GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 28
Cara tugged on his shirt and pointed at the ground. A stray shaft of moonlight fell on an indistinct footprint, a track made by a bare foot, not a boot. He took his gun out and continued in the direction of the smoke with even more care. Stopping to listen often, he heard no rumbling of voices or movement.
The never ending sea breeze swirled against the cliffs in fits and puffs. When he caught the faint scent of burning wood, it was impossible to guess how close they were to their prey.
Cara touched his arm and then drifted away to the left. He continued forward, slowing so he didn’t brush any of the spindly plants or crunch the carpet of last year’s needles. Wood smoke filled his nostrils and finally he saw a bit of brightness between the trunks of a few trees.
Cara edged silently back to his side and gestured toward the firelight. He touched her hand in acknowledgement. Her skin was cold and was that trembling in her fingers? Her sword glinted in her hand.
They slithered forward one tree at a time. The fire sat against the cliff face and was very tiny. Boulders on two sides of it would have prevented the glow from being spotted from any great distance. The rock face slanted out into an overhang, forming a shelter that wasn’t quite a cave. A single thin log crackled on the fire and threw a small circle of light. A lone figure reclined on the far side of the flames in a pile of hides. A large hide bag sat tight against the cliff way, and a crudely made clay bowl sat almost in the embers. A small noise came from the bundled figure. It sounded like a small cat.
A miniature, pale arm swung outward and it mewed again. A baby? He squatted behind a thick cedar and tugged Cara down beside him. The night was as still as it could be with the distant whisper of the sea and an even fainter purr from the falls to the south.
He leaned close to Cara and spoke directly into her ear. Tension sat on her posture like a physical burden. Why? “There’s a baby.”
She nodded, but nothing about her relaxed. They waited long after the second moon rose and the single log burned down to bright embers and one tiny finger of flame.
The baby cried and waved its thin arms free of the hides again. Its shrill complaint rose steadily until the adult sat up. Why would a young woman be out here on her own with an infant? There must be other people about. Where was the father? Gone from camp, hunting and soon to return? But there was only the one pile of sleeping hides. Nothing stirred in their surroundings except the relentless sigh of the wind and the voices of distant waters.
Cara gasped and gripped his arm with a tight clench. He spun, expecting someone approaching. But she stared at the camp with an expression of horror. He followed her gaze with his.
The mother tossed a few bits of kindling on the smoldering log so the fire flared up and lit the area. The hides covering her and the child fell away. The woman’s breasts were swollen and full on her broad, bare chest. Blonde hair fell in tangles around her shoulders. She made soft, gentle sounds to the baby and put it to her brown nipple. Only when she lifted her gaze to the fire did Brady understand Cara’s shock. The mother, so gentle and caring of the infant, was a Savage.
ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 29
Chapter Five
Cara led the way back to the beach. Brady stopped and picked up some sticks of wood along the way. How could he think of food? Damn Realm men and their endless obsession with eating. Her stomach churned with an empty sourness. Seeing a Savage when her traitorous mind and body was finding a level of comfort and contentment with Brady wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her peace had been shattered and she was once again walking the edge of panic.
When they neared the waters, Brady took over the lead and stopped almost immediately beside a short tumble of boulders. He dropped his armful of wood and shrugged off his packs.
She
Cara tugged on his shirt and pointed at the ground. A stray shaft of moonlight fell on an indistinct footprint, a track made by a bare foot, not a boot. He took his gun out and continued in the direction of the smoke with even more care. Stopping to listen often, he heard no rumbling of voices or movement.
The never ending sea breeze swirled against the cliffs in fits and puffs. When he caught the faint scent of burning wood, it was impossible to guess how close they were to their prey.
Cara touched his arm and then drifted away to the left. He continued forward, slowing so he didn’t brush any of the spindly plants or crunch the carpet of last year’s needles. Wood smoke filled his nostrils and finally he saw a bit of brightness between the trunks of a few trees.
Cara edged silently back to his side and gestured toward the firelight. He touched her hand in acknowledgement. Her skin was cold and was that trembling in her fingers? Her sword glinted in her hand.
They slithered forward one tree at a time. The fire sat against the cliff face and was very tiny. Boulders on two sides of it would have prevented the glow from being spotted from any great distance. The rock face slanted out into an overhang, forming a shelter that wasn’t quite a cave. A single thin log crackled on the fire and threw a small circle of light. A lone figure reclined on the far side of the flames in a pile of hides. A large hide bag sat tight against the cliff way, and a crudely made clay bowl sat almost in the embers. A small noise came from the bundled figure. It sounded like a small cat.
A miniature, pale arm swung outward and it mewed again. A baby? He squatted behind a thick cedar and tugged Cara down beside him. The night was as still as it could be with the distant whisper of the sea and an even fainter purr from the falls to the south.
He leaned close to Cara and spoke directly into her ear. Tension sat on her posture like a physical burden. Why? “There’s a baby.”
She nodded, but nothing about her relaxed. They waited long after the second moon rose and the single log burned down to bright embers and one tiny finger of flame.
The baby cried and waved its thin arms free of the hides again. Its shrill complaint rose steadily until the adult sat up. Why would a young woman be out here on her own with an infant? There must be other people about. Where was the father? Gone from camp, hunting and soon to return? But there was only the one pile of sleeping hides. Nothing stirred in their surroundings except the relentless sigh of the wind and the voices of distant waters.
Cara gasped and gripped his arm with a tight clench. He spun, expecting someone approaching. But she stared at the camp with an expression of horror. He followed her gaze with his.
The mother tossed a few bits of kindling on the smoldering log so the fire flared up and lit the area. The hides covering her and the child fell away. The woman’s breasts were swollen and full on her broad, bare chest. Blonde hair fell in tangles around her shoulders. She made soft, gentle sounds to the baby and put it to her brown nipple. Only when she lifted her gaze to the fire did Brady understand Cara’s shock. The mother, so gentle and caring of the infant, was a Savage.
ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 29
Chapter Five
Cara led the way back to the beach. Brady stopped and picked up some sticks of wood along the way. How could he think of food? Damn Realm men and their endless obsession with eating. Her stomach churned with an empty sourness. Seeing a Savage when her traitorous mind and body was finding a level of comfort and contentment with Brady wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her peace had been shattered and she was once again walking the edge of panic.
When they neared the waters, Brady took over the lead and stopped almost immediately beside a short tumble of boulders. He dropped his armful of wood and shrugged off his packs.
She
Similar Books
