Bree tipped her head back and looked from his tied wrists to his half-bent elbows, to the sword still clasped in his fists. She laughed. The situation was ridiculous. He couldn’t move and her arms were caught by her sides. She took in his face, his neck where a vein still throbbed hard, and his expansive chest.
Heat filled her face as she thought how she didn’t need him to have use of his hands. They could still have gone further than a kiss.
She wrestled her arms up and pressing her hands against his chest, pushed away from him. Where were these thoughts coming from? For Pete’s sake, they were hoisted up in the air and squashed together like a jelly and ice-cream sandwich. She gave a slight shake of her head. They had to get out of the trap and find the girl. The poor thing must be scared out of her mind and here was Bree, making out with a knight in a net.
“No?” Horland raised a brow in question. He smiled. “Can you reach my hands then?”
If Bree were to try, she would have to take her hands from his chest. She screwed up her nose and again heat filled her cheeks at the thought of what would happen when she did remove her hands. She stiffened, reining in her baseurges.I can do this.She lifted her arms and immediately crashed into his body. Taking in a quick breath, she focused on her hands and ignored any sensations reeling around the rest of her.
“How on Earth did the rope get around your wrists?”
“I have no idea. Mayhap it was magic.”
“I doubt it. Who do you think set the trap?”
When he didn’t answer, Bree chanced a glance at his handsome face. He was looking over her head, but as his eyes appeared unfocused, she guessed he wasn’t seeing anything—he was thinking.
“You think it was Garlain, don’t you?”
“We are close to the ruins and Garlain is there. Only he would have reason to obstruct any who may venture close to his location.”
“I don’t know what my father is like today, but I remember his smile, the love that shone in his eyes, the feelings of safety he gave me. There’s no way he would purposefully hurt anyone, let alone leave them stranded in traps to die of hunger and thirst.”
Horland’s eyes stormed gray, but this time it wasn’t desire swirling in their depths—it was anger.
“You lie. Garlain is not your father.”
No point in arguing with him.“Whatever, but I know he wouldn’t hurt you or me.”
She returned her focus on her hands. “Try to loosen your fingers.” Bree, thankful Horland wasn’t much taller than she was, stretched her arms above them. Their bodies smacked together, but she ignored her somersaulting stomach and lengthened her back. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, held it, and worked her fingers to wriggle the sword out of his grasp. Her right hand clasped the grip and she yelped in delight. Looking up, she wrapped her other hand around the grip also. Her first thought was, what was shegoing to do now? She couldn’t lower the sword, or she’d probably cut Horland’s nose off.
She looked at him and grinned. With the way he was looking down his nose at her, maybe sheshouldwhip it off.
“Let your arms fall slightly, just enough to bring the blade into contact with the ropes.”
Bree did and stuck her elbows in his chest to keep the heavy weapon from waving about. Tipping her head back further so she could see what she was doing, she used every muscle to keep the blade upright and sawed at the ropes. Her elbows screwed into Horland’s flesh with every movement, and she knew it must have hurt him, but he didn’t complain.
The first rope cut through and the sword teetered forward, its weight pulling her head to hit Horland’s nose. Bree’s arms ached but she got the sword under control once more and shot him a wry look. “Sorry.”
His gaze held hers for a moment and it seemed to Bree that all time stood still.
He grunted. “Keep going.”
Bree inhaled and narrowed her eyes at him. “I was going to.”
An ache developed in her neck as she plied at the ropes. Every second the sword doubled in weight, and nearly out of strength, she used every tortured muscle to hack at the last rope. It finally flew apart. She gasped and collapsed against Horland, the sword falling forward to rest on the branch that held them aloft. Her arms bent awkwardly but she took comfort in resting her head on his shoulder.
One of Horland’s arms wound around Bree and she wished she had the strength to remove her own arms from between them.
“You did well,” Horland whispered into her hair.
She looked up at him, but pain in her neck had her returning her head to his shoulder. The smell of sweet, saltysweat filled her soul, and she was happy to stay that way forever.
But it wasn’t to be. Horland removed his arm and his muscles bunched and twisted under her. Without looking, she knew he was cutting the net behind her back. She opened her eyes and looked down. The ground was a long way away.
But before she could get herself ready for the fall, the net gave way and she fell backward. Bree let out a shriek; a split-second thought that she would hit the ground first and he would land on her and kill her had her grappling to hold on to him.
She needn’t have worried. Horland had somehow managed in that short distance to twist his body so she landed on top of him. Hard. Air wrenched out of her lungs while Horland’s breath puffed out of him and she went still.
