“I can turn around, but I cannot go off and leave you alone. If anything happened to you, Owen would be distraught. He loves you very much.”
The thought that Owen had convinced him of that sent shivers through her and more than ever she wanted to get away from him.
“That will be fine,” she said and cringed at what she was about to do to this innocent man. As soon as he presented his back to her, she tossed her cloak back off her arm and, with a prayer on her lips that she didn’t do any great damage to the man, swung the chair leg as hard as she could at his head.
He went down with a thud. She gave it a moment to see if he moved and when he didn’t she took off, reciting multiple prayers for the fallen warrior. She had kept a sharp eye on her surroundings when they had headed into the woods and had mentally planned her route to the lean-to so as not to be seen. She approached, from behind it, cautiously. She did not know how much time she had before she was discovered missing, so she did not want to waste a moment.
Torr was tied with rope to a worn board that he could easily break with one good yank, but if he did the lean-to would collapse on top of him. Only one warrior stood guard in front, facing Torr, as if at any moment he expected him to break free.
He was so intent on his duties and with the snow-covered ground cushioning her approach, he didn’t hear her coming until it was too late.
“We have to get out of here,” she said stepping over the fallen warrior to get to Torr. She went to work on the rope, her hands trembling as she struggled to free him.
“Look at me.”
His demand was so sharp that she responded without thought.
“He hit you?”
“Please, I want to go home.” She hated that she sounded as if she begged him, but the thought of what Own would do to her if she did not get free had reduced her to pleading. She returned to working on the rope and once loosened, Torr managed to free himself the rest of the way.
She slipped her cloak off as he did that, and then slipped his cloak off handing it to him and hurried hers back on. She then repositioned the rolled blankets under her arm since they had done a good job of keeping her warm.
Torr untied his horse and with a gentle hand to the animal’s face and softly whispered words, he guided the horse out of the lean-to. He cocked his head at Wintra, directing her to follow, and she stayed right on his heels.
When they were not that far from the cottage, Torr stopped and pressed his face to his horse and whispered something, then he tapped the horse on the backside and the horse snorted and hurried through the snow as fast as he could.
It was then they heard the shouts.
Torr scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, and then he took a leap over a patch of snow into a bush. They both fell to the ground, though Torr was quick to get to his feet and scoop handfuls of snow to dump on the bush. He then grabbed hold of her hand and hoisted her off the ground and had her tucked behind another bush in seconds.
No soon as he did, then Owen and his men came into sight. Even with the distance that separated them, she could see the fury on his face.
“He took her. Get the horses. We go after them,” he ordered, his face burning bright red.
It was not long before the whole troop was barreling down the same path that Torr’s horse had taken. They waited a bit longer to make certain no warrior lagged behind or returned, then Torr took her hand, and they hurried off.
They walked for hours until finally Torr stopped and announced, “We rest, but just a bit.”
Wintra dropped the blanket roll on the snow and sunk down on it.
Torr hunched down in front of her, taking gentle hold of her chin to glare at the swelling at the corner of her mouth. “What happened?”
Wintra didn’t know if she could ever tell anyone what Owen had said to her. She was too embarrassed for being such a fool and thinking he loved her, and she would not dare repeat what Owen had expected her to do.
Torr ran his thumb tenderly over her lips and softly urged, “Tell me, Wintra.”
There it was again—concern—and not only in his voice, but in his deep blue eyes as well. She found the words spilling out before she could give it another thought. “He told me that I was spoiled goods and that my brother would have no choice but to arrange a marriage between us. And he demanded that I show him my breasts and when I refused he hit me. Then—” She stopped there, not certain that she could say more.