all back and more. What had been so special about Anice that she lacked?
She would never know now.
Without a word, Sonya turned and walked out of the room. She needed to get out of the small chamber and away from Broc, away from the torment of wanting someone she couldn’t have. Being that close to him was too much. It wasn’t fair that she should endure such torture.
“Sonya,” Broc said through clenched teeth as he grabbed her elbow.
She was brought to a stop with a firm jerk. Sonya pulled her arm from Broc’s grasp. “You cannot hover around me all the time.”
“I can and I will.” His tone told her he didn’t care what she wanted, he would do as he pleased.
“I’m going for a walk through the village. No harm can come to me from that.”
Sonya didn’t wait for him to answer. She spun around and walked down the corridor and descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she paused to look in the empty dining room.
“I’m glad to see ye up and about, milady,” said a female voice.
Sonya shifted to see who spoke. The woman stood drying goblets behind the bar, a smile on her plump, round face. “Thank you,” Sonya said.
“How is the wound on yer hand?”
“It’s healing, Jean,” Broc said as he came to stand behind Sonya.
Jean’s smile grew. “Yer husband was verra worried about ye, lass. He didn’t leave yer side.”
Sonya didn’t hear anything after “husband.” Had Broc told everyone they were married? More frightening than that, why did a thrill race through Sonya at the prospect of being married to him?
He was a Warrior. Immortal. Dangerous.
Entirely too tempting.
“Jean cleaned your wound,” Broc said, breaking the silence.
Sonya smiled at the woman. “Thank you. I’m feeling much better.”
“Ah, but still a wee bit weary, I think. Ye shouldn’t exert yerself, lass. Rest and allow yer body to mend.”
“I will,” Sonya said, and walked from the inn.
She didn’t pause as she stepped outside. Sonya strolled leisurely through the village. Her body was still weak, but she needed the outdoors.
Four young lads raced down the street and parted to go around her. Sonya laughed at their antics as one gave her hair a soft tug. As she turned to watch them, she spotted Broc just steps behind her, a frown making him look angry and threatening.
Intent on ignoring him, Sonya immersed herself in the village. The sound of children laughing as they played helped to calm the resentment inside her. Women smiled at her, men nodded in greeting. It was as if she belonged there, as if she weren’t a stranger.
Sonya stopped beside a cart full of vegetables. She picked up an apple and absently held it while she surveyed the village. She felt Broc move up beside her.
“This is only the second time I’ve been to a village,” she said. “This is much larger than where I was raised. Things with the Dru … with my people were different.”
“Magic is the difference,” Broc whispered in her ear. “These people know nothing of Druids or Warriors. This is their life, and it’s a hard one, Sonya.”
She nodded and replaced the apple. “I know. It’s just so different. Almost as if I walked into another world.”
“You have in a way. You’ve been hidden all your life.”
Sonya looked over her shoulder and into Broc’s dark brown eyes, eyes that were mysterious, sultry, and altogether too fascinating. “How would you know how the others live? You’ve been in Deirdre’s mountain for how long?”
He smiled tightly. “Lest you forget, I was able to get away from that cursed mound of rock frequently.”
“Nay, you were referring to before Deirdre took you. Weren’t you?”
His gaze slid away. “Aye.”
For all the time Sonya had spent in the company of Warriors at MacLeod Castle, none of them spoke about their lives before their gods were unbound. At least, they didn’t to her.
She found herself immensely curious about Broc’s life before he became a Warrior.
She would never know now.
Without a word, Sonya turned and walked out of the room. She needed to get out of the small chamber and away from Broc, away from the torment of wanting someone she couldn’t have. Being that close to him was too much. It wasn’t fair that she should endure such torture.
“Sonya,” Broc said through clenched teeth as he grabbed her elbow.
She was brought to a stop with a firm jerk. Sonya pulled her arm from Broc’s grasp. “You cannot hover around me all the time.”
“I can and I will.” His tone told her he didn’t care what she wanted, he would do as he pleased.
“I’m going for a walk through the village. No harm can come to me from that.”
Sonya didn’t wait for him to answer. She spun around and walked down the corridor and descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she paused to look in the empty dining room.
“I’m glad to see ye up and about, milady,” said a female voice.
Sonya shifted to see who spoke. The woman stood drying goblets behind the bar, a smile on her plump, round face. “Thank you,” Sonya said.
“How is the wound on yer hand?”
“It’s healing, Jean,” Broc said as he came to stand behind Sonya.
Jean’s smile grew. “Yer husband was verra worried about ye, lass. He didn’t leave yer side.”
Sonya didn’t hear anything after “husband.” Had Broc told everyone they were married? More frightening than that, why did a thrill race through Sonya at the prospect of being married to him?
He was a Warrior. Immortal. Dangerous.
Entirely too tempting.
“Jean cleaned your wound,” Broc said, breaking the silence.
Sonya smiled at the woman. “Thank you. I’m feeling much better.”
“Ah, but still a wee bit weary, I think. Ye shouldn’t exert yerself, lass. Rest and allow yer body to mend.”
“I will,” Sonya said, and walked from the inn.
She didn’t pause as she stepped outside. Sonya strolled leisurely through the village. Her body was still weak, but she needed the outdoors.
Four young lads raced down the street and parted to go around her. Sonya laughed at their antics as one gave her hair a soft tug. As she turned to watch them, she spotted Broc just steps behind her, a frown making him look angry and threatening.
Intent on ignoring him, Sonya immersed herself in the village. The sound of children laughing as they played helped to calm the resentment inside her. Women smiled at her, men nodded in greeting. It was as if she belonged there, as if she weren’t a stranger.
Sonya stopped beside a cart full of vegetables. She picked up an apple and absently held it while she surveyed the village. She felt Broc move up beside her.
“This is only the second time I’ve been to a village,” she said. “This is much larger than where I was raised. Things with the Dru … with my people were different.”
“Magic is the difference,” Broc whispered in her ear. “These people know nothing of Druids or Warriors. This is their life, and it’s a hard one, Sonya.”
She nodded and replaced the apple. “I know. It’s just so different. Almost as if I walked into another world.”
“You have in a way. You’ve been hidden all your life.”
Sonya looked over her shoulder and into Broc’s dark brown eyes, eyes that were mysterious, sultry, and altogether too fascinating. “How would you know how the others live? You’ve been in Deirdre’s mountain for how long?”
He smiled tightly. “Lest you forget, I was able to get away from that cursed mound of rock frequently.”
“Nay, you were referring to before Deirdre took you. Weren’t you?”
His gaze slid away. “Aye.”
For all the time Sonya had spent in the company of Warriors at MacLeod Castle, none of them spoke about their lives before their gods were unbound. At least, they didn’t to her.
She found herself immensely curious about Broc’s life before he became a Warrior.
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