Part 2 (2/2)

That story had never faltered until a duplicate plaid had shown up the night Lysander had been killed. Since that moment, Lochlan had been searching for clues about Kieran.

His quest had taken him to southern France, where he now believed his younger brother had gone after faking a suicide. A few days ago, Lochlan had been told of the knight who had last seen Kieran in the Holy Land. Stryder of Blackmoor.

Stryder was at tourney in Normandy, which was what had brought Lochlan here. That tourney would only last a few days more and it was imperative he reach it before the knights packed up and left.

If only he hadn't seen Catarina and her current plight. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was now involved. It wasn't in him to let her suffer even if she did deserve it.

d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l.

He'd been born with what his brother Braden called an unG.o.dly sense of responsibility. His family had saddled him with it early and he'd never been able to shed it. Just once in his life he wished he could be more like Braden, Ewan, or Kieran who'd been able to live their lives for themselves.

To care nothing of the consequences of their actions and how they affected others.

Instead, he was more than aware of how one person's thoughtlessness could impact those around him. Right now, he could ride off to attend his own business and Catarina could be maimed by the carelessness of her guards. By turning his back on her, anything could happen to her and it would be his fault for not helping her while he'd had the opportunity.

It was something that would weigh on his conscience for eternity.

”I'm not a martyr,” he breathed angrily. But he was a man of his word and one of conviction...and she was a woman currently being abused by the very men hired to protect her.

That was wrong and he knew it.

So he followed them for almost an hour before they finally stopped to rest. Silently, he dismounted and left his horse to graze while he crept closer to where they'd stopped.

The guard holding Catarina practically threw her to the ground. ”You run again and G.o.d as my witness, I'll break both your legs.”

Catarina lifted her chin in defiance. ”You wouldn't dare.”

”Try it.”

She stood with a grace and dignity that actually touched him. Lochlan had to give her credit, she was audacious as she confronted the larger man. She looked tiny and frail by comparison, but even so she wasn't intimidated. Her confidence astounded him.

Pieces of her long, black hair had come free of her braid and danced around her pale skin in the breeze, teasing at her cheeks and neck. Her dark eyes were livid and a slight blush darkened her cheeks. Truly, she was beautiful.

But only when she was silent.

The other man came forward to truss her up with a rope. She ducked his hands and shoved at him. Before she could move away, the man backhanded her so hard, she fell to the ground.

His temper snapping out of control, Lochlan crossed the distance between them in record time and grabbed the man as he moved to strike her again. He punched him hard, then slung him into the other, who'd come forward to help.

Cat couldn't believe her eyes as Lochlan turned, picked her up from the ground, and swung her onto the saddle of the horse closest to her. After handing her the reins, he slapped the horse's flanks, sending her on her way before he turned back to confront her guards.

Her cheek stung horribly from the blow the one man had given her. But she didn't pay any attention to it as she guided her horse away from the men. All she wanted was to be free of them forever. She kept her head bent low over the horse's neck as they flew down the road.

Her only thought escape, she didn't even bother to look behind her until she heard the sound of approaching hooves.

Afraid it was her guards again, Cat glanced back to see Lochlan there on his gray stallion. He didn't speak as he pulled alongside her, then grabbed her reins to slow her down.

”What are you doing?” she demanded.

He dodged her attempts to slap his hand away, then cupped her sore cheek. ”I wanted to see what damage they'd wrought. Are you all right?”

His concern for her set her back. She wasn't used to such kindness from anyone other than Viktor or Bavel. ”What do you care?”

Those steely eyes penetrated her with coldness. ”Enough to have killed the man who did it. Now hold still and let me see the bruise.”

Cat swallowed at his sharp tone. ”You killed him?”

”Well I certainly didn't congratulate him on his strength. No doubt your father would have done far worse had he learned of it.”

It was true. To strike royalty was a capital offense. But even so, she was surprised that Lochlan had taken such a personal interest in what had happened to her. It actually made her hatred of him lessen.

Lochlan dropped his hand to her wrist, the one that was crusted in blood. ”What did they do to you?”

She pulled her hand away from him. ”They tried to take me somewhere I didn't wish to go.”

He shook his head at her. ”Are you always so h.e.l.l borne?”

”Nay, I can be quite pleasant when the mood strikes. But not when someone tries to impose his will on me with no regard to my feelings. Tell me, would you be so docile?”

”I'm a man.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. ”And your point?”

”I wasn't born to be subject to another man.”

She laughed. ”Aren't you? You've already told me how you're not free to do anything without it impacting your people. Do they not then own you?”

Lochlan arched a brow at her reasoning. She was frightfully quick. ”That's not what I meant.”

”Of course it wasn't. Being an ill-formed human, what would I know of rhetoric?”

More than she should. ”I'm not Aristotle, my lady. I don't believe women are ill-formed men.”

”Yet you accuse us of being h.e.l.l borne.”

”Nay,” he said, leaning forward to stand his ground. ”I accused you of being h.e.l.l borne, which you are. It was not meant as an indictment against all of your gender. Only an indictment against you.”

Cat didn't know why, but something about his words amused her. And with the sunlight glinting in the reddish gold highlights of his hair, he was actually quite striking. There was an essence of power and n.o.bility that bled from him. If she didn't know him for the irritant he was, he'd be quite pleasing to look upon.

Her horse stepped away from his, jarring her slightly. An urge to run from him went through her, but she'd seen enough of his horsemans.h.i.+p to know he could outrun her. If she wished to escape him, she'd have to be even more cunning than she'd been with the guards.

But first, she'd try logic. ”I have no wish to return to my father. Will you help me to find Viktor and Bavel...please?”

She could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

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