Blast From the Past by Nic Saint Page A

diminish her untamed beauty. The flaming red hair, the remarkable emerald eyes, the pointed chin, often raised in mutiny, the pale skin liberally strewn with freckles.
    She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t join her brothers on the other side of the country. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the heartache the divorce had brought.
    Shivering against the cold and relishing in the sensation of goosebumps appearing on her alabaster skin, she set foot for the cottage that had been her home for the last five years. Her and Jonathan’s. Briefly, they’d been happy there. Now all that was left were the ruins of their union, and even dwelling on the past made her heart shrink.
    As she crossed to the forest that lay between the plains and her home, she thought she heard a cry sound in the distance—carried on the wind. At first, she couldn’t be certain whether it was human or animal in nature—or simply the wind itself howling through the trees.
    As she neared the forest, she suddenly saw a streak of red passing between two trees to the left. A fleeting impression that barely registered on her retinae. When she instinctively turned to track the movement, a wail rang out, louder this time, distinctly human.
    After a moment’s hesitation, she set foot for the source of the cries, curious to see if one of the townsfolk had perhaps landed in a ditch or a child fallen from a tree. Then a cry rent the air, the pitch urgent—desperate.
    Picking up her pace, she hurried over to the edge of the forest where the blotch of red had caught her attention. Man or beast, something was in trouble, and she hadn’t the heart to ignore the desperate cry for help.
    As she neared the first trees, something whizzed past her ear and she yelped in surprise. Instantly sensing danger, she scrunched down, then made a run for the forest in hopes of finding cover against this unexpected attack. An arrow or a bullet, she could not be sure, but some projectile had been aimed in her direction.
    And as she reached the brambles and hurried around to use them for cover, she saw the man, large as life, suddenly looming up before her frightened gaze.
    Not ten yards from where she cowered, he stood tall and proud, his penetrating eyes brooking no nonsense, and when they first hit her, she felt their power shooting sparks of electricity through her huddled body. Had he seen her? Had he spotted her? Only now did she see the bow and arrow in his hands, his eyes narrowed and scanning the forest in the falling dusk. His eyes turned away, and she felt a whisper of relief fluttering through her.
    On the forest floor before him, a figure lay, dressed in red and partially obscured by the man’s hulking frame. Inadvertently she brought a hand to her face, eyes wide in horror. The figure in red… it was a woman, a tangle of blond streaking out across the red, an arrow’s vane pointing to the sky, her fingers curled around its shaft, soft whimpering sounds escaping her lips.
    She’d been shot.
    The tall man— he’d shot her!

    CHAPTER TWO

    The woman heaved a guttural cry, and the man turned his fierce dark eyes on her, his archer’s weapon ready, poised for the deadly arrow to swish from his grasp and end his victim’s life.
    Joanna couldn’t bear to watch as he readied himself to finish her off, and diverted her horrified gaze. But then a different sound assaulted her ears. Not the sickening thud of an arrow piercing flesh, but the howl of a hunter’s trumpet being blown not far from where she hid.
    At the sound, the man whirled in the direction whence it had come, and briefly kneeled next to the woman, speaking harsh words in a foreign tongue before he was up and away, lithely disappearing into the brush. The moment he had vanished from view, Joanna, her heart pounding and her breath coming in short bursts, began an urgent approach. Her eyes darting left and right, she hurried over to where the woman lay and fell to her knees beside her.
    She was surprised by