Dark Stallion (3 page)

* * * *

Jubilation over their triumph in stealing the woman the king had planned to wed combined with his exhilaration at winning his freedom kept Colwin’s blood surging through his veins for the better part of an hour. It began to drain away at the reckless pace Aydin set, however, and he’d begun to feel the strain even before the last of his elation waned. Two months in King Bart’s realm had taken its toll, he realized grimly. He’d been starved, beaten, and worked until he was ready to collapse in that time and never was it more apparent that it had severely compromised his stamina.

He hadn’t considered that when he’d decided he wasn’t leaving without taking his revenge on the king.

Gritting his teeth, he struggled to keep pace with Aydin and ignore the weakness slowly gaining ground. Aydin was already furious with him for risking their necks to get the woman. He would’ve been reluctant to allow his elder brother to think he was weak at any time, but he was more reluctant under the circumstances.

Not but what Aydin was bound to read him a lecture once they finally stopped anyway, but it wasn’t any part of his plan to give him more ammunition to fling at his head about his recklessness and his impulsiveness.

As much as he loved his elder brother, it irked the hell out of him that he behaved as if he was his father much of the time. He supposed it was inevitable when there was such a difference in their ages, but Aydin was
still
his brother—well half-brother—even if he was nine years his senior, by the gods!

How his Uncle Teagan had sired such a killjoy was beyond him. He had no sense of adventure, no spontaneity, and no sense of humor.

He supposed, in all fairness, that Aydin had reason enough to be so cold and distant. He’d never truly been accepted, never really fit in, within the tribe because, like his father, Teagan, he was so dark. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d been gravely ill after his sojourn in the king’s mines and too weak to play with the other foals. It had only emphasized the fact that he was different, made it impossible for him to form friendships with the other tribe members.

He’d grown strong in time, excelled as a warrior—Colwin thought that was as much sheer determination to show everyone he was as good, or better, than any of the other warriors as it was natural abilities. And it still hadn’t won him true acceptance because, like Teagan, none of the females were willing to accept him as a mate when they could see he would ‘taint’ their bloodlines with his strange hoonan-like coloring.

Not that he’d had an easy time of it himself, by any means, regardless of his good fortune in being born golden skinned and golden haired like everyone else! His mother was an other-worlder—not centaur—and no one really saw a great deal of difference between her and the hoonans they so despised.

He was willing to bet that he’d fought more battles growing up over his mother than Aydin had because of his black hair and his heritage as part hoonan!

Well, he knew he had. Aydin hadn’t been strong enough to tangle with the others until he was nigh full grown! He hadn’t been able to do much besides brood over their taunts.

And maybe that accounted for his sour outlook on life.

Well, part of it. He suspected the biggest part of it was the fact that no one would accept him as a mate.

And he could certainly relate to that! He was no more acceptable to the females of their tribe himself with his other-worlder blood!

Those thoughts brought his mind to the woman they’d captured.

He wouldn’t have admitted it under torture, but he’d been stunned to discover she was such a beauty. Actually, stunned and not especially pleased that
he
thought so. The hoonans did—at least the hoonan men—which was why he’d known exactly where to find her. They were absolutely fascinated with her hair, however, and he’d been inclined to think that was all there was about her to enthrall them.

He hadn’t gotten that good of a look at her, though, he reminded himself—only that still image of her as she’d paused in the window. The details that had been firmly planted in his mind with that one, brief, glance were uncanny. He could recall every feature from her wide, terror filled eyes, to the shape of her face, and the sweet curve of her lovely lips that had been formed in an ‘O’ of surprise. He could recall the pale white swell of her breasts, the creamy flawlessness of her skin, the narrowness of her waist, and the slenderness of her arms and tiny hands.

The image
most
indelibly imprinted in his mind, however, was the curve of her hips and the bright thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs when Aydin had tossed her skirts over her head.

He frowned, not particularly pleased that he remembered far too many details to discount his reaction to her.

Mayhap she was a witch, though?

He frowned when he felt unwillingness to accept that settle in his gut, and it occurred to him abruptly that she’d been climbing out the window when they arrived. She’d already torn her bed hangings down, fashioned a rope, secured the rope, and was on the point of escaping when he and Aydin had burst into the room!

They’d made off with King Bart’s
unwilling
bride to be!

* * * *

Emma thought she might’ve felt worse when she roused despite the fact that she’d passed out from exhaustion and, she thought, slept at least a couple of hours if her screaming muscles and the numbness of her arms, hands, and butt were any indication. She felt bad enough her heart leapt with hopefulness when she realized the riders had slowed to a walk and she thought they might be stopping soon instead of fearful of what would happen next. It did flicker through her mind that it was something new to worry about, but only briefly.

It wasn’t even the full focus of her mind when they finally did stop. Although another flash of uneasiness went through her, the moment the rider she was with untied her hands and allowed her arms to drop to her sides, more immediate concerns struck her. Her arms felt like lead weights. When she tried to straighten away from him, she instantly lost her balance and began to pitch to one side. He made a grab for her. She felt the pressure of his hold, but it didn’t stop her downward slide toward the ground, where she discovered her legs were also numb. Her knees buckled, and she kept going until her numb butt hit the ground.

She supposed he’d broken her fall, but she couldn’t exactly tell. When he let go of her arm, she wilted to the ground like a jellyfish and lay there with her eyes closed and her teeth gritted, trying not to groan as the circulation began to return to everything with painful stabs. She felt like she was being used as a pincushion. For a while, she was too focused on the agony to pay much attention to the men. They could’ve killed her then with her blessing.

Slowly, as the pain eased, she became aware of their movements around her and decided they must be setting up camp. Relieved that it didn’t seem that she would be dragged up and thrown across the damned horse again any time soon, she made no attempt to do anything beyond trying to work the circulation back so it would stop hurting.

“You might as well drop the act,” one of the men growled. “We know you are not unconscious.”

Emma sucked in an indignant breath, opening her eyes, but she never voiced the blistering denunciation that leapt into her mind, gag or no gag. Moonlight lit the clearing quite well enough for her to see that it wasn’t two men at all. She stared at them blankly with disbelief, blinking her eyes slowly after a few moments to clear her vision.

It didn’t help. They still looked like … centaurs.

Her skin pebbled all over. Like a sleepwalker, she lifted her hands to the gag and pulled it free. “You’re … uh … You’re … uh … What are you?”

The expressions of both men—centaurs—hardened. They exchanged a glance.

“No one told you that you could remove the gag,” the blond centaur growled. “Should we tie your hands again?”

Emma pulled the gag up again, tempted to pull it high enough to cover her eyes while she was at it. Maybe she was just seeing things? Maybe she’d reached a point where she really was hallucinating? But was it any more unbelievable to find herself in what at least appeared to be a medieval castle on American soil, filled with medieval folk?

Hard call, she decided.

As hard as she tried not to be too obvious, she couldn’t drag her gaze away from them once she’d gotten a look at them. Unfortunately, she also couldn’t see them nearly as well as she wanted to—because as soon as she recovered from the first jolt of shock, she began to feel a sense almost of awe.

Centaurs.

They didn’t really look like what she would’ve thought they would look like—even if she’d spent a great deal of time thinking about mythological beings, and she really hadn’t.

Because they weren’t real.

Except here—where ever here was.

If nothing else that fact stuck in her mind as an indisputable truth. She’d never been that ‘in’ to mythology, and, given the little she recalled, they didn’t look as she would’ve expected.

How could she be imagining any of this under those circumstances? Wouldn’t she
hallucinate
them to be like the paintings and drawings she’d seen?

The animal part of their bodies almost reminded her more of stags—except the tail which was definitely horse-like. They looked sleek and powerful—in fact she knew they were when they’d virtually flown over the ground during their escape, bounding amazingly, smoothly—with the sort of grace and ease that only came from powerful muscles.

She thought the one with golden hair—and a golden coat to match—must be younger. She wasn’t certain why she did when she couldn’t really tell that much about their faces for the shadows, unless it was because the dark one seemed to have taken charge even though it was the other, the blond, who’d come after her. Or maybe it was because he was the stockier of the two? Had a more mature build?

Not that either of them should ever wear a shirt with their builds!

Their upper bodies—the human part—was as powerful looking and sleek as their animal half. Body builders would’ve envied them those well defined muscles!

It dawned on her abruptly that they hadn’t looked as they did now when she’d first seen them. It
was
the same two men who’d burst into the room she’d been imprisoned in.

Unfortunately, she’d been too terrified to get more than an impression of them, but she certainly couldn’t recall that they’d looked as they did now. She did recall legs—human legs.

She also recalled the impression that the faces hadn’t shamed the bodies.

They were shifters? Or she was wrong and it wasn’t the same two men who’d burst in when she’d been trying to make her escape.

“You’ve no water skin?” Colwin asked in disbelief once he’d managed to drag his attention from the woman and really looked at Aydin for the first time.

Aydin gave him a narrow eyed look, his lips tightening into a flat line. “It is with the rest of my travel pack,” he growled finally, “where
we
would be now if you hadn’t decided ….”

As weary as he was, even though he’d been expecting it, Colwin felt his temper flare. “No! We would be in the dungeon now if I hadn’t decided to go after her—like everyone else you released!”

“Or dead,” Aydin added grimly.

“Yes, or dead!” Colwin snapped. “If I hadn’t deviated from your plan.”

“If we had gone with my plan,” Aydin said through his teeth, “no one would be dead. We would all still be free. We would not be lost in this godforsaken wood without any supplies! Or, I might add, any weapon beyond my gods damned short sword!”

Colwin glared at him. “I did not tell you to follow me!” he snapped. “If you were not forever trying to play father, you would not be here!”

Aydin’s face darkened. “I am your brother! I am not
trying
to play father, and the gods know I would not care to be saddled with a son of your … recklessness! Next time you end up in that bastard’s dungeon, I will remember you do not need my help!”

Colwin glanced uncomfortably at the woman. “I did not say I did not appreciate the help, but it would be more gods damned appreciated if you would not follow with a gods damned lecture. And what do mean we are lost?”

“As in, I do not know where we are!” Aydin snapped.

Colwin gaped at him. “Well what the hell did you lead us here for if you weren’t familiar with the terrain?”

Aydin flexed his hands a couple of times, struggled with his temper, and finally tamped it enough to respond. “
She
led us,” he said tightly. “She ran this way, you followed, and I had the choice of following or abandoning you!”

Emma tried to look innocent when they both turned to glare at her, but she decided adding logic to their argument probably wouldn’t be welcome—as in, neither of them would have a problem if they’d just left her the hell alone!

Of course, then she would’ve been alone in the woods, and
she
sure as hell wasn’t familiar with the area! She wasn’t certain being with them was any better than being alone or not, but she thought as long as they weren’t a threat to her themselves she was better off with them.

Unfortunately, it was yet to be determined whether they were a threat to her or not.

The dark one looked her over assessingly. “Exactly what do you propose we do with her, anyway?”

Thus prompted, the blond studied her fastidiously for a moment. “I have not decided yet. The king is smitten with her, though—most of the men in the castle were hassling after her like dogs in heat. Mayhap we could barter her for the foals?”