one, not even the wealthiest of them all, had ever given her anything that touched her the way Caleb’s gifts had. His gifts were given to her from the deep wells of his heart, not his purse. The flower, this little woman sitting beside cool water, these things meant something to him. Her Warrior had no riches to give her. He was a commoner, yet his gifts were priceless because they represented what he loved most.
Someone was knocking at the door downstairs and Willow wiped her eyes. Thank God, her bath had finally arrived. Still clutching her gift to her chest, she made her way down the stairs and opened the door.
“Good day, Princess.” Jonas greeted her with his usual magnetic smile then looked over her shoulder into the cottage. “Is Caleb at home?”
“Jonas, you didn’t see him—or Jarod?”
He shook his head. I was on the hills.”
She filled him in breathlessly and with each passing word Jonas’ faced paled until finally he bolted from the door, racing for his horse, which almost looked surprised at the speed with which its rider mounted.
It didn’t take the Catchers long to subdue Ermile. The moment they held their long swords to his throat, he fainted. Which was a blessing in disguise for Shauna. The noose was pulled tightly around her neck, but she didn’t panic. She grabbed the stick at the end of the noose and yanked it free of her would-be captor’s hands behind her, then butted the point of it into his hooded face. She pulled the noose quickly over her head and used the long stick to block the swing of a blade to her head. She swiped low and around, sweeping another Catcher off his feet.
Ermile opened his eyes at one point and saw the delicate flaxen haired beauty he was going to marry lift her face toward the heavens and bellow like a wild beast, and he fainted again.
She had killed three of the Catchers by the time her brother reached her, but her hand was cut and bleeding, and the sword she had seized from one of the dead slipped from her wet fingers as she swung it across a Catcher’s face. Another black robed figure was upon her immediately, grabbing her from behind. She tried to kick but her gown restricted her movements. Suddenly her captor’s head flew over her shoulder and her arm was free. She turned to see Caleb, wild with fury, slicing and plunging his sword into the Catchers who had dismounted.
Jarod’s blade flashed against the sun as well, as he swung with lightning speed, no longer a young man but a skilled and deadly Warrior trained by the best. And not long after that, the best arrived.
Jonas guided his mount using only the strength in his legs. His arms were lifted high over his head, ready to bring his massive broadsword down with a terrifying roar. He thundered toward them and Shauna turned in time to see him call the chant. Her heart ached within her at the bald Warrior who could have been harvesting Caleb’s wheat fields the way his blade flew. Men dropped to the ground, cut down where they stood. Every black robed slaver who happened to be within a few inches of Shauna went down next, and any that came within ten feet of Caleb fell in bloodied heaps to the hard, cracked earth. The rest fled before Jonas could get near them.
The bare-chested Warrior looked as if he was thinking of going after them but jumped from his mount and ran to Shauna instead. “You’re hurt!” he choked, pulling his bandana from his head to wrap her hand.
While Jonas was so tenderly caring for her, Caleb dismounted and stormed toward her. When he reached her, he yanked her arm free of Jonas’ gentle grip. “Why did you do this?” he shouted, but then pulled her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Shauna whispered into his shoulder.
Caleb released her and looked to where Ermile was lying on the ground. “Is he dead?”
“No.” Shauna sighed. “He…um…”
Caleb threw her a look of disgust when he realized Ermile had fainted. He marched over to the dreaming halfwit and kicked him softly in his side.
“Get up!” he shouted, ignoring his sister’s urgent pleas behind him. Jonas threw his arms around Caleb, restraining him before he could plunge his sword into Ermile’s chest. “Release me, Jonas,” Caleb warned his dearest friend. “Let me beat some sense into him.”
“No, Caleb.” His first in command spoke quietly.