The Strangling

He seemed as reluctant to free her as she was to be freed. “Do you feel steady enough to ride?"

"Yes, I ... think so. I can ride astride if you untie me. I often do—"

"No.” He glanced toward the door of the inn when he interrupted her. It was still ajar. “There really isn't time.” He turned away and entered the stable, where he selected a large silver stallion.

She leaned up against the door frame to steady herself and watched, transfixed, as he stroked the horse's mane and whispered close to the beast's ear. The horse reared its head and turned to him, its flank shivering with readiness. He stroked his hand along its back, speaking to the horse in a strange tongue, and then led it over to where she stood. Mounting the horse, he bent to grab her around her waist, lifting her and seating her across the horse in front of him. “Don't worry. We must make haste. I'll hold you steady."

When he leaned forward to grip the horse's mane, his arms enclosed her. He urged the horse on, setting them off at a fast, bone-jolting pace. She gripped his shirt, closing her eyes. Soon after, she noticed that the horse's pace evened out. It was as if he ran against soft ground, or air, for they seemed to move effortlessly and at great speed, the likes of which she had never known.

Opening her eyes, she tried to make out the scene around them. She saw only a blur in the darkness, as if they moved through the night on wings. The aroma of pines hit her and then it was gone in the air rushing by. Her heart felt strangled in her chest. First, there was the strange form he had taken to rescue her, and now this mystical means of travel. He had magic in him, yes, but what was he? She could barely breath, half scared it was another dream and she would awaken and find herself in that wretched cell. Half afraid that she would fall from his arms if she moved or breathed, and she would drop from the sky. But he had rescued her, and she let that comfort her. She dared to move, to try to see more.

Maerose, stay still and we will be far enough away from here soon.

Had she heard the words, or sensed them? She felt his will, encouraging her to be calm. His arms pressed against her, holding her tighter still. She sensed warmth deep in her aching bones. It undid her. She rested against him more easily. A silent sob escaped her, tears clinging to her lashes. The pain eased. She was in his arms. He was taking her home to her family and the village.

Her heart beat fast, relief and fear, and something else, something new, coursing through her. The sensation of being so close in his arms—her body resting as it was across his thighs—had aroused her. The sense of yearning that had been loosed inside her was hot and heavy, unwilling to be shifted even by the treacherous pace of the horse through the night forest. It was a confusing situation, under the circumstances, and her mind kept returning to what she had seen him do, he had changed form ... she could scarcely believe it. Even so, he was her protector. She felt his chest firm and solid against her side. The muscles were well defined, as were those on the mighty arms that enclosed her. With her nerves unsettled, she could only allow the sensation of complete strength and power to envelop and protect her.

She thought she felt his lips on her hair as he leaned forward to guide the horse. Melting, the kernel of her desire throbbed longingly. She breathed him in, his scent, his masculinity, and it flooded over her. Am I dreaming? She wondered, her consciousness lulled. No answer came, nor did she awake.

Eventually, he eased back on the horse, drew up in a clearing within sight of a hilly outcrop, grassy knolls with bare stone crags far beyond. She didn't know how far they had ridden, but the sky was lightening when they stopped.

Lowering her down to the ground, he dismounted. He whispered once again to the horse, and then encouraged it to run free. The horse hesitated, looking back at him, lifting its head and scenting the air, and then it neighed and was gone into the dawn light that edged through the distant trees.

He turned his attention back to her. “It's not far now. Soon we will be beyond Veldor's reach, and he will not be able to find us, but the last part we must go by foot. Will you be strong enough?"

She glanced round, realizing that the place was not familiar to her.

"If not,” he added, “I can easily carry you."

She felt unsteady. Confused. “I don't understand. Where are you taking me? I thought you were taking me back to my home, my family.” Exhaustion had left her near collapse, and now her emotions were spinning.

He frowned. “I cannot take you there, Maerose. I know that you are afraid.” He stepped forward, rested the back of his fingers against her cheek. “But I ask that you trust me. I ask for your faith."

Heat welled out from his fingers and a shiver darted deep into her womanly center.

His eyes flickered and he drew a sharp breath, as if he had felt something, too. He bent to lift the rope that hung down from her bound wrists, but stared at it thoughtfully, and did not untie he

r.

He had the strangest affect on her, and so she wrestled with uncertainty at his actions. “Please, let me go free."

As soon as she asked about release, he turned away, avoiding her gaze, running the rope through his hands as he moved. “I wish I could."

She stared in disbelief.

Without another word, or even a glance back at her, he tugged on her tethered wrists, urging her along behind him, like a cow on its way to market.

Realization swamped her. He means to keep me! Outrage boiled up inside her. “You are no protector,” she shouted at his back.

He ignored her still.

She stumbled along behind him, her limbs stiff but coming alive again, after the confinement. Her mind was less willing to be sorted. She was so confused by him that it made her dizzy in the head. How could he keep her tied up? Some rescuer! And yet ... she sensed he felt remorse for his act. He was doing it nonetheless, her cynical side reminded her.

Around them, the landscape was growing rugged and the path was narrow, weaving between rocks and trees. They were far from any village that she knew of in Edren. Neither had she seen any signs of inhabitants. If she even had the strength to call for help, she doubted anyone would hear her. If she weren't so exhausted and so confused by all that had taken place, she would have kept bellowing at him until he simply had to give in and release her. But something in her quelled that, a soothing hand of comfort that held her, lovingly. Thus, she let him lead her. For now.

Sighing mightily, it occurred to her that she was being almost as badly treated as if the gray-eyed monster had kept her. Why were all these things happening to her, Maerose of Riversbend? It made no sense. She was no prize. Many of the young men she knew at home thought her too headstrong to court, and yet two men had apparently deemed her worthy of conquering.

This one might not be so bad a master as the other, she considered, briefly. She eyed his strong back and broad shoulders. He was handsome. Assuming he wanted to conquer her. He might want a slave of a different sort. She pursed her lips, frowning as she followed in his steps. Making a secret vow to escape soon, she silently berated men and their urge to conquer women. She was startled when she heard him give a quiet laugh ahead of her and he paused.