Page 64 of Bound to a Warrior
“A few feet ahead,” he said and tugged her forward.
She ran as best she could, even though her arm hurt terribly and her head wound throbbed. They would be on his land soon enough. Sentinels would spot them and they would be safe. All would be well.
You can do this, Mercy. Stay strong.
She continued to silently encourage herself even though she felt her body grow weak. She refused to surrender to the pain, refused to be the cause of their capture, refused not to conquer the pain.
Her body, however, had different plans and she knew that soon she would collapse whether she wanted to or not. She had to alert Duncan.
“Duncan,” she cried out, though not loud enough, for he didn’t respond.
She was fast losing strength, not even having enough strength to squeeze his hand. With what little she did have left, she raised her voice and called out to him again. “Duncan.”
He turned and she made sure he could see the blood running down the side of her face and into her eye.
She wasn’t quite sure since her vision had turned fuzzy, but he looked as if he paled badly and stopped so abruptly that she collided with him.
“My head,” she managed to say, and the last thing she remembered was Duncan scooping her up in her arms and running.
Chapter 20
Low chatter surrounded Mercy and she struggled to get past the fog that not only muffled her hearing, but also muted her vision. She tried to move, but the pain that shot through her head brought an abrupt end to her efforts. Instead, she continued to listen.
It took her a moment to recall where she was and what had happened and when she finally did, she grew more alarmed. Duncan was speaking to someone. Had the soldiers caught up with them? Was he bargaining for their lives, or was he biding time hoping she would wake and be ready to help him?
She couldn’t let the pain interfere, no matter how badly it hurt. If he still had his sword or dagger, he would need her to help use it. She would remain still, let no one know that she regained consciousness and learn what she could from the chatter.
“I can’t believe you tracked us that easily.”
That was Duncan, no doubt keeping the enemy engaged in conversation. She had to find out how many he faced, if only one, they had a chance.
“It’s laughable how easy it was.”
She didn’t recognize the direct, strong voice, but one thing was certain—this man was confident, which meant he believed he held the upper hand. Mercy continued to listen.
“Make fun of me, and I’ll see you suffer for it.”
Mercy would have smiled at Duncan’s terse response if she could, but she still didn’t want anyone to know that she was regaining strength.
“You make me laugh.”
He certainly wasn’t laughing, though she thought there was a hint of humor in the soldier’s voice, or was it smugness?
“Get off your damn horse and come over here.”
Mercy wondered if Duncan was attempting to get the soldier to move closer so that he could strike. Did he have a weapon ready? Was he prepared to use his free hand, since he most certainly believed her useless to him? Was there some way she could help?
“You dare command me?”
His voice boomed, though not threateningly, but with authority. Whoever this soldier was, he certainly wasn’t afraid of Duncan.
“I’m waiting.”
Duncan was ready and so was she. She would not fail him.
She heard the soldier’s approach and thought to give Duncan’s hand a squeeze, but she was afraid the soldier might see. She waited, relieved that the pounding pain in her head was diminishing, though her stomach tightened in anticipation.
“What the hell?”
