The Angel And The Prince Page 10

  He caught her by the arms, leaning back to catch her full weight without going into the water. He felt her body go limp for a moment before she struggled to sit up. She put a hand to her forehead. “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “No,” she insisted weakly. “I’m all right.”

  “Stay here,” he commanded, and slid out from beneath her.

  As he stood, Ryen found that her eyes were drawn to him like moths to a flame. When lightning speared the dark sky, his body seemed to glow with radiant fire.

  He dove into the water, cleanly cutting it with his body, and she watched as he disappeared beneath the surface of the black liquid only to emerge seconds later near the shore. Still, she saw the effort it took for him to battle the current. His powerful arms speared the water, his booted feet slamming down with each kick. Even with the power in his limbs, he was nearing the side of the falls. Ryen leaned forward, silently urging him on. What would she do if he didn’t make it? Ryen watched, holding her breath, as he reached out to a bush and just barely missed it. He gave another kick, and she said a silent prayer. Then his hand closed around a tree branch and he pulled himself closer and closer to the land until he was able to stand up and walk. He sat down heavily on the soggy earth.

  Ryen sat back and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. He had made it. The thunder rumbled as if in warning, and Ryen glanced up again. The shore was empty.

  She almost stood in her panic. Had he left her alone? Left her on this rock to die? Of course! What better way to escape? She berated herself. What was she thinking? How could she have let him go?

  Her eyes scanned the shore. It was dark amid the bushes and trees that lined the bank, making it next to impossible to discern any movement. Damn! She stood up on the rock, judging the distance between the rock and the shore.

  Something wet and sinewy brushed her cheek and she cried out, her hand brushing at it frantically. She heard a splash and looked into the river to see something slither away. A snake! she thought. It disappeared and she nervously searched the water for any movement. She had heard of snakes capable of eating a whole man. A shiver raced through her.

  As she searched the waters, something fell over her head and dangled in her eyes like a piece of wet rope. Another snake! Ryen reached up and grabbed at it only to find that it was some sort of vine. She pulled it tight and followed it with her eyes until she saw Bryce standing on the shore, holding the other end. He signaled for her to tie it around her waist.

  She closed her eyes in silent thanks.

  Ryen did as he indicated, tying the vine tightly around her waist. Without warning, he yanked the vine hard and she flew into the river, sputtering and floundering as she hit the water! The current immediately seized her, casting her toward the falls. But there was another force tugging at her waist, pulling her toward the shore. It was the vine. Bryce.

  She tried to swim, but her left arm throbbed every time she moved it. Finally, she felt the muddy earth of the shore beneath her feet. She staggered a few steps on tired, aching legs and fell to her knees on land.

  Bryce began untying the rope at her waist.

  Ryen whirled on him, pushing his hands away. “You could have told me to jump!”

  He pulled back, stepping away from her. “You wouldn’t have heard me.”

  She stood up, scowling at him. She tried to untie the vine, but every time she moved her arm, pain flared into her shoulder. She tried again, but the agony was too much. She turned her back on Bryce. “That doesn’t give you the right to drown me.”

  “Drown you? I saved your life.”

  Ryen braced her left arm against the vine, holding it still, and managed to unknot it. She threw it down and turned to him.

  “Your arm!”

  “I’m all right,” she said, even though she knew she was not.

  A fork of lightning ripped the night sky, highlighting Bryce’s wet body. With only leggings and one boot on, he might as well have been naked. Then, the light was gone and she could only see him as a shadow. She looked up into the sky, but could only see the leaves of trees, feel the splash of the rain.

  “Do you know where we are?”

  His voice came to her through the darkness and she turned to him. “I can’t tell without the stars.” She brushed back a strand of wet hair that fell into her face as she surveyed their surroundings.

  “We need to find shelter,” he said.

  “We can build something with leaves and branches,” Ryen said, her gaze sweeping the forest floor.

  “We go down,” he said. “There may be a cave beneath the falls.”

  Ryen’s gaze snapped to him.

  “Move,” he commanded, and reached out to her.

  Ryen stepped back, outrage on her face. “Don’t command me like a common servant.”

  “I command you like a prisoner,” he stated indifferently, and again reached for her.

  She moved out of his reach. “I am not your prisoner. I fully intend to return to my camp…with you.”

  “Then your intent is wrong.” His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her after him.

  She fought him, struggling against his hold, her booted feet slipping in the mud. His grip was like a manacle. She could not break it. Then he bent, grabbing her around the legs, and hoisted her over his shoulder. Outrage consumed her and she pounded his back with a clenched fist. It was like hitting stone. He moved through the forest, headed downstream. The hill sloped, but his footsteps were sure and confident. She squirmed, and for a moment he lost his balance.

  “Don’t make me bind you,” he threatened.

  Even though is voice was low, she heard him over the pounding, thrashing sound of the water. Rage filled her body and she clenched her teeth, vowing to escape him. He came to a halt at the bottom of the hill and slid her to her feet. The falls shimmered before them.

  Thunder rumbled high over their heads as Bryce began to enter the water. Ryen took a step into the dark water before she brought up her foot, hitting Bryce square in the middle of the back. He fell forward, into the water, losing his grip on her arm.

  Ryen turned and bolted into the forest, racing past trees, the thought of escape fueling her tired muscles with renewed energy. Her feet slipped in the mud as she dashed through the darkness, skirting more trees, leaping over fallen branches. Then her anger faded and she faltered, slowing her pace. I need him, she thought. I must return him to camp. I must bring him back.

  Her slowed pace was enough. She knew without even looking that he had already closed the gap between them. She heard his steps coming up behind her. That alone was enough to rouse her defiant spirit. Ryen surged forward, but it was too late. He had her, grabbing her around the stomach and picking her up off her feet. As she fought against his hold, twisting in his arms to hit his head, he turned her and roughly thrust her back into a tree.

  Pain shot up her left arm and she whimpered, cradling her elbow as he slid her back to her feet. When he raised his head, his eyes were glowing with the reflection of the lightning. “You cannot escape me,” he whispered, his voice deep and dangerous. “Not now. Not ever.”

  She could feel his body pressed up against hers to keep her in place, to keep her still, to keep her captive. Ryen could not tear her eyes from his. How he must hate me, she thought.

  Then his lips were on hers, searing across them, demanding entrance. She was startled for a moment, raising her hands to his chest in a weak protest. Then, slowly, his lips fanned the flames within her until she relaxed and parted her own. He drove his tongue into her mouth, pressing his body against her, demanding that she yield. Ryen felt every stone-cut muscle of his strong, powerful physique against her own. The heat of his lips drained her will. She closed her eyes, letting the feel of his kiss wash over her, like rain.

  Then he pulled back. She couldn’t move, didn’t want the kiss to end, didn’t want the tenderness to be over. When she finally opened her eyes, she found a mocking grin curving his lips, laughter in hi
s eyes.

  “Maybe I have been using the wrong method to control you,” he whispered.

  Humiliation, hurt, and hate raged within her. “No man can control me,” she retorted, struggling to break free of him.

  He pressed himself closer to her, stilling her vain efforts at escape. “Shall we put that to the test?”

  “You cur,” she snarled. “You have no honor. How could your king ever have knighted you?”

  “I was wondering the same of you.”

  Angry eyes clashed as lightning ripped the sky and thunder rumbled in the forest around them. Bryce grabbed her arm and shoved her past him, toward the river. “Now, move,” he commanded. “Lest I try to control you again.”

  Ryen stumbled, sliding to her knees in the mud. She quickly stood, and marched through the downpour to the river. There she came up short. The river was still, except for the crashing of water onto the rocks. Tiny drops of rain stung the pool. She heard his steps through the mud as he approached her from behind. She braced for a shove.

  “Your arm is bleeding,” he said. Ryen was surprised by the concern she heard.

  She clutched the back of her left arm. There was a tear in her tunic and as she touched the skin, hot pain flared up her arm. She pulled her fingers back to find blood on them.

  Bryce stepped up to her. She could feel his presence close to her. “It needs binding,” he murmured.

  Ryen did not reply. The blood on her fingers was a deep red, even though the rain diluted the color. She had to get him to take her back to the camp. Lucien would see to her wound.

  Ignoring the throbbing in her fingers, she stepped into the river, heading for the falls. As she drew closer to the tumbling water, she could see that Bryce was right. There was a cave behind the falls. She climbed over the boulders, heading for the shelter. Behind the cascading waterfall was a small ledge, and she crept along it until she reached the entrance to the dark hole in the cliff wall. The cave was small, with room enough for only about five people lying down. Large enough for her and Bryce.

  But it was dark and wet. The floor was damp, and water dripped from the ceiling. There was a chill to the place, and as she entered the cave, she shivered.

  “Take your clothes off,” he stated.

  Ryen whirled on him. Was he going to rape her? Here? He was silhouetted against the water, a dark shadow standing in the entrance to the cave.

  He stepped forward and Ryen retreated until her back hit the stone wall. “I will not yield to you. I will fight you with my last breath.”

  He chuckled quietly, his laughter echoing through the cave. “I would not have it any other way.” He reached out a hand to her shoulder.

  Ryen found herself trembling as he lifted her wet hair and brushed it behind her shoulder. “Remove your clothes or I will do it for you.”

  “I – I only have a chemise on,” Ryen replied breathlessly.

  “I’ve seen many before,” Bryce answered. “Yours will be no different.”

  Angry, Ryen shoved him away. He stepped back, his eyes never wavering from her. She stared hard at him, trying to decide what it was he wanted. Unable to read those dark eyes, she raised her chin, narrowed her eyes, and lifted her tunic over her head. She stood holding the wet tunic, her furious eyes locked on him.

  “Your leggings and boots, too,” he commanded in a somewhat husky voice.

  Ryen tossed the wet tunic on the ground and sat on a rock. She raised her left foot and pulled the boot off. Then she repeated the movement with her right foot. She stood and shimmied out of the leggings. These followed the tunic to the floor.

  Bryce approached her slowly and Ryen dropped her hands from her hips. The gauzy material of her chemise was wet and clung to her body as she moved. The sleeves of her chemise were mere straps and the waist was gathered. The skirt was shorter than average, falling only to mid-thigh. She usually gathered the material and tucked it into her leggings, then secured her tunic with a belt. The chemise was the one feminine item she could never seem to rid herself of. It protected her skin from the rough wool tunics she sometimes wore.

  Bryce stared at her for a long moment and she returned his heated gaze with fury. Finally, he bent and picked up her tunic, leggings, and boots and turned away from her.

  Ryen watched as he spread out her clothing on the floor of the cave. Then he sat on a rock. A spear of lightning lit the cave and she saw his shoulder muscles bunch and release with the effort of pulling his boot off. His dark, wet hair hung over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, staring at the chain around his other foot. Then he rose, staring at her.

  Ryen looked back at him. His intense gaze burned into her, sending shivers down to the core of her being. She was suddenly very aware of how transparent her chemise was. She crossed her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to cover herself from his gaze.

  A grin lit his lips. He stood and came back toward her. Ryen felt her heart pound; tingles shot up her spine.

  Bryce was much taller than she was, and more powerful. Heat radiated from his body like the sun; she could feel its scorching intensity burning from his eyes. She refused to back away from the danger, refused to yield to him, even though she might be burned, even when he raised his hand. She would fight him, she vowed.

  “Believe me, Angel,” he said, in a strangely husky voice that was filled with hidden anger. “My mind is on other things.”

  Then he touched her left arm. Waves of desire crashed over her and she floundered in a sea of passion, battling against the waves that assaulted her, yet relishing the warmth of his touch. Then his hand was gone and she was slapped back onto the shore of reality.

  He raised his hand up between them and she saw the blood that stained his fingertips.

  “Let me help you,” Bryce said.

  Ryen was shaken by his effect on her body and knew she had to separate herself from him before he infested her mind, as he had before. She pulled away from his touch. With the movement, pain shot through her arm. She tenderly clutched at it, feeling the wetness of blood. “I don’t want your help,” she answered.

  Bryce pulled back. He towered over her for a long moment, refusing to take his eyes from her. Finally, he withdrew to the other side of the cave.

  Ryen sat down on a rock. She wasn’t sure whether she was exhausted from the wound, the water, or her constant war with Bryce. All she knew was that she had to get back to camp…and she had to bring Bryce with her. Somehow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bryce turned to Ryen for the thousandth time. He watched the morning light wash slowly over her with the rising sun. Her makeshift chemise was almost dry now, the fabric conforming around the smooth, rounded curves of her body. She was still nestled between two rocks near the back of the cave, and he had not been able to get a look at her wound. He knew the cut was deep from the pool of blood that had collected near her hip. Why was she being so stubborn? he wondered. Would she truly allow herself to die?

  He absently rubbed his chafed wrist. He had removed the rest of his chains during the night, working them off in the water only after he was sure she was asleep. He glanced out of the cave where the waterfall hid them, not really seeing what lay beyond. She was the cause of all his pain. It was true, he thought, thinking back on her words. She does look into my eyes and see hate, as she should. I should hate her. For daring to stand against me – the Prince of Darkness! For outwitting me. But most of all, for killing Runt. If she had not captured me, then he would never have been in her camp.

  Again the boy’s image rose in his mind’s eye. That one lock of hair hanging before his blue eyes. Grief welled in his throat, closing it until he could barely breathe. He would have made a fine knight, Bryce thought sadly. A great knight. Now, I cannot even give him the burial he was entitled to. The waters claimed his body just as the fire and smoke stole his breath. Damn this French land.

  He shook his head. I will build a memorial for him when I return to Dark Castle, he vowed silently. And I will bring his ki
ller back to England, so she can suffer for killing him.

  Again, his eyes were drawn to her. She looked so pale and helpless, so small. How could she possibly command an army? he wondered angrily. Who would call himself sane and put a woman in charge of men?

  Ryen shifted and her face contorted in pain, a soft groan issuing from her full lips. Bryce immediately stepped forward and knelt at her side. Her head was tilted to the right, a strand of dark hair falling over her cheek. Her left arm was turning a purplish color, and for a moment he wondered if it were broken, but he recalled her moving it and knew it was not. He had to see the wound, see how deep it was.

  He moved closer. His knee brushed her thigh and Bryce glanced down. Her chemise had slid up her leg, revealing most of her silky white thigh. Intense desire flared inside him and he suddenly found that he could not move. Slowly he raised his eyes. The small strap at her shoulder had flopped down her arm to pool at her elbow. Who was this woman that she could evoke such powerful lust in him? His gaze slowly moved across her small waist, up to her breasts and to her full lips…a trail his hands longed to follow. Why did she trouble his thoughts now more than ever?

  He reared back from her as if struck. Because he wanted to touch her. He wanted to see her arch beneath him, cry out in pleasure as their naked bodies entwined in the throes of passion. And yet he knew he could not. She was forbidden – an enemy. He could never show Runt’s killer any pleasure. The thought should have been repulsive, yet it was all he could think of when she was close. I must not view her as a woman. I must see her forever as my prisoner, as my enemy.

  He stood and moved quickly to the entrance of the cave.

  “Wake up,” he called.

  Her eyes snapped open, her hand instinctively reaching for the spot where her sword should have been, but all she grabbed was air. Her blue orbs focused on him with an alarmed expression.