Her heart pounded. The village women had warned her about Regional Chieftain Pratus upon her first visit here, but he had not shown himself in the village in the short time she had spent there. Now, seeing his predatory nature, she was glad she hadn’t met him.
“I have stopped here before,” she said.
Where was Dar? Surely, he’d arrive soon. She lifted her chin, steadying herself, buying time, and sent a silent message to the trees to hurry Dar along.
People began to drift away.
Not all at once, but subtly, one woman stepping back into a doorway, a man turning as if he’d forgotten an errand, a pair of lads slipping behind a cart. The space around Elara widened, leaving her suddenly, unmistakably alone.
“Do not be alarmed,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” His eyes traveled her face again, slower now. “In fact, I would like to speak with you. My castle is nearby. You will come stay a day or two as my guest.”
Elara felt the trap close. “I thank you, but I have business elsewhere. I must decline.”
His smile thinned. “That was not an invitation but rather an offer of protection.”
“I require none,” she said.
The air sharpened.
“I think,” he said, irritation slipping through now, “you mistake your position. You walk alone. No kin at your side. No escort. And I am chieftain here.”
“That does not give you claim to me,” she said, her voice steady though her pulse thundered.
His gaze hardened. “It does give me authority to keep those on my land safe.”
She took a step back and quickly decided it would be wise if he knew she was wed. “I wait for my husband. He is not far off.”
He took two steps forward, closing the space between them. “How convenient you suddenly remember that.”
“Something I didn’t think would prove a necessity after making it known after I politely declined your invitation.”
“It is not an invitation,” he snapped, annoyed. “You will come with me.”
She heard it then, the distant thunder of hooves.
Hope flared bright and dangerous.
She stepped back, starting to retreat, but his hand shot out, fingers clamping around her arm. Pain bit as he twisted, forcing her back toward him.
A cry tore from her throat.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER.”
The command cracked through the village like a blade striking stone.
Chieftain Pratus froze.
Dar rode straight at them, fury written in every line of him, his horse skidding to a halt so close dust flew. His men fanned out behind him, silent and lethal.
He dismounted, his hand going to his sword, not drawing it, but ready.
“I will not warn you again,” he said, his voice low, deadly calm. “Release her.”
Chieftain Pratus sneered, tightening his grip. “She is on my?—”
Dar moved.
Steel flashed, not striking flesh, but close enough to kiss skin. The chieftain hissed and released her with a curse, stumbling back as Dar stepped between them, one arm going around Elara, pulling her hard against him.