Nathaniel

Taden edged closer to the men in the clearing, careful not to snag his cloak on the fragrant scrubbrush concealing him. The two Sutherlin soldiers had stripped their captive of his shirt, and his chest glistened with sweat in the firelight. His head hung heavily, arms stretched between two trees. A mop of golden curls hid his face. Taden’s knuckles whitened on the hunting knife in his hand as a soldier struck the prisoner in the face, making him cry out. Taden could see the dark bruising on his torso. This wasn’t the first time he’d been beaten. The second man slammed a balled fist into the prisoner’s abdomen and laughed at his grunt of pain. It was too much. Maybe he was being a fool for interfering, but he couldn’t stand by and watch the needless cruelty. He eased from hiding and silently closed the distance between him and the soldiers. The closest man was raising his fist again when Taden reached him. He threw an arm around the soldier’s neck and jerked, exposing the vulnerable throat. The smell of sweat and fear filled his nostrils as he drew his blade in a quick motion across the knotty windpipe. Hot blood spilled over the back of his hand. The soldier wheezed and slumped heavily in his arms. Taden threw the dead man to the side and started for the other, but his prey had no stomach for a fight and ran into the trees. Taden sprinted after him. He couldn’t allow the man to reach his companions. He caught the soldier within heartbeats with his longer stride and plunged the knife into the man’s back with both hands. Thrown off balance, they both went down hard on the forest floor. Taden scrambled to his knees and straddled the screaming soldier. He jerked the knife free and thrust it again into the blood soaked uniform. The keen blade severed bone and muscle, seeking the heart. The soldier’s life pumped out around the knife handle and Taden swore bitterly, witness to the terror on the face pressed into the dirt. A boy playing at being a man. “Damn them,” he fumed. The Sutherlins had no scruples about whom they sent out to fight. He tucked a blond curl of hair behind the boy’s ear as he muttered his soldier’s prayer, stirred to sadness for the one in his life who’d never have the pleasure of that small intimacy again. Taden climbed to his feet, bone weary and heartsick, and tugged the hunting knife from the soldier’s back. A twig snapped as he wiped it clean in the dirt, making his heart pound, but it was only the scurry of a small animal in the brush. He took a last look at the dead soldier, then made his way back through the moonlit forest toward the flickering fire and the young man bound to the trees. The prisoner had his feet planted apart, knees locked to keep from sagging against the bindings, but blood slicked his wrists and ran down his forearms from where the ropes bit into the skin. His head was lowered, and Taden wondered if his strength had given out. “Hello? Don’t be afraid,” he said carefully. “I come without enmity.” The prisoner lifted his head, and Taden was caught in the gaze of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, clear green with a starburst of gold at the pupils; amazing eyes that held him confused and thrilling. The look brushed against the lonely spot in his heart he kept deeply buried. Then the man blinked, and Taden felt released, as if he’d been spellbound. His heart lurched at the exhaustion in the oval face. The captive dropped his head as he lost consciousness, and Taden slung an arm around his waist, supporting the dead weight. He groped for the hunting knife at his belt and cut the ropes, finding the prisoner a lesser burden than he’d feared as he carried him through the trees to the horse hidden in a nearby glen. The stallion snorted at the scent of blood as he approached. Taden spoke softly to him, murmuring endearments and promises of apples as he draped the loose body over the saddle. He stroked the muscular neck and warm chest of his horse, talking quietly as he untied the reins from a low branch. The man roused at that moment, and Taden heard a moan, quickly stifled. “Let me help you,” he said in the same gentle tones he’d used with the horse. The newcomer struggled awkwardly to a sitting position, holding tightly to Taden’s arm for balance. He panted against the horse’s neck, then looked down at Taden, his face shockingly white against the dark hide of the stallion. Taden waited expectantly, but the prisoner’s heavy lids fluttered, and Taden swung deftly up behind him, pulling the young man against his chest before he could fall. The man was shivering, and Taden pulled his cloak from his back and dropped it over the prisoner’s hunched shoulders. He nudged the horse into the forest, listening for the sound of pursuit, and frowned, grim at the thought. The men working his fields had claimed they’d spotted Sutherlins slipping into the forest. He now carried the proof of that with him. He shifted his weight in the saddle to ease sore muscles and pulled the drowsing young man snug against his chest. He checked the position of the moon through the treetops, reassured he was traveling in the direction he’d sent Bryce out to scout earlier. Taden glanced at the burden in his arms and smiled, bemused by his beauty. Moonlight caught in his hair, creating a golden fan against a white cheek. Taden moved the reins to his left hand and tucked the silken strands behind a small ear. He noted the bruises under his eyes. The young man moved against him, seeking warmth. Taden drew his cloak tighter over him, instantly, intensely aware of him. The stranger’s body was an exciting weight against his chest, recalling nights of passion with others, far in the past, none of which had been as beautiful as this man in his arms. He ran his tongue over dry lips as a hesitant excitement filled him. Could this be the one to break the lonely cycle of his life? His days were spent in service to his family and those dependent on them, his nights alone in an empty bed. He longed for someone of his own, a lover to give him purpose outside the needs of others. The stranger woke with a soft moan and turned in the saddle to face him. Taden held his breath as the dark lashes flickered and opened. There was confusion in the lovely green depths, and a soft breath escaped the pale lips. Taden bent his head, wanting to know their taste. He straightened abruptly, amazed. Had he almost kissed him? Did the young man have him to fear as well? He’d made himself an oath to protect him, then nearly took the basest advantage. That made him no better than the Sutherlin soldiers he’d killed that night. He watched awareness flood the lovely eyes, but before he could reassure him, the man lunged from the saddle with a startled cry, stumbling to keep his footing as he landed. The horse sidestepped, but Taden reined him sharply to a halt. They stared at each other, the stranger’s chest heaving. Taden’s heart squeezed at his evident terror, but the youth stood his ground and asked, “What do you want of me?” His courage was an almost overwhelming attraction to Taden, but his eyes darted into the trees as if to assess his options of escape. Taden had to tread carefully. “Don’t you remember?” he asked, his tone gentle. “I freed you. I’m Taden, the baron of these lands.” The man blanched, his gaze traveling down the dark path behind them. Taden hurriedly reassured him. “They’re dead. Please, put aside your apprehension and come to my camp. Let us see to your wounds. In fact…” he dismounted slowly, holding out his empty hands as the youth took a step back. “I have dressings in my saddlebag. I can at least bind your wrists.” The man looked at the blood drying on his forearms and the fresh stains on his palms, black in the moonlight. He worried a lip, seeming achingly young, but then his lips closed firmly and he nodded. “As you wish.” Taden used the water from his flask to clean the young man’s slim arms and hands, wincing at the sores on his delicate wrists, which still oozed blood. He bound them in clean cloth, glancing up at a hiss of pain into the youth’s wide green eyes he could willingly drown in. He wasn’t sure what drew him so irresistibly. After several painful relationships, he’d sworn never to let anyone close again. So why did he tremble when the young man touched his hand? “My name’s Nathaniel. Thank you for saving me.” Taden had to clear his throat. “How are the ribs?” Nathaniel glanced at his torso, the bruising stark on his white skin. He pulled Taden’s cloak closed over his chest. “I’ll be fine. They’re painful, as you might expect, but the soldiers knew what they were about. The captain had warned them not to damage me.” Taden blinked several times at the almost arrogant tone of his voice, but with a quick glance at the descending moon, decided to leave his questions for the morrow. “Come. We need to find my friends before the moon sets completely and leaves us in darkness.” Nathaniel took a step back and clasped his hands behind him. “I’m not going with you.” “No?” Taden looked Nathaniel’s slim figure over, noting the exhaustion and pain betrayed in his pale skin and heavy-lidded eyes. He stowed the remaining bandages in the saddlebag without a word, then climbed into the saddle and put out his hand. “Surely whatever it is can wait until daylight?” he asked, trying for reason before the man collapsed on his feet. Nathaniel glanced down the trail again and ran a trembling hand over his face. “Very well,” he murmured, reaching for Taden’s hand and swinging up behind him. Strangely disappointed that he hadn’t returned to his arms, Taden kicked the horse forward, sneering slightly when Nathaniel grabbed his waist to keep from falling. The moon set steadily as they traveled, the forest quiet except for the creak of the saddle leather and the plod of the horse’s hooves on the dirt trail. Nathaniel became an alluring presence at Taden’s back as he slept, the warmth of his body stealing into Taden’s blood, awaking hungers he’d long suppressed. Taden took a relieved breath when they reached the edge of an incline in the trail and he looked down on the flickering fire and the slumbering camp in the vale. He gave a sharp whistle, instantly answered. The hint of a morning breeze stirred his dark hair, and he pulled the long strands into a braid on his neck, letting the wind cool his blood. He turned in the saddle. “Nathaniel?” The young man murmured something and unexpectedly slid his arms around Taden, slipping his fingers under Taden’s tunic. Taden scrambled from the saddle with a muttered oath, burning with jealousy for the darling in Nathaniel’s dream. Nathaniel swayed, his support suddenly gone, and Taden put a hand out to steady him. Nathaniel blinked at him, dazed with sleep. “You shouldn’t walk, my lord,” he slurred, making to leave the saddle. Taden grimaced, impatient with his unaccountable reaction to Nathaniel’s errant caresses. “Nonsense. Hold on tightly. The trail down is steep.” Nathaniel nodded and twined his fingers in the horse’s mane. Taden took hold of the reins and started down. Gravel slipped under his boots, making the descent treacherous. He swore as the horse bumped its nose into his shoulder when he had to stop to catch his balance. He turned his head at a low sound and met Nathaniel’s concerned look. “We’re almost down,” he said, his emotions suddenly in a tumult from the small dimple that appeared beside Nathaniel’s captivating mouth when he smiled encouragement. Captain Bryce met them at the bottom of the incline with a bow to Taden, but his gaze never left Nathaniel in the saddle. “My lord.” “Bryce. How are things here?” “Quiet, for the most part. But it was good that you gave the signal or I would have assumed a herd of stallions was coming down the trail. Or the incursive army.” “You’ve seen the Sutherlins, then?” Bryce nodded, taking the reins from Taden’s hand. “They’re as silent as you are, my friend. We would have heard them coming long before they reached us. Who’s this?” Taden allowed his gaze to return to Nathaniel, ethereally beautiful with the last trace of moonlight on his face. “I rescued him from some overzealous Sutherlin guards. I don’t know where he’s from.” Taden’s tone unconsciously gentled as he spoke to Nathaniel. “Won’t you come down?” Uncertainty crossed Nathaniel’s expression, but he swung a leg over the saddle and dismounted, facing them squarely. “I’m Nathaniel from Curacan.” The captain exchanged a startled glance with Taden, then looked the stranger over again. “You crossed the sea?” “Yes, sir. To explore.” Captain Bryce gave him a wry smile. “You didn’t get very far, then.” He frowned as the cloak slipped from Nathaniel’s shoulders and revealed the dark bruising on the white skin. Nathaniel swayed on his feet in obvious exhaustion. “Well, all of that can wait until morning. Come to the fire. There’s hot tea and a bit of stew. I’m sure we can find you some spare clothing, as well.” “Thank you.” Nathaniel took a few stumbling steps after the captain, whose brown and green uniform made him a fleeting figure in the uncertain light. Taden put an arm around his waist, supporting him to the glowing fire. “Thank you,” Nathaniel said again, high color in his cheeks as Taden lowered him to the blankets warmed by the flames. Taden looked at the contusions on Nathaniel’s face, the bruises across his ribs, and his fierce anger returned for the men who’d done that to him. A dark flush rose in Nathaniel’s face at the scrutiny, and he huddled into his cloak. Embarrassed by his ungovernable feelings, Taden looked away, his glance falling on the blanketed mounds of Dantrel and Robart sleeping nearby. “A good lot of help they are,” he said dryly, waving a hand at the motionless forms. “Useless bunch,” Bryce agreed, busy at the fire. One of the blankets moved, revealing copper hair and piercing blue eyes. “We could hear you coming from a league away, my lord.” “My pardon, Dantrel.” Taden bowed slightly as the bright head slipped back under the blankets. A grumble rose from the other mound. “Can’t you let a body sleep?” “Goodnight, Robart,” Taden called good-naturedly. Chuckling, Bryce left the fire and handed Taden a bowl of the promised stew. Taden stirred the contents, breathing deeply of the aromatic steam. He hadn’t realized his hunger until that moment. Bryce passed a bowl to Nathaniel, who murmured a sleepy gratitude. Taden watched him pick at his food while he wolfed his own down, noting Nathaniel’s struggle to keep heavy lids open. He looked away from Nathaniel, stirred to pity by his vulnerable appearance, and met the question in Bryce’s gray eyes. “I know nothing about him,” Taden confessed, sitting cross-legged beside Nathaniel and passing the empty bowls back to Bryce. “But we can surely offer him safety for the night.” “As you wish, my lord.” Bryce made an exaggerated bow, hints of gold showing in his sandy hair in the firelight. He smiled slightly at Taden’s scowl. “Don’t look so angry. We’ve traveled together for what, two seasons? I trust your instincts, if not this stranger. I’m wondering what the Sutherlins wanted with him though.” “Perhaps they wanted to hold him as a hostage in this war they seem bent on starting.” Nathaniel made a negative sound. “The Sutherlins aren’t here to invade your lands, Lord.” Taden looked quickly at Nathaniel and damned his overzealous body as it leaped to life at the loveliness of the pale face watching him. “What do you mean?” “They tracked me here. It has nothing to do with you.” “The Sutherlins would risk war over you?” Taden cursed the doubt in his voice when Nathaniel shrugged and looked away. He touched his arm and felt it stiffen. “Tell me.” Nathaniel shrugged again and pulled the blanket closer to his body. “My cousin commands them,” he said, and stretched out on the ground, his back to them. Taden watched him a moment, then glanced at Bryce, who raised a brow as he observed, “Seems he’s done talking, unless you want me to beat an answer out of him.” “No. I’ll question him in the morning.” “As you wish.” Bryce’s expression turned grave, and he leaned toward Taden, lowering his voice as he continued, “He spoke of Curacan. You’ve heard the rumors. That land is alive with dark magic. So much so that the duke has forbidden entry into our country by any of its people. You know as well as I do it’s our heads if we offer succor to one of its witches.” Taden’s lips stretched in a sour smile. “I’ll deal with Duke Hursten. There hasn’t been a witch on our continent in generations, and I’ve yet to see Nathaniel display any of this so called magic he’s afraid of.” “Very well.” Bryce rose to his feet and motioned to the spare blankets. “Get some rest. I’ll finish the watch.” Taden waited until the captain’s stocky form had disappeared into the darkness between the trees and then picked up a blanket. He found a spot across the fire from Nathaniel and removed his boots, desire besetting him as he recalled the weight of Nathaniel’s body in his arms. He hadn’t thought of his loneliness until Nathaniel had trustingly taken his hand. Taden rolled in his blanket and fell asleep with Nathaniel’s pale, tempting lips in his thoughts.