Warrior's Last Gift by Melissa Mayhue Read Free Book Online

set quite some time before, and soon there would be no light other than this fire to guide Eric back to her.
    She added another piece of wood and jabbed at the fire again, guilt and misery warring for her complete attention.
    It was bad enough that she’d broken the little boat Eymer had so carefully carved. If anything were to happen to Eric . . .
    She couldn’t allow herself to linger on that path of thought. He was an excellent warrior, quite capable of taking care of himself no matter how far he traveled or how long he stayed away.
    Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she winced from her bruises and scrapes. Every bone in her body hurt, and no doubt she would be even more sore and stiff tomorrow.
    She scooted back a little from the blistering heat of the roaring fire and tossed another stick into it.
    “How does roasted hare sound for our meal this night?”
    Eric stood just inside the circle of their camp, grinning like a fool as he hoisted a huge, skinned animal into the air.
    Jeanne had never been so happy to see anyone in the whole of her life. She was on her feet, racing to him in spite of her injuries. She threw her arms around his neck, almost toppling him over.
    “Whoa,” he laughed, wrapping his arms, rabbit and all, around her. “You must be hungry indeed, because that’s what I call a mighty hearty greeting for a man bearing fresh meat.”
    “You were gone overlong,” she said. “And with the setting of the sun, I feared for yer finding yer way back to me.”
    His arms tightened around her before he broke the contact. He stepped away quickly, as if he’d remembered the chasm existing between them that, in the moment, she’d clearly forgotten.
    “Some fine warrior you must take me for, that you think I’d no be able to find my way back to this spot,” he scoffed. “Besides, you might as well have set a welcome banner to the entire western half of Scotland with the fire you’ve built. Is there any wood left in the forest?”
    Perhaps she had gone a little overboard with the size of the fire, but he was back now, so she’d accomplished what she’d hoped with it. That was what mattered.
    Once the rabbit was threaded on a spit and sizzling over the flames, Jeanne returned to her seat by the fire and turned her attention to the little pot Eric stirred.
    “What’s that you’ve got there? It smells awful.” Surely he didn’t think to add whatever that was to their meal.
    “Tree sap and ash, which, thanks to yer zealous efforts, we’ve plenty of.” He looked up with a grin, continuing to stir. “And a few rabbit droppings for strength.”
    That could certainly account for the smell.
    “And you brew that concoction for . . . ?”
    He looked up from his work and seemed, for the first time, to understand her suspicions.
    “You’ve no call for concern, sweet Jeanne, I assure you.” Merriment danced in his eyes in a way she hadn’t seen in far too long. “When this vile mixture is done, I’ll use it to repair Eymer’s wee vessel, making her seaworthy once again. Now, have we a cloth to tear into strips to hold her together once this is ready?”
    She nodded, unable to answer, and turned away to dig through her pack.
    Sweet Jeanne.
    Hearing the words slip so naturally from Eric’s lips stole her breath away and left her feeling weak. Though he didn’t even appear to notice he’d used the endearment that had belonged only to him.
    She tore strips from the bottom of her spare shift and handed them over to him, watching with interest as he nudged a hot rock from the fire pit and set his pan on it.
    “Would it no be faster to hold it over the fire?”
    He shook his head, continuing to stir. “That would be a very bad idea. This mixture is too likely to burst into flame. Slow and steady is the only way to prepare it.”
    All through their meal, Eric fussed with his concoction, absently picking at the meat she placed beside him, while letting his porridge grow cold. At long last, the