The Savage Sabre by Rosamund Winchester

Author:Rosamund Winchester [Winchester, Rosamund]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Medieval, Romance
Publisher: DragonMedia Publishing Inc.
Published: 2019-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Saban watched Essa as she slowly took in all she could see, her breath catching. She raised her unbandaged hand to her mouth to muffle her whimpers.

After her request to see his home, he’d helped her to her feet—though it took all his will to not crush her against him and taste her lips again—and she’d asked to see inside one of the buildings. So, he’d taken her to the one that would offer her the best view of the Ganwyd o’r Mor, Lucia’s makeshift apothecary.

And what Essa saw were the medicaments in bottles along a shelf, the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, the pot over the fire heating up water to use in cleaning wounds…and the cots where four of the men wounded during the raid were lying, bandages covering the limbs, torsos, or heads, their bodies slick with sweat from their broken fevers. Beside the men, their wives sat on stools, bending over them to wipe their foreheads or hold their hands or murmur words of love and encouragement to them.

This…this was the Ganwyd o’r Mor. A family.

“Saban,” a weary and ragged looking Lucia called in surprise. “Have you brought your captive to see her handiwork?”

Essa gasped, a choked curse falling from her lips.

“This was not me. I did not hurt these men,” she insisted, her brown eyes bright with—dare he think it?—unshed tears.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he watched her watching Lucia work. She intently observed as Lucia moved from cot to cot, checking wounds, speaking in hushed tones to the wives, and offering water or food. As he studied Essa’s face, he realized something he probably shouldn’t have.

I can watch her forever.

Her face was beautiful, her dark eyebrows perfect black arches over her wide eyes. Her lips were open in shock and disbelief, and he wanted to kiss away her fears and uncertainty. She was small—most women were small compared to his six-foot-four—but she wasn’t overly plump like most smaller women were. She was curvy, surprisingly toned in leg and arm, as though she spent much time moving. No…Essa wasn’t a layabout. Then again…she didn’t seem the kind to work, either. There was an air of untouchability about her, as though she thought herself above honest labor, like a noblewoman or princess.

A pirate princess. He wanted to laugh. He, a self-proclaimed pirate king, a Brenin of the Welsh pirate faction, had captured himself a pirate princess. He wondered what she’d think about that.

“These men…” Essa murmured, her voice barely audible. “They were on the Torriwr?”

Saban nodded. “Aye.”

He watched her swallow, and it looked like it took some effort.

“Were there many dead?” she asked, hesitantly.

He eyed her, wondering what she was thinking, feeling. Would she show remorse for the lives lost, or would she smile in glee at a few less Welshmen in the world?

“Nay, none were lost.” She noticeably relaxed, letting out a sigh. “None of the Ganwyd o’r Mor were lost.” He knew it was cruel to remind her that she was the only remaining member of the crew that raided that night.

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