Free Warrior’s Redemption by Melissa Mayhue Page B

her, sparing a thought as to whether her tendency to swoon might not have transferred to him.

E leven
    W HY ARE WE wasting our time doing this when Elesyria’s already told us it won’t work?”
    The question had been circling around in Dani’s thoughts from the moment she and Malcolm had first mounted the horses on which they rode. The Faerie had told them that the Goddess had brought her here to serve out her purpose. That she belonged here, so there was no way she could go back home.
    And yet, here they were, wrapped in woolens and furs, traipsing hours through the frigid wilderness, headed for a stone circle where Malcolm claimed to have found her.
    “I canna claim for a fact that Elesyria speaks the truth. This is something I must try.”
    “But she’s Faerie.”
    “All the more reason to doubt her,” Malcolm muttered, lifting an arm to point toward the woods they were about to enter. “We’re very close now. Do you remember any of this? It’s just through these trees.”
    Dani shook her head in answer. She had only a vague memory of awaking in this man’s arms and feeling frightened and very, very angry. As if in response,a twinge of pain rippled through her right hand and another memory shimmered into being.
    A memory of her drawing back her fist and connecting with his jaw.
    Her gaze slid to his face, studying the strong chin covered in a day’s growth of beard. The shadow of whiskers was dark against his skin, but the stain of color beneath was unmistakable.
    No wonder he was so anxious to be rid of her. He’d ridden all this way out into the middle of nowhere to save her life and what was her response? A little gratitude? A hearty “Thank you for not leaving me out here in the cold to die”? No, not her. She’d tried to clean his clock.
    An apology would probably be in order. And she’d give it to him, too. Just as soon as she could figure out how to word it while leaving his male dignity intact. He didn’t strike her at all as a beta kind of guy who might not mind admitting a woman had bruised him.
    Besides, riding single file through the trees staring at his horse’s rear end didn’t seem the appropriate time to give it a go even if she’d figured out how to approach him.
    “Here.”
    His announcement preceded her horse pulling around his, revealing the forest opening and the circle of stones.
    “I do remember this.” It was like entering the scene of a recent dream.
    “So do I,” he answered, stroking his fingers absently over his jawline.
    There was her chance. The perfect moment to apologize. She opened her mouth but closed it again, letting the perfect moment slip away, feeling acutely unsure of herself as he dismounted and walked over to her side.
    He lifted his arms to her, offering to help her down.
    She considered refusing. The thought, along with a thousand others, flitted through her mind.
    There was no real need for his help. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ridden before. She had. She’d practically grown up in a saddle, albeit one vastly different from the one on which she now sat.
    Still, it was a long way to the ground, and she was hampered by the outrageous layers of clothing she wore. Not to mention that the chances were good he’d be insulted if she refused his assistance.
    It was for those reasons only that she leaned into his grasp. Sound, logical, compelling reasons all.
    Or so she tried to convince herself when his hands slipped under the fur and woolens to fasten around her waist.
    Over and over, she repeated the reasons in her mind, like a litany dedicated to sanity.
    His grip was warm and strong as he took her weight. Though no more than a second or two passed before her feet touched the ground, it felt as if time had slowed, dragging out those seconds, leaving her disoriented and a little breathless when he stepped away from her.
    She’d never imagined getting down off a horse’s back could be such a sensual experience.
    “We found you lying there in the