Page 33 of The Irresistible Warrior
“You are lucky I feel the same,” she said playfully.
“I am lucky but more so blessed to have you as my wife,” he said as he reached the dais and tripped once again as he stepped up on the platform. He muttered an oath and called out, “See the floors are cleaned well today.”
Aura stood, his sudden clumsiness disturbing her. “I think it best if I go into the woods today and gather what is needed.”
“You’ll not go alone,” he commanded, approaching her.
“So eager to get to me, you don’t watch your step,” she said with a playful smile.
“More than eager,” he said, leaning down to kiss her when he reached her and she showed him she was just as eager to greet him.
“Once done in the woods, we can retreat to your bedchamber… for a rest,” she suggested in a soft whisper.
“Then we best hurry, for I feel the need to rest growing stronger.”
The woods had settledinto their autumn hush, leaves crunching underfoot, light flowing through the thin, almost bare canopy above. The air was cool and damp, scented with moss and bark and the faint sharpness of berries left too long on the vine.
“I cannot believe it,” Declan said, a happy grin on his handsome face. “Not a single woman fell at my feet, and none rushed with desire toward me as we made our way through the village. I’m free.” His happy grin soured when he caught the frown on his wife’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“It seems too easily solved,” Aura said, moving with confidence through the woods, her eyes alert for what she was looking for.
“You said yourself that love is potent. Our love is so strong that it kicked that curse’s arse and that is all that matters. It is done, finished, never to darken our doorstep again.”
She stopped. “I hope you’re right and neither the witch nor dark magic has something waiting for us. Which is why I am going to craft us a strong talisman to keep evil at bay.”
She placed her woven basket on the ground before she knelt near a gnarled shrub, its limbs clawing crookedly toward the path.
Declan went to lean down by her when his knee gave way and he went down on it, though he caught himself before it could be noticed.
“Blackthorn,” Aura said, her fingers brushing aside a branch with practiced care. “Look at the berries—dark, nearly blue.They’re best harvested just after the first frost, but these will do. Used in charms for protection, reversal spells, and sometimes even severing bonds. Healing-wise, I have discovered that the bark, once decocted, helps with breathing problems. Freyda has seen success treating such problems with it.”
Declan remained kneeling beside her, watching her work. “You know all that just by looking?”
“I know what the roots taste like, too,” she said with a small grin. “Though I don’t recommend it. Bitter enough to turn a man inside out.”
He huffed a laugh, studying her as she clipped a few twigs, bundling them with practiced ease. Her hands were nimble but gentle, and he was reminded of how it felt last night when she touched his shaft and the memory caused it to stir and, for a moment, he forgot why they were out here at all.
Then he watched how she worked, and he realized he was curious about how her mind worked, how she knew the earth like a language he’d never been taught. He admired her for pursuing her interest even though it could bring her harm… mark her as a witch.
She straightened, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink from the chill. “There’s a patch of mugwort near the stream if we cut across the path?—”
A sound snapped through the stillness.
Declan’s head turned sharply, hearing leaves rustling somewhere just beyond a small grouping of pines.
He reached for her arm, tugging her up beside him. “Stay behind me.”
Her brow furrowed. “What is—?” She hurried to look around and asked before he had a chance to reply. “Where are the two warriors you had come with us?”
Declan pushed her behind him and pulled his sword from its sheath. “Hunting a deer they spotted.”
A deeper shadow moved in the gloom of the pines. Two shapes emerged—lean, sharp-eyed, with the wary grace of predators. Their clothes were worn, their faces weathered and scarred, and their foul odor could be smelled from a distance. Neither looked like they belonged anywhere near decent people.
The woman carried a dagger, its blade catching a glint of pale light. Her grin was crooked as were her yellow teeth, and her eyes were cold.
“Look what we found,” she said. “A little lordling and his gather-lass. I’ll take whatever you have on you,” she continued. “That means your coin, your fine clothes, that will fetch a tidy sum, but that fine wool cloak, I’ll keep for myself.”
“You’ll get nothing from us,” Declan warned.
