His Captive Princess by Sandra Jones Read Free Book Online

Vaughn’s or the prince’s?” Eleri pulled her bow higher on her shoulder and looked into the gloom. A thread of unease ran through her that someone could be out there, watching unseen. Oak trees spread out endlessly into the night.
    “Neither. He wore a domed helmet.”
    “Norman,” she echoed with Warren de Tracy, and he glanced at her, frowning.
    Not possible? She held her sarcasm to herself. He might be her enemy, but one of his own men had meant to kill him. Mayhap hunted him still. That idea festered in her like an open wound. The captive was hers! She’d taken him in the skirmish. No man, Norman or Cymreig, would steal the vengeance owed her, nor cause the wraith’s prophecy to come true.
    “Well, my lord is in a fine position.” She sighed dramatically. His dark eyes lifted to hers. Remnants of anger and disbelief clouded his expression. “You are wanted dead by both your people and mine. You must have done something dreadful to deserve such.”
    He said nothing in return to argue or deny her accusation, merely backed into the shadows. Silent at last.
    Day broke with the sounds of horses and voices. Warren recognized Sayer and Nest communicating in brisk tones, but when he pushed himself upright to see them, his legs and arms were restrained in two lengths of rope. New anxiety brought sweat to his brow upon the memory of the night before and how Princess Eleri had ordered him tied to the tree branches several feet from the safety of the ground.
    After they’d traveled deeper into the forest that night, Warren had gleaned from the few details he knew of the territory that the River Wye was to the west and the Black Mountains were to the east. Sticking to the trees, his captors seemed to shun the easier territory of the barren hills where days of hiking could be turned into hours on the backs of the horses.
    Warren gritted his teeth. Why bother with the coursers at all if they weren’t going to ride them?
    The rebels’ concern over the Norman rider had to be unfounded. For all they knew, he could’ve been one of De Braose’s sentries, making the evening rounds from the nearby castle. Warren had searched his memory for any clues that one of his conroi had wanted him dead and found nothing. If King Stephen had desired him gone, he’d have arranged it at court. An easy thing for him to accomplish with no need for subterfuge. A simple charge of treason and Warren would lose his head.
    King Stephen had given Warren youthful knights for this quest—men striving to prove their loyalty to the new monarch, just like Warren. Stephen wasn’t a popular choice as king, but he had more power in England than Empress Matilda. When Warren’s younger sister Claire’s future had been threatened with marriage to some lackwit distant cousin of the king’s, Warren had made the difficult decision to pledge loyalty to Stephen—even though he detested the usurper.
    Had his fealty angered one of Matilda’s followers so much that the cur wanted him dead?
    He’d drawn the ire of Henry’s faithful before and had deserved it. His past was full of mistakes. If the murderer succeeded, Warren would accept his fate. He should have died years ago in the disaster at sea that took the true heir, Prince William’s life.
    Although, he reasoned, if he could locate De Braose’s castle, he could salvage his mission by turning the tables on the princess and kidnapping her instead, taking her there. Then he would find out if the man Sayer had seen was a sentry or a would-be-killer, and the princess would have to face the consequences for the Deheubarth prince’s actions.
    But first, he had to get out of the damned tree and earn the trust of her pagan rebels.
    He hailed them. “I pray you’ve not forgotten me.”
    His words were met by silence. As he’d feared, his attention to Eleri last night had caused her to regard him with more suspicion.
    But tempted by her, he simply couldn’t stop himself.
    Cozied up against her soft form in