quietly warned her.

She should have ignored his threat.  After all, a host of pilgrims stood nearby.  A dozen defenders would have come to her rescue had she cried out.  But something flickered in his gaze, some suggestion of controlled composure that calmed her enough to prevent the gathering scream.

He dropped his gaze to her bare hand, then turned it until ‘twas palm up.  She watched, breathless, and it occurred to her that he might snap her wrist with a single clench of his fist, strangle her with the length of chain, or draw a dagger to slay her, and no one would reach her in time to prevent him.

"Open your hand," he bade her.

As if he’d uttered a spell, she slowly unfurled her fingers.  With his other hand, he dropped something carefully into her palm, something small and round and warm.  Furrowing her brow, she peered down.  ‘Twas a single blue robin’s egg.

She blinked up at him, confused.  Was it a trick of the light, or did she detect slivers of azure amidst the gray of his eyes, a warm spark in the cool ash?  ‘Twas extinguished almost as quickly as ‘twas born, and he released her hand with equal haste.

"For the bird," he explained.

She glanced in wonder at the gift.  Of course.  Food for her falcon.

Before she could gather her wits to thank him, he nodded in silent farewell.  In a sweep of dark wool, worn leather, and rough iron, he turned to rejoin the group.

Once Rose set the egg on the grass, Wink made quick work of it.  But ‘twas a long while down the road before Rose’s heart ceased its erratic beating.

Born in Paradise, California, Glynnis Campbell has embraced her inner Gemini by leading an eclectic life.  As a teen, she danced with the Sacramento Ballet, worked in her father’s graphic arts studio, and composed music for award-winning science films.  She sang arias in college, graduating with a degree in Music, then toured with The Pinups, an all-girl rock band on CBS Records.  She once played drums for a Tom Jones video and is currently a voice-over actress with credits including “Star Wars” audio adventures, JumpStart educational CDs, Diablo and Starcraft video games, and the MTV animated series, “The Maxx.”  She now indulges her lifelong love of towering castles, trusty swords, and knights (and damsels) in shining armor by writing historical romances featuring kick-arse heroines.  She is married to a rock star, is the proud mom of two grown-up nerds, and lives in a part of L.A. where nobody thinks she’s weird.

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