Boadicea's Legacy by Traci E. Hall Page A

forest trees before realizing they’d lost their treasure. He sensed the men deciding to either come back the distance they’d gone to pick her up where she lay—so still—and chance being killed by his drawn sword as he raced forward, or escape certain death by taking the woods.
    They chose freedom.
Mercenaries
, Os spat with disgust. By the time he reached Ela, she was beginning to stir.
    â€œEla.” He dismounted and knelt by her side. Her head poked out from a hole in a burlap bag that trapped her shoulders, with her arms behind her back. Her legs were tied too, and she squirmed to get free. Anger at how close she’d come to being hurt caught his tongue, and he closed his eyes for a moment to gain control.
    â€œOsbert Edyvean. Nice army you brought today. Help me up,” she said with a wink. “What took you so long to rescue me?”
    He could yell or laugh at her stupid joke. “I came as soon as I received your message, my lady.” He attempted to lift his lips.
    â€œDon’t do that, it’s terrifying. Heroes are not supposedto grimace. Do you mind cutting through the ties? I can’t reach my knife—either of them.”
    He’d never met a woman who would willingly drop to the ground from a moving horse. He remembered her father saying that she was skilled at sword fighting too, that fateful afternoon in the hall. “You have your own knives?” He scratched his chin. “You chewed your way through a burlap sack.” She was an enigma. She intrigued him, calling him to her without words, yet she was everything he couldn’t have. He was a lowly knight—and she was a lady, mayhap a witch, who was quite capable of saving herself.
    â€œAye, I
did
need you. Well, mayhap not the first time. ‘Tis nice to be saved, anyway. It was the first time anybody offered.” She bounced up and down. “Knife. Slice. Give it to me, and I’ll do it myself, for pity’s sake.”
    He reached out and slid the blade down the center of the burlap bag. She obligingly hopped around to show him her back, and he slit the ropes binding her wrists, and lastly the ones on her ankles. He glared at the edge of the forest where the men had disappeared. Perhaps it was just as well that they’d gone, for he would like to kill them and let God sort it out.
    â€œFree,” she sighed and slumped to the ground. Rubbing her wrists and hands, she bit her lip. “This stings.”
    â€œâ€˜Tis the rush of blood returning.” He kneeled on the ground in front of her and took her hands in his. Hers were small and lightly chapped. Nothing to be ashamed of, nothing that made her less of a lady. He rubbed the slightcallous over her knuckle, his body humming with recognition of
her
. The feeling took him by surprise, for he’d never been swept by desire so fast, nor so keenly.
    â€œKnife throwing. I’m rather good,” she said shyly before pulling her hand free.
    â€œI don’t doubt it,” Os mumbled, wondering if she could hear the thunder of his heart.
    She stared at him, her green eyes as pure as the spring grass and as clear of evil as anything he’d ever seen.
How could she be a witch?
    Yet he’d watched her from the top of the hill.
    The desire to protect her, to keep her safe despite any harm that would come to him, felt inbred, as if it were a part of his body. His mind. His heart.
    It was more than the pledge he’d given her father. More, he thought, than what he could explain with mere words. He had to touch her. Honorably, of course.
    He leaned forward, just, he told himself, to brush a harmless kiss across her forehead. She’d lost the customary wimple women wore, but her hair was still covered in a golden veil. Her lips parted slightly, and her breath echoed his.
    He kissed her smooth forehead. She blinked in surprise.
    Just a taste of her lips
.
    They met, crashing mouth to mouth, and Os groaned at her