side of the road, ducking branches, tearing through briers. He leaped over a large fallen log and helped Allegra over it, then pulled her down with him onto the leaf-packed ground behind the log, for her white dress would give them away easily if the soldiers looked into the woods.
They lay side by side, she flushed and he panting, like lovers after an afternoon of vigorous sex. She watched him, wide-eyed. He lifted a finger to her lips in a hushing gesture, but oddly he didn’t sense any intention on her part to scream for help.
He stared warningly into her eyes as two squadrons thundered past on the road, chasing the riderless black horse. Their horses’ hooves drowned out the distant rushing murmur of the waterfall. Still holding his hostage by her delicate wrist, Lazar scanned the road in the direction of the city, for he guessed reinforcements could not be far behind.
“Come on.”
They got to their feet. Her soft, slender fingers linked through his rough, callused ones, he led her through the dark, fragrant woods, following the sound of the waterfall. He was satisfied they were out of danger once they crested a small ridge, for now the road was no longer visible. With their every step, the sound of the waterfall grew louder.
When he heard her little cry of pain behind him, he turned to find one of her long tresses snarled on a thorn. He drew his knife and moved to cut her free, but she gasped.
“Don’t you dare!”
He looked down at her in surprise. She glared up at him in rebellion.
“Kidnap me if you must, but you will not chop off my hair!”
He stared down at her, barely comprehending how she could fret about something so trivial at such a time. But when he considered what he was going to do to her at dawn, he was overcome with guilt and thought, This is the least I can do for her .
Gently, he unwound her hair from the thorn. She stood there, patiently waiting. Then he became aware that she was staring at him again, her face tilted up to his, bathed in moonlight. He tugged the last knot free and turned away.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing a bit. “Now. What is your name?”
“Come on, no questions,” he grumbled, annoyed by her managing tone. This time he held her hand a little more loosely, all too aware of how soft her skin was, until at last they arrived in the clearing, where the waterfall spilled into a large pond.
He turned to find her watching the moonlight sparkle on the water.
“You could act a little scared, you know,” he muttered.
“I’m scared,” she assured him.
He stared at her, itching to taste that pretty mouth where an impudent smile tugged.
I cannot possibly take this creature’s life , he thought. Then he remembered Father, how they had fallen on him like dogs on a wounded bull, stabbing him again and again right before his eyes, cut Pip’s throat as if he were a yearling calf, his little brother only eight years old.
Abruptly Lazar turned away, kicking off his boots.
“Going for a swim?” she asked.
In reply, he stepped into the pond, yanking her in behind him, his boots in one hand, her wrist in the other. She gave a little shriek of protest, but the water was not deep—only up to his thighs, her waist.
“Where are we going?”
He ignored her.
They waded across the pond to the waterfall, where he set his boots upon the rock. Allegra stared in fascination as she came in close enough with him to see the cave entrance the rushing water concealed. He climbed out of the water onto the rocks and turned, on one knee, offering her his hand. She took it, and as he pulled her up, drenched and dripping, from the water, lust hit him low in the gut full force.
Oh, for God’s sake, Fiore, why didn’t you carry her?
Wet white silk clung to every curve of her very female form, he discovered, and the full moon’s brightness only made the effect more magical. Once she’d gained her feet, he immediately checked his rusty fob.
How much time did they have? It
They lay side by side, she flushed and he panting, like lovers after an afternoon of vigorous sex. She watched him, wide-eyed. He lifted a finger to her lips in a hushing gesture, but oddly he didn’t sense any intention on her part to scream for help.
He stared warningly into her eyes as two squadrons thundered past on the road, chasing the riderless black horse. Their horses’ hooves drowned out the distant rushing murmur of the waterfall. Still holding his hostage by her delicate wrist, Lazar scanned the road in the direction of the city, for he guessed reinforcements could not be far behind.
“Come on.”
They got to their feet. Her soft, slender fingers linked through his rough, callused ones, he led her through the dark, fragrant woods, following the sound of the waterfall. He was satisfied they were out of danger once they crested a small ridge, for now the road was no longer visible. With their every step, the sound of the waterfall grew louder.
When he heard her little cry of pain behind him, he turned to find one of her long tresses snarled on a thorn. He drew his knife and moved to cut her free, but she gasped.
“Don’t you dare!”
He looked down at her in surprise. She glared up at him in rebellion.
“Kidnap me if you must, but you will not chop off my hair!”
He stared down at her, barely comprehending how she could fret about something so trivial at such a time. But when he considered what he was going to do to her at dawn, he was overcome with guilt and thought, This is the least I can do for her .
Gently, he unwound her hair from the thorn. She stood there, patiently waiting. Then he became aware that she was staring at him again, her face tilted up to his, bathed in moonlight. He tugged the last knot free and turned away.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing a bit. “Now. What is your name?”
“Come on, no questions,” he grumbled, annoyed by her managing tone. This time he held her hand a little more loosely, all too aware of how soft her skin was, until at last they arrived in the clearing, where the waterfall spilled into a large pond.
He turned to find her watching the moonlight sparkle on the water.
“You could act a little scared, you know,” he muttered.
“I’m scared,” she assured him.
He stared at her, itching to taste that pretty mouth where an impudent smile tugged.
I cannot possibly take this creature’s life , he thought. Then he remembered Father, how they had fallen on him like dogs on a wounded bull, stabbing him again and again right before his eyes, cut Pip’s throat as if he were a yearling calf, his little brother only eight years old.
Abruptly Lazar turned away, kicking off his boots.
“Going for a swim?” she asked.
In reply, he stepped into the pond, yanking her in behind him, his boots in one hand, her wrist in the other. She gave a little shriek of protest, but the water was not deep—only up to his thighs, her waist.
“Where are we going?”
He ignored her.
They waded across the pond to the waterfall, where he set his boots upon the rock. Allegra stared in fascination as she came in close enough with him to see the cave entrance the rushing water concealed. He climbed out of the water onto the rocks and turned, on one knee, offering her his hand. She took it, and as he pulled her up, drenched and dripping, from the water, lust hit him low in the gut full force.
Oh, for God’s sake, Fiore, why didn’t you carry her?
Wet white silk clung to every curve of her very female form, he discovered, and the full moon’s brightness only made the effect more magical. Once she’d gained her feet, he immediately checked his rusty fob.
How much time did they have? It
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