Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
She hurried around to the back of her cottage waiting for the noise of the galloping horses to pass by. She waited a few more minutes to be certain and then she crept around to the front of the cottage ready to take off for Lila’s place.
A hand reached out and grabbed her arm and with the memories of last night fresh in her mind she fisted her hand ready to protect herself.
Her fist was swallowed in Cree’s strong hand and he laughed until her hood fell back and he saw her face.
Chapter Eighteen
“What happened? Who did this to you?” Cree demanded not letting go of her arm and glaring at the two bruises on her face. Someone had struck her hard and he was going to make him pay.
Dawn tried to free her arm and when Cree realized that he was preventing her from communicating with him, he released her. “Tell me,” he demanded once more.
He caught the way her glances darted past him and he turned to see several villagers staring at them and whispering. He took her arm once more and directed her to his horse. He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up on the horse. Then he mounted behind her, his one arm firm around her waist and his other hand taking the reins and they rode to the keep with many eyes following them.
Dawn had pulled up her hood so that no one could see her wounds but Cree had seen them all too clearly and he was burning with such a raging anger that he was ready to kill. Who had dared to touch her? And how far had he gone? He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
He dismounted as soon as he brought his horse to halt in front of the keep. Then he reached up and with his hands around her waist pulled her gently off the horse. One of his warriors took the reins and led the horse away as they climbed the steps.
Once inside Cree entered the Great Hall and when he caught sight of Sloan, he gave him a nod and the man followed beside him once Cree reached his side. Not a word was uttered until they were in the solar and the door closed.
Cree reached for Dawn’s hood and shoved it off her head. “I thought I ordered you to keep an eye on her.”
Sloan stood speechless for a moment, then he shook his head. “I had a warrior watching her cottage until late and he returned this morning.”
Cree felt Dawn trembling beside him and he silently cursed himself. He released her arm, slipped her worn cloak off her, cursing silently again that she had no decent cloak to keep her warm, and with a gentle hand to her back guided her to a chair by the fire.
Sloan went to the door, opened it and shouted, “Hot cider now.”
A pitcher and tankards were delivered in seconds and Sloan filled one tankard and handed it to Cree.
He took it and said so only Sloan could hear, “Go get the healer, but do not hurry.”
Sloan nodded knowing that Cree wanted time to talk with the lass. He left closing the door behind him.
Cree went to Dawn and handed her the tankard. Her hands trembled as she took it from him and he silently cursed again. What had she been through and would she be truthful about what happened to her?
He scooped up a small bench near the fire and placed it in front of her and sat. His anger mounted when he once again laid eyes on the two bruises. The one at the corner of her right eye wasn’t too bad and from the look of it he assumed that she hadn’t taken the full blunt of the punch. Her right jawline however was a different matter. It was dark purple and swollen. The blow had to have knocked her down and possibly out.
His hand suddenly stilled. He had not realized that his fingers had explored her face along with his eyes. He did not recall raising his hand or touching her face but there he was, his fingers gently exploring her wounds.
Her skin was so soft; a pleasure to touch and he quickly dropped his hand away. He needed answers and he needed them now. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything,” he said sternly and took the tankard from her hand so that she would be free to communicate with him and placed it by the hearth to keep it warm.
The warmth of the cider and the fire had eased her trembling, though not her trepidation. She was familiar with his anger from her time spent with him in the hut, though the anger she saw burning in his eyes now surpassed anything she had seen then. And his harsh tone made her worry that some of his anger was directed at her.