Bound by Birthright by Janeal Falor

Author:Janeal Falor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chardonian Press
Published: 2016-04-11T23:33:46+00:00

Chapter

Fifteen

I can’t help but laugh when Constance throws cold water on the smelly pirate. He stands, sulking, while his bound wrists and Stewart’s hold on his arms keep him from running. He stares at everyone with dark, murderous eyes.

“Really.” Constance sniffs at him to see if he’s fit for travel yet. “How can you stand to be around yourself with that stench?”

“Argh.” The angry noise sounds more like an animal’s than a person’s.

Stewart tightens his large hands, but Constance goes about finishing the job as if nothing happened.

Robert and Stewart thoroughly searched the area but were unable to locate others that might be following us. Once again, no one is allowed to go off alone, in case someone else is out there.

Jocelyn and Emeline finish packing away the few items Constance used to clean the pirate, and everyone is ready to wind their way through the forest. Sometime this afternoon, we’ll get fresh supplies. The prospect makes me want to walk faster.

The leaves are perfectly still as we continue on our journey. The day promises to be a warm one. A few high, puffy clouds are the only thing gracing the sky besides the radiating sun. Birds chirp their noisy song in the forest around us.

My legs ache from all the exertion of walking the past several days. Relaxing walks are fine, but this is grueling. Everyone else manages to keep a good pace. They are even dragging along the pirate, whose hands are bound. With my lungs burning, I slow to a stop and cringe.

Robert turns and looks back at me. Heat rises to my face. He leans over and whispers something in Stewart’s ear. They speak a moment, with Stewart shaking his head several times and looking at me. Robert’s mouth moves one last time, and then he heads toward me. Constance glances back, eyes tightening.

“She’s fine.” Stewart interrupts the silence. “Robert will make sure she’s all right. We’ll slow our pace a little, but we have to keep moving.”

Constance’s eyes fill with worry, but she turns and continues on, as does the rest of the group. Robert hands me a water pouch. Still feeling awkward around him, I’m not sure I like this arrangement. I take a long, refreshing drink. I’m uneasy as I look about the dense forest around us, avoiding Robert’s gaze.

“Are you doing well?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you. I’m not accustomed to so much strenuous walking. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you can keep going? Or should I carry you?”

My cheeks flame. Which is the worse prospect? Continuing to walk and ache, or being humiliated by being carried by him? Admittedly, being carried does have a certain appeal to it. “I can keep going.”

So we walk behind the group, slowly, but at least we’re moving forward. My face still burns as I concentrate on walking in an attempt to rid myself of it.

We set a steady pace, still faster than what I’m used to, but not the brisk pace that’s beyond my stamina.

“By later today we should be there, and then we can eat a filling meal and rest up,” Robert says.

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