Page 9 of Bound to a Warrior
She smiled and released her grip on his fingers, though kept them laced gently around his. “I will miss your compliments when we part.”
Not two full days spent with her and the idea that they would part somehow troubled him.
Enough foolish thoughts, he had a mission to accomplish.
“We best pick up our pace,” he advised strongly.
“Yes, I agree,” she said with a nod.
They did just that and traveled a good distance before they came upon a croft. They remained hidden behind a boulder on the edge of a field where the crop had already been harvested, nor ravaged by the king’s soldiers, a common occurrence. It seemed the king felt fit to issue an edict that his soldiers were to be fed regardless of farmers and their families’ needs.
After watching for near an hour, it appeared that an older man and woman were the only occupants.
“If we ask them for help, will we not be placing them in harm’s way?” Mercy asked with concern.
“They are in harm’s way regardless. The soldiers will torture them for answers either way, and they will die because of it either way. The king cares not for his people, only for filling his own belly and coffers.”
“What do we do?”
“Our burden would be lighter without this chain,” he said.
“Then it is tools we look for?”
He nodded.
It didn’t take them long to make their way to the open stable area as soon as they determined no one was in sight. If they were to find anything helpful it would be there. They remained as quiet as they could, though Duncan grew annoyed when their search results produced not a single thing.
“How can he tend his horses when he has no tools?” Duncan said with an irritated whisper.
“My exact question to the king’s soldiers this morning.”
Duncan and Mercy spun around and came face to face with a man, not near as old as they had surmised, but rather aged by hardship. Gray mingled with thick black hair and worry lines dug deep across his brow and down around his eyes and more heavily around his mouth. And yet the rolled up sleeves of his tan linen shirt showed arms thick with muscles and a broad chest that stretched the worn fabric.
“I’m Bailey,” The man offered his hand and as Duncan took it, the man said, “I prefer not to know who you are.”
“It is better that you don’t,” Duncan said as their hands locked in a strong grip.
“I wish I could offer you the hospitality of my home, but ever since I spotted you, my wife has grown concerned for our safety.”
“You knew we were hiding?” Mercy asked, surprised.
Duncan answered for him. “You’re a tracker.”
Bailey shook his head vigorously. “I am no more than a simple farmer.”
Duncan didn’t argue. The man was obviously more than simply a farmer, but he could understand why he wouldn’t want anyone, especially the king, to know of any special skills he possessed. He could very well be forced into the king’s service.
“I can provide you with food,” Bailey said.
“Can you spare it?” Duncan asked.
“For those in need, food can always be spared. Wait here. I’ll return in a moment.”
Once Bailey was out of sight, Mercy turned to Duncan. “The soldiers are looking for us, aren’t they?”
He saw worry on her face and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. “It would be the most logical reason why all the tools are gone.”
“They believe keeping us shackled will slow us down,” she confirmed. “But that would have to mean they believe us still alive.” She shook her head. “How could they know that?”
