Free His Enemy's Daughter by Terri Brisbin Page A

skin lay tight and twisted and never lost its sting. Peering off to the woods at the edge of the field, he remembered a stream they’d crossed on their way here. That would fit his needs perfectly.
    Soren told Stephen of his plans and then whistled to his mount. Climbing on the black monster’s back, he pointed him in the direction of the trees and touched the horse’s sides with his boots. Within minutes, theyhad crossed from the sunny field into the shadows of the woods and Soren guided the horse deeper and further until the sound of the rushing water could be heard ahead of them.
    When they reached the nearest part of it, Soren jumped from the horse and tossed the reins around a branch to keep him there. Then Soren waited and listened for any sounds that would reveal others nearby. After a few minutes of silence but for the birds and other small creatures that lived within the wood, Soren walked to the edge of the rushing flow and began to peel off the layers of protection and clothing he wore.
    Once naked, he stretched this way and that, trying to ease the tight, scarred flesh. He stepped into the rushing water and nearly lost his breath at the chill of it. This land was so much colder than his homeland of Brittany. There, the lands were warmed by mild breezes off the sea and the sun dominated the days. Here, merde , it was enough to freeze a man’s balls from his body!
    He did not let the cold stop him, striding in until the water reached his waist and throwing his head under it. The sweat washed away and his body immediately cooled from his exertions of the day. Soren scrubbed his skin and rubbed his scalp with the water. He’d not planned this so he’d not brought along any soap. Next time…
    Hell! Next time he would bathe in heated water inside ! Surely Sybilla would allow him the privacy of her chamber to do so.
    Soren walked to the edge of the stream and sluiced most of the water off him as he left the current. Turning, he leaned over, grabbed the length of his hair and twisted it, allowing the worst of it to drip back into the stream.As he did so, he noticed the reflection of himself in the calmer edge of the stream. He could not help but stare at the monster there, the one everyone saw now when they beheld Soren, the Beautiful Bastard.
    If he turned to one side, his face barely looked touched, but it was the other side that bore the brunt of the blow that had nearly killed him in battle. It was that side, his right, that made others cringe in horror or turn away in fear or revulsion. Caught up in the vision reflecting off the water’s calm surface there, he nearly missed the sound of leaves crunching beneath someone’s feet.
    Nearly.
    Soren crouched and reached for his sword and dagger, ready to face danger. He turned his face so that the unscarred side was forwards and he could see better into the shadows.
    â€˜Who goes there?’ he called out.
    â€˜Raed,’ said a voice to his right side in the bushes.
    â€˜Return to the keep and I will be there anon,’ he ordered, keeping the worst of his injuries hidden from view. The boy would have nightmares for days if he saw the extent of it. And he’d be worthless as a squire if he saw the results of battle now before trained.
    â€˜Aye, Lord Soren,’ the boy called, never showing himself.
    Soren took up his clothing and put on only what would cover him for the ride back to the keep. But what bothered him throughout that ride was the realisation that softer emotions were creeping back into his soul. Emotions like sympathy for the boy…and admiration for the woman.
    When she haunted his dreams over the next severalnights, in spite of her keeping to her chambers regardless of his leave to do otherwise, he knew changes were coming. He just prayed his soul would survive them.

Chapter Eight
    T hough things were settling back into a routine in Alston, one she could hear through the portal her window provided,