Page 33 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

O ther than a quick smirk and a rolling of his eyes when he saw the bottom of the breeches sticking out from under her gown as she mounted the horse, Hunter had hardly looked at her or spoken to her since leaving Shrewsbury.

He’d convinced her that the longer she tried to pull the ruse, the more likely someone would find her out and then question her, which could prove dangerous.

She knew he was right: It was considered an affront to God’s law and punishment could be severe should she be caught.

Though many people would pay no mind to them, if anyone did decide to make a fuss about it and attract attention, the consequences could be grave.

“Until you’ve tried riding a horse astride in a gown with nothing beneath, I will not listen to your rebuke for the breeches,” she’d said in defense of her actions.

She almost laughed at the thin line formed by his lips as he turned away from her to mount his own horse.

It didn’t occur to her until later in the day that perhaps it was the suggestive nature of what she’d said rather than the fact that she was wearing the breeches that riled him.

In truth, she was not put off by his silence because she had enough thoughts of her own to sort through.

A restless night of going over every touch and every word before he’d stomped out of the room the evening before still hadn’t been enough for her to make sense of her feelings.

His response to her suggestion that she hire him to be the protector her brother would have been, coupled with the confession in the hut that he was always aware of her even when he ignored her, seemed proof that he was fighting an attraction to her.

“Because when I am with you, what I feel is far from brotherly.”

But then when she’d tried to kiss him, he’d humiliated her by pushing her away and leaving the room.

She tried to remember his tone when he said the words.

Did he say them with regret? Or was it scorn?

Perhaps he meant he did not even hold the affection of a sibling for her, or that he felt nothing when he looked at her.

It was so frustratingly confusing!

She stole a glance at him. He’d kept his horse a pace or two ahead of her the entire day, constantly scanning the road ahead and behind, and the surrounding forest. She didn’t think he’d looked at her even once during that time.

The realization that she’d made a fool of herself by thinking he wanted to kiss her as much as she had wanted to kiss him last night made the heat rise in her cheeks, which only angered her more.

How dare he pretend he was just as unsettled by her touch as she was by his, and then push her aside?

He probably knew that with his handsome face, and those piercing eyes of rich emerald, and sensual lips that begged to be tasted, that he could convince any woman to disregard her virtue and have his way with her.

But he had refused her.

She supposed it was because of her lack of experience.

It was true that she had only been kissed by one man in a moment of passion, even if it had been fleeting.

The kiss had been with the son of a merchant from Hereford whom she saw frequently at the market there.

He’d been more of a boy than a man, and it had been terrible—clumsy, too wet, and horrible tasting.

She’d never told anyone of the kiss, not even Baldwin.

But she had been young and curious, and no one else had ever tried to kiss her in that way.

Hunter’s breath had been sweet and smelled of the wine they’d just drunk when she tried to kiss him last night, and…

Stop! She shook her head to rid it of the memory. It was futile to dwell on one moment from the prior night and better to push any thoughts of kissing Hunter far from her mind.

She stared at his back as he rode on his horse ahead of her.

He’d warned her the journey would be longer today than the prior day’s ride, but she wondered how much longer she would have to endure sitting in the stiff saddle with Hunter stoically pretending that being alert to the surroundings required all of his attention.

Even when they’d stopped for a quick respite and to rest their mounts, he’d hardly spoken to her, choosing instead to busy himself with inspecting the horses’ hooves and adjusting the saddles.

They must be getting close, she reasoned, because the sky was glowing a brilliant orange through the dark clouds in the horizon, and soon it would be dusk.

Just as it registered in her mind that that wasn’t the sunset she was seeing, she heard Hunter mutter, “God’s blood!”

He bolted forward on his horse, then stopped and turned his mount back toward Anora as though just remembering she was still with him, his features strained as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Follow me,” he ordered and turned his mount in the direction of the distant fire.

They rode at a brutal pace for a short distance along the road, then turned into the forest, breaking branches as they went until a narrow trail appeared in front of them.

They followed the trail up a hill until it turned and continued just below the ridge line for some distance.

Finally, Hunter halted Shadow, but he signaled to Anora to remain quiet and stay where she was as he dismounted and climbed up the steep incline to the crest of the ridge to peer over the precipice.

Anora slid from her Willow’s back and started up the hill, wanting to know what was happening.

He turned as soon as he heard her approach from behind him, shooting her a stern glare, then motioned her to stay low and come forward quietly.

When she reached the crest of the ridge, she crouched next to him among the low shrubs.

A small settlement was nestled into the side of the hill not far below them in a valley with pastures of sheep extending out from the handful of buildings.

It would be a tranquil sight if not for the fact that the buildings were ablaze with bright flames.

The structures were collapsing as they were consumed by the fire while the voices of desperate people screaming and wailing carried on the wind to Anora’s ears.

She covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from crying out in desperate alarm, though she did not expect anyone would hear her over the shrill howl created by the flames, wind, and mournful shouts of the people below.

“We must go to them,” Anora said in a strangled whisper.

“We have to help them.” Her heart broke at the sight of people trying in vain to extinguish the flames while others huddled together in groups.

Dead sheep dotted the pastures, and those that were left were standing on the far ends of the fields, away from the chaos, bleating in fear and confusion.

Hunter scanned the valley and hillsides below, then pointed to a group of riders kicking up dust on the road cutting through the valley and into the forest. “Stay here!” he commanded as he pushed to his feet and sprinted down the hill toward the horses.

He leapt onto Shadow’s back before Anora could muster the breath to protest and she watched as he disappeared into the thick of the trees at a full gallop.

She turned back to watch the riders, but they soon disappeared into the cover of the trees once the road reached the forest. Her gaze flicked between the road and the village for what seemed an eternity with no sign of Hunter in either place.

What she did see was a path that led from the village up toward the ridge where she huddled.

She couldn’t see exactly where it ended on the ridge, but she was certain if she followed the ridgeline, she would find the trail and could then make her way down the village.

A twinge of guilt niggled at her for defying Hunter’s order to stay where she was, but a quick look to the horizon confirmed that the night was descending, and darkness would be upon her soon.

And since she had no idea where Hunter went or when he would return, she decided it was safer to make her way to the village than to stay in the forest for the night with no means of protecting herself.

Besides, she reasoned, the attackers had left the village, and she could be of use to those who still battled the fires.

It took longer than she anticipated to find the trail leading to the village, and it was almost completely dark by the time she and Willow were making their way downhill. With a pat to her horse’s neck, she murmured, “I am trusting your superior eyes to find our way, Willow.”

She tried not to think about Hunter’s fury when he discovered she was not where he left her, but she was sure the village would be the first place he would go to look for her, and he would see the rightness of her decision once she explained her reasoning.

Her worries and guilt were immediately forgotten as she got closer to the settlement and saw up close the devastation wrought by the fires.

At the edge of the hamlet, she came upon a small child kneeling over the body of a woman.

She dismounted and went to the child, but the little girl did not even acknowledge her presence.

“Mama! Mama!” She repeated the cry as she rocked over the body of her mother, her little hands pulling at the woman’s ripped tunic as she tried to wake her.

Anora crouched and pressed a hand to the woman’s chest to feel for any sign of life, but the pool of blood beneath her head did not bode well.

When she could not feel a breath moving her lungs or the beat of her heart, she gently pulled the little girl away from her mother’s body and into her arms.