Free His Captive Princess by Sandra Jones

one of her lovers.
    “Lew is more boy than man, still learning from his mistakes. Even so,” her eyes gleamed down at him with renewed mischief, “you don’t know where De Braose’s keep is, and I won’t tell you.”
    The more she challenged him, the more he wished to spar…though not with words.
    “Then we’ll wander aimlessly until we find it.” Desire made his voice hoarse.
    Eleri’s brows lowered. “That isn’t a wise idea. Did you happen to see the boar back there? Did you get a good look at it?”
    A smile tugged at his mouth. “Terrifying.”
    She exhaled, scowling. “If you saw the beast, then you must’ve seen the spear in its side.”
    “Aye. What of it?”
    “A huntsman’s spear. Possibly an Englishman’s, but more likely a local clansman’s. He would be stalking his kill, waiting for the creature to bleed to death. And he would be hunting with other men.”
    Her voice sounded smug. He stopped their progress to give her his full attention. “And if we cross paths with this hunter and his clan?”
    She grinned coolly. “Sayer and I will share in the kill with wine at the table of our neighbors, but as for you…” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, feigning sadness.
    Bane’s head tugged against his hold, ready to keep moving, but Warren resisted. His face heated with indignation at her veiled warning. When he’d left England with his orders, he’d never expected his offer of a union sanctioned by the king to be met with a threat.
    Yet even as her affront ruffled his pride, it failed to stop his lustful craving. Unfortunately, if he acted upon his urges now, dragging her from the horse and taking her into his arms again, she would surely reject him.
    He gritted his teeth. “I find the risk preferable to life as your father’s slave.”
    “Either way, the choice is yours, but do not expect me to go with you willingly.” Her eyes darkened with challenge.
    He needed her account of the chain of events to lend truth to his own. His past followed him everywhere. Try as he might, no deed ever seemed to rectify the damage he’d done. If the princess chose to cry foul against him and claimed he’d threatened her people, King Stephen would accuse Warren of disobedience—or worse, treason.
    He required her allegiance.
    Gathering all the strength he possessed, he kept his boiling emotions in check. “What would you have me do? These hunters may be upon us at any moment, as you say. If we return to camp and they find us there, do you intend to send me back into the treetops to hide?” Although the rebels depended upon the trees for defense, the tactic seemed cowardly by comparison to the ways of his brave Templar and Norman brothers-in-arms.
    She watched him seriously for a moment, finding something of interest in his response. Then she shook her head. “We have another day of travel before we take shelter. I had already planned to hide you, though not in the trees.” She swiveled back around, preparing to ride. “Take me back to the stream for my boots, then I’ll explain.”
    Warren weighed his options. Armed with his sword again, he felt freedom beckon, but at what price? Another accusation of treason, or death at the hands of some barbaric tribe? He would bide his time with Eleri a little longer.
    Retracing their path, Warren led Bane back to where he’d first seen her as she’d spotted him attempting to escape. He should’ve known he couldn’t make his exit quietly enough. In Devon, he’d hunted en masse with his brother and friends, so stealth had never been necessary for their sport. Then in the Holy Land, he’d hunted with falcons—again he’d had no need to temper the noise of his horse. No wonder the princess, herself a half-fey creature, had caught him trying to flee.
    Admit it. You wanted her to catch you. Wanted that last taste of her.
    He would have more than a sample of her lips when he took her to the castle.
    When Eleri moved to dismount, Warren stopped her,