A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,24

trouble.
Chapter 7
Sweat rolled in twin beads down Tarrys's temples as she followed Charlie up the narrow, rocky path.

They'd left the forest behind some time ago, though they continued to follow the stream.

The colors of the increasingly rugged terrain changed as they rose in altitude, the stones turning a more vibrant red, as if they'd been dipped in blood and sprinkled with silver.

Above, the golden sky slowly turned to rust.

Fear rode her shoulders, a continual and growing weight.

Not fear for herself.

No, her fear lay centered entirely upon Charlie.

Not only were there a hundred dangers awaiting him in this land, but something was very wrong with him and they both knew it.

He tried to tell her he was simply suffering from a virus, that he'd be well soon enough.

But she saw his weakness growing hour by hour.

And she watched the worry darken his eyes.

What would she do if he became seriously ill? She knew nothing about human sickness and cures, and had no skills as a healer.

Her gaze went to him now, traveling over the wide expanse of his broad shoulders, catching a glimpse of his strong profile.

Even exhausted and ill, his keen gaze searched for danger every minute of every hour of every day.

He was so strong, so capable.

A warrior, through and through.

But human bodies were inherently fragile.

The thought of such a man being forced to succumb to illness, to a foe he couldn't fight, made her ache almost as much as the thought of losing him.

And the thought of losing him was nearly more than she could bear.

She loved him.

Charlie Rand was a good man, a warrior, through and through, ready to fight to protect others.

He would kill, and had killed, but not without reason.

She believed that.

War was not the way of Esria.

Not the human kind of wars, at least.

The last true battle had been fought three hundred years ago when Rith captured the queen, princess Ilaria's mother.

He was strong, but, it was rumored, not strong enough to take her fairly.

So he'd ordered one of his followers to destroy her with the death curse.

Of course, the follower was subsequently killed for having ended another Esri's life, even though he'd been acting under orders.

But such was the way of royal successions.

Charlie stopped as they reached a level stretch of path and leaned against one of the red rocks, perspiration damp on his brow, his skin several shades too pale.

He swayed on his feet and Tarrys's heart tripped.

She looped her arm around his waist.

"You need to rest again."

"I'm okay."

But he sank to his knees, making a lie of his words.

"No.

I'm not.

I don't know what's wrong with me."

He lay down awkwardly on a sprouting blanket of pink flowers as if he'd lost all his strength.

"Half an hour.

No more."

Tarrys knelt beside him and pulled the bow and quiver off his back, laying them beside him so he could rest more comfortably.

Hesitantly, she laid her hand against his forehead as she'd seen Aunt Myrtle do once.

She'd heard that human skin grew hot to the touch when a human sickened, but there was no unnatural heat in Charlie's skin.

Her gaze caressed his face, flowing over his light brown eyebrows to his closed eyelids and down to his strong, warrior's mouth.

As she watched, his lips parted on a low sound that told her he slept.

She stayed there beside him until his color began to return.

Perhaps his body simply needed time to adjust to her world.

With a soft stroke to his hair, she rose and retraced their path a short way back, placing herself firmly between Charlie and those who followed them.

Climbing onto a large, flat rock, she sat cross-legged to wait.

A half an hour, he'd said.

And how was she to know when a half hour had passed? If he was sick, he needed to sleep.

She knew that much.

Minutes later, she heard the soft pad of feet behind her and turned.

"I thought you'd sleep longer...."

Her voice trailed off, her heart shooting to her throat.

It wasn't Charlie behind her as she'd thought.

It was the Esri.

The one in the blue tunic who'd watched her so covetously as he'd punished his own slave.

Triumph shone in his cruel eyes.

Tarrys leaped to her feet, her heart pounding in her ears, her mouth dry as sand.

How had he gotten past her? Her gaze shot to the spot on the path above her where Charlie still slept, seemingly untouched.

She must keep the Esri from seeing him.

But as she whirled to jump down from the ledge, to lead him away, a second Esri appeared below, his