Chapter Ten

Three days into the journey, Sophie started to cry. Without warning, the tears had come. Soft tears, then sobs, then soft tears again. They were relentless, miserable tears. Kane was a soldier, he knew the sword and the knife. He knew how to live off the land; how to sneak up on an enemy without being heard; how to kill silently. He didn’t have any idea how to comfort a woman who wanted her child so badly she ached.

She cried for the better part of a week, but whenever Kane suggested they stop on her account, she balked. They stopped to purchase supplies in the towns they passed through, they stopped to allow the horses to rest, and they stopped to sleep a few hours here and there.

But they did not stop for even five minutes because Sophie’s heart was broken.

Her womanly cycle had slowed them down a bit, though she tried not to let it. Still, for a few days there had been frequent stops for female functions Kane wanted to know nothing about. Sophie seemed angry at her body for slowing them down, as if it had betrayed her.

At first glance, Sophie Fyne was a pretty girl who would spend her life being cared for by someone else. Her sisters now, a caring husband or an attentive lover—since she insisted she had no intention of marrying—later in her life. But beneath the blue eyes, the pretty face, and the luscious body, behind the tears, she had a backbone of steel and the determination of a soldier. She was as much a warrior as he had ever been.

Kane tried to convince himself that this illusion that he loved Sophie was brought about by pity and empathy and sexual frustration. As soon as she had her baby in her arms and he spent one night in her bed, this aching need to care for her and comfort her and keep her forever would pass. It had to.

Sophie believed that Minister Sulyen was her father, though Kane was not yet convinced. Her evidence was slim; a shared name and Galvyn Farrell’s insistence that she present herself to Sulyen upon arrival in the city. She said she’d know the truth when she saw Sulyen face-to-face. Apparently her mother had told her on more than one occasion that she had her father’s eyes.

If Sophie was indeed Minister Sulyen’s daughter, it explained Farrell’s newfound obsession with her. Marriage to the daughter of a minister so highly placed and respected would certainly be a step up for the ambitious merchant.

Sophie deserved better than to be wed in the name of ambition.

“It’s almost time to stop for the night,” Kane declared. Sophie had gotten ahead of him on the road, as she sometimes did. She’d often prod the mare she rode onward, her eyes on the horizon as if she expected to see the Imperial Palace appear before them at any moment.

“Not yet,” she said without looking back. “We can go a little farther before full darkness falls.”

At this rate it would take them at least another week to reach the capital city, but certainly not the full three weeks Juliet had predicted. Even though he wasn’t ready to believe every word that the witch said, he had been alert in days past looking for trouble that might cause a delay. So far the journey had been uneventful. Perhaps Juliet had simply been wrong.

“There’s a good camping spot just ahead,” he explained. “Food for the horses, a small cave as shelter for us.” He looked up at the gray sky. “It will be dark in less than an hour and it’s going to rain tonight.”

Sophie looked up, too, as if the sky had betrayed her. “The weather will slow us down, won’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Will it delay us for a full week?”

“I don’t think so.” Even if the rain was worse than the gray skies indicated, it surely wouldn’t delay them more than a day or two.

Sophie didn’t say a word about missing Ariana, but he could see the pain on her face. It was a pain he would gladly suffer for her, if he could.

His own physical pain lessened every day. The headaches still came and went, but they were not as intense as they had been in those early days, and they did not last as long. The pain he suffered now was much like Sophie’s. Over the past several days, an ache had settled into his chest and it sat there like a crushing boulder. He barely knew his child, so how could it be that losing her hurt so much? He tried to push the pain aside and concentrate on caring for Sophie, on easing her pain. It was easier than facing his own unexpected heartbreak.

Galvyn Farrell would die, he’d see to that. It was the only thought that got him through one day after another.

When they reached their campsite, Sophie excused herself to go wash her face in the pond while Kane unsaddled the horses. She would cry there, he knew. In the past few days, she’d been trying not to cry while he watched, but when she came back from a few moments alone, her eyes were always red and her face was puffier than it had been before.

He’d wanted to stop her, before she went to the pond to wash up and cry in private. He’d wanted to hold Sophie and tell her everything would be all right, and comfort her with a simple touch. Not a kiss, not a sexual touch. He just wanted to hold her and take away her pain, and that was an entirely new need for him. He wasn’t sure he liked it. In all his life, he’d never felt so helpless.

In the end he hadn’t stopped Sophie, but had let her go to the pond to cry as she wished.

While she cried, he filled his head with thoughts of revenge. No, justice. Kane didn’t want to kill Farrell simply for taking Ariana, though that would have certainly been reason enough. He wanted to make the man suffer because he’d made Sophie suffer.

Maybe she wouldn’t be his woman forever. There were too many obstacles between them to even think about forever. But she was his woman now, and that meant he had every right to protect her from men like Farrell.

He’d just finished unsaddling the second horse when he heard the cry. It was short and sharp, as if Sophie had started to scream and then been interrupted. Kane ran toward the pond. Maybe she’d seen a snake, or been startled by some other encounter with wildlife. They hadn’t passed another traveler in more than two days, and there were no towns nearby. There was no reason for anyone else to be here. Still, that cry had been alarming.

“Sophie?” he called.

The silence was more disturbing than the abrupt scream had been, and he began to run faster. “Sophie!” He cut through the tall grass, reached the edge of the pond, and glanced down. A soft ripple chased across the once still waters. Kane turned around, his sharp eyes scanning in all directions. Sophie could not have simply disappeared, witch or not.

His heart began to pound hard and his breath would not come as it should. He had been in battle, he had lost loved ones, he had faced death. But he had never faced anything as frightening as finding himself suddenly and inexplicably alone by this pond, as the last ripple on the water died.

“Sophie!”

Sophie opened her eyes to confusion. It was dark, and she could not move. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her ankles were lashed together. She was lying flat against hard, cold stone, and she realized as consciousness returned that it was completely dark because a length of soft cloth covered her eyes.

She remembered splashing cool water on her face, then turning around to find herself confronted by a wide, bare chest. She’d screamed, but something sweet-smelling had appeared beneath her nose, carried there by a very large and definitely male hand. And then...nothing.

Sophie whimpered. This wasn’t right. She needed to reach her daughter now. Every minute that passed without Ariana was one minute too long.

A deep, soft voice said, “I thought you would never awaken.”

Sophie turned her face toward the voice. She should be afraid, but she had no time or patience for fear at the moment. “Who are you? What have you done? Kane will not allow you to harm me, so you might as well just let me go right now. Maybe then I can convince him not to hurt you when he finds us.” She tried to sound confident. When he finds us. Not if. Never if.

Sophie gasped when the man hauled her into a sitting position and placed his face near her neck to take a good long sniff. She could not see him, but she could certainly feel his presence and his breath. “Stop that!”

“Perhaps you are not the one,” her abductor said, disappointment dripping like honey from his deep, velvety voice. “When I smelled you coming, I thought you were the one, but I might be wrong.”

“You smelled me coming?”

“For the past two days.”

True, bathing had not been high on her list of priorities since leaving home, but really...she was insulted.

“I’m going to take off your blindfold now,” her abductor said. “Don’t be afraid.”

Sophie nodded as he reached around her to untie the silky fabric. Somehow she had to keep her wits about her and convince this man to release her at once. Kane must be frantic. How much time had passed since she’d been taken? She had no idea if it had been minutes or hours since she’d splashed cool water over her face to hide her tears.

Sunlight hurt her eyes and answered that question. Hours. It had been close to dark when she’d stopped by the pond. Kane had predicted rain for the evening, and so far he’d always been right in that respect. There was no rain or clouds now, just blue skies and sun. She blinked once, twice, then fixed her squinted eyes on the man who had taken her.

Everything had happened so quickly, all she’d really seen as he’d grabbed her was his chest and a large hand. Now that she could see him fully, she realized he was even bigger than she’d imagined. When he stood, he’d be more than six and a half feet tall, surely, and he was wide in the shoulders. Well-muscled, too, a fact which was easy to discern since all he wore was a...a short kilt of some kind. It appeared to be made of a tanned animal hide. His face was angular and even, and he was, oddly enough, clean-shaven.

Perhaps he was not clean-shaven at all. There was no hair on his broad, muscled chest, so perhaps none grew there, or on his jaw. He certainly didn’t look like a man who’d spent the morning before a mirror, taking care with his appearance.

While angular and stoic, the face was a handsome one, with full lips and a finely shaped nose. He sported no hair on his face or his chest, but the hair on his head was as long as hers, and almost as pale. There was more gold in his hair than in hers, though, and it fell in unkempt, tangled strands over his shoulders. A few tangles covered one half of his face.

His eyes were a deep, startling gold, and they seemed to look right through her. There was no fear in those gold eyes, no worry that Kane, or anyone else, might find them here. “I cannot release you until I know with certainty that you are not the one.”

Her heart hitched. “Of course you can release me. I won’t tell anyone what happened. To be honest, I don’t have the time. I must reach the capital city as soon as possible.” Did the wild man have sympathy in his big heart? If he did, then he would not keep her from her child. “I have a baby,” she explained.

“I know.” He sniffed the air around her. “I can smell the milk in you, and the fear.”

Her lower lip trembled. “She was kidnapped more than a week ago, and I’m going to reclaim her.”

“The man who travels with you, who is he?”

“The baby’s father,” she explained. “He’s coming for me. If you let me go, I can meet him and lead him away from you.”

“I am not afraid to face this man.”

Sophie glanced at her abductor’s large hands, his bulging muscles. No, he would not be afraid of much, she imagined.

If fear wouldn’t motivate him, perhaps friendship would. “What’s your name?”

“Ryn.”

“I’m Sophie. Would you please untie my hands and feet? I doubt I could outrun you even if I tried.”

Ryn saw the truth of that and began to untie the ropes at her ankles. He hadn’t used a rough rope, but something almost silken in texture. Taking her had not been a mistake, but a well-planned misdeed. What had he meant when he’d said that he had to make sure she was not the one?

“What did you use to make me faint?” she asked as he turned her about and began to untie the bonds at her wrists.

“Why do you want to know?” His voice was decidedly cultured, for such a wild-looking creature.

“If I remember correctly it was a leaf you held beneath my nose right before I passed out. I’m interested in plants and their many uses.” Still sitting, she turned to face Ryn. She rubbed her wrists and studied his utterly masculine face. Could she scare him with the truth? “You see, I’m a witch.”

“I know.” He stood, grasping her wrist in his large hand and hauling her to her feet. “I smell the craft on you.”

Sophie tried to jerk her hand away but was unsuccessful. “Would you cease your observations about how I stink? I’ve been traveling, and there hasn’t exactly been time to stop for sweetly scented baths along the way.”

A half smile crooked his mouth. “I did not say you stink, I said you smell. There is a difference, you know.”

“The plant,” she said tersely. “What was it?”

A small bag made from the skin of an animal hung from his waist, and he opened it with one hand and dipped long fingers inside to grasp a leaf. It was small, oddly shaped, shiny, and deep green. “I have heard that the tanni tree grows only in the Mountains to the North. Perhaps that is why you have not heard of it. When the leaf is broken and the scent inhaled, it causes a brief period of unconsciousness.”

“Brief? I was out all night!”

“It works in different ways with different people.”

She studied the innocent-looking leaf, leaning toward Ryn’s hand. She even reached out and gently touched the rough edge. Without warning, she snatched the leaf from Ryn, broke it between two fingers, and reached up to hold it beneath his nose.

He smiled at her before taking the broken leaf and tossing it aside. “The tanni leaf has no effect on Anwyn.”

Kane led the horses while he studied the tracks. He was hours behind Sophie and the man who had taken her, and he hadn’t been able to track at all during the night hours. Hours in which they’d moved away from him.

For a long time, there had been only one pair of footprints. Bare, large footprints widely spaced from the edge of the pond toward the hills to the north. A light rain during the night had slowed him down, but it had not stopped him and it had not completely obliterated the tracks.

Sophie and the kidnapper had rested on a rock outcropping before moving on; there were two sets of footprints from that point on. He had found no sign of violence, but that did nothing to ease his mind. The tracks would have been impossible to follow to anyone who hadn’t spent more than two years scouting for the rebels.

A few weeks ago he hadn’t remembered Sophie as anything other than a dream, and he hadn’t known about Ariana at all. And now he felt like he would be worthless and useless without them. He’d lost everything else...he couldn’t lose them, too.

He glanced up at the cloudless sky. The rain had moved through quickly last night. He and Sophie should be well on their way down the road to the capital city. Instead he was heading off into the wilderness…away from the palace and his daughter.

In the distance mountains loomed, blue and gray and hard. They seemed to climb forever—even from so far away. A man could hide for years in a place like that. A woman could be lost forever.

Throughout the day the ground had grown rockier, harder to track. The thought that he might lose the tracks altogether almost made him panic. If he completely lost the trail, what should he do? Continue his search into the mountains, or go to Arthes to rescue his daughter? Surely God wouldn’t make him choose.

Just when he was about to lose hope, he saw it: a spot of color where there should be none. He ran in that direction, smiling when he saw the scrap of fabric. When he’d last seen Sophie she’d been wearing a yellow blouse tucked into tan trousers. The torn fabric might’ve worried him, if it hadn’t been tied into a neat little bow.

He looked down, and there at his feet was a marking in the dirt. A furrow, perhaps made with the heel of a boot.

An arrow, drawn in the dirt. It pointed north.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly as he jumped into the saddle of his horse and followed.

“Please,” Sophie pleaded, not for the first time. “You must let me go.”

“I haven’t yet decided what to do with you.”

Those matter-of-fact words sent a chill up her spine. “There’s no need for you to do anything but release me,” she said.

Ryn led her by the silken ropes that once again bound her wrists. He’d forgiven her failed attempt with the tanni leaf, but he still carried a grudge because she’d pulled his hair and then tried to run.

Foolish move.

She’d never been anywhere but Shandley and Fyne Mountain, and the landscape here was very different from home. To the north, an imposing mountain range awaited them. To the west, the plains were flat and harsh and seemed to go on forever.

She had heard of the barren heart of Columbyana, that harsh stretch of land so unfriendly to farms and ranches that no settlement had lasted here more than a few years. In the past hundred years, no one had tried to make the heart of the country habitable. The land was hard, that was true. It was harsh and unwelcoming, but also magnificent in a way she had not expected.

Sophie stared at Ryn’s tangled hair. What kind of magic would set her free? A heartfelt wish, a traditional spell...she wasn’t sure. She should have studied with Isadora more often and more diligently. She wasn’t familiar with a spell that would help her in such a circumstance.

If Juliet had not been able to stop Galvyn, what chance did Sophie have? They had never studied a magic that might be used against violence, because they’d never thought the need would arise.

“Your scent teases me still, as if you are the one, and it’s time.”

“Time for what?” she asked sharply.

“You ask too many questions.”

“Perhaps you should have kidnapped someone else!”

Ryn ignored her this time.

Tears stung her eyes. When Juliet had warned her it would not be safe to travel alone, she should have been more specific. When she’d said the journey would take three weeks, not two, she should have reached deeper to find out why. A warning about a large, stubborn Anwyn would’ve been helpful.

Juliet would’ve given such a warning, if she had seen. Sophie knew that. But still...

“You cry too much,” Ryn said dispassionately, without so much as looking at her to know that she was once again near tears.

“I do not need personal criticism from a...a...from the creature who kidnapped me.”

Ryn had a gift for ignoring her. “You wear your feelings too close to the skin. It’s as if they flutter just beneath the flesh, rather than finding a seat deep inside as they should.”

“Spoken like a man who obviously doesn’t know what a feeling is,” Sophie muttered.

“They weaken you,” he continued. “There is strength in your passions, and you shed them through drops of water from your eyes. One day you must learn to hold onto that strength and expel it in a more useful manner. I will help you,” he added softly.

“I don’t want or need your help,” Sophie replied, anger drying her eyes.

Ryn ignored her, and they walked unerringly forward. Did the man’s long legs never ache? Did he not need food or water or rest? He moved with such ease, the muscles in his legs and in his bare back rippling beneath the sun-bronzed skin, the long hair lifted only slightly when the wind stirred.

She did not understand why he had kidnapped her, but the way he talked of helping her to harness her emotions…obviously he had no intention of releasing her. What if Kane never found her?

“I need a moment of privacy,’’ she said demurely.

He stopped, turned slowly, and glared at her. “Again?”

“I’m nervous,” she said defensively. “It’s all your fault.” She’d requested a moment of privacy for personal matters five times since they’d begun traveling. Perhaps there was a hint of civility within the man because he had not yet denied her request. He had begun to grumble, though.

He eyed her suspiciously, but finally released her and pointed to a small outcropping of rocks. “Hurry.” Sophie headed in that direction. Sharp words followed her. “If you try to run, I will be very angry!”

She could not imagine making someone Ryn’s size very angry. So far he had only been annoyed, perhaps a bit confused. Behind the shelter of the rocks, Sophie untucked her blouse and ripped off a thin strip, as she had five times previously on this long day. Making the initial tear had been tough. She’d pierced the fabric with a sharp rock, and then she’d torn the fabric and ripped off a thin, longish scrap. Since then it had been easier, as the tail end of her shirt was already in tatters.

The ground was growing more desolate, so there was no limb to tie the fabric to. She made a small bow and placed it on a small rock that she prayed Kane would see. She and Ryn had been heading unerringly for a mountain in the near distance, and she used the heel of her boot to draw an arrow that pointed in that direction.

She smiled, rounded the rock, and almost ran into Ryn’s massive bare chest. Her chin reached just slightly above his belly button.

“I expect you to respect my privacy,” she said, as soon as her heart started beating somewhat normally again.

Ryn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl, then rounded the rock.

“Wait!” Sophie called.

Too late. Ryn found the yellow bow and the arrow in the dirt.

For a long moment he was very quiet. He did not look at her at all, just studied the bow and the sign in the dirt. “How many times?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know what you...”

Ryn reached out, his hands quick for a large man, and untucked her blouse. He studied the hem, where she’d ripped away the scraps that might very well lead Kane to her.

Surprisingly, Ryn replaced the bow where he’d found it. Then he destroyed the arrow she’d drawn in the dirt.

“Make another,” he commanded. “That way.” He pointed west.

Sophie shook her head. “No.” If Kane headed across the desolate plains, he’d never find her!

Ryn looked her in the eye and glared, as if he thought that glare might change her mind. She shook her head, and her stomach lurched unpleasantly. Her mouth went dry. It was one thing to stand one’s ground, but another altogether when doing so meant facing down a man who was arguably twice her size and definitely more than twice as strong.

He waited for her to relent. She didn’t. When Ryn realized that he wasn’t going to sway her with that glare, he dipped down and grabbed her ankle, then forcibly removed her boot. He used the heel to make an arrow of his own. It pointed west. He stood slowly and looked toward the plains. And he smiled.

With the other booted foot, Sophie kicked him in the shin. “You bastard! Let me go this instant! I’ll make you sorry. Kane will make you sorry. He’ll find me anyway, no matter what kind of tricks you pull.”

Ryn leaned down to place his face close to hers. The smile was gone. “I could kill him, you know, simply for touching you. It is allowed.”

Sophie suddenly felt dizzy. No, Kane wasn’t supposed to get hurt. “That makes no sense,” she tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled. “How can it be allowed?”

“It’s time to go,” Ryn said calmly.

Sophie planted her feet; one booted, one sporting nothing but a dirty stocking. “No.”

He lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than one of his tanni leaves. “By tonight I will know if you are the one or not. If you are the one, we will be married long before your former lover ever finds us.”

“Married? I’m never getting married. And if I do, it won’t be to a half-dressed savage who kidnaps women.”

“If you are the one, we will be married,” Ryn said calmly.

“The one,” Sophie scoffed. “The one what?”

“My mate,” he said.

“I am not...that’s ridiculous...what a preposterous...”

“Anwyn recognize their mates by smell.”

Smell, again. “Well, there’s something wrong with your nose, sir.”

“I know,” he said softly. “You are true, and yet not true. Tonight I will know with certainty if you are my mate or not.”

“Not,” she said succinctly, even as her heart kicked.

“You must learn to accept me, Sophie, if it is right that you do so.”

She looked back at the rock where the false signal waited for Kane. Why couldn’t she do something? Why couldn’t she set herself free? What good was magic if she couldn’t even escape from one big hulk of a monster? She was an absolute failure as a witch. All she could do was...

Sophie lifted her head and studied the barren, rocky ground as if with new eyes. Was it possible? She concentrated on a dry patch of dirt and whispered a few words.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, even gesturing with one hand, this time, and concentrating so hard everything else in her line of vision blurred. Nothing.

After a few more minutes of jostling, she sighed. “Put me down. I’m getting a headache hanging this way.”

“Give me your word that you won’t run.”

“You’d just catch me,” she grumbled.

He gently deposited her on her feet, and she pushed the tangled hairs away from her face. She could try to reason with him one more time. “I won’t marry you no matter what,” she insisted, “and even if you force me into some primitive sort of marriage, I won’t stay with you.”

“Of course you will stay,” he said calmly. “Anwyn mate for life.”

“I’m not Anwyn!” she argued. “Why must you kidnap women for wives? Can’t you marry one of your own kind?”

He grinned at her. “Anwyn make only one girl child every fifty years or so. But it does not matter. We recognize our mates—”

“By smell,” Sophie finished. “I know. I hate to be the one to tell you, but I think your nose is broken, Ryn. I am not your mate.”

“I will know tonight,” he said ominously.

“How? What happens tonight?”

“Full moon.”

Just when she thought he might allow her to continue on unbound, he grabbed her wrists and quickly trussed them together.