Enchantress by Georgia Fox

used to be.
    Killing him will not bring us back,
Jesamyn .
    Remember the cards and
what we told you today.
    But she was sure the Tarot cards were
merely being mischievous when they changed his fate for that last
reading. Occasionally it happened that the spirits were playful and
mischievous. Or else she had made a mistake when dealing them out,
fumbled a card or two. Nino d'Anzeray had somehow distracted her,
perhaps.
    Ask him about the
bracelet.
    "What was that?" Nino asked. "Did you
say something?"
    "No. Thank you," she snapped,
determinedly silencing her twin sister's voice again.
     
    * * * *
     
    The woman was quiet, her arms tight
around his waist. It was a good feeling to have her body warmth
against his, even when she argued and spoke with such relish of one
day kneeing him in the seed-bags. Her presence was comforting to
his insides in a way he had not known since his mother gave him her
last embrace.
    "You were lucky I was there to save
you from those men, Jesamyn," he said. "You may show your gratitude
to me later, when we get home to my family's fortress."
    At that she chuckled dourly. "I could
save myself, Cub. I am not a woman like those weak ones you know.
Like those foolish wives who let you treat them like
slaves."
    Again his thoughts returned to the
apple seed upon which she thought that man was choking. She spoke
of it with such self-assurance. And what of the other two— felled
by some unseen attacker? It was all very disconcerting and because
he had got away from there without bloodshed, Nino almost felt as
if he'd cheated. It was not like a d'Anzeray to sneak away without
a fight. But, of course, he had this woman to protect and she had
been his first priority, even though he might have preferred to
stay and slice up some villainous guts. Always it was different
when there was a woman involved.
    His brothers had warned him it was so—
had teased him that one day he would know what it was like to have
all one's thoughts revolve around the need to save a woman in
peril. Even if she did not believe she needed help.
    "Is it far to the fortress?" she
asked.
    "A few hours. We should be there as
dawn breaks."
    She was quiet again for a while, but
tightened her grip around him, and he thought she might have fallen
asleep. Although he'd been tricked that way before, he mused,
thinking of the speed with which she got to her feet when it was
time to flee.
    "Where is your family, Jesamyn?"
he asked, breaking the long silence at last.
    "I have none still living."
    He was saddened by that. A woman
should not be all alone in the world.
    She added coldly, "They were killed.
Slaughtered like cattle. Their village razed to the
ground."
    Nino shook his head. "I'm sorry. That
is very bad." Seeking something to cheer her a little and having no
experience with that tender skill, he blurted, "But these things
happen in wartime." It was something he'd heard his father say many
times. And there was always a war going on somewhere. During Nino's
one and twenty years, there had never been real peace in any land
where they lived. If it was not one country against another, it was
fighting within the country, tribe against tribe. Sometimes it was
even fighting within a family.
    War and death, therefore, was a common
occurrence in Nino's own life. The d'Anzeray were always in the
thick of it, of course, for they earned their fortune as mercenary
warriors, cleaning up other folk's messes and ridding lazy noblemen
of their enemies.
    Guillaume d'Anzeray had told his sons
that he hoped here in this land they could settle at last, put down
roots, build an empire. It was the reason why he sent them all out
to find brides, so they could begin establishing the next
generation and stake their claim on the land— as much of it as they
could lay hands upon. Tired of being sneered at by superior nobles
who saw in him only an upstart, a blacksmith's son who raised
himself up by the sword, Guillaume was determined to use his seven
bastard sons to