A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller

13

Gerald cried out as his head knocked sideways, but he recovered quicker than Evan would’ve thought.

With a roar, he lunged to his feet, propelling himself toward Evan with a wild look in his eyes.

Evan was ready for the man, stepping to the side as he gripped Gerald’s shoulders and twisted him to land on his back. A quick foot in the blackguard’s midsection made him curl around himself.

“You touch her, or even speak of her again without respect, and you’ll meet with a great deal more than a fist and a boot.” He sucked in air to cool the rage still sluicing through him. Nothing angered him more than a woman or child injured, whether in body or in reputation. Especially when they couldn’t fight back.

A scream sounded from the doorway, jerking his attention upward. Audrey stood with the tray in her hands, jaw dropped, and eyes as round as the sausage she served.

Realization sank over him with awful clarity.

He raised his hands to show he had no weapon. “I’m not trying to run. I was only defending—”

“He attacked me.” Gerald still lay on the floor but seemed to be trying to uncurl himself. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his words were slurred. Evan had aimed his fist to land cleanly on the jaw, so it may be broken, but the heel in the man’s gut hadn’t been hard enough to do more than slow him down.

And give him something to help remember the lesson.

Footsteps pounded from the corridor, and Evan’s chest tightened enough that he had to work to draw breath. The beating had been foolish. Would they keep him tied again? Stop allowing him time outside? Just when he’d been earning their trust.

Yet he couldn’t regret defending Audrey’s honor. A few bruises and a broken jaw might not be enough to teach the man a permanent lesson, but at least he hadn’t sat and listened to the cad’s lecherous dross without defending her. That would’ve been the worst sin of all.

Audrey glanced behind herself and stepped to the side just as Brielle leapt into the room, hunting knife raised.

She halted abruptly and scanned the room to take in the scene.

Gerald had managed to sit up and was cradling his jaw with one hand. He used the other to point at Evan. “He attacked me.” Again, the words were so muddled they were barely understandable. The jaw must be either broken or knocked well out of place.

With another jolt of realization, he realized Audrey might be the one to attend the fiend’s injury. That was the last thing she should be forced to endure. This man should be the one held under guard.

“What goes on here?” Brielle directed the words to Evan, her knife still poised to slice into him, her eyes as hard as a warrior’s.

He met her stare, keeping his hands away from his body, palms forward. “He said unsuitable things about Audrey. Things no gentleman would voice, much less actually consider doing. I couldn’t sit by without acting.” He wouldn’t tell her the details unless he absolutely had to. Brielle shouldn’t be forced to hear such talk.

If she pushed for more, though, he would at least make sure he told her in private, without Audrey listening.

Brielle shifted her gaze between him and Gerald, then turned to Audrey. “Find the chief and Erik. Have them come here posthaste.”

Audrey’s face had grown pale, but she nodded and set her tray on the floor just inside the door, then turned and fled the room.

Brielle stayed near the doorway, keeping the partition open. She lowered her knife, although she kept it out and ready.

Gerald lumbered to his feet with a groan. He still pressed one hand against his jaw, smearing blood across his chin. He glanced at Brielle and spoke something, but with his muffled words, it was impossible to make them out. It sounded like he might be speaking French, too.

She shook her head and switched to English. “Stay. When the others come, we’ll hear all.”

He scowled but then shuffled backward until he could lean against the rock wall—managing to tread on Evan’s pallet in the process.

Tense silence settled in the room, broken only by Gerald’s heavy breathing. Brielle said nothing, only shifted her gaze around the area, occasionally looking at him or Gerald. She clearly didn’t intend to conduct any more business until the others arrived.

At long last, the sound of shuffling echoed from the corridor. Brielle heard it when he did, and she cocked her head to peer through the door.

The two men who stepped into the room were new to him.

A glance at Gerald showed a glare on the man’s face. He still supported his jaw with one hand and kept the other fisted at his side.

Brielle spoke to them in quiet rapid-fire French. When she finished, the newcomers turned to Gerald first. The one who seemed to be the eldest stepped near the man. His French was measured enough that Evan could pick out most of what he said. “Why is it you spoke ill about one of our own?”

Gerald’s expression sobered into a look of respect. “I said nothing wrong.” His face turned into a grimace of pain. “The outsider doesn’t understand our language. How could he know what I said?”

A new surge of anger coursed through Evan. Now the man would lie? He’d spoken the lecherous words in perfect English. He clenched his jaw against a rebuttal. If they didn’t give him a chance to speak, he’d ask for a moment to set the record straight.

But then the older man turned to him. His eyes studied Evan, and for a second, Evan wondered what they saw. He must look as overgrown as a French trapper by now. He’d been shaving once a week on the trail, for he’d always hated the itch of a beard. But he hadn’t supposed they’d allow him use of his razor here. Maybe with Brielle relaxing his guard, he might be admitted that opportunity now.

Or rather, he might have been, before he’d attacked one of their guards.

He pushed that thought aside and focused on the man stepping toward him. The fellow approached and stood right in front of Evan. He didn’t maintain the distance the guards did, always leaving enough room so Evan couldn’t easily send a blow or kick their way.

But this man’s near approach bespoke something of trust. Or at least respect.

The man’s gaze held only grave curiosity. And there was something familiar about his features, though Evan couldn’t place where he might have seen him.

“And what of you, sir? Did you understand the words Gerald said?”

Evan nodded. “I did. He spoke clear English.”

The older man’s throat worked, his jaw hardening. “And what did he say?”

Evan glanced at Brielle. If he asked her to leave, she would protest and insist on staying, he had no doubt. She wasn’t the kind of woman to be pushed aside. But maybe this elder would have enough authority to insist.

He looked back at the man. “It’s not something suitable to repeat, sir. Especially not in mixed company.”

The man turned to Brielle, and apparently only needed to send a single look to elicit obedience. Her face darkened into a scowl, which she sent at every man in the room, but she backed into the hall and closed the door behind her.

The man looked back at Evan, and a sadness seemed to settle over him like a cloak. His voice was lower than before when he spoke. “She is listening on the other side of the door, so you might keep your words quiet.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Evan might’ve smiled. This man clearly held sway over his people, and he also knew Brielle well. Evan had a feeling he’d like this fellow, if given the chance to know him.

But as he recalled Gerald’s words to repeat them, his smile turned sour. He didn’t glance at Gerald as he told the event from start to finish. Then he clamped his mouth shut and awaited their verdict.

The man’s gaze held nothing except that same sorrow as he turned back to Gerald. “My son, you have saddened me once again.” He started toward the door and waved for Gerald. “Come.”

The second man, who’d stayed silent through it all, fell into step behind Gerald. When they opened the door, Brielle stood in the hallway, near enough to hear, just as the older man said she would.

Evan couldn’t understand the murmured words she exchanged with the men. Then the trio exited the room, and Brielle stepped inside.

Her face was impossible to read. Maybe a bit wary, but emotions that he couldn’t decipher clouded her expression.

She would expect him to sit on his fur as all the guards did. He started toward the pallet so she wouldn’t have to command him.

“You’re hurt?”

He paused to look at her, then shook his head as he raised a hand. “Just some scraped knuckles.” There was a time he might’ve smiled about that, but inflicting pain held nothing good any longer. The only benefit came in helping Audrey.

Her gaze sharpened on him. “Thank you. For standing up to Gerald. My father said he deserved all you gave him and more.”

The older man was her father? No wonder he’d seemed familiar. Now that Evan thought about it, they had the same pointed chin and dark brown gaze. No surprise he liked the father as much as he did the daughter.

Well, almost as much.

He nodded in answer to her thanks. “I couldn’t sit by while he said the things he did.” He sharpened his gaze on her. “He’s different than the other guards.” Had she realized the man’s nature? It didn’t seem she had, the way she’d teased Audrey.

A sadness slipped over her features, similar to the expression on her father’s face. “He is different, I suppose, although I’ve never seen him like this.” Her brows dipped. “He lost someone in the massacre—Chrissy, his betrothed. I didn’t know him well at the time, but I do remember seeing him smile much more back then. Through the years, he’s separated himself more and more. He’s not shown interest in any other woman since, not until Audrey.” Her face hardened and her eyes narrowed. “I never thought his intentions were so base.”

Something inside him yearned to reach out to her. To soothe away the anger that seemed little more than a cover for deeper emotion. Concern for her friend? Worry? A reminder of her own loss?

“I’m sorry, Brielle.” The words slipped out before he could plan something better to say.

She met his gaze, and the pain there nearly stripped him. She’d endured so much. If only he could make things better for her. Bear some of her load.

Instead, he was adding to the weight on her shoulders with his presence alone.