“Yes.” She held her ground, facing him with no fear. “You wouldn’t dare touch me again.”
He wasn’t going to let that challenge pass. She needed to understand that he wasn’t like Davin. He’d been through the fires of hell, and he didn’t live his life thinking about the future. There was only here and now.
He closed the distance and captured her nape. “I’ll dare anything,a mhuirnín.“ The fragile pulse beat beneath his fingertips, her eyes shocked. “And you should know better than to come out here alone with a man like me.” He slid his work-roughened hand across the smoothness of her cheek.
He’d meant to frighten her. But the second he touched her, his intentions fell apart. Dark needs ached, and he craved her body…beneath him, her legs wrapped around him.
“Let go of me.” Her order was firm, despite the shakiness in her tone.
Immediately, he released her. She quickened her pace, almost running to get away from him. Good. She needed to understand that he was not a man to be trusted.
Kieran lifted the log upon his shoulders, welcoming its heavy weight. The way he was feeling right now, he wished he had another log to weigh him down.
With his thoughts preoccupied, he barely heard the sound of horses. He glanced up and saw Iseult several paces ahead of him. A group of three riders came from the west, thundering toward her. They wore the Sullivan colors, and their weapons were drawn. When Iseult saw them, she froze in place.
He dropped the log and raced toward her. “Get back! To the trees!”
But his voice was drowned out by their battle cries. She ran toward the ringfort instead, too frightened to realize that the forest was a better haven.
The mounted riders chased her down, cutting him off. Kieran’s lungs burned as he ran, the small axe his only weapon.
One of the raiders rode toward him, the horse bearing down. It was one of the hostages, the man he’d believed was a Norseman in disguise. Though Kieran didn’t know how the man had escaped, if he couldn’t save Iseult, both of them would become captives.
He spun away to avoid being trampled. Slashing against their blades, he fought his way toward Iseult. Another man had already dragged her atop his horse. She screamed, struggling against him, and the raider knocked his fist against her cheek until she fell prone.
Fury filled him at the thought of what they’d done to her. Though it was likely they only wanted Iseult as a hostage, the world became a sea of red. Kieran threw himself at the last rider, knocking the man off his horse with a slice of his axe.
The horse reared, and Kieran grabbed the reins. Blood rage poured through him, along with the pulsing fear that they might harm her.
He mounted and leaned forward, urging the horse faster. What he wouldn’t give for a sword right now or a bow. A part of him knew he should go for help, but if he stopped, he feared he’d never find her again. His horse was tiring, but he forced the animal alongside the man who had taken Iseult.
She still had not risen from her position across the saddle, her body motionless. By God, if they’d killed her. . .
The man raised his sword, and Kieran blocked the blow with his axe. He couldn’t risk unseating the horseman, or he might send Iseult down to the ground beneath crushing hooves. Instead, he ducked another blow and reached for her arm. Fighting one-handed, he unleashed his anger and struck at the enemy, his blade biting into skin.
He felt the slice of a sword against his upper arm, and gritted his teeth. Tightening his grip on Iseult, he shoved the other man back with all his strength. The rider crashed to the ground, and Kieran fought to keep Iseult from falling. He grasped her about the waist and pulled her atop his own horse. A moan escaped when he held her steady.
The third raider retreated, urging his horse faster until he disappeared from view. Of all the men, Kieran wished he’d had the chance to fight that one.
He drew the horse to a stop, holding Iseult’s body to his. Thankfully she was still breathing, though her face was swollen where the raider had struck her. His heartbeat still hadn’t slowed down, and his lungs ached from exertion.
Kieran dismounted, cradling her gently. After a moment, her eyes opened. Gods, he wanted to crush her to him, to ensure that she was not harmed. Instead, he held himself back, laying her down upon the grass.
“Are you all right?” he murmured.
Iseult touched a hand to her cheek, wincing. “I—I think so.” Gingerly she sat up. “What happened to them?”
“One is dead. The other fell off his horse—I’m not sure how badly he was injured. The third got away.”
“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered. Her voice was like glass, almost about to shatter. Though she didn’t weep, her hand reached up to his shoulder. He didn’t breathe, not wanting to move away from her.
“Would you hold me?” she asked. “I just need a moment.”
He closed his eyes, lowering his shoulders. She didn’t know what she was asking of him. “No. I’m sorry.”
The stricken expression on her face made him feel like a dog. He rose to his feet, walking back to where he’d dropped the wood. The axe handle was heavy in his hand, and he loathed himself for denying her comfort. But the truth was, if he held her in his arms again, he wouldn’t stop there.
Chapter Ten
