Daughter of Fire by Carla Simpson Read Free Book Online

the saddle for so many hours. She slipped to the ground and would have sprawled in the mud had he not caught her. He pulled her against him, supporting her weight on his arm as the feeling slowly returned to her legs and feet. At first there was only a faint tingling sensation, then heat burned down through her legs and spread to her toes. She pushed away from him.
    No squire appeared to relieve him of his armor or tend his horse. Instead, he unsaddled the stallion himself.
    He glanced toward the forest. “If we are to eat, and keep from freezing tonight, we will need wood for a fire.”
    She looked at him with more than a little surprise. She had fully expected to be bound. It intrigued her that he did not intend it.
    “Aren’t you afraid that I might escape?”
    “You’re afoot and it is a very long walk back to the abbey,” he pointed out. “You are not foolish.”
    “I might choose to hide out in the woods,” she suggested. “You would not know, then, which way I had gone.”
    “Aye, but eventually you would be found. However, I could not guarantee that it would be my men who would find you.”
    That intriguing combination of vulnerability and strength, that he’d first seen at the abbey, flashed in her eyes.  His meaning was not lost on her.
    “I am not afraid of Vachel.”
    “No, but the villagers of Amesbury have reason to fear him, and it is the first place he will send his men if you should disappear.” He assured her, “If you are found, he will burn the village. If you are not found, he will still burn the village.
    “Vachel is like an animal,” he warned. “He is best at hunting, but even better at the kill. You would do well to remember that.  As much as you hate me at this moment, you are safe with me.”
    She shivered. This time it wasn’t from the cold, but from the memory of her vision in the heart of the stone. Of a creature born in fire and blood that would sweep across the land, and the growing sense that she was being drawn toward something she could not yet understand, nor prevent.
    “I will not try to escape,” she said softly as she turned toward the trees. “You have my promise.”
    “Do not go far,” Rorke warned.
    She found no answers in the solitude of the forest, only a vague awareness that slipped across her senses, like the warning whisper of the wind as it moved through the trees overhead. When she returned with wood for the fire she discovered that Rorke had made their camp near the horses. His mantle was laid across the trunk of a massive fallen oak. An area had been cleared away in front of the tree trunk. Rolls of thick furs lay before it.
    The campfires of his men rimmed the clearing. Vachel’s men made their camp under the canopy of trees a distance apart. They had laid fires, striking metal against stone while others went into the woods to hunt what might be found.
    She scooped dry leaves from inside of the downed tree and layered the pieces of bark with small twigs. Smoke spiraled tentatively, then a small flame burst to life. It fed hungrily at the pieces of bark and twigs, quickly consuming them. She added more pieces, building the fire until it danced about larger pieces of wood.
    Seized by a sudden chill, she extended her hands toward the fire. But not even the heat could drive away the cold ache that now moved through her at the danger she sensed. She stood abruptly and whirled around, knowing who she would find standing behind her. So quietly had Vachel come upon her that she hadn’t heard him, but instead sensed his presence.
    Surprise leapt into his eyes at losing the advantage of surprise. Firelight played across his broad, flat features and the ribbon of dried blood at the wound at his cheek. He had removed the cumbersome battle armor, his barreled body moving easily as he crossed the clearing. He had thought to take her by surprise, but that hope was now gone.
    “You are indeed skilled, mistress. You have a warm fire while others struggle to