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Authors: Donna Fletcher
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with a cringe.
He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “I now look before I leap.”
Storm laughed as Janelle finished the last stitch. Burke stepped away so that Janelle could bandage her shoulder.
“What happened after your plunge into the pitchfork?” Storm asked with a teasing smile.
Burke stuck out his chest. “I screamed through every stitch and was comforted by my mother for three days straight.”
Storm’s smile faded. “I have no time for rest or comfort.”
She walked out and Burke followed. He silently admonished himself for his remark. He should have remembered that Storm had never had the comfort of a loving mother. Her childhood had been harsh and lonely. Even now, he knew she had to feel alone. She was a leader, and her men and people came first.
Of course, there had been her husband, but he had yet to find out about him. He knew her men would offer no information, and though he was curious, he thought it inappropriate to ask her directly about him. He had a feeling that her penchant for rescuing the helpless might have something to do with her husband and the reason she was now an outlaw. In time, he would discover the truth.
He caught up with her as she was about to grab the rope to descend to the ground.
“I’ll get you down.” His hand caught the rope at the same time hers did.
She hesitated, but he could see that her common sense took over and she nodded her approval.
They descended much differently than they had ascended. She no longer leaned on him. Her strength had returned, and she placed a distance between them even though he held her close. It was as if she had erected a shield to protect herself against being protected.
How he would penetrate that shield, he wasn’t certain. That he would penetrate it, he was certain.
“There is nothing so urgent that you cannot rest,” he said when they reached the bottom.
She pushed away from him with a wince.
He reached out, and she stepped out of his grasp.
“There is your brother to see to.”
“The men need rest,” Burke said. “It will have to wait.”
“There may not be time,” Storm insisted. “If it is your brother Cullen being held, then he has been there over a month. He could be close to death by now.”
She walked away, and Burke once again followed, annoyed at being reminded of his brother’s precarious position. He needed no such reminding. He worried that he would be too late to rescue Cullen and not only that he would fail to fulfill his father’s dying wish, but that he would never get to know his only sibling.
“Glencurry must still be dealt with,” Burke heard her say as she approached the campfire where her men sat.
“We have been considering the matter,” William said, his meaty hand reaching out to assist her to take a seat next to him.
Burke joined them, squeezing in between the lean Philip and Malcolm. That they even considered the failed rescue so soon after returning from a mission amazed him. He thought Storm would order the men to rest, and here she ordered that another mission be discussed, and the men did so willingly.
He remained silent, watching the motley crew work. They argued, agreed, and argued some more, and Storm never stopped any one of them from voicing his opinions. She showed them all respect, as they did her.
“What say you?” William asked, turning to Storm.
“We all agree on one thing—that Cullen, if it is him, cannot survive much longer. The rescue attempt must be immediate if he is to be found alive.”
The men nodded their agreement.
“Which means we cannot waste another minute,” Philip said and stood. William rose with him.
“You need to rest first,” Burke said.
“The few hours they rest could mean your brother’s life,” Storm said. “Are you willing to risk that?”
“It’s as much a risk sending them on little rest. A couple of hours’ sleep should help revive them and then they can be off.”
“It also could be enough time
He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “I now look before I leap.”
Storm laughed as Janelle finished the last stitch. Burke stepped away so that Janelle could bandage her shoulder.
“What happened after your plunge into the pitchfork?” Storm asked with a teasing smile.
Burke stuck out his chest. “I screamed through every stitch and was comforted by my mother for three days straight.”
Storm’s smile faded. “I have no time for rest or comfort.”
She walked out and Burke followed. He silently admonished himself for his remark. He should have remembered that Storm had never had the comfort of a loving mother. Her childhood had been harsh and lonely. Even now, he knew she had to feel alone. She was a leader, and her men and people came first.
Of course, there had been her husband, but he had yet to find out about him. He knew her men would offer no information, and though he was curious, he thought it inappropriate to ask her directly about him. He had a feeling that her penchant for rescuing the helpless might have something to do with her husband and the reason she was now an outlaw. In time, he would discover the truth.
He caught up with her as she was about to grab the rope to descend to the ground.
“I’ll get you down.” His hand caught the rope at the same time hers did.
She hesitated, but he could see that her common sense took over and she nodded her approval.
They descended much differently than they had ascended. She no longer leaned on him. Her strength had returned, and she placed a distance between them even though he held her close. It was as if she had erected a shield to protect herself against being protected.
How he would penetrate that shield, he wasn’t certain. That he would penetrate it, he was certain.
“There is nothing so urgent that you cannot rest,” he said when they reached the bottom.
She pushed away from him with a wince.
He reached out, and she stepped out of his grasp.
“There is your brother to see to.”
“The men need rest,” Burke said. “It will have to wait.”
“There may not be time,” Storm insisted. “If it is your brother Cullen being held, then he has been there over a month. He could be close to death by now.”
She walked away, and Burke once again followed, annoyed at being reminded of his brother’s precarious position. He needed no such reminding. He worried that he would be too late to rescue Cullen and not only that he would fail to fulfill his father’s dying wish, but that he would never get to know his only sibling.
“Glencurry must still be dealt with,” Burke heard her say as she approached the campfire where her men sat.
“We have been considering the matter,” William said, his meaty hand reaching out to assist her to take a seat next to him.
Burke joined them, squeezing in between the lean Philip and Malcolm. That they even considered the failed rescue so soon after returning from a mission amazed him. He thought Storm would order the men to rest, and here she ordered that another mission be discussed, and the men did so willingly.
He remained silent, watching the motley crew work. They argued, agreed, and argued some more, and Storm never stopped any one of them from voicing his opinions. She showed them all respect, as they did her.
“What say you?” William asked, turning to Storm.
“We all agree on one thing—that Cullen, if it is him, cannot survive much longer. The rescue attempt must be immediate if he is to be found alive.”
The men nodded their agreement.
“Which means we cannot waste another minute,” Philip said and stood. William rose with him.
“You need to rest first,” Burke said.
“The few hours they rest could mean your brother’s life,” Storm said. “Are you willing to risk that?”
“It’s as much a risk sending them on little rest. A couple of hours’ sleep should help revive them and then they can be off.”
“It also could be enough time
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