Название | The Warrior's Runaway Wife |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Denise Lynn |
Жанр | Историческая литература |
Серия | Mills & Boon Historical |
Издательство | Историческая литература |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474073875 |
‘But he’s not a guard?’
‘No. He is on guard duty.’ Elrik drew in a breath and frowned, before explaining further, ‘Where Samuel here is a guard and is never off duty. He will take his turns at guard duty wherever he is assigned, but if I or my brothers need him for another task that’s where he will go.’
She glanced over her shoulder at Samuel. ‘And you do this by choice?’
The man nodded.
Elrik leaned over to whisper, ‘He is no good with tools, so he’s useless at the shipyard and he likes to drink too much to be left to his own devices at the dock.’
As Elrik sat back up, Samuel cleared his throat and then said, ‘But I am good with a sword and this way I don’t have to cook, do my own laundry, find my own place to live and the pay is reasonable, so I’ve no complaints with my lot.’
Without turning around Fulke added, ‘And sometimes the task that takes us away from Roul is easy, making it far more preferable than gate duty.’
‘Gate duty is hard?’
‘Boring!’ both men answered at the same time.
‘What made you choose these two for this task?’ she asked Elrik.
‘Simple. Whenever I’ve need of men I trust without question, these two are first on my very short list. Since the three of us grew up together we can communicate many things without words. I know that when Fulke stiffens in his saddle that something questionable is ahead, or when Samuel hisses beneath his breath danger lurks nearby. I know without ordering and without a doubt that they will guard my back.’
‘And we trust Elrik to return us to Roul in one piece.’ Samuel said.
Ahead of them, Fulke nodded in agreement.
‘So, the three of you are...friends?’
Elrik shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘Perhaps,’ Fulke said while looking over his shoulder. ‘But I am not tucking either of you into bed tonight.’
Samuel snorted before blowing a loud smacking kiss towards the other man.
‘Enough.’ Elrik ordered. ‘As evidenced by their behaviour we are more like brothers than friends. Even so, at times, someone has to be in charge.’
Avelyn nodded. ‘Yes, I can see where some order at times might be needed. Do you think that someone in charge might order a break soon?’
Samuel stretched, then yawned. ‘Now there’s an order that would be welcome.’
Elrik looked up at the sky and, from the slight widening of his eyes, seemed surprised to discover the sun had already passed its cenit to begin its descent. He motioned towards a clearing just ahead. ‘We’ve ridden longer than I’d thought. We’ll stop here to eat and stretch.’
Fulke and Samuel rode ahead. When Avelyn and Elrik arrived at the clearing a few moments later, the men had already started to unpack a leather sack of food.
Elrik dismounted and, after removing the padding, he assisted her from the horse. The moment her feet hit the ground, Avelyn’s legs wobbled and she stumbled against him, clinging to his shoulders to regain her footing.
His arms closed around her easily, as if they had done so countless times to support her and hold her close. ‘Take a moment.’
The deep huskiness of his voice caught her attention. She looked up at the face so near hers. The hardness of the chest she rested against, the warmth of his embrace and his heavily lidded gaze warned her that taking a moment would not be wise. A shiver raced down her spine, leaving her less steady on her feet than she’d been a heartbeat before.
Avelyn gasped softly and tore her stare from his. She pulled away, forcing her legs to hold her upright, and lowered her hands from his shoulders. ‘I am fine now. Thank you.’
‘You are far from fine.’ His voice had lost all traces of any warmth. In fact, he sounded decidedly angry. He took her arm and led her towards a log. ‘Sit down before you end up face first in the dirt.’
She pulled free of his grasp and then took a seat. ‘You create such a lovely vision of me.’
‘You could have said something earlier about being stiff and tired.’
Why was he now being so contrary? ‘Yes, I could have and then you would have complained about me slowing you down.’
‘I need to get you to King David quickly.’
‘Oh, yes, so he can hand me over to wed Sir Bolk.’ She stared up at him and quirked a brow. ‘Perhaps I should suggest that you would be a better mate for the ogre than I. Do you think your King might agree with me?’
‘Is that your attempt at humour?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I am quite serious. It seems to me that the two of you might have much in common.’
‘Such as?’
‘Surliness, impatience and arrogance to begin with. If you give me but a moment, I am certain I can find more things you share.’
A muffled snort from one of the men let her know that they were paying close attention to this conversation. She didn’t care.
‘Arrogance?’
‘Yes, you heard me correctly. Arrogance.’
His threatening glare deepened, but Avelyn refused to let it intimidate her. She held his dark stare with what she hoped was a threatening glare of her own.
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