Page 140 of Come the Morning

“We should push on,” Ulric argued.

Renfrew disputed him. “Men falling from their saddles cannot fight. We don’t even know yet if Daro and Waryk have destroyed one another. If they have not …” He shrugged. “We can makea defensive stand here if we have to. Our troops are equal to Waryk’s, and we could win a major battle here.”

Ulric remained disgruntled, but he dismounted, and shouted out orders to camp.

A large command tent was quickly assembled for Lord Renfrew. Rugs were thrown over the bare ground, furniture was provided, a fire was built in the center so that the smoke could escape through the vents cut into the thick fabric of the tent.

Mellyora was beyond exhaustion when she was brought before Renfrew.

“So you are the Viking’s daughter, Waryk’s great prize.”

She lifted her chin, and told him, “The property is the prize, Lord Renfrew. You failed to seize the property.”

He arched a brow, comfortably taking a seat in a folding camp chair. He didn’t invite her to sit. “Ah, yes, men desire property. But then again, most men desire women as well. And you, as a wife with property … I imagine Laird Lion has the sense to appreciate his incredible good luck. As Adin’s daughter, you created quite a stir. Men vied for you, offered your father fortunes for your hand. And now, among other things, you have driven Ulric quite to distraction.”

“He is easily driven to distraction then.”

Renfrew grinned. He studied her so long that she began to feel a greater sense of fear. “He said that you threatened to kill yourself if he touched you.”

“It wasn’t an idle threat.”

Renfrew laughed. “Ah, but harder to do than you might imagine while the instinct to survive still rages within you. And I believe, my lady, that you are a fighter, a survivor. But then, Mellyora MacAdin, if I decide to explore for myself just what manner of prize you might be, I will not give a damn if you threaten to kill yourself or not. Of course, you won’t. Whatwoman takes her own life when she carries the child of the man she loves, eh?”

He stood suddenly, walking over to her, and around her. He touched her face, allowed his hand to fall to her breast. Her heart thundered, she longed to lash out at him, and she fought to control her temper. She carried a knife in a sheath at her calf. The knife she always carried. But she was surrounded.

“Ah, wouldn’t you love to kill me, Viking’s daughter!” he said. “You should take care. I am keeping Ulric from you.”

Was that true? It didn’t really matter. If she killed Renfrew, someone would kill her. And he was right in that she didn’t want to die. Not while she lived with hope.

“You will not find me fascinating this evening, Lord Renfrew.”

“Oh, and why not?”

“I am exhausted. And sick. If you touch me—”

“You’ll kill yourself. I’ve told you what I think of that threat.”

She shook her head. “No, my lord Renfrew. I shall vomit all over you.”

As she had expected, he backed away. He waved a hand toward her. “You may sleep in the pallet in the rear. Don’t try to escape. My men have been ordered to hack off your toes if they catch you so much as slipping outside. I will maim you, lady. I swear it.”

She didn’t doubt it, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Whatever the morning brought, she would have to bear. She was too weary, and too relieved, to try to escape tonight.

The pallet in the back offered her a little privacy. She had been left water with which to wash, ale to drink, and bread and cheese to eat. She couldn’t manage the cheese; she wolfed down the bread. She scrubbed her hands and face, and lay down to sleep, staring into the darkness, wondering how it was possible to be so numb and in such pain at the same time. She was just so tired. She prayed that Waryk was alive. That he and Daro had made peace.

What if they hadn’t? What if they had slain one another? How would she survive? How would she make herself care …?

Tomorrow, she would find a way to fight again. Tomorrow.

He would come for her. He was alive, and he would come.

Waryk would come.

She closed her eyes. Despite herself, she dissolved into tears. They were even more exhausting, and at last, she slept.

They found the trail that night and followed it—it was not difficult to track such a large party of mounted men and baggage. By the following morning, they were not far behind, but Waryk saw, with Daro and Angus, that the enemy had found a spit of land on which to make a stand which offered them a natural defense. They would be at a severe disadvantage if they charged in without preparing their battle tactics. “We need to make a large shield, so that our men can approach and have refuge against the archers who will have the advantage of height,” Angus said.

“Aye,” Daro agreed wearily, and Waryk, clenching his jaw in frustration, knew that they needed to take time and prepare. But he was desperately worried about Mellyora. She was a fighter, and Ulric was so brutal.