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Mitchell’s heart was breaking. He couldn’t sleep. He rolled from side to side then laid still on his back staring up at the wooden roof struts. But he didn’t see them. All he saw was Claire’s beautiful, oval face surrounded by a cloud of white-blond hair. Her eyes were gray now and sad, as if she was bidding him farewell. No, no she couldn’t be dead. She simply couldn’t be. Surely he would have felt the pain as she’d been killed? Felt her spirit leave him? He was so attuned to her, loved her so deeply, she had to be alive somewhere. It was just that he hadn’t located her yet.
Well where is she then? There’s nowhere left for her to be. No one has seen any strangers, far less a woman.
Tomorrow I’ll talk to the other traveler, Ivan. He’s come from the north. Maybe he can tell about some strongholds outside the valley where she and Paul may be.
Mitchell sharpened the picture of her in his mind, remembering two years ago when they’d all been learning to swim. She’d splashed and played in the water as happy as a fish, soon learning to stay upright by using her legs and feet. She didn’t move forward very fast, but she kept her head out of the water just fine and could float with the river’s tide, gradually making her way from one side to the other.
He tried to get her to lie flat in the water and use her arms as well as her legs to actually swim, but she’d been content with her own method, and he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her nipples were pointed from the cold water and dug into his chest as he’d kissed her ever more deeply then slid his leg between hers. Under cover of the water, he’d run his hand up her bare leg, under her dress, and slid his finger into her channel. She was so hot there and ready for him. He’d finger-fucked her frantically, loving how her face flushed pink and she pressed down onto his hand, pushing his finger deeper inside her. Then her cunt had gripped his finger and she’d reached her peak, her hot cream wetting his hand, her body shivering in his arms. Again and again he’d kissed her, showing how much he loved her, and she’d kissed him back just as passionately.
She’s not dead. She’s not. She’s not. I will find her.
* * * *
Early the next morning, Ivan and Mitchell began walking companionably south, Mitchell leading his horse and both of them nibbling on the bread they’d been given to break their fast. It seemed to Mitchell almost as if Ivan had something he was going to say to him, but their conversation remained inconsequential, about the weather and the people in the hamlet.
Finally Mitchell took a deep breath and said, “As you know I’m looking for Claire and her brother, Paul. You’ve come from the north. Is there a stronghold just outside the valley where they may have taken shelter? I can’t believe she’s dead, and I didn’t feel her pain. She must be still alive!”
Ivan seemed torn and opened and closed his mouth several times. Finally he said, “I may know something, but it’s not my story to tell. If you can trust me, truly trust me, I will take you to someone who may be able to answer your questions. But you cannot know where you’re going. You’ll have to let me blindfold you and lead you on your horse.”
“The horse is my lord’s, not mine. But my life is worth nothing without Claire, so I must trust you, I suppose.”
They walked for another mile, and then Ivan said. “It’s time for me to blindfold you now. Climb on your horse.”
Mitchell did as he was asked, knowing that once he was blindfolded the man could do anything to him. But then, if there were masterless men around, they could kill him and steal the horse anyway.
They turned off the road and walked among the trees, but that was all Mitchell could tell. He had no way of knowing in which direction they traveled, and it seemed to him as if they went around and around a lot, but that may have been to avoid land unsuitable for the horse to walk over or fallen trees. Inside he was a mass of tension and worry, but underlying it, he hoped the person he was being taken to—likely some robber or masterless man—would tell him where Claire was.
They walked for a very long time, until it was well past time to eat, and his belly was aching with hunger. He was also very thirsty, yet had smelled no water, so perhaps they’d not passed near any streams. Many, many times he wanted to ask where they were, and how much longer their journey would take, but he refrained. Ivan was in control, and Ivan would be just as hungry and thirsty as he was. More so probably, as he was walking while Mitchell rode.
Finally they stopped, and this time it wasn’t simply to change direction. Ivan made no attempt to start them moving again. There was a mumbling growl, and then a beloved voice said, “Mitchell? Mitchell? Oh, Mitchell,” and a soft body launched itself at him hugging his legs and his hips.
He let the reins fall, and his hands landed on a head of soft hair. He reached lower and pulled her up so he could kiss her. “Claire? It’s really you?”
He let her down and ripped the blindfold off his head, dropping it to the ground and blinking hard as the light hurt his eyes after such a long time in darkness. He jumped off the horse and pulled her into his arms, kissing her properly this time, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth, wanting to touch and taste every inch of her. “You’re alive after all,” he gasped when they broke apart to haul air into his lungs.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Have you decided to join us here in the forest?” Paul’s tone was harsh and accusatory.
“Are you living here? Have you been here all this time? In the forest?” Mitchell shrugged. “I care not what you decide to do. I’m taking Claire home with me. As soon as we reach the stronghold, Father Augustus will marry us. I have missed her more than an arm or a leg. Never shall we be parted again.”
Paul looked as if he was about to attack Mitchell, and Mitchell pushed Claire behind him, but Ivan laid a hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“Paul, we need to tell you all that has been happening this past year. For a start, Lord Jeffrey is dead, and Lord Rhys has reclaimed the demesne.”
“Really?”
Claire hurried over to the fire and brought Mitchell a piece of meat on a wooden stick and a cup of water, and then she did the same for Ivan. “Sit down, and tell us everything you’ve learned,” she said gently.
It was a long time later when Paul and Claire stopped asking Ivan and Mitchell questions. Claire was cuddled into Mitchell’s side, his arm around her waist and her hand on his knee.
Paul stared at her. “You know I planned to give you to Ivan. He loves you, girl.”
Ivan nodded. Mitchell felt pain lance through his body at the thought of losing her even now. He tightened his arm around her.
Claire pulled herself a little loose from him, but kept her hand on his knee. “Ivan, I know you saved our lives, and I am truly grateful for that. I know I owe you a huge debt, and I like you very much. If I’d never met Mitchell, I would have been happy to marry you, as my brother wishes. But it’s Mitchell I love. I’ve loved him forever, and not being with him was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. I must marry him.”
Mitchell was conflicted. Ivan had saved her life? That changed things. When a man saved a person’s life, that person owed it to him for the rest of their days. He could ask anything of them, and they had to give it. Yet the thought of giving Claire up, when he’d only just found her, was a pain so deep it almost crippled him.
