Page 75 of Bound to a Warrior
Mercy grew worried that Duncan and Trey made no move to help their brother, but they were seasoned warriors and new much better than she did. So she remained quiet and waited to move when Duncan did.
“Let’s go help him,” Duncan said to her relief.
She sat up, ready for whatever was to come.
“We fight as we have done,” he said to her as he guided his horse through the dark toward the sounds of anguish and suffering.
Mercy wondered if they had waited too long. Would they find Reeve badly hurt? Could the soldiers have tortured him for information about her? She grew more and more concerned, worried that Duncan’s brother should suffer because of her.
The disturbing thought actually made her realize that she definitely could not stay here long. She would place Duncan’s whole family in terrible danger. She could not live with that thought. She would have no choice. She would have to present herself to her father. At least he no longer wanted her dead, but no doubt he wanted something.
They finally arrived on the scene, soldiers laid strewn about, many moaning in pain and some bleeding badly from their mouths and noses. Some eyes were blackened shut and a few bones protruded at foreign angles. And in the middle of the melee stood a man, tall and lean with long dark hair.
He slowly raised his head, his fingers raking back his long ebony hair and exceptionally dark eyes peered at her intrusively. His face was all sharp angles and lines, as if his features were sculpted by a master craftsman, and he wore a feral smile.
Mercy shivered.
“His bark is worse than his bite,” Duncan whispered.
“Now you can clean up the mess, since you waited so long to help,” Reeve yelled at them.
“It doesn’t look it,” Mercy murmured.
“And why the hell have you brought a wisp of a woman to a battle?” Reeve demanded.
“You’re complaining that you needed help?” Duncan asked and turned to Trey. “This is a night to remember.”
“The night our brother Reeve whined about needing help,” Trey said with a laugh.
“Did I say I needed help?” Reeve yelled. “I swatted these soldiers, if you can call them that, as easily as flies.”
“Then you can clean them up just as easily,” Duncan said.
Mercy watched as Reeve grabbed one wounded soldier struggling to stand by the back of his neck and tossed him into a thicket of bushes as if he was a sack of feathers.
“I’ve cleaned many of my own messes up,” Reeve said approaching them. “Now answer my question that you’ve so blatantly ignored. Why bring a frail woman to a battle?”
“I may be small, but I’m not frail,” Mercy retorted with a sneer.
“Damn, she’s got a bite to her,” Reeve said and grinned.
Mercy was surprised by the way his broad grin changed his features. Suddenly he seemed approachable and not so sinister.
Reeve stopped by Duncan’s horse. “The answer to my question is?”
Trey laughed. “Why don’t you just show him, Duncan?”
Duncan obliged, raising his arm slowly.
Reeve shook his head and laughed aloud. “This wee bit of a woman’s got you locked good and sound.”
“It’s the king who locked us together good and sound,” Duncan informed him.
Reeve’s grin vanished and he spun around to face the wounded soldiers hurrying to gather their injured and be gone. “Tell your false king that his time has come. Soon he will rule no more.”
One soldier grew bold. “Those who follow the mythical king will rue their choice.”
“Be gone with you, you fools,” Reeve commanded.
