A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
30
Gerald twisted Brielle to the side as he bent to pick up something from the ground, the knife once more leaving her throat for only the space of two breaths. If he did that again, she had to be ready to act.
She worked to keep her body from stiffening, both so he wouldn’t suspect she was devising a plan and also so he didn’t press the knife any harder into her neck.
He stepped backward once more, dragging her with him, and Brielle prepared to make her move.
Help me, Lord.
This time, Gerald didn’t pull the knife away to use that hand. Instead, he twisted Brielle down so she was suspended an arm’s length above the floor. Then he used the fingers on the hand wrapping her middle to reach for the item he needed.
Although his beefy arm still pressed against her belly, the looser hold of his hand let her pull her right arm free.
With the new freedom, she grabbed his wrist holding the knife at her throat and pulled her right foot up to kick as close to his groin as she could manage.
With Gerald bent down, her sudden actions threw him off balance, knocking him backward.
His arm tightened around her chest, but this time she had her right hand free and a firm grip on his wrist holding the knife.
He landed on his back, and the strength in his right arm tried to force the knife to her neck again. But she had desperation on her side, and the burning reminder of the damage that blade had already done.
She braced hard against his wrist, barely keeping the blade away from her. She wouldn’t be able to hold off his greater strength much longer.
Yet, what he possessed in muscle, she could match in agility. With a hard thrust, she twisted her body within his hold so her front was facing him. Then she tucked her head low to duck out of the path of the knife.
As she twisted, she lost her hold on his knife arm, and her left arm was pinned between their two bodies. But she still had her right arm free and she was powered by a growing hatred for this man as she stared into his malicious gaze.
Suddenly, a body appeared from her left. A knife blade flashed, and the evil on Gerald’s face twisted into pain as a hand plunged the blade into the man’s shoulder. His arm around her loosened, and she scrambled backward, crawling on her hands and knees until she was free of him.
Evan stood over the fiend, and Leonard charged in the moment she cleared out.
“Philip, get my gun.” With one hand holding Gerald down, Evan reached out to accept the weapon.
Philip scrambled for the musket, then handed it to Evan.
“Philip, you take my spot while I step back and aim this bullet at him. Then you and Leonard flip him over and tie him up.” Evan’s breaths were coming hard, and his hands shook a little as he exchanged places with Philip and pointed the gun at their prisoner.
For her part, Brielle was shaking, too. She needed to stand up and be helpful but had to grab the door handle to pull herself up to standing. Good thing the men were too occupied to see her unsteady legs.
She inhaled a deep, settling breath. Thank you, Lord. That could’ve gone so many other ways. Though she’d not let her thoughts dwell on the likely outcome, she’d known that could have been her final moments of life.
Life on this earth anyway. As much as she looked forward to eternity around God’s throne, there was more here she wanted to do.
Her gaze honed on Evan. Much more.
As if he felt her focus, Evan looked back at her, his expression as raw as she’d ever seen it. “Are you hurt? Your throat’s bleeding. Press something to it.”
She shook her head, the skin of her neck pulling tight with the motion. But she wasn’t gushing blood. And nothing seemed broken. “It’s not bad.” She forced her attention down to Gerald. He had to be their focus until he was fully secured in the storage room. Then, once she was in the safety of her home, she could let her quivering knees give out.
Her gaze slid back to Evan, who’d also returned his focus to Gerald. How good it would feel to be wrapped in his strong arms when she finally succumbed to this weakness. She should abhor a thought like that. Shouldn’t want anyone to see her so fragile. Especially not this man she loved, the man she wanted so desperately to think well of her.
But even if he only loved her half as much as she did him, she needed to let him see every part of her. Even the vulnerable parts. Somehow, she didn’t think Evan would think less of her for the weakness.
Evan’s arms ached as he followed Gerald and the guards down the long corridor. Philip gripped the man’s arm, while Leonard and Brielle walked a few steps behind them, weapons poised in case the man made a sudden move.
His own arms didn’t strain from the weight of the gun in his hands, but from the intense desire to wrap them around Brielle. To touch her and feel for himself she was unharmed.
The image of her in that fiend’s hold, the knife blade pressed to her neck, blood oozing down her smooth skin . . . he couldn’t clear it from his mind.
He’d known the moment the look in her eyes changed that she was planning to resist. She’d found a course of action she thought would free her.
Everything inside him had wanted to scream for her to stop. Not do anything that might force the man’s hand—literally—and cause him to slice the blade deeper into her throat.
All Evan had been able to do was pray. Just like the last time Brielle’s life had been in danger from the blizzard. In both situations, God had given him the sacred task to pray for the woman he loved.
The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
And God had granted her safety both times. Only the Almighty could have knocked Gerald backward and loosened his hold enough for Brielle to twist in the man’s arms.
The distraction had been enough.
With Brielle’s head lowered, Gerald’s full shoulder had been exposed. Evan hadn’t wasted a heartbeat dropping his gun, raising his knife, and plunging the blade into the man’s flesh.
It wasn’t a mortal wound, but Gerald would be tender in that spot for weeks.
And now they’d finished. Accomplished their mission.
Once Gerald was safely tied in the cell anyway.
All praise, glory, and honor to you, Father.
At last, they had Gerald secured in the cell, on the opposite side of the room from Hugo. The young lad was shooting foul looks at Gerald, clearly disabused of any hero worship—or even a kind thought.
Philip and Leonard offered to stay with Wesley to watch the two prisoners. Perhaps Evan should have volunteered also, but Brielle was his priority now. Both for his own peace of mind, and hopefully to be of help to her. And maybe once all the reports had been given to her father and the council, the two of them could find a quiet place to talk.
When he and Brielle entered her home, Brielle’s family waited with Audrey and her father, Martin.
Audrey gasped at the blood streaked across Brielle’s neck, but Brielle motioned her away. “I’m not hurt. Just need water to wash it off.”
Charlotte offered Brielle one of the seats by the fire, and Evan stood near the outskirts of the gathering as the woman he loved relayed the events for her father and the others.
Thankfully, Audrey found a bowl of water and a cloth, and used them to clean Brielle’s neck while she talked.
Brielle gave her friend a long-suffering look as her tending got in Brielle’s way a few times. Audrey’s lips only curved as she kept her focus on her task.
For his part, Evan couldn’t seem to pull his gaze from Brielle. When Audrey’s efforts at her neck exposed bright red gashes, even though they were clearly surface wounds, his stomach twisted. The bile in his gut tried to infuse a fresh round of anger into his veins, but he forced his focus to lift to her face.
The battle was over. That blackguard was being held and would be tried for his actions. There was nothing Evan could do to change the past.
Brielle’s features came alive as she told the tale, drawing his focus to her beauty. The intelligence in her wide eyes, the strong angle of her cheeks, the point of her chin, the sweeping curve of her lips. He needed another taste of those lips.
With effort, he pulled his gaze away from her to keep his blood from boiling for a very different reason this time.
At last, she finished the story, and her father eased out a long breath. His brows had dipped through most of the telling, no doubt from worry for his daughter. Though the man may be responsible for leading Laurent and trusted his daughter’s ability for the protection of their community, he couldn’t be immune to worry for his own child.
“The council plans to meet in the morning to discuss what should be done next. You’ve done well, Brielle.” Then the man’s gaze shifted to Evan. “You too.”
A hard knot formed in Evan’s throat. Something in the man’s gaze felt fatherly. A look he’d not seen in many years. He’d almost forgotten what it was like for a man to look at him with pride in his eyes. “Thank you, sir.” The words choked as he forced them out.
Durand’s gaze hovered on him a moment longer, then shifted to Brielle, then back to Evan. “I suppose that’s all we need to do for tonight. I’ll call the council to meet in the morning to plan our next steps. You two might want to stretch your legs to settle from all the excitement.”
Evan barely kept from raising his brows at the obvious opportunity for them to talk. Instead, he managed a nod. “Good idea.”
A look at Brielle showed a bit of extra color in her cheeks. A sight that nearly made him chuckle. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as she seemed.
But as they gathered furs and stepped out into the cold, he knew the thought was at the same time very wrong and very right. Brielle’s strength, both inner and outer, was greater than any person he’d known. But she was vulnerable, too—how could anyone with her passion not be?
And he wanted to be there to protect her when necessary. He wanted to be the one to petition the Lord for everything she needed. Especially when her life was on the line.
Which brought up a point he had to get off his chest. He turned to her as they strolled through the courtyard in the general direction of the gate. “I’ve never prayed so much for one person as I have for you these past three days, Brielle. And while it’s certainly brought me closer to the Lord, I prefer you not put yourself in mortal danger quite so often if you can help it.”
She slid a sideways glance at him but kept walking. Her mouth formed a pert smile. “I’ll see what I can do, but I make no promises.”
Strolling along with the fur of her hood framing her beautiful face, sassy expression and all, Evan could barely keep himself from pulling her into his arms. That should wait until they were outside the gate, where there weren’t so many prying eyes.
Maybe that was her thought as well, for she led him straight to the opening. Memory returned to him just before he stepped through, and he stopped.
Brielle turned to look at him, her brows raised in question.
He nodded toward the gate. “I’m not supposed to leave Laurent, am I?” No matter how much he wanted time alone with Brielle, he wouldn’t compromise the trust these people had placed in him.
She glanced at the stone wall beside her, then turned back to him with a twinkle. “Consider yourself under guard while we’re outside of village walls.” Then she reached for his hand.
His heart picked up speed as he placed his hand in hers and they stepped forward together.
Outside the wall, she turned to him again, the sass falling away from her expression. Every part of her seemed fragile, and when he opened his arms, she stepped into him. She seemed to sink into his hold, and he wrapped himself around her, cradling her. Be her strength, Father. Renew her.
She stayed in his arms for long minutes, and he breathed in her scent, relishing the solid feel of her.
Whole. Alive.
She fit perfectly in his arms, her height exactly right for her cheek to rest on his shoulder. Her breath warmed his neck, tempting him.
But that would come later. For now, having Brielle in his arms was more than enough.