blurry, then a knee struck
his abdomen and he doubled over. He didn’t think anyone was intending to strike
him—he didn’t think much. He couldn’t. The fighting was fast and furious. By
the time he’d extracted himself, he felt the warm trickle of blood seeping from his nose.
Henry swiped it away and scanned the beach for
Antonia. Had she taken shelter for fear of being harmed? Her horse stood by the
large rock fall at the base of the cliffs, shifting impatiently, its reins
looped around a rock. He peered back over his shoulders at the scuffle that
appeared to be slowing and shook his head. Antonia should have been his
priority, not these men.
He retrieved his own mount and marched over the
soft sand to the horse. “Antonia?”
But no one rushed out to meet him as he hoped.
He scanned the rocks and cursed. A flutter of a cloak—his own damn cloak—caught
his eye some way ahead. Foolish woman. What was she
thinking? Did she not realise she’d find no aid here? The villagers were
already angered at having to give up the old barn to the prisoners.
Wasting no time, he mounted his horse and
galloped after her. Wind whipped through his hair as he pushed the horse hard
and fast. Heat gathered beneath his skin and his breaths came quickly. Damn her.
Had he not been a kind captor? Had he not damn well fished her out of the sea?
And this was how she repaid him?
As he neared, he realised exactly why she wasn’t
running but merely walking and that someone else wore his cloak. De Valdés. She
must have found her father while he was trying to break up the scuffle. Hell’s
teeth, he was the fool. He should have known not to bring her. But he couldn’t
resist her pleading.
Hell fire, he’d shown nothing but weakness
toward this woman.
At their slow pace, he caught up to them easily.
Antonia’s father gave a small shrug of his shoulder as if to say fair
enough, you caught us . Henry doubted he believed they could escape as it
was. Antonia, however, glared at him as though he had done gravely wrong.
Henry dismounted and stalked over to her. Her
father slipped an arm from her shoulder and lowered himself to the ground.
Henry paused to greet the older man. “You’re alive then.”
“ Si, though not in the
best condition.”
“Your leg...”
“’Twill mend.”
Henry turned his attention back to the woman who
had so aggravated him. “What were you thinking? Where would you have gone? Your
father has a broken leg! He needs a physician.”
He clamped his hands to his side lest he grab
her and try to shake some sense into her. Not only would
her father not take kindly to him manhandling his daughter, but he’d never lay
a finger on a woman.
Two spots of dusky colour darkened her cheeks.
Her eyes flared. “Am I to just stand meekly by while you lock away my father?
Should I resign myself to whatever fate you have intended for him?”
Arms folded, he glared back. “I know not what
you think I intend for your father but be assured his fate under my care is far
more preferable to anything awaiting you out there.” He thrust his hand in the
general direction of the cliffs. He moved closer and lowered his voice. “I had
hoped I had proved myself to be honourable. I wish neither you nor your father
harm.”
The fire in her eyes dwindled at this. Her gaze
dropped to his lips and he noted the slight drop of her shoulders. Antonia
tucked her lip under her teeth and nodded. “Will you help him?” she asked
softly.
“Aye. Of
course,” he replied a little abruptly.
That she doubted he would sent another whirl of hot aggravation through him. Damn this woman. She muddied his
instincts.
He turned his attention away from her and back
to her father. He seemed in good shape for having had a dip in the ocean and
likely being exposed to the cool air all night. Thankfully the night had not
been too cold or else he might have been in worse condition. His leg, however,
needed rest and splinting at least.
Antonia hovered
his abdomen and he doubled over. He didn’t think anyone was intending to strike
him—he didn’t think much. He couldn’t. The fighting was fast and furious. By
the time he’d extracted himself, he felt the warm trickle of blood seeping from his nose.
Henry swiped it away and scanned the beach for
Antonia. Had she taken shelter for fear of being harmed? Her horse stood by the
large rock fall at the base of the cliffs, shifting impatiently, its reins
looped around a rock. He peered back over his shoulders at the scuffle that
appeared to be slowing and shook his head. Antonia should have been his
priority, not these men.
He retrieved his own mount and marched over the
soft sand to the horse. “Antonia?”
But no one rushed out to meet him as he hoped.
He scanned the rocks and cursed. A flutter of a cloak—his own damn cloak—caught
his eye some way ahead. Foolish woman. What was she
thinking? Did she not realise she’d find no aid here? The villagers were
already angered at having to give up the old barn to the prisoners.
Wasting no time, he mounted his horse and
galloped after her. Wind whipped through his hair as he pushed the horse hard
and fast. Heat gathered beneath his skin and his breaths came quickly. Damn her.
Had he not been a kind captor? Had he not damn well fished her out of the sea?
And this was how she repaid him?
As he neared, he realised exactly why she wasn’t
running but merely walking and that someone else wore his cloak. De Valdés. She
must have found her father while he was trying to break up the scuffle. Hell’s
teeth, he was the fool. He should have known not to bring her. But he couldn’t
resist her pleading.
Hell fire, he’d shown nothing but weakness
toward this woman.
At their slow pace, he caught up to them easily.
Antonia’s father gave a small shrug of his shoulder as if to say fair
enough, you caught us . Henry doubted he believed they could escape as it
was. Antonia, however, glared at him as though he had done gravely wrong.
Henry dismounted and stalked over to her. Her
father slipped an arm from her shoulder and lowered himself to the ground.
Henry paused to greet the older man. “You’re alive then.”
“ Si, though not in the
best condition.”
“Your leg...”
“’Twill mend.”
Henry turned his attention back to the woman who
had so aggravated him. “What were you thinking? Where would you have gone? Your
father has a broken leg! He needs a physician.”
He clamped his hands to his side lest he grab
her and try to shake some sense into her. Not only would
her father not take kindly to him manhandling his daughter, but he’d never lay
a finger on a woman.
Two spots of dusky colour darkened her cheeks.
Her eyes flared. “Am I to just stand meekly by while you lock away my father?
Should I resign myself to whatever fate you have intended for him?”
Arms folded, he glared back. “I know not what
you think I intend for your father but be assured his fate under my care is far
more preferable to anything awaiting you out there.” He thrust his hand in the
general direction of the cliffs. He moved closer and lowered his voice. “I had
hoped I had proved myself to be honourable. I wish neither you nor your father
harm.”
The fire in her eyes dwindled at this. Her gaze
dropped to his lips and he noted the slight drop of her shoulders. Antonia
tucked her lip under her teeth and nodded. “Will you help him?” she asked
softly.
“Aye. Of
course,” he replied a little abruptly.
That she doubted he would sent another whirl of hot aggravation through him. Damn this woman. She muddied his
instincts.
He turned his attention away from her and back
to her father. He seemed in good shape for having had a dip in the ocean and
likely being exposed to the cool air all night. Thankfully the night had not
been too cold or else he might have been in worse condition. His leg, however,
needed rest and splinting at least.
Antonia hovered
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