‘Were you hurt during the fight with Oisin?’ she asked him quietly.
‘It’s always this way after I run,’ he gritted out. ‘Riding won’t change it. It’s not from exertion.’ He pointed towards the trees and added, ‘My horse isn’t far from here.’
Breanne understood that he did not want to show any sign of weakness while his brother was wounded. To Rurik, she said, ‘You should ride until we reach Alarr’s horse. If you don’t lose any more blood, your wounds will heal faster.’ Then she turned back to Alarr. ‘I will walk beside you until we reach your horse. Then we’ll ride together.’ She intended to keep her pace slow, for both their sakes.
Rurik didn’t seem pleased, but his complexion had gone pale from blood loss. He had killed both men, but he appeared dizzy from the wounds. ‘Fine,’ he gritted out.
Alarr gave a single nod, but she could tell his pride was wounded. He tried to disguise his limp, but it was nearly impossible.
‘How far is it to your horse?’ she asked.
‘I’m not going to fall over, if that’s what you were wondering.’ He pointed towards the clearing. ‘My horse is just outside those trees.’
Again, she could hear the rigid pride in his voice. She wondered if he would want her to rub the medicine into his scars again, from the pain he was trying to mask. The thought of touching his bare skin made her breathless. After this day, she wanted to feel his body against hers, to fall into his kiss and forget about the danger they’d narrowly avoided. But she pushed away the idle daydreams. She knew it was foolish to imagine there would be anything between them.
‘How did you find us?’ she asked. ‘I had hoped someone would hear my screams, but the settlement is so far away.’
‘I tracked you both and rode outside the forest for what I thought would be the right distance. Then I heard your scream.’ As they walked alongside one another, his hand brushed against hers. ‘I stayed hidden because of the other men.’
‘I am so glad you came,’ she murmured. ‘If you hadn’t been there...’ She didn’t want to imagine the outcome. Oisin would have taken her as his slave and concubine, punishing her for refusing his suit.
Rurik leaned against the horse, closing his eyes from the pain. Breanne watched him for a moment, but it seemed that he was managing to keep his balance on horseback.
‘Why did my brother take you?’ Alarr asked. ‘It’s not like him to do something like that. Did you try to coax him into bringing you home?’
‘He didn’t want you to confront Feann.’ She knew there was far more to his accusation, but now was not the time to discuss it. ‘We will speak more of it later.’
As they trudged towards the edge of the trees, Alarr struggled with his limp even more. She let him lean against her for balance, but she could tell from his expression that it embarrassed him.
His horse was hobbled and was grazing. Alarr untied the animal and helped her up before swinging up behind her. A light rain began to fall, and she shivered against the chill. He drew her against him, offering his own body heat.
They rode in silence with Rurik on the journey back to the settlement. Her emotions and thoughts were tangled up, for she was so grateful to him for the rescue, despite his struggle. Alarr was a complicated man, she realised. Although his fighting skills had suffered, there was no denying that he had managed to win the battle.
Yet, she believed Rurik’s claim, that Alarr intended to confront her foster father. If the king had attacked during Alarr’s wedding, then there was no doubt that he would demand vengeance. He had the demeanour of a man who had lost everything. Such a man was dangerous, for he cared naught for his own life. She didn’t know what to think, but she needed to understand his intentions.
And somehow, she had to stop him from harming Feann.
When they arrived back at the settlement, rain had soaked them through to the skin. Alarr called for the healer to tend Rurik’s wounds, and he was surprised that Breanne remained with them. She appeared worried for his brother, and only when the healer reassured them that Rurik would be fine, did her tension seem to dissipate.
Alarr limped back to their sleeping space, and she did not speak as they returned to the longhouse. Once they were alone, she reached into a bundle for a dry gown. He stripped off his wet tunic, and when he turned to fetch another, he saw her staring at him. Her green eyes held interest, and he saw that she was clutching the gown to her breast. The linen of her underdress was nearly transparent, revealing the soft skin and curves of her body. Slowly, she dropped the sodden gown, exposing the curve of her breast and the rosy nipples through the sheer fabric of her shift.
He hardened at the sight of her and the arousal was a familiar frustration. He ached to touch her, and the memory of her kiss made it far worse. But now was not the time. There was fear in her eyes and the innocence of a maiden. She knew nothing of what she was offering. Not truly. It was only the instinctive desire to feel alive after such a close brush with death. His own body was coursing with the same needs, and his honour was slipping.
‘Are you in pain?’ she murmured. ‘Do you need me to rub the medicine into your scars again?’
He should refuse, for it was unwise to have her hands upon him. The thought of her palms caressing his skin was a temptation he could not deny. His body was strung tight, desiring
