Page 6 of Sutherland's Secret
“Sit in front of the fire before ye freeze.” He picked up a cloak from the ground and settled it around her shoulders. The cloak smelled of campfire smoke, man, and horse. And it was so warm that it made her tremble even more. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm.
She looked at the fire, then back at him. Slowly she scooted closer to the warmth of the flames, keeping a wary eye on him. She grabbed the ends of his cloak and wrapped it more securely about her. She tried to smooth the tattered edges of her gown over her bare feet and was surprised to discover that her feet were bound in strips of cloth. She looked at him quickly. Had he done this? But of course he had. Who else could have done it? One of the last things she remembered, besides being cold, was that her feet were raw and bleeding; she’d prayed that no predator would gnaw off her toes.
He lowered himself to the ground beside her, close enough that she could feel his body heat and smell him. He smelled like his cloak. A not unpleasant smell. Comforting in its own way.
She settled before the fire but kept an eye on his hands, her body tense and ready to dodge if they should come flying her way. This could all be a trick. A way to make her relax before he pounced. Her gaze strayed to the trees beyond the fire, and she shivered. She’d spent enough nights within those trees to know the fire was the safest place to be for now. Even with the big man next to her.
She was so warm that her eyes began to drift closed. She forced them open. To fall asleep in the presence of this man would be deadly. A part of her laughed at that thought. She’d been alone with him, unconscious, for an indeterminate amount of time and was still in one piece. But the bigger part of her brain, the one that was telling her to run, told her to remain alert and ready. It was that part she would listen to.
He turned his head to look at her. Her shoulders were so tight that they ached. Everything ached on her.
“Go to sleep, wee’un. I will watch over ye.”
She looked at him in disbelief. As if she would simply trust his words. No. She would remain awake and be prepared to run if need be.
And do you think you can outrun this man? He looks as if he makes the wilderness his home. He probably knows every path, every rock, and every tree within miles. You are doomed, Eleanor.
She shuddered and fought the urge to cry again. Ridiculous tears. They served her no purpose.
“Ye have my word that no harm will come to ye.”
She huffed out a breath.
He raised an eyebrow. “Ye do no’ believe me?”
She hesitated, then shook her head.
“Ye’ve been in my protection for nearly two days. I hid ye from English soldiers. I held ye as we rode deeper into the forest to evade the soldiers, and I fed ye.”
She began to tremble in fear. He’d hidden her from the English soldiers? So they were looking for her. Her panic chipped away at what was left of her sanity, causing her breath to come fast until she was nearly gasping. The soldiers were looking for her. But he’d hidden her. He said she was safe, but Eleanor feared she would never be safe again.
“What is yer name?” he asked.
She opened her mouth, not to tell him her name but to thank him for hiding her from the English. No sound emerged no matter how hard she tried. When was the last time she’d spoken? She couldn’t even remember. She had learned early on that no matter what she said, it resulted in a beating, so she had stopped speaking altogether.
“It’s late,” the man said. “We have some hard riding tomorrow, so we need to get some sleep.”
She watched incredulously as he lay on his side and closed his eyes. Eventually his breathing evened out and he appeared to be fast asleep.
At first she merely scooted a few inches away, then waited, watching. His breathing did not change, and his eyes were moving beneath his lids as if he were dreaming. She had an odd hope that his dreams were more pleasant than hers.
She scooted away again, putting more distance between them. Slowly she moved to a crouched position without taking her eyes off him. Her feet protested, but they weren’t nearly as sore as before. She could walk on them. She had no choice.
He snorted and smacked his lips. Eleanor froze, her muscles screaming in agony, her mind screaming for her to run.
The small part of her brain that was thinking rationally warred with her primitive instinct to run. Should she stay with this newest threat or head into the forest, where the English might be hiding?
He settled into slumber and she stood. She took a painful backward step toward the tree line and held her breath. Another step and another. Her knees were trembling, and her legs threatened to give out on her, but she continued to move toward the trees and away from Brice Sutherland.
She vaguely remembered walking the road where he had found her, unable to take another step. Her legs had collapsed beneath her, and that was all she remembered.
That same feeling returned, and she begged her body to remain strong. She would not be held captive again—not by the English and not by this man. She would rather die than be imprisoned one more hour.
She turned and tried to flee toward the trees, but her knee gave out and she fell to the ground, her bones jarring so badly that she felt it in her teeth. She pushed herself up and took another painful step. Her other leg gave out and she fell again.
She braced herself with her hands and tried to stand, but her body simply would not do it. She fell, her face hitting the ground. A sob broke through and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the worst.
“Come, wee’un.” Large hands gently lifted her up; before she knew it, she was cradled against the incredibly large, incredibly hard chest of her captor. His hold was kind as he carried her back to the fire and set her on the ground. He settled down beside her and simply looked at her.
