Slaves of Love

Keern rode and rode, forgetting about time and distance. When he reached the valley, he stopped and dismounted, then sat on a rock and listened to the garals twittering and warbling in the trees. A cacophony of sound surrounded him.

But a distant noise drew his attention. Listening intently, he thought he heard shouts, then a scream. He bounded onto his horse and rode up the hill. At the top, his heart lunged to his throat as he saw the carriage halted, surrounded by armed men. Swords clacked against each other as men battled.

Keern rode at top speed, returning to protect his family. These men didn’t look like thieves. Why in the world were they attacking?

Two of Will’s soldiers were down, and he saw one of the enemy thrust his sword through the driver. Quickly, Keern took down two of the attackers as he fought his way to his family. His heart leaped as he saw the man who appeared to be the leader lunge a sword into Will’s chest.

“No!” Keern raced toward the man, sword raised.

The man jerked aside in time to dodge Keern’s blade, then turned his horse and fled. The others followed. Keern realized there were only three of them left, to their five still standing.

“Jordan, stay with Will and the women. Men, follow me,” Keern commanded, then galloped after the retreating figures. The soldiers followed his lead.

The fleeing men scattered.

“I’ll follow the leader; you men get the others,” Keern directed.

After a few miles, he caught up with the leader and swung his sword, wounding the man’s left arm and driving him off his horse. He ran, but Keern leaped from his horse, knocking the man to the ground.

“Who the hell are you, and why did you attack us?” Keern demanded.

“I am Henry Wakefield.” He pushed himself to his feet, throwing a look of disdain Keern’s way. “One of you Herrington devils defiled my daughter.”

Wakefield. Shena’s father.

“Why do you believe that?”

“My daughter told me.”

Shena had lied about their encounter, just as she’d threatened. That witch had caused Will’s death!

Wakefield’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his sword. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

His eyes filled with rage and he lunged at Keern, swinging wildly. Keern easily countered, forcing the man backward.

They fought hard for several minutes, but Keern dodged Wakefield’s final thrust and sank his sword squarely into the man’s chest.

Keern gained no satisfaction from Wakefield’s death. It wouldn’t bring Will back. Nothing would bring Will back. Despair gripped him in an awful, frigid hold. His brother was dead.

And Shena had been the cause. He would never forgive her for what she’d done. And somehow, he would find a way t

o make her pay.

Chapter Five

Keern slung Wakefield’s body over the back of his horse, tied it down, and raced back to his family. The women sat weeping in the back of the carriage, with Will’s body across Jenna’s lap. One of the soldiers had already returned, one of Wakefield’s men still draped over the back of his horse, and was helping their cousin Jacob lay the bodies out along the side of the road. A few minutes later, the others returned.

Keern desperately wanted to ride ahead, to take Wakefield’s body and dump it on the chief constable, then race to Wakefield’s house and drag Shena to prison. He wasn’t sure what the charges would be, but there must be some way to punish her for causing Will’s death.

But Keern wouldn’t leave his family now. Thoughts of Shena had sent him riding ahead a mere hour ago, taking him away when he was most needed.

If he hadn’t gone ahead, maybe Will would still be alive.

* * * * *

Keern slammed his fist on the official’s desk.

“Chief Constable Murray, Shena Wakefield is responsible for Will’s death.”