“If you can bear sitting up for a few good breaths, then Hendry and I will help you to the pallet so you might rest.”
Elbows on the table and head propped in his hands, Edrid didn’t bother looking up. “I can bear it a while longer.”
Adellis had her doubts. The man’s trembling revealed he held himself upright by will alone.
“M’lord asks that ye come outside, m’lady,” Tasgall said as he rushed into the tent. He stowed metalworking tools and weapons into the leather tote he carried into battle for Thorburn. “We be leaving within the hour, so he bids ye make haste.”
“Stay at his side,” she whispered to Hendry with a pointed look.
The lad gave her a nod, assuring he understood she didn’t wish the poor man to die alone.
Wiping her hands on the cloth tied around her waist, she hurried outside to find Thorburn. He stood contemplating a shield that looked the worse for wear.
“Retire that one,” she advised, still drying her hands on the apron.
“She might have another battle left in her.” He slid his hand through the grip and hefted it to waist level. “See?”
With a running spin, she landed a hard kick against the upper half of the disc and splintered off the top two sections of the wood. The metal banding holding the boards in place bent over Thorburn’s arm. “There. She has fought her last battle. Now cast it aside and choose one that will properly protect you.”
“Is it yer life’s joy to prove me wrong?” He peeled off the broken shield and threw it to the ground beside the fire.
“It is becoming such.” Perturbing him did bring her joy. That fuming glint in his eyes filled her heart with a happiness unlike any other. Such a rare feeling, one that gave her a satisfying warmness. “I do not wish you injured, my bear. You are my protection, remember?” When his lopsided grin deepened his dimple, she knew he had forgiven the slight to his ego.
“Ten of my best shall remain here to guard ye, m’lady.” He selected another shield and held it up. “Does this one meet with yer approval?”
“Yes,” she answered even though she hadn’t taken her gaze from his. The emotions playing across his face sculpted a shadow she feared to decipher. “That one is fine.”
“Ye didna even look,” he gently chided.
“I looked,” she said, not meaning the shield, but the thoughts reflected in his eyes. “My brother always fights at the back like the coward he is. Watch for him there.” She moved closer, drawn by that strange force her Scottish bear possessed. She couldn’t explain or resist his subtle, unspoken invitation. “Alrek looks like me. But bigger.” A knowing smile tickled her mouth. Her mighty Thor’s stature made her smile. “But Alrek is not nearly as powerful as you, my fine protector.”
He met her halfway and pulled her to his chest. “The thought of returning to you, of holding you again, will render me invincible.” Resting his cheek atop her head, his arms tightened around her. “Shall I bring ye the bastard’s head on a platter?”
Even though she heard his every word, she found herself unable to speak. Something about his manner, his choice of wording. He spoke not like the useful lover and manner of transportation she intended him to be, but as one filled with kindness, one who truly cared about her wellbeing.
“Adellis?”
“Yes?” she whispered, frightened at the revelation. To care brought nothing but danger and pain. Loss always followed caring.
“Forgive me if I upset ye.” He eased her back, holding her at arms’ length. “I reckon ye still care about him. After all, he is yer brother.”
“We shared our mother’s womb, our father’s blood, and a hatred for one another.” She found herself filled with unreasonable fear. The fear of once again being left alone and cast adrift, the fear of again losing someone she could someday care about. “All I wish for you to bring me is yourself. Safe and whole. Alrek is crazed but sly as a stoat and fights with every level of evil he possesses. Do not underestimate him.”
She could tell by the set of his mouth that he was as uneasy about this closeness as she was. He was a warrior. A mercenary. Her Scottish bear had no use for entanglements in his life. At least not for the long term. “Promise me you will not underestimate him. Your Lord of Argyll will not look kindly upon me if my brother kills the commander of his forces.” There. That should ease his worries and make him know that her only concern was her freedom. Then he would rest assured that as soon as possible, he would be free of her, too. A sorrowful pang squeezed her heart, but she did her best to ignore it.He will be free of me, she repeated to herself. That was how it had to be.
“If I fall, my brothers will take care of ye. I have spoken to them.”
“I am grateful.” The gentle way he touched her face made her want to sob—and she hadn’t sobbed for anyone in a very long while.
“I willna fall,” he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss. “Dinna fash yerself, m’love.”
She dodged him and framed his face between her hands. “I will never forgive you if you fall. I will think you a liar.” When he tried to claim the kiss, she stopped him again. “And never call me ‘m’love’ again. For that will never happen between us. Do you understand me?”
He frowned. “Dinna fear, I willna place any obligations upon ye, lass. I understand yer need for complete freedom.” His head tilted enough to make his blonde warrior’s braid slide across his shoulder as he studied her. “Ye and I are verra much alike. I see no harm in a friendship and our enjoyment of one another’s company.”
Even though she heartily agreed, a vague disappointment, a sense of an opportunity lost squeezed her heart again. “Friendship,” she repeated. “That is all.”
“Aye, love,” he said in a rasping whisper as he held her tighter. “We two shall be verra good friends. Mark my word, ye ken?”
