Free Laura Strickland - The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy by Champion of Sherwood Page A

Falcon.
    “Now,” Lark continued, “I fear he will break himself in his father’s memory, trying to live up to Martin. And possibly deny his own heart.” She turned a burning look on Linnet. “You are his heart, Lin. I would rather lose him to you than see him ruin himself over it.”
    “Oh, Lark.”
    “I love him,” Lark whispered, barely above a breath. “And he loves you.”
    “Or he thinks he does. His heart is so torn now, who knows what he truly wants? I care for him—I always have—only not in that way.”
    “Is life not a cruel mistress?” Lark’s voice sounded husky with emotion. “You will have to have him now—or soon, for the sake of the triad.”
    “Aye.” Linnet touched her sister’s arm softly. “At least, one of us will.”

Chapter Twelve
    “How much longer will we stay here?” Gareth directed a look into the face of the woman who bent over him, and caught his breath. By heaven, she was lovely with her dark hair only half braided and streaming around her and the front of her bodice loosened against the warmth of the day.
    When she stooped to tend his shoulder, he could see—well, far more than she likely dreamed. She had perfect breasts, paler than her arms and throat, and tipped with tantalizing, rosy points. When she moved, the weight of them pressed against the fabric of her bodice, and Gareth’s groin tightened in response.
    But he could not let himself think about that, could not allow for the distraction. By his reckoning, they had been at this place nearly a seven-night. Linnet and her family had built a simple shelter for their needs here in what he could only term a forest bower. Trees taller than any he had ever seen towered above, and made a leafy roof. At night it was darker than the pit of hell, but by day Gareth had followed the path of the sun by its shed light and gleaned his direction.
    He thought he knew which way to run, should he get free from his infernal tether. The others, who shared their shelter while he lay pegged outside like the hound they likely thought him, had performed a pagan rite several days ago and spoken words of farewell to Falcon’s sire. They ignored Gareth most of the time, but Linnet still tended his wounds, and either she or her hoyden of a sister brought his food. Falcon had stayed away from him, except to glare his hate.
    He watched Linnet now, as he could not help but do whenever she was near him. She gave him a thoughtful look before she shifted her basket and sank gracefully to her knees.
    “Thirsty?” She offered the flask at her side.
    He accepted it thankfully. Water from this place tasted like none Gareth had ever had—cold, peaty, and refreshing. He had been living on it and on one of the King’s deer brought down by the big man—Sparrow—and Falcon, who seemed to enjoy equal prowess with the bow.
    No man ate the King’s deer, save nobles. That much had been beaten into Gareth’s head. But here it seemed right, natural, like the words the leaves whispered.
    “My parents will decide, soon, whether we will move on. Does the broken arm still pain you terribly?”
    Without waiting for his answer, she leaned forward and gently touched the limb, affording Gareth still another glimpse inside her bodice. He caught her scent, too—warm and beguiling.
    He managed one word. “Nay.” Despite the hardships he had experienced, he could feel his body mending and his strength returning. But he could not tell her that, not if he meant to attempt an escape. Ah, and if he needed proof of his recovery, surely it lay in his response to this woman’s nearness.
    “Good. And the face?” She ran a fingertip down his cheek and he quivered involuntarily. “It looks well. See, all this is new skin.” She hesitated. “How about the leg?”
    If by “leg” she meant the area of his thigh, it was currently in fine fettle, embarrassingly so.
    Her eyes dropped and then flew to his. Warm color flooded upward from the direction of those delectable