A Warrior's Promise (5 page)

“Trout sounds tasty to me,” Charles said.

“I'm sure Bryce will catch us some good ones,” Elsa said, and reached out to slip her arm around Charles, “while I tend to you.”

“I'll have a word with the lad first,” Bryce said.

The strength of his command had Elsa nodding and retreating to wait by the door. Bryce stepped closer to Charles. “I need to know all you learn whether you think it important or not.”

“I know we are on a dual mission. And I will not fail to relate all I learn.”

“It is good to know you are a trustworthy lad and that I can depend on you,” Bryce said. “And when I return, I'll have a look at those ribs. I want to see for myself that you incurred no serious injury.”

He turned before Charles could argue with him and sent a smile to Elsa. “I thank you for tending the lad and will return with a fine catch of trout.”

Elsa smiled and waved as Bryce disappeared around the side of the house. Then she waved the lad over. “Come, Charles, we'll see about your wounds.”

The lad hurried to her side.

She slipped her arm around him and gave a hug. “I'll fix you a nice brew, and we can talk. I would surely love to hear why a pretty lassie such as yourself is disguised as a lad; though more so, I'd like to know why the Highlander warrior doesn't realize it.”

Chapter 5

C
harlotte wasn't sure if she should be relieved or worried that Elsa saw through her ruse. It made it simpler that she had. It would be so much easier to tend her injuries, especially her ribs, which had been aching terribly. But could she trust the woman to keep her secret?

“I can see the worry in your lovely eyes,” Elsa said, once inside the cottage. “I have no reason to tell the Highlander something he should see for himself though I am curious.”

Curiosity Charlotte understood. Her da had taught her that it helped in gaining knowledge, and so he had encouraged her inquisitiveness.

“Sit,” Elsa said, pointing to one of the four chairs at a well-worn table. “Share only what you're comfortable sharing.”

Charlotte appreciated the woman's understanding and the brew that Elsa prepared for her before seeing to her wounds. She saw no reason not to share her whole story. After all, she was here to learn if the woman had seen her da and knew any more about his whereabouts.

Elsa finished with the wounds on the girl's face just as Charlotte finished her story.

“I have seen this man you have described.”

“Where? When? How did he look?” Charlotte asked, anxiously, though she had hundreds more questions.

“About a week ago,” Elsa said.

Charlotte clamped her eyes shut in disappointment. With a week's having passed, her father could be a distance from here by now. She opened her eyes, wiping away the dampness. “Tell me all you remember, please.”

Elsa patted her hand. “Your father, though thin, appeared fit enough. His posture was strong, and he kept his chin up as though demonstrating to all his courage.”

“That's my father.” Charlotte smiled, relieved that it seemed he was well and keeping his determination strong. It made her wonder if he remained resolved because he knew she was coming for him.

“He was with three other prisoners, the lot of them tethered together and the king's soldiers more alert and guarded than I have ever seen them,” Elsa said. “The soldiers were taking food from baskets of those passing through to the village Tine. I myself had baked two loaves of bread to bring to Joslyn, a new mother whose babe I helped birth.”

“The soldiers took it from you?”

“Nay,” Elsa said with a smile and shake of her head. “I know their tactics well, and my bundle of rags looked nothing more than that.”

“Do you know where they were taking my da?” Charlotte asked.

“Gossip was more speculation than anything though I gleaned some information that may prove important from Old John. He's a man in the village Tine few pay attention to, stooped and battered by age and battle and thought not right in the mind. He says there is a secret place where the king's soldiers take prisoners, and they are never seen again.”

A chill raced through Charlotte. “He didn't know its location?”

“I wasn't sure. How would he know of its existence if it was so secret—”

“Unless he'd been there himself,” Charlotte finished. Encouraged by the news, she gave a slight jump and cringed, grabbing at her ribs.

“Let me have a look,” Elsa offered.

Charlotte nodded. “Thank you. Having you tend my ribs would help me greatly.”

Elsa helped her remove her vest and lift her tunic and shirt, and as she stripped the cloth that bound Charlotte's small breasts, she asked, “How so?”

“Bryce insists that he examine my ribs to see how severe the damage.”

Elsa chuckled. “My, oh my, would he be in for a shock.”

Charlotte laughed, then winced as Elsa gently touched the bruise beneath her right breast and asked her a few questions. “Seems like nothing more than a good bruise that will heal in time.”

“Good,” Charlotte said, relieved, as she raised her hands for Elsa to wrap the cloth around her breasts. “Will you tell Bryce that so he doesn't insist on seeing for himself?”

“Aye, I will.” Elsa shook her head. “But I don't see how you're going to keep your secret from him for long. He does not appear a dumb man. And for the moment, he sees what you want him to see. But I fear that will not continue for long. The truth might be better coming from you rather than having him discover it on his own.”

“He trusts the lad . . .” Charlotte sighed, letting her words trail off along with her worry.

“You fear he will not trust the woman?”

“I tricked him, and he might not take kindly to that.”

“He might understand why. A young woman alone is more prone to danger than an audacious lad.”

“Though, would he favor an audacious woman?”

“It is his favor you want?” Elsa asked with a kindly smile.

“Nay. Nay, I meant trust, would he trust an audacious woman.”

Elsa gave a comforting pat to the girl's arm before helping her into her tunic. “He is a handsome Highlander for sure. I imagine many a woman lost her heart”—she gave a wink—“and even more to him.”

“I have no time for such thoughts, and, besides, he would find no interest in a scrawny woman who is forever curious, chatty, and strong in opinion.”

“Perhaps,” Elsa said, “or perhaps it is the type of woman he needs.”

Elsa insisted Charlotte sit in the chair by the fire and rest while she busied herself with preparations for supper. Charlotte had offered her help, but Elsa would not hear of it. She was adamant about Charlotte resting to help heal her bruises.

Realizing that opposing the amiable woman was futile, she surrendered and curled in the wooden chair softened by a bulky blanket and pillow. It was like sinking into thick bedding, and she soon found her eyes much too heavy to keep open.

Her final thoughts were a bit chaotic as she drifted off to sleep, jumping from worries over her father to worries over Bryce's discovering her secret.

“
Charlotte! Charlotte!
”

“
Da! Da!
”
Charlotte called out, frantic that she could hear yet not see him. She could barely see anything through the thickening mist.

“
Help me, Charlotte. Help me.
”

She tried desperately to fight her way through the mist, but it surrounded her and held her firm.

“
I'll find you, Da,
”
she cried out.
“
I'll find you.
”

Charlotte bolted awake, jumping out of the chair and straight into Bryce's arms. The solid strength and warmth of him had her throwing her thin arms around his neck and holding on tightly. She needed to infuse herself not only with his courage, but the comfort his potent body offered.

It took only a moment for her to realize her mistake. She supposedly was a lad. Whatever was she doing hugging the large Highlander? She jumped back away from him, her bottom landing in the chair. The absence of his warm body left her chilled, and she wished she could return to his warmth.

He was hunched down in front of the chair, appearing a bit startled and glaring at her oddly. And why not? Flinging herself at him for comfort when she supposedly was a bold lad who could fend for himself hardly helped her disguise.

Then it dawned on her. Elsa had scrubbed her face clean when she had tended her wounds. The grimy lad's face was gone; with her mask removed, had she revealed her true self? Could he see that she was a young woman?

He gave his head a shake almost as if he was denying his own thoughts.

“Bad dream,” Charlotte snapped, in an effort to misdirect his musings.

“You called out for your da,” he said.

His eyes roamed over her face as he spoke, and she wished she had the capacity to know what he was thinking. Having no such power, she needed to keep his thoughts on anything other than her sparkling-clean face. And no doubt it did sparkle. Her father had always commented that she was at her prettiest when her face had been recently scrubbed. She had always graciously accepted his compliments, of which there were many, which was why she didn't pay much heed to them.

Now she wondered if there truly had been some validity to them.

“My da is waiting for me. He knows I'm coming for him,” she said anxiously, though not as much for her da's precarious situation but for what could be her own.

“You miss him, don't you?”

He had just presented her with the perfect excuse for hugging him. “I do,” she said, and let her head drop forward. “He hugged me when I needed it and sometimes when I didn't.”

That was the truth of it, for her father had always been demonstrative with her, and she missed his warm, loving hugs. She had always felt good afterwards. Unlike now, an empty ache paining her. The big Highlander had felt better than she had ever imagined he could. And she wouldn't mind wrapping herself around him again.

She jumped, her eyes turning wide when he rested his hand over hers. His tone was gentle and sent warmth rushing through her, settling in her stomach with a flutter.

“I understand, Charles. And while I am not your da, I am your friend. And friends hug.”

Charlotte almost launched herself into his arms. She wanted to feel the strength of his muscles wrap around her and, for a moment, feel safe and protected.

She quickly dismissed the dangerous thought and tossed her chin up. “I don't need no hugs.”

Bryce smiled. “We all need hugs on occasion.”

Charlotte didn't respond; she sat quietly, trying to contain the pain that radiated across her ribs. All of her sudden movements must have disturbed her injury, and she was suffering the results.

“Are you all right, Charles?” Bryce asked with concern. “You have gone pale.”

Charlotte saw no point in lying. “My side hurts, but Elsa says I have no broken ribs.”

“Perhaps I should have a look—”

“No,” Charlotte said more vehemently than intended, and foolishly yanked back away from him. The sudden jerk sent an horrific pain shooting through her. She grew hot, her sight turned foggy, and she had no doubt a faint was about to claim her.

She didn't know why she did it, instinct or fear, but before she surrendered to the darkness, she reached out to Bryce. Charles slumped in his arms just as Bryce reached for him.

“Here now, I'll see to the poor lad,” Elsa said, hurrying to Bryce's side.

“No,” Bryce said, and scooped the limp lad up into his arms and stood.

“The bed,” Elsa said, pointing to the narrow bed in the corner of the room.

Bryce carried Charles over to it, thinking how the lad barely weighed a pittance. Why, there was not a single thick muscle to him. He laid the lad down after Elsa pulled the wool blanket back.

Before Elsa could cover him, Bryce reached for the hem of the lad's shirt, ready to pull it up and examine the wound for himself.

Elsa grabbed his hand. “I bound the bruised ribs. It's best you do not disturb the wrapping.”

Bryce ran his hand across the lad's ribs, felt the binding, and nodded. “It should help.”

“Yes, and it should stay on for a while.”

“I'll see that it does,” Bryce said, “though the lad is a stubborn one.”

“You admire him,” Elsa said, retrieving a bucket of water and a cloth not far from the bed.

“It's a foolish undertaking he's chosen for one his slim size.” Bryce reached out and took the cloth Elsa had dipped and rinsed in the bucket. He sat on the bed beside the prone lad and pressed the wet cloth to his head, his cheeks, and his neck.

“I believe his stubbornness is his strength,” Elsa said, and walked quietly away to tend to the meal.

Bryce continued to press the damp cloth to the lad's face, a face that looked far different minus the grime. It was a pretty face and made Bryce wonder if the lad was younger than he had claimed. Add to that his scrawny body and short stature, and it would certainly seem so.

Charles started coming to, a moan drifting off his lips and his brow scrunching as if he fought his way out of the darkness. He certainly was a fighter and not fearful of taking on a larger one than himself.

Bryce did admire Charles. The lad didn't allow his age or lack of physical strength to stop him from attempting to rescue his father. He bravely pursued any and all avenues that might lead to his da. He was a good, trustworthy lad to have at his side, and though he would need extra protecting, Bryce didn't mind. He was finding that he actually enjoyed the lad's company.

Charles's eyes fluttered open and remained wide once they settled on Bryce.

“I fainted,” Charles said. “I felt the faint coming on, but I couldn't stop it.”

“You did the right thing; you reached out to me for help.”

“You're a big one. I knew you'd catch me.”

Bryce grinned. “And if it were the other way around?”

“I'd catch you and probably go down with you.”

Bryce laughed. “True enough, but it's the thought that you would catch me regardless that makes all the difference. You're a true warrior at heart, Charles.”

Elsa appeared by the side of the bed. “I assured Bryce that your ribs would heal as long as you kept the binding on.”

“There'll be no arguing when it comes to that,” Bryce said sternly. “I want to make sure you're well enough to rescue your da.”

“For that reason, I'll make sure to keep it on,” Charles said.

“Why don't we enjoy the stew while the fish cooks,” Elsa suggested.

“I'm starving,” Charles said.

Bryce reached out his hand to the lad. “Good. You need some meat on those bones of yours.”

Charles's small hand was consumed by Bryce's large one, though it was with a gentle tug that Bryce helped him sit up.

“I'm like my da, small in size.”

“That you are, small in stature just like him,” Elsa agreed, as they gathered around the table.

“You saw his father?” Bryce asked, and Charles and Elsa shared with him what they had previously discussed.