Pathfinder's Way (44 page)

Trenton’s commentary slowed as people began
lining up behind the short chairs rimming the tables.

“It looks like dinner will begin soon. We
should find our seats,” Trenton said.

She saw Eamon and Buck heading to the far
side of the table and moved to follow. Trenton touched her shoulder
and nudged her in the opposite direction, towards the head of the
table.

“Come, your seat is this way.”

Shea resisted, shooting a glance back at her
companions. They were engaged in conversation with several men,
except for Phillip who watched the crowd around him carefully.

Shea caught his eye briefly and received a
brief nod before his gaze moved on.

Defeated, Shea followed Trenton as he walked
confidently through the crowd. She was dismayed to find she was to
sit to the right of the chair at the head of the table. Fallon’s
chair.

Uncomfortable, but not wanting the people
around her to know it, Shea kept her face as blank as possible as
she came to a stop. Trenton stepped to her immediate left where he
waited, exchanging nods when he was greeted by their fellow
diners.

Shea was largely ignored except for the
assessing glances that slid her way as they waited for dinner to
begin.

Unexpectedly, she was hungry. Breakfast had
been a long time ago and with all her plans to escape and then the
stress of being caught, she’d forgotten to eat. She wanted to get
this over with as soon as possible. The faster they were done, the
faster she could start making new plans. Ones that wouldn’t rely so
much on chance.

The low murmur suddenly trailed off and then
abruptly rose to a dull roar as Fallon strode to the head of the
table, all earlier appearance of weakness gone. He was once again
the ultimate warrior, the man who had guided Shea’s hands in a
killing blow and then pulled the dead revenant off her.

Shea found her eyes glued to him as the force
of his presence sucked all of the oxygen out of the room.

There was something about him. Even from the
beginning. Only now it was stronger because Shea had seen what he
had created with his people. She knew what lengths he had gone
through to rise to his position and how he battled daily to keep it
amid a people who could just as easily tear themselves and the rest
of the Lowlands apart. Despite herself, she respected him.

On one level he fascinated her, and on
another, he absolutely terrified her.

As if sensing her thoughts, he looked up from
where he was exchanging a nod with the Leo of Lion Clan to meet her
eyes. Whatever he read there caused him to pause and then his eyes
narrowed as if something had just occurred to him.

“What’s she doing here?” a strident voice
asked from the door.

Shea frowned and looked at the man standing
just inside the entrance, the sun at his back and his face still in
shadow. She noted that a few had cast the newcomer disgusted looks
while the others steadfastly ignored him. Whoever he was, he wasn’t
liked.

“You finally have her, so let us go,” the man
demanded, taking another step into the chamber.

Who was he talking to?

She looked where he was looking and felt her
throat tighten when she saw Fallon looking back at him with a dark
look on his face.

“You need to keep a muzzle on your friend,”
Fallon spoke above the first man’s head to another just ducking
into the tent.

“I’ll speak with him,” a familiar voice
said.

Shea’s eyes swung back to the two men as the
air thickened and froze around her. A pair of brown eyes flicked in
her direction and then just as quickly away as he collared the
first man and started to jerk him from the room.

Witt’s mouth was set in a hard line as he
started herding the man she was just recognizing as Paul out of the
tent.

They hadn’t made it out of the encampment all
those months ago as she had hoped. She’d looked for them, for any
of her men, every time she came back but hadn’t found any sign of
them.

Now, in possibly the worst situation, she
had.

She took a tiny step back as Paul continued
to fight against Witt. Trenton’s eyes came sharply to her as the
movement drew his attention and she stilled.

“No! She’s right there!” Paul yelled at Witt,
flailing an arm in the direction of the table’s head, where Shea
was inching back step by tortuously small step. Several pairs of
eyes swung her way. She looked blankly back at them and then
glanced behind her.

No one there but her.

“That’s who you wanted, isn’t it?”

“What is he going on about?” Darius asked
impatiently.

“He’s imagining things,” Witt said tersely,
“or trying to cause trouble. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’m not,” Paul stated loudly.

Witt yanked him harshly around and shoved
him. Paul fell to one knee and struggled up only to be caught
roughly by the shoulder and propelled to the door.

“Hold up,” Fallon’s quiet voice stopped the
pair. “Let him speak.”

Paul shoved free of Witt and stepped around
him. Witt’s head dropped slightly, and it looked like his fists
clenched before he too turned to face the Trateri’s leader. Unlike
Paul, whose face was victorious as he eyed Shea with a smirk, Witt
was careful to keep all thoughts hidden behind a hard mask, leaving
him to watch the room and Fallon guardedly.

Shea noticed Henry, the Horse Clans leader,
eyes linger on her a moment as his mouth pursed thoughtfully. He
suspected what was coming. She was sure of it. Her body flashed hot
as the skin on the back of her arms and neck started prickling and
sweat popped up on her forehead.

“Tell me why you felt the need for your
outburst,” Fallon said. Despite the feeling of heat bouncing around
Shea’s nervous system, she still shivered at his tone.

“You mean you don’t know?” Paul asked,
cocking his head. “I can’t believe this. Your entire army is out
looking for her, and now you don’t even recognize her when she
stands next to you at dinner.”

That was her cue. Time to go. Though the
entire gathering was between her and the exit, she didn’t plan to
let that stop her as she loosened her grip on the dinner knife she
had palmed the moment she’d recognized Witt.

The nice thing about tents as opposed to
houses is that the former was made of cloth, which could be cut. So
really there were an infinite number of escape routes if someone
was inventive enough. Shea was extremely motivated to be
inventive.

“I suggest you make your point quickly, boy.”
Darius sounded tense as if he had already guessed where this was
going.

A hand caught Shea’s shoulder and another
reached down to jerk the knife from her hand. “Going somewhere?”
Trenton asked in her ear.

Slowly, Shea raised her eyes to meet Fallon’s
gaze. His eyes held a startled recognition that quickly changed to
a fierce look of victory before a shutter dropped down, masking his
thoughts from her.

Shea drew in a sharp breath. Possession had
been there too.

“Everybody out,” Fallon said softly, still
pinning her with his gaze.

“It’s Shea,” Paul kept going, ignoring the
order. He pointed at her, “That is Shea. The woman you’ve been
looking for.”

“Out,” Fallon roared.

The room emptied quickly. Many of the men
slid her sidelong looks. The Cobra smiled coolly as she moved
lithely out of the room. Shea barely registered this, finding
herself unable to move her attention from Fallon’s intense
regard.

“I do not envy you the next few minutes,”
Trenton said softly. Then he too was gone.

Shea was afraid to move for fear of what
would happen once this moment was broken.

Her gaze flitted about the room.

“Trying to escape would be pointless,” Fallon
informed her. “By now Darius has stationed my men all around this
tent. We wouldn’t want you escaping the same way you did last
time.”

That was good to know, though she hadn’t
really been thinking of cutting her way free. For one thing,
Trenton had taken her knife. For another, escape would only delay
the inevitable. There was no way she would ever make it out of
camp. Running would only see her recaptured.

Fallon moved to the table and poured himself
a cup of wine. Shea’s hands clenched and unclenched at her sides
and that damnable prickly heat was back, racing up and down her
spine and neck.

Fallon lifted the cup and took a drink,
looking at her over the rim the entire time.

Shea gathered the courage to ask, “So you’ve
caught me, what do you intend to do with me?”

He took another sip and then put the cup down
only to pick up another and pour some wine into that. He offered it
to her, and when she blinked dumbly at it, he set it on the table
next to him before picking his cup back up.

The silence unnerved Shea as did his steady,
unwavering gaze.

She held her tongue as the silence grew,
determined not to ask again. That would make her seem unsure and
possibly desperate. Some instinct told her that was a dangerous
thing to be in front of this man.

He set his glass next to him and crossed his
arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps thrown into sharp
relief, as he ran his eyes thoughtfully over her.

“Tell me what happened once you escaped
Darius,” he finally said. “How did you end up a scout?”

“Why?”

He snorted before smiling lethally at her.
“That is not what I want to hear.”

That smile, those words. Pushing him right
now would end badly for her.

“I was being chased by your men so I hid in a
tent where I stole some clothes, cut my hair and rubbed a dark oil
in it to disguise its color.” She stopped and watched as he settled
himself in a chair. He gestured for her to continue. “I never made
it out of camp. Eamon spotted me as I was trying to slip past your
sentries and assumed I was a scout because of my clothes. We ran
into trouble on that first mission, and I was able to help. After
that, well you know the rest.”

“Why did you stay with them? I’m sure you had
plenty of opportunity to leave.”

She shrugged. “Meant to. Just never did.”

“And now you’re here.”

His gaze was inscrutable as the silence fell
between them. Shea was beginning to settle. With every moment that
passed where nothing bad happened, she began to believe her
unmasking wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe the only reason he’d
chased her was because she kept running.

The distrust with which she had regarded him
since their first meeting had faded sometime in the past few
months. As conquerors go, he wasn’t the blood thirsty savage the
Lowlanders painted him as. He kept his men in check. And, while
there was plenty of looting and pillaging, there wasn’t the raping
there would have been had another man been in charge.

In all these months, Shea had never heard
even a whisper of him forcing someone to his bed. Oh there were
plenty of women in it. Just, they were all there voluntarily. Even
some Lowland girls. So the rumors went.

He was honorable. To an extent. As long as
the villages he conquered obeyed the rules he set in place and
didn’t try to get out of paying their tithes, he dealt fairly with
them. If they didn’t, well, nobody wanted to go the way of
Edgecomb.

“Did your men know you were a woman?”

Shea started and said forcefully, “No!”

He arched one eyebrow and ran his eyes down
her figure, telling her clearly he didn’t believe that for a
moment.

Stung, she glared. “You didn’t realize I was
a woman either. Not last night and not when we were dealing with
the revenants.”

Of course he also hadn’t dealt with her
closely day in and day out for months.

The guys might have suspected something was
off but hadn’t asked, and she certainly hadn’t told.

He surveyed her from under half closed eyes.
She folded her arms across her chest.

The question of what was to be done with her
hung unspoken in the air.

“Trenton,” he called.

A moment later Trenton walked into the room.
He must have been standing right outside the whole time.

“Watch her. Don’t take your eyes off her. Not
even for a moment.”

Fallon stood and strode out of the tent
without a backwards glance.

Trenton surveyed her before pouring himself
and her a glass of water out of a pewter carafe. He picked up the
cups and made his way over to where she was standing frozen.

She watched him come, unable to act one way
or the other. He frowned and then held out one of the glasses. She
took it and then just held it as she watched him warily.

“You should drink,” he told her. “Then you
should eat.”

It was good advice, and she found herself
lifting the glass and taking a long gulp. The cool water slid down
her throat. She savored the feeling before forcing herself to take
a seat at the table where she fixed herself a plate and ate
mechanically. It tasted good. A feast fit for a king.

Trenton let her eat in silence for which she
was grateful. It did, however, leave her entirely too much time to
think and worry.

Fallon watched the entrance of his tent as if
it held the answer to a mystery that had been plaguing him for
months. The scout, Shane. No, Shea. Even now he could scarcely
believe the deception she had pulled on not just him but most of
his army as well.

A part of him was beyond furious and wanted
to make a painful example of her as a warning of what happened when
someone deceived him. Another part, this one larger, admired the
ingenuity and strength that allowed her to hide in plain sight.
What better place to seek shelter than in the very stronghold of
the enemy.

After those first few days, none of his men
had even thought of continuing to search within their own army for
the woman.