A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller

6

After Brielle settled herself across from her prisoner, silence sank over the room. What meaningless bit of chatter could she offer to set the man at ease? “Audrey should be here soon with your morning meal. Have you need of anything else?”

Her mind sped ahead to what he might ask for, but the first possibility made heat rise up her neck. Hopefully, Philip had shown him where he could take care of that personal concern. Although she’d probably have to be around for the need at some point if she took part in regular guard duty.

Blessedly, Evan shook his head. “Food sounds good. I still have a bit of water from what she left last night.” He motioned to a wooden cup beside his pallet.

Good. “If you have need of anything, let your guard know.” That sounded friendly enough.

“It’d sure be nice to see daylight again.” He raised his brows and one corner of his mouth tipped in a hopeful half-smile.

Her own mouth twitched. “Dawn is just breaking over the eastern mountains.” She couldn’t tell him when he might get to see the sun rise again. That would depend on him. And how willing he was to speak of his business here. She needed to pull every detail she could before council’s vote. But hopefully her answer would suffice.

His gaze dipped down to her feet. “You’ve been for a walk already?”

He must be seeing the wetness of her moccasins. She’d expected him to be observant, and she’d been right. Of course, he’d been staring at the same dark walls for more than half a day now. It made sense he would notice any new details in the space.

“A short hunting trip.”

His brows lifted. “Did you get anything?”

“A caribou. You might be eating the meat in one of your meals soon.”

He pressed his lips together, and his head dropped flat against the fur. “Sounds great. It’s been a while since I’ve had fresh meat. Not sure I’ve ever tasted caribou.”

“The herds are plentiful around here,” she said slowly. He must have seen them if he’d been exploring as he said. Did his gun not work?

No one would dare travel without a weapon capable of bringing down food. She’d not tested his musket, only placed the weapon with his packs and saddle in a corner of their quarters. In truth, she hated guns. Their people only possessed the few they’d obtained from the English party who wrought so much damage the last time.

A bow accomplished her purpose well without so much torment for her prey, especially with the concoction she dipped the arrowheads in.

She made a note to check his belongings, though. They might give her more insight into the man and his purposes.

He’d turned to watch her again, so she refocused her attention on him. “I saw a couple herds the day before you took me captive, but I still had plenty of roasted meat. I’ve been eating food cold for a while now.”

This was her opening for a few casual questions. “Where did you explore before you came to this land?” She kept her voice lightly curious.

He matched her easy tone. “I’ve been traveling northwest. I’d heard the mountains are different the farther north you go, so I was curious to see how. I didn’t expect them to have built-in tunnels and caves with people living inside them.” This time the grin twinkled in his eyes.

“Yes, well. I doubt you’ll find that in many of the other mountains around. What other changes have you seen?” She didn’t have to feign curiosity with this question. Only had to keep herself from leaning in for his answer.

“The ice, for one. It looks like entire parts of some of these mountains are made up simply of ice. Farther south, many of the peaks stay covered in snow, but it’s only a layer over the rock. Not the entire structure.”

Interesting. “Why do you think that is?”

“The cold, I’m guessing.” He shrugged, as though shaking off the chill. “We don’t have to wear furs in the winter back home. We can even walk around in shirtsleeves during the summer months.”

As that idea turned in her mind, he spoke again. “The sun isn’t as bright here, either, and darkness seems to last much longer, even into daylight hours.”

She propped her hands on her knees. “How much longer? Our summer days are brighter, perhaps more like you’re accustomed to.”

His brows lowered and he grew silent, probably trying to make sense of her words. He could do his thinking later, though. Now that she had him talking, maybe he would tell her more. “What other differences have you noticed?”

Another smile lit his eyes. “The caribou. I’d heard of them, but never saw them until those two herds I mentioned.”

Maybe he really had recently come into their country. That gave her a better sense of timing. “What else?”

“We have other animals where I come from that I haven’t seen in these parts.”

“Like what?”

As he spoke of bright red birds and tiny cougars he called house cats, she could almost picture the animals. Her chest tightened as an old longing rose up within her. She loved her home here, but how wonderful it must be to see distant lands. These things he described were probably only a small taste of other wonders to be seen.

As her mind spun with images, she finally realized quiet had settled over them. She blinked to pull herself back to the present.

He looked at her with his head tipped as if trying to decipher something about her. “So you’ve really lived in this place your entire life? You never traveled elsewhere?”

She shrugged, pulling back to lean against the wall. Perhaps she’d shown too much eagerness. “We have all we need here.” She’d always believed that before anyway. They had safety and food and clothing and companionship. What more could they require?

Silence settled again, but not an awkward quiet. He appeared as deep in his thoughts as she was.

But she should probably keep him talking. He seemed open to speaking of the place he came from.

“With so many differences in animals and mountains, and even the length of the day, your home must be far away. How long did you travel to reach this place?”

He raised his gaze to the ceiling, as though calculating the time.

But before he could answer, the scuff of footsteps sounded outside the door. Then a tap so light it must be Audrey’s.

“Enter.” Brielle pushed to her feet and moved toward the door as the clang of the bar sounded, then the wood pushed open.

Audrey’s sweet smile glowed in the light of the torches as she stepped into the room carrying a large tray. “I come with Breton galette to break your fast. And also fresh torches.”

Thoughtful Audrey.

Audrey’s smile brightened even more as she turned to their prisoner. “And how are you feeling this morning, good sir?”

Brielle had to hold in a snort. If Audrey had her way, she would send the man off with a fortnight’s provisions, including sweet meats and all manner of pastries. That is, if she couldn’t talk him into staying so she could continue to ply him with her hospitality. The woman truly saw the best in everyone and lived to bring pleasure, especially through the stomach.

“I’ll be doing even better when I taste whatever’s under that cloth that smells so good.” The earnest appreciation in Evan’s eyes pressed a twinge in Brielle’s chest. Maybe she should try kindness, too. Real kindness, not feigned to get what she wanted. Perhaps Audrey was right in her claim that a kind word or act always brought out the best in people.

While Audrey fussed over the man, rolling part of his furs to prop his head up, Brielle took her portion of the meal from the tray. The aroma from Audrey’s meat pastry filled the room, raising her empty belly to life.

Audrey worked with her back to Brielle, setting out platters she’d brought. “I’m going to free his hands so he can eat. A good meal will help his wounds heal, and there’s no reason he shouldn’t feed himself.” She spoke in French without looking back at Brielle, but her tone and the switch in language made it clear the words were meant for her.

Frustration surged through Brielle, and she changed to Italian for her response, just in case the man could understand French. “Don’t do it, Audrey. He might be dangerous.”

Her friend didn’t answer, simply sent raised brows over her shoulder that meant she would do what she wanted—or felt was necessary. She probably also meant the look as her opinion on Brielle’s lack of trust in the goodness of humankind, but she wouldn’t ponder that line of thought any longer.

She sighed and put down her bite of galette, then reached to make sure her blade sat at the ready. The man probably wouldn’t do anything to endanger Audrey—truly, how could anyone hurt someone so innately good? Especially when she was offering such tasty fare.

But Brielle’s duty was to make sure her people stayed safe.

Audrey’s body blocked her view of what she was doing, but when Evan’s eyes slid shut and he released a long groan of pleasure, Brielle was fairly certain his hands had been unbound.

Audrey sat back, pushing the tray closer. “There. Now you can eat at your leisure.” She clasped her hands around her knees and settled in to watch the man enjoy what she’d brought him.

Brielle shifted her focus back to Evan to watch for any plan of escape he might be crafting.

But running away seemed far from his thoughts as he took his first bite of Audrey’s honey-drizzled pastry. His eyes drifted shut as his mouth worked the bite, and for once, she could see why Audrey loved to watch the delight of others.

Before, Brielle had been able to ignore his striking features, but the joy lighting his entire face raised a yearning inside her. What was she doing, feeling this way toward a stranger? An Englishman, at that.

She forced her focus away from his face, dropping it down to his tunic. Maybe the bloodstain there would provide enough distraction. But the pleasure in his expression was forefront in her thoughts and she imagined each nuance of his joy as it played across his features.

Thankfully, Audrey came to the rescue from Brielle’s wild imaginings. “So, Evan . . . Should we call you Evan? Have you a surname we should use?”

Brielle’s gaze dared to creep to his face again, in time to see him shake his head as he swallowed down his bite. The Adam’s apple at his throat bobbed, a manly action she’d never appreciated in the males around her before. At least not the way the simple motion drew her fascination now.

“Evan MacManus. But call me Evan.” His teeth sank into the pastry again, and she couldn’t blame him for preferring the treat over conversation.

Nor could she allow herself to ogle him again.

“So, Evan, have you a favorite food?” Audrey took up her former questioning. “I could make tourtière or a ragoût for the midday meal. Or tell me if you prefer something heartier.”

His eyes had closed in apparent appreciation for the bite he ate, but he opened the lids partway. “Miss Audrey, you could make corn gruel and I think it would taste like heaven. Whatever you cook will be much appreciated, I promise.”

Audrey’s face dipped with a sheepish look, but her widening smile was impossible to miss. What woman wouldn’t melt under such appreciation from a man this handsome?

Still, the time had come to remind her friend he’d not proven trustworthy yet.

She cleared her throat and gave Audrey a pointed look. “Jeanette will bring you caribou meat to use in feeding our prisoner.” Hopefully she’d pick up on that last word.

“Good.” Her eyes brightened. “I’ll prepare tourtière, then.” She turned to Evan. “I’ll make sure to include the parts of the meat that are best for healing.” She glanced back at Brielle. “Marcellus came by this morning. He wanted to come with me to deliver the food.” Her friend’s gaze took on a sweet sadness. “I told him I would ask you.”

Brielle sighed. Marcellus took too much interest in this man. How many times would she have to tell him before he ceased pressing her? She switched to Italian. “Tell him he may not come near this room, not even to the corridor tunnel until I personally give him leave. It’s very important for his safety.”

Audrey’s smile was sad as she nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

The light atmosphere in the room evaporated after that, and not even Audrey’s sweet spirit raised the shroud of worry weighing Brielle’s shoulders.

When her friend left them, Brielle turned to the prisoner and leveled a piercing gaze on him. “I won’t tie your hands again now, but if you even think of moving off that fur without your guard’s approval, you’ll be bound hand and foot.”

His brows rose, but he nodded, his gaze respectful—mostly. “I’ll stay on the fur.”

That was the best she could ask for now, though time would tell how well his word could be trusted.

She moved to her place by the wall and lowered to sit, then pulled out her knife and one of the sticks she’d brought to whittle arrows. She always needed more, so this would be a good task to keep her hands busy during the long hours she stayed in here. Too bad the man twiddling his thumbs across from her couldn’t be put to work, also. But she couldn’t allow him a blade, nor could she trust that he wouldn’t sabotage whatever she set him to. Her Bible might have been better to pass the hours, but she’d not thought to grab it. Sorry, Lord.

“So, French, English, and Italian? Any other languages I haven’t heard?” Evan’s voice made her tense as she jerked her gaze up to him.

Or maybe it was his words that startled her. He recognized all three languages. Did that mean he spoke them also? She probably shouldn’t have assumed him ignorant.

“I know enough of the Dinee tongue to trade with them. But that’s all. And what of you? Which languages do you speak?”

“Only English fluently. I can pick out a few words of French, Italian, and Spanish. Enough to know which language they are anyway.” His tone sounded truthful, but he could easily be feigning.

From now on, she’d have to leave this room if she had something private to say to one of the others. No matter what, she couldn’t underestimate Evan MacManus.