The boy, Finan, nodded dutifully and pocketed the coin.
“Is it?” I asked as Bors helped me down from the mare. “Is it safe for her to return home?”
“Without us there, yes.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Right now she’s better off on her own.”
Once I was dismounted, I checked on my father. He had been in and out of consciousness as we rode. Now, he was sobering up and clearly suffering the consequences—not only of being badly beaten by the men who aimed to kidnap me and kill Bors, but also paying the price for a terrible hangover. I unfastened the gag from his mouth and helped him to drink some water. And then rejoined Bors on the mare.
Back on the road, we had to slow our pace to wind our way through a narrow forest path. I tucked my chin against Bors’ shoulder, and felt a desperation to talk of the simple things—the dreams for how we would be together, our future. I ached for things to be the way they had been.
“Tell me more. Tell me anything. Tell me about the livery.”
His body stiffened and he shook his head, drawing air through his full lips into a deep sigh so that his massive shoulders lifted my chin up slightly and then lowered it again.
“Aye, my angel...” He began on a deep breath. “Our livery will be surrounded by meadows as green as your eyes…but never as beautiful.”
I gripped him more tightly from behind, caressing his chest and abdominal muscles as he talked. His hard body relaxed ever-so-slightly against my soft tummy and breasts, and I embraced him with all my might. Though it hadn’t been my intention, my forearm pressed against his loins. His cock responded to me, becoming hard and firm in his pants.
His low, brief growl rumbled through him and into me. I smiled knowing that under the surface, the beast was still stirring for me. He still wanted me, and I still yearned for him. And I took much comfort from that.
Late in the day, as the shadows lengthened with the setting sun, I asked Bors to stop because I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I was exhausted and I knew he must be, too. I, at least, had slept a little during the night, but he had not.
He agreed, to my surprise, and I knew from that alone that he was feeling fatigue the same as me. He set to work readying a campsite for us, but I insisted on doing my part as well, helping to get the horses fed and making sure we had enough dry kindling to last us through until morning.
Night came on fast, dark and foreboding, but I felt safe and secure beside Bors. Over the fire, he cooked a prepared rabbit that he had caught with a foot snare. Across the fire from us sat my father, who had, unfortunately, gained a lasting consciousness thanks to the mouthwatering smell of the roasting meat.
A ceaseless pummeling by a band of kidnappers and a day’s hard travel had done nothing to make him any kinder. He was, if anything, more awful than ever before.
“Now you know the truth,” he said, gnawing at a rabbit leg. “You should thank me for not fucking you years ago. It’s my right, after all. You’re not my daughter; you were always just a burden. Hardly worth the coin I took for your care. And now look where I’m at! Because of you.”
I glanced at Bors, whose nostrils were flaring like an angry bull’s right before the charge.
“Don’t you fucking speak to her—” he spat back, already pushing to his feet when I reached over and gripped his wrist.
“Bors,” I said. “I think he’s had enough beatings.”
“Not from where I sit,” he grunted, his body hard as he shifted his weight back, taking an angry bite of his meat as he glared at my father.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Disgusting as he was, my father was feeling talkative and I aimed to make the most of it.
“So, father. What was your plan? How did you intend to take me for yourself?”
My father cleared his throat, then spat a fatty bit of gristle from his mouth. The noise of it hitting the dry leaves made my stomach roll.
“Well, I may as well tell the truth, since I’m damned either way. If this brute doesn’t kill me, he’ll only be sparing me for the hangman’s noose.” There was a glint of truth in his eye as he watched me across the fire, and I knew he was right. For what he’d done, a hanging would be a merciful end, and there was precious little I could do to prevent it, even if I wanted to. “Your mother was standing in my way to take you as I deserved. It would have worked, the nightshade I’d started to sneak into her food would have worked within weeks.”