Page 40 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

W ords were not Hunter’s strength.

He searched his brain to find the right words to say to ease Anora’s discomfort, but he had no idea what to say to reassure her.

He hated that she was obviously doing everything in her power not to touch him as she rode in front of him on Shadow’s back.

On the other hand, if she did lean back into him, he’d not be able to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him as he breathed in her intoxicating scent.

As it was, he could still taste her sweetness on his tongue, and he wanted more of her.

It was said nothing was more dangerous to a warrior than a beautiful woman.

He’d never understood the sentiment. Any man with a measure of sense and discipline would never be so easily overcome by a woman who sought to bring him low.

But now he wondered if that vulnerability had nothing to do with the woman and everything to do with the man.

From the moment he met Anora, he’d been infatuated with her easy laugh, her sharp wit, and her glittering eyes when she smiled.

He’d managed to put her from his mind when he’d been away from her for more than a day.

Yet, the more time he’d spent in her presence, the harder it had become to forget all of her attributes.

Still, he’d always been able to rely on the blade sharp precision of his focus when on a mission.

Until three nights ago when he’d come across Anora prowling around Castle Whyte in the dead of night dressed in her brother’s clothes and thinking they hid her womanly form.

He should have done a much more thorough search for the proof Hawk had requested he find linking the baron to men he suspected plotted against the crown, but once he saw Anora, his sole purpose had been to get her out of the way of danger as quickly as possible.

Then, last night, when he’d given chase to the men leaving the burning hamlet, he’d turned back long before he should have because of his fear of what would happen to Anora if there were more marauders, and she unwittingly was caught in their path.

She had become his Achilles’ heel. His Guinevere. His Helen. And every other woman who became the object of a warrior’s obsession in the ballads sung by the bards.

Regardless of the intent of the woman, the result was always the same: She crippled the warrior by making him lax, and weak.

Orange streaks of light colored the horizon as they turned between two fenced fields and rode up the hill toward the stables and the manor beyond it where Red and Galiena lived.

He halted his horse as they drew near and dismounted, hoping for a few minutes of privacy with Anora before they entered the stable, but young Wart was already eagerly running toward them.

“’Unter!”

“Wart,” Hunter said in acknowledgment as the boy approached at a full run, his skinny knees and elbows churning. He’d barely helped Anora from the saddle before Wart was standing directly in front of her, staring up wide-eyed with a huge grin on his face.

“Milady.” Wart said, his voice full of awe. The boy fell in love with every pretty woman who crossed his path.

“I’m not a lady,” Anora said to the boy and matched his grin with one of her own. “You can call me Anora.”

“Wart is Hawkspur’s most capable stable hand when he’s not trying to charm the women,” Hunter said as he clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He liked Wart. The young lad was a scrapper and completely uninhibited by shyness. “Anora is here to see Galiena and the babes.”

“Is she yer lady?” Wart asked Hunter, still smiling up at Anora. Her cheeks bloomed with dark splotches of color, and she shifted uncomfortably as her gaze flicked to Hunter.

“No more questions, Wart.” He gave Wart a playful cuff on the side of his head. “Take my horse.”

“Wait,” Anora said. “I have a question for you, Wart. Has anyone brought a gray mare to the stable during the night, or this morning?”

“Aye,” Wart said with a vigorous nod. “Bard brought ’er in and put ’er in a stall ’imself. Said to let ’er rest and then put ’er out to graze later. Is she yers? If so, I’ll take extra special care of ’er.”

“She is.” She smiled so sweetly at the boy that he appeared to nearly swoon. “Her name is Willow, and I trust you will take excellent care of her.”

“I’ll make sure she gets a good rub down an’ extra oats,” Wart replied with a gallant bow before taking Shadow’s reins from Hunter. “Will you be wantin’ yer bags brought to Red’s house?”

Hunter heard a familiar voice say, “I’ll carry those, Wart,” and he turned to see a big, red-haired Viking emerging from the stable.

“Red!” Anora said as she hopped with excitement and allowed her friend’s husband—and Hunter’s best friend and fellow warrior—to embrace her in greeting. He lifted her off the ground and she squealed happily.

An unfamiliar surge of bile burned Hunter’s throat, and he had the sudden urge to break Red’s arms. He bit the insides of his cheeks to clear the misplaced rage that clouded his eyes.

Red was his closest friend and happily married to a woman he doted on with complete devotion.

It was unreasonable to think he had anything other than friendly affection for Anora, but if he didn’t remove his hands from her in the next breath, Hunter was going to break.

Anora broke off the embrace and stepped back to look up at Red with a radiant smile. “How is Galiena? Are the babies well?”

“Aye, to both questions,” Red said with a jovial laugh and huge grin as he put his arm around her shoulders and fixed Hunter with a pointed glare. “But we are both bleary-eyed most of the time. Ani and Erik rarely sleep at the same time.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” Anora said, still bouncing on her feet despite the weight of Red’s arm still over her shoulder. Hunter bristled at the casual way he kept Anora tucked into his side, and he knew damn well the Viking somehow could tell it vexed him and was doing it just to bait him.

Hunter tossed Anora’s saddlebags at Red with more force than necessary, and he was gratified as the Viking caught them with an “oof” and released Anora to sling the bags over his own shoulder.

“I expected you hours ago,” Red said, arching an eyebrow inquisitively at Hunter as though speaking to an errant child. “Bard woke me after meeting with Hawk. Said to send you to the castle as soon as you arrived. He was surprised you weren’t here already.”

“Bard should mind his own affairs,” Hunter said. From the corner of his eye, he saw Anora redden and bite her bottom lip.

“I stopped to bathe and change my clothes. We were reeking of soot and smoke.”

“Well then,” Red said. “That explains your delay.” But as soon as she began walking up the path to the manor, he turned to Hunter with a smirk and a knowing nod of his head.

“That is one explanation to be sure, though, I suspect it is not the only one. Out of respect for Anora’s father, be sure I will be keeping a very close eye on her while she is under my roof.

Even if it is already too late to save her virtue.

” He lifted an eyebrow at Hunter, and it was very difficult not to want to punch Red in one of his laughing blue eyes.

But he desisted, as part of him appreciated his friend’s concern over Anora’s state.

Ahead of them, Anora said, “I am eager to see Galiena.” She turned to look back at them. “Is she awake at this hour?”

“She’s been awake since news arrived that you were on the way,” Red said with one more warning glance at Hunter as he turned in the direction of his house.

He watched Red move past Anora to lead her to the manor and had an unexpected gut-wrenching reaction to her walking away from him.

He hurried to catch up to her and once he did, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist to stop her, then pulled her toward him as he stepped closer so that their bodies almost touched.

He knew Red and everyone gathered by the stables watched them, but he didn’t care.

In a low voice, he said, “I will not be far if you need me.”

She lifted her gaze to his and tipped her head slightly. “I should hope not. We have unfinished business with the baron.”

“First, I must report to Hawk. I am obligated to do his bidding.”

“You will not leave Hawkspur without me.” She said it as a statement, but Hunter could hear the question in her voice.

Vulnerability was a rare thing to see in Anora, and it tugged at this heart, but he would not give her false assurances. “I make no promises.”

“Then neither do I.” Her eyes flared and she lifted her chin. Their faces were so close he could feel the heat of her breath.

He found it exhilarating to banter with Anora—but not in this moment. Not after he’d kissed and caressed the silky, soft skin of her most private places only a short while ago. Not when he could still feel the heat of her naked body pressed against his.

“I will promise you this, angel.” He hooked a stray strand of hair with his finger and tucked it behind her ear, gently stroking the sensitive skin behind the lobe. “I’ll not leave you for long.”

He saw her lips part and heard the sharp intake of her breath.

It took all of his willpower not to claim her mouth with his own and give her a bruising kiss that marked her as his for all to see.

He was acting a lovesick fool, and he had no idea what he meant to do about it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone else pursue her while he figured it out.

There was a subtle shift of her head as she leaned her cheek almost imperceptibly into the palm of his hand lingering near her ear. She held his gaze for a breath, then turned and started up the hill to where Red waited for her.

He huffed out a long breath and had just turned to make his way to the castle when he heard Anora call his name.

“Hunter.” She had stopped a short distance up the hill to stand with her hands on her hips and long tendrils of hair floating on the wind, looking every bit like a bold heroine from a ballad.

“Aye?” He looked at her suspiciously because he knew the subtle curve to her lips and the fire in her eyes meant she was about to say something brazen.

“I have a promise for you,” she said with a smug grin. “I will not wait for long.”