Outlaw (Medieval Trilogy 3)

“That’s it, little one, give yourself up,” he said against her inner thigh, and something inside of her broke, a dam that was holding the heat at bay. Faster and faster he stroked her, sending her hips into wanton thrusting. With a cry, she lifted up, only to fall back to the fur, her skin drenched, her mind spinning. She had trouble finding her breath and her heart would not be quiet, but he was not done.

As if there was more loving to have, as if the earth hadn’t splintered before her very eyes, he slid beneath her legs, lifted her rump with his hands, and kissed her more intimately than she’d ever expected.

She convulsed, but he held her tight, whispering into her that ’twould be all right, that she would fly like a falcon again, and before she could protest, he was close to her, his breath hot, his mouth wet, his tongue seeking new areas to plunder. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and bucked upward, wanting more, so much more, until it came, that wonderful hot spasm of release, and the world spun again.

As she cried out, he slid up her body, holding her to his rock-hard muscles, cradling her as the first tears—of joy or sadness, she knew not which—slid down her cheeks. She sobbed brokenly and realized that she cared for him far more than she’d ever dared admit to herself, that she was a soul lost and he was her anchor—that, curse and rot his stubborn hide, she loved him.

Nine

e just took off. I don’t know when, but I woke up needin’ to relieve myself and noticed ’e was gone,” Odell said, shaking his head and staring at the ground as if he expected Wolf to flog him for letting Robin slip away. A few men had awakened and gathered around though dawn had yet to send her gray light through the valley.

Megan had awakened from a particularly wanton dream when Wolf, his arms surrounding her, had started. “Something’s amiss,” he’d whispered into her ear, and she knew he was right, for Odell was cursing loudly and angrily. They’d hurried down the crumbling hallway and outside to find him muttering, grumbling, and swearing by the remains of last night’s fire. Odell had admitted then that Robin was missing.

“Why?” Wolf asked as he rubbed his jaw and glared at the older man. “He was injured, for God’s sake.”

“ ’Twas that he felt like a fool. Embarrassed he was about nearly being killed by the boear. He’d hoped to bag that beast and bring it to the camp so that he would look like a man rather than the boy we take him for.”

“He is a boy,” Wolf said.

Odell dug at the coals with a stick as Peter carried over more firewood. “Aye, but he wants to be thought of as a man.” He looked over his shoulder at Megan. “Especially since the lady arrived.”

So ’twas her fault the lad was missing, she thought and read the silent suspicions on the men’s faces. “Where would he go?” she asked, knowing that he had no home.

“After Cormick and Bjorn.” Wolf’s voice was filled with conviction and he stared at the surrounding woods as if he was envisioning Robin’s flight. “He asked to be sent to Dwyrain as a messenger.”

“Aye,” Odell said, as a pitchy log caught fire and flames popped and crackled, lighting the ground surrounding the fire pit.

Wolf, who’d been calm, kicked angrily at a stone near the boar’s hide and flung Megan a dark look.

He blames me. Everyone blames me!

“I’ll go after him. Jagger, come with me; Heath, go to the village, see if there’s word of him. Dominic, you’re in charge, and no one,” he said, eyeing each and every man until his gaze landed with deadly aim upon Megan, “is to leave. As soon as Bjorn and Cormick return, we’ll break camp and move, but until then, we stay here.”

No one dared argue, and as the first light of morning crept across the land, he and Jagger climbed upon their horses and rode through the trees. Megan watched horses and riders disappear through the trees and she shivered, not from the frosty wind that chased down the river and knifed through her bones, but from the horrid thought that she might never see Wolf again.

They caught up with the boy in early afternoon, when they spied the gray hack he’d taken with him tied to the bare branch of an apple tree. Robin, wrapped in his mantle, was lying on the ground and didn’t start when Wolf and Jagger approached, nor did he open his eyes when his name was called. Only when Wolf touched the lad’s shoulder did he awaken, blinking hard as his eyebrows slammed together in confusion.

A second later his situation must’ve dawned upon him and he started. “Wolf! J-Jagger.”

“Aye, lad,” Wolf said, squatting next to the boy and rolling back onto the worn heels of his boots. “ ’Tis time you came home.”

Robin closed his eyes for a second. “I didn’t do a very good job of runnin’ away.”

“Is that w

hat you want? To be rid of the band?”

Robin looked down at his hands, as if fascinated by the dirt beneath his fingernails. “Nay, I—” He struggled to a sitting position. “I just wanted to be a part of the group, not treated like a lad.” His jaw, unblemished by a beard, jutted in silent rage and Wolf remembered himself as a youth, straining to be a man, defying his older brother, thinking battles and killing for a cause were noble and glorious pursuits. How many times had Garrick said the words that echoed through his mind?

“Be patient, Ware,” Garrick had advised. “Study hard, learn your skills, do not hasten off to war.” Every bit of his counsel had fallen on deaf ears, for Ware of Abergwynn had been prideful, mulish, and eager to prove himself a man.

“You will come with me when I meet with Holt,” Wolf said now as he clapped the boy on the back. “He will have men with him and want to kill me. You will guard me against them.”

The boy’s eyes widened expectantly and Jagger coughed, trying to catch Wolf’s eye. “Truly?” Robin asked.

“Truly.”

Again Jagger coughed, and this time he said, “Do you think it’s wise, with one so young—”