Stolen (Royally Hot 1)

I accepted the priest’s hospitality, a bed for a few hours rest and a hot meal, then bade him come to Weschail with me, explaining our predicament.

The frown on his face had concerned me.

“If I leave without word, questions will be asked. I’ll be putting you in danger, Bors. They’ll search for us. I don’t doubt someone else saw you enter here.”

I growled in frustration, but knew he was right. “But you will marry us?”

“Of course. If your young lady consents, I will perform the ceremony at once. Send for her.”

I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous for a woman. Come to Weschail. Leave as soon as you can without raising suspicion.”

“For you, Bors, I will do what I can. Expect me within the week. When I know there is no suspicion of your visit, I will find an excuse to be gone then I will depart under cover of darkness.”

The return journey had been just as arduous, avoiding the patrols every bit as tiresome, and every fucking minute away from Sara felt like an eternity.

Now, as I rounded the corner and closed in on Angelica’s cottage, I slowed for what felt like the first time since I’d left her. Instead of the warmly-lit windows I expected, the cottage looked cold and dark, and I knew there was something amiss. “Fuck.”

I hopped off my stallion and tied him to the post.

Then, approaching the house, I called out for Sara and Angelica, but got no answer. I drew my blade and went around the back of the cottage, keeping my steps centered and silent, listening for any sound at all.

Entering the house from the rear door, I lit an oil lamp in the corner. The kitchen was just as I’d left it. A check of the bedrooms revealed the same. A window on the first floor had been broken, but it had been covered with a board and there were no fresh shards of glass. There were no signs of struggle, but the house was empty. The whole situation was fucking eerie and it gave me a very bad feeling.

Whatever had happened, it had caused both Sara and Angelica to abandon the safety of their home. A wave of panic and anger rolled through me. Sara’s father was behind this, I was sure of it. That son of a bitch. If he’d laid a single finger on Sara—or Angelica, for that matter—he’d beg for death to relieve the pain I would inflict upon him.

Outside the window, a twig snapped. I kicked open the back door, blade brandished. I thought I was ready for anything, fucking anything, any fight, any confrontation…

But I wasn’t ready for what I saw—not even fucking close. Starting down the garden path was Sara, barely illuminated by the weak moonlight. Her clothes were torn, her hair was a mess, her shoulders bare. Even in the dim light, I could see she’d been crying. I swore to myself there and then, whoever did this would beg for mercy before they drew their last breath.

I slid my blade into its sheath, closed the space between us in three long strides and took her in my arms.

“Who did this? What happened.”

Her hand pressed to her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank goodness, you’re back. I thought it was all a cruel joke…” She was unsteady on the uneven stones of the path and looked as though she might be about to fall.

I dropped my blade and scooped her up. “What happened?”

At first, she tried to be strong for me, but I could tell from the way she clung to me that something, or someone, had terrified her.

“I’m fine. Really, I am,” she insisted. “I’m okay.” She wiped away tears with her small palm while her lips and chin trembled. “I was sure you’d left forever.”

She was reassuring me too much for it to be the truth. Her words sounded forced. “Never. Now, don’t lie to me, my angel. Tell me.”

Sara shook her head. “Never mind me. I’m worried about Angelica. They’ve taken her—the sheriff is holding her on suspicion of witchcraft. They’re planning to try her. They’re out for blood, Bors. We have to help her.”

Angry though I was, I wasn’t surprised. In this place, a woman who used her mind or her body was damn near guaranteed to be labeled a witch. But I’d known Angelica a long time, and I knew the sheriff, too.

The situation wasn’t quite as bad as Sara might think.

“If the townspeople are after her for witchcraft,” I told Sara, “the safest place for her tonight is in that holding cell. The sheriff used to be one of Angelica’s best customers, and one of the few that never treated her badly. That was before he found his wife, but he’s a good man. He’ll look after her.”