“Let’s go,” Malcolm said, grabbing his arm.
Burke yanked his arm free, and before he could say a word, he felt the point of a blade at his neck.
“I’ll not warn you again about following my orders. Go with Malcolm or feel my sword. The choice is yours.”
“You certainly don’t respond well to a helping hand.”
She pressed the sword to his neck, not enough to draw blood, but to warn that she meant business.
“Fine,” Burke said through gritted teeth.
She withdrew the blade, and Burke, swearing beneath his breath, followed Malcolm.
Chapter 2
Storm couldn’t wait to get rid of the American. He had done nothing but interfere with her carefully laid plans. She could tell that he wasn’t used to following orders and that he could handle himself in a difficult situation. However, this was her command, her battle, her land.
Which was why, at the first possible chance, she would leave him somewhere safe enough, but she wanted to be rid of him. She couldn’t take the chance of his messing things up any more than he already had.
She did wonder why he had been imprisoned, but then it didn’t take much of an accusation to be incarcerated. He had probably been in the wrong place at the wrong time or he didn’t have enough money to pay the bribe on trumped-up charges. Either way, it was not her concern.
He glanced back at her from where he walked a few feet ahead. He had done that from time to time, almost as if he watched out for her. She needed no one doing that. She was more than capable of looking after herself.
She did have to give him credit for keeping up the tough pace she had set for the group throughout the night. He looked sturdy enough, muscled arms and thighs attested to his strength. His dark trousers were torn at the knee and his white shirt ripped at the shoulder. Dark brown eyes were set in a rugged face marred by a few cuts and bruises and covered with dirt and sweat. His unkempt brown hair brushed his shoulders, and she had noticed that his hand had drifted often to his side—a common gesture for a man used to having a weapon strapped to his leg.
He looked back again and held her glance. There was determination and annoyance in his brown eyes, which suddenly widened as he rushed at her.
She mumbled an oath as her foot caught on an exposed tree root and she tumbled forward.
Storm felt his hands snag tightly around her slim waist and yank her up on her feet. She wobbled, and her hands shot out to grab hold of his forearms. There was a solid strength in them that could not be denied.
“I got you, don’t worry.”
She gave him a hefty shove and waved off Tanin, who approached. “Keep going. I’m fine. I need a few minutes with this man.”
“No need to thank me for helping you, yet a third time,” he said with a grin.
“I have no intention of thanking you and I don’t need you rescuing me.”
“That’s debatable.”
“No. It’s not,” she said firmly. “I do fine on my own. Now where is it you’d like to go? I’ll see that you get there.” She wanted rid of him as quickly as possible, or else she had the distinct feeling he’d forever get in her way.
“Dunwith.”
“A day’s journey. What takes you there?” she asked, curious.
“Personal business.”
“Anything to do with what landed you in prison?”
“That was a complete misunderstanding,” he said emphatically.
“It usually is, though the magistrate rarely sees it that way.”
“A robbery, a fight, and a—”
“Setup,” she finished. “They took all your money and you had nothing to pay the fine. Did you tell them you could get more money?”
