The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1) Read online

  She let out a blood-curdling scream and the very forest around her seemed to vibrate with the force of her desperate shouting. Gregory’s hand clamped down hard over her mouth, making her teeth ache and her breath hitch. “If you do not shut your bonny wee mouth, I will make you shut it around my cock,” Gregory threatened. She clamped her mouth shut, but tears welled up and spilled out the corner of her eyes, dripping down the sides of her temples and into her hairline. The thought of him in her mouth made her want to gag and vomit, but she pursed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Please find me, Jeoffrey. Clarice repeated her prayer over and over in her mind.

  Gregory snarled and curled his lip. “He will not come for you.” Had she spoken out loud? “You left him once. Now you have left him again. Nay man with any pride would seek you out.”

  The truth in his words hit her like a sack of grain crashing down on her head. Mayhap Gregory was right. The same thought had crossed her mind more than once. She wanted to believe that Jeoffrey knew better, that their love was strong enough. She may not have had much time with Jeoffrey, but she had done her best to show him the depth of her love. Still old wounds were slow to heal and easy to rip open again.

  If Jeoffrey still harbored pain in his heart from their past, would his resentment toward Clarice return? Would it prevent him from seeking the truth? If so, she was doomed to never see him or her son again. She was doomed to either be forced into marriage with Gregory or stand trial for murder. And though the tribe of Caledonii had accepted her into their fold, Gregory was one of their fiercest warriors and respected highly by their chieftain. Aye, she could tell them the truth, that Gregory had killed both Harrold and his wife in an attempt to marry Clarice…but would anyone truly believe that of their chieftain’s champion warrior?

  Nay. She did not stand a chance. That overwhelming realization stung worse than one of Gregory’s aggressive slaps across the face. She was alone with this man who was determined to take her for his own and nobody would be coming to save her.

  With her wrists still bound above her head with his one hand, she felt his other come down hard on her knee as he used his huge thigh to wedge himself between her legs. Cold air hit her in her most sensitive and private of areas and terror, unlike anything she had ever known, ripped through her once again, clenching itself around her insides and squeezing the life out of her.

  Just as another wail of horror ripped from her throat, Gregory grunted and went limp, releasing his grip on her wrists as his weight came crashing down upon her body, squeezing the air violently from her lungs. She wanted to scream again but all she felt was a suffocating pressure on her chest.

  A pair of hands came up behind Gregory and rolled his body off of hers. He thudded to the ground in a limp mass, blood pouring from a wound out of his skull. She stared at him in horror, the vision of his life’s blood draining from his skull certain to terrorize her for a lifetime.

  “Clarice!” She distantly heard a familiar voice calling to her, but she could not bring herself to look away from the cold blank stare of Gregory’s blue eyes. Was he dead? He must be, for so much blood seemed to be seeping from his wound.

  “Clarice!” A hand came down and clamped her gently on the shoulder, giving her a slight shake. Nay! She flailed and screamed at the touch, curling up into a ball to protect herself from further harm.

  “She is in shock, mate,” she heard another voice whisper softly. “She has had a terrible ordeal. Be easy.”

  She recognized the voices. She knew she should know them, but now that she had finally clamped her eyes shut to keep from staring at Gregory’s limp body and cold eyes, she could not bring herself to open them again. Her body shook violently and she felt herself rocking back and forth. “Nay…nay…nay…” was all she could bring herself to say.

  A hand touched her again and she flinched, then gasped. “NAY!” she clawed at the hand, causing it to retreat and she heard a hiss of pain.

  “Clarice, look at me. Tis Jeoffrey,” the voice said carefully. “You are safe.”

  Safe? Jeoffrey? Why could she not stop the cold running through her veins? Why could her numb limbs not move or her heavy lips not work? Her ears rang loudly and soon whatever was said to her was drowned out by the sound of hot blood thrumming through her head. Struggling to open her eyes, Clarice looked up and saw Jeoffrey kneeling over her with a worried look on his face. Jeoffrey. Her love. He came for her. And yet, she could not say the words. Everything was tinged with a murky shade of green as she looked from him to Alastar and back. Aye, she knew she was safe now. But Gregory’s body still lay limply beside her and she felt panic rising again.

  The green haze clouding her vision darkened little by little until all she could see was the blackness of oblivion that called to her. Her head spun and her stomach roiled.

  “Jeoffrey,” she heard herself groan before she felt the darkness slipping over her and Jeoffrey’s strong arms wrap around her. Then everything faded away.

  ***

  Jeoffrey shook with rage and adrenaline as he held Clarice’s limp form in his arms. After trailing her and Gregory for several hours without any breaks, he was already bone-weary, starving, and worried out of his mind. When he saw the fire’s light flickering in the middle of an otherwise blackened forest, he knew he had come upon them at last. He and Alastar had ridden their horses too hard and the poor creatures foamed and heaved from being overworked…but they had found her and that was all that mattered.

  But the fluttering happiness at knowing they had finally tracked her and Gregory down quickly died and was replaced by dread and horror as her terrified scream pierced the peaceful night. Without being able to see them yet, he had kicked his horse in the flanks even harder, feeling bad for his rough treatment of his steady companion, but Clarice’s life may have very well hung in the balance.

  Just as they approached the campsite, another scream rent the air and Jeoffrey pulled back on the reins of his horse, deciding that he could break through the gnarled tangle of branches faster on foot. Dismounting swiftly, he had run through the forest with one hand on the hilt of his sword. He would kill Gregory for daring to take Clarice. He would kill him for all the harm he had done her in the past: for her bruised face, her damaged knees, and for the fever that had almost claimed her life. He would kill Gregory for whatever foul deed he had just done to cause Clarice to scream with such terror. Tearing through the trees as swiftly as possible, he heard Alastar running in his wake, only the sound of crunching leaves and heavy breaths to be heard.

  Then, he saw them. Gregory had been on top of her, tearing at her dress and fumbling with the string of his trousers. His huge frame crushed her into the ground and she struggled furiously to break free. It all seemed to happen in slow motion and Jeoffrey took in every detail as if it were amplified. The smoke of the fire being swept to the east by the strong night wind, the sounds of Clarice’s dress being ripped to shreds, Gregory’s grunting as he tried to force himself on her…all of it came to him at once, overwhelming yet allowing him to use his years of training to his advantage. His father, bastard that he was, had taught Jeoffrey this skill, to soak in your environment and take in every detail with precision, all while calculating your next move to your best advantage.

  But too much emotion was running through Jeoffrey’s mind. He could not be the stone-cold warrior who kept his personal feeling outside of battle. That was his woman being abused by the same man who had abused her before. Rage, consuming and blazing, thrummed through him, guiding every step he took as he slowly and silently snuck up behind Gregory. When the bastard dragged her dress over her thighs and she let out a shrill scream of terror, Jeoffrey pulled his sword from his scabbard and brought the hilt down hard on Gregory’s skull.

  Everything had happened so fast. Gregory toppled on top of her and knocked the wind from her lungs, but Jeoffrey had been quick to roll the man off her and onto the ground. The look in Clarice’s eyes when she locked on the blood
oozing from the base of Gregory’s skull tore at Jeoffrey’s heart. She looked bewildered and frightened, like prey preparing to be served up as a meal for a hungry wolf. He called her name, but she kept staring blankly at Gregory.

  Alastar suggested that she was in shock and by the look of horror on her face, mixed with confusion and revulsion at the sight of Gregory’s blood, he knew that Clarice was having a hard time recovering from her attack. Her mind must have snapped at some point from her exhaustion, fear, and trauma.

  As she sat up and looked from him to Alastar and back, he knew she wasn’t truly seeing him. She was still stuck in some endless nightmare and his heart seized with hatred for Gregory and fear that she may have gone mad. Nay, she was a strong lass; she would overcome this. Her body began to swerve and just as she lost consciousness, she whispered his name and he caught her small body against his chest.

  His heart beat wildly and he had to breathe deeply to keep from falling apart. He had come so close to losing her…again. He knew she would never willingly leave him. She had not before and she would not ever. He had followed his gut and it had led him to her, but the condition he found her in made him want to scream at the top of his lungs, curse the gods for allowing such horrifying things to happen to this innocent woman, tear Gregory apart limb by limb, but most of all, he wanted to get his sweet Clarice back home safely to their son.

  “Do you think he is dead?” Alastar asked as he came up behind Jeoffrey and looked from Gregory’s limp body over to Clarice, who also lay limp in his arms.

  “I am not sure. I had meant to only knock him away and then fight him man to man. I wanted to watch the light of life leave his eyes by my blade. I wanted him to know when he died, that it was I who ended his life as payment for the foul way he treated my woman. But my anger got the best of me, and I may have split his skull.” Jeoffrey could not be sorry if he had killed Gregory. Aye, it was dishonorable to kill a man from behind, but then again, the man had been in the middle of forcing himself upon his wife…or future wife. He was only sorry he did not get the fight he truly craved with the man who had desired Clarice for so many years.

  “What do you want to do?” Alastar asked. “I can stab him through the heart…make certain he is dead.”

  Before Jeoffrey could give a response, Clarice shifted in his arms and groaned, “Nay. Too…much…death.”

  “Clarice,” Jeoffrey whispered her name into her ear, running his hands through her brown, tangled waves that shown almost auburn with the light of the dying fire flickering behind her. “Are you alright, mo chroí?”

  When she struggled to lift her head, her cheek brushed against his shoulder and she yelped in pain. Jeoffrey stiffened as he tried to keep his anger in check. Turning her head slightly, he growled when he saw the red swollen flesh under her eye. It had already begun to turn purple and a bloodlust unlike anything he had ever felt consumed him.

  “Aye,” he whispered as he rocked Clarice comfortingly in his embrace, smoothing her hair and clutching her body against his. “Pierce his heart.”

  Alastar stepped forward to do Jeoffrey’s bidding, but Clarice’s voice broke out in a sob and her body began to shiver violently. “Nay…please. I cannot take any more violence. I have not the stomach for it.” Just then, she rolled out of Jeoffrey’s firm grip and landed on her knees, bracing herself as she lost her stomach.

  Jeoffrey put up his hand to still Alastar and slid over to Clarice, holding her hair back as her body struggled to rid itself of whatever meager contents it contained. When she finished, she sat up on her knees and began to swerve slightly. Jeoffrey tucked her back under his arm and gently kissed her forehead. “Tis alright now, love. You are safe. Let us get you back home. It is a day’s ride west.”

  “He…he killed them. Harrold and his sweet wee wife, Paulene,” she whispered before covering her face with her hands.

  Jeoffrey’s mind reeled at that new information. So, Gregory had killed Harrold and tried to pin his death on Clarice if she refused to marry him. He killed his own wife to make himself available for marriage. A flashback of the night Jeoffrey had slashed Gregory’s cheek and then broken his jaw came rushing back to him. He and Clarice had only just discovered the pleasures they could give to one another with their bodies. They were young, mayhap too young, but what they shared was much more than lust. Aye, Jeoffrey had always had a love for the stubborn serving lass who refused to be bossed about by anybody. But when she stood up to him one night, refusing to bring him another mug of ale, he knew there was a fire in her soul that he could not wait to be scorched by.

  But he was not the only man whose eye she had caught. Nay, she had many admirers. Low-born of not, she was a bonny lass with a smile that lit up the night sky and a spirit that could put even the largest of warriors in their place. The companionship they had always shared very quickly grew into red, hot, scorching passion. They could not seem to keep their hands off each other, stealing away into the woods, or behind the byres…anywhere to get a taste of one another, to feel their skin touching as their bodies collided like two stars in the sky. Jeoffrey never stood a chance against Clarice and the powerful emotions she created in his heart.

  The night he stumbled across Gregory, his own cousin, spying on her as she bathed in the nearby river, was the night he knew he would do aught for her. He would die protecting her. But when Jeoffrey stepped closer to confront Gregory and found the man pleasuring himself with his own hand as he leered at Clarice innocently washing her breasts with lye soap in the river, something inside of him snapped. Only a foul bastard preyed on a woman and took his pleasure as he betrayed her privacy.

  He had challenged his cousin to a fair fight, and he had won. His threat to kill Gregory if he did not leave their camp was a real one. No longer would he stand the disgusting sight of his cousin in his father’s own warrior camp. And no longer did he believe Clarice safe around the towering beast of a man. It seemed his instincts had been quite accurate.

  Aye, he knew all too well that Gregory lusted for Clarice, but to kill his own brother and wife, then force her into marriage with the threat of slavery was beyond disturbing. Gregory was obsessed and Clarice would never be safe as long as the man lived. And yet, Clarice was an innocent. She had never hurt a soul in her life. To find out Harrold and Paulene had been murdered must have been traumatizing enough. Based on her reaction to seeing Gregory’s blood, Clarice had had all she could handle of violence. Mayhap growing up in a war camp had been much for her gentle soul.

  “Come,” he stood up slowly, bringing her weak, shaking body up with his. “Let us head back. Tis quite a ride we have ahead of us.”

  “Jeoff, the horses are done, mate. They need rest and food. We cannot get far tonight.” Alastar looked over at the horses which were now at rest on the forest floor.

  “Aye, but we cannot stay here,” he looked at Alastar, then down at Gregory’s body. Clarice was in a much too fragile state to be anywhere near Gregory’s body. He looked at the horses. They did not appear to be in the mood to travel any further, as they had made themselves quite comfortable.

  “You and Clarice should set up camp a little distance away. I will stay here and tend the horses and…er, watch Gregory for signs of movement. I will rejoin you at dawn.”

  Jeoffrey stopped and considered Alastar’s plan. He did not like the thought of them separating, or him and Clarice wandering too far off without his horse. But she could not be made to make camp near Gregory’s prone body and he understood Alastar’s underlying message. He would watch for signs of life from Gregory and if the man arose, Alastar would dispatch of him. It was against Jeoffrey and Alastar’s honor to kill an unconscious man or even a wounded unsuspecting man…but this man would never hesitate to do the same to them. This man had taken and abused Clarice. Nay, this man did not deserve their honor.

  “Aye,” Jeoffrey agreed with a nod. “I will take Clarice a bit to the west,” he pointed in the direction they had come from. “We will not be far. She i
s not fit for travel. Just follow the way we came at dawn and you will find us.”

  Walking over to his horse, Jeoffrey grabbed his satchel and slung it over one shoulder, then effortlessly lifted Clarice into his arms from behind her knees, feeling her tired head lull gently against his chest. His heart beat wildly with love for her and he wondered if she could hear it against her ear.

  After he carried her for only about ten minutes, she sighed and looked up to him, her arms looping around his neck. “You came for me.”

  “Always, Clarice. Always,” Jeoffrey gave her a soft kiss on the lips as he carried her a little further and, deciding they were far enough from Gregory, yet still close enough for Alastar to run for help if needed, he softly placed her on her feet, holding her hips gently until he felt she was stable.

  This patch of the woods would be perfect for the camp. It was flat land covered with more grass than dirt, yet several twigs and fallen branches littered the ground. Not only would they have plenty of wood for a fire, he would be certain to hear anyone who may come upon them. He felt fairly safe here in this secluded patch of land, but as a trained warrior, he also knew never to let his guard down whenever traveling, especially when the safety of an innocent lass was at stake.

  Pulling his satchel off his back, he unrolled a wool blanket that had been tied to the outside with leather strips and laid it down on the grassy forest floor for Clarice to rest upon while he began to create a fire.

  “Are you alright, love?” he whispered as he bent over to collect branches and rocks for the perimeter.

  She nodded her head but did not look up to meet his gaze. Her hands twisted together in her lap and he could tell she was still very shaken by the ordeal.