A Warrior's Desire. Pamela Palmer
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and replace the baggy T-shirts and sweatshirts she’d been wearing. He had to admit, the results were impressive.
“You liked those Redskins sweatshirts, huh?”
“They were soft.”
Her simple words reminded him that she wasn’t used to luxury. Hell, she’d been slave to one of the vilest creatures Charlie had ever encountered. Baleris. He couldn’t begin to imagine what her life had been like. She deserved a little luxury.
“It looks like Myrtle’s getting a start on your wardrobe. If there’s anything else you need, you let me know, okay?”
He flashed her a smile as she glanced at him, but while her lips lifted gently, no answering smile reached her eyes. He sensed a sadness in those eyes he didn’t remember seeing before, but he couldn’t honestly say he’d ever noticed her eyes before, other than their arresting color. Maybe she was always sad.
Or maybe her melancholy had to do with his impending trip into Esria. If anyone knew the dangers he’d face there, it was Tarrys.
“You’re not worrying about me, are you, eaglet? I’ll be fine.”
Her mouth compressed. “I’m concerned, yes. But I believe you’ll succeed anyway.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that a premonition talking? Any good news you want to share with me?”
A glimmer of a smile lit her eyes, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I don’t get premonitions.” She slipped the bow on her shoulder with a shrug. “I have no magic. But I’ve watched you and heard the others talk about you. They believe that if anyone can succeed in freeing Princess Ilaria, you will. I agree.”
He nodded slowly, watching her. “Thanks.” But he’d heard her qualifier loud and clear. If anyone could.
There was something else, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was getting a vibe from her that was slightly off, making his instincts itchy all of a sudden. Making him restless.
His gaze dropped, skimming the small, perfect proportion of her feminine body, and he had to admit that maybe it wasn’t his instincts so much as his hormones kicking up that had him slightly on edge.
“Do you want to shoot first, or watch me?” Tarrys asked, dropping the handful of arrows into the quiver strapped to her back without looking, as if she’d been doing it all her life. She probably had. The flicker of challenge in her eyes definitely prodded his interest. He relaxed and grinned, not bothering to hide the subtle, surprising attraction he was feeling. “I want to watch you. Definitely want to watch you.”
She met his gaze for the briefest instant before turning away, a hint of color in her cheeks, a small, charming smile on her lips.
Charlie smiled to himself as he followed her across the roof. She was as light-footed and graceful as a dancer and as proud and confident as any trained soldier. He’d never thought about it before—he’d never really spared any thought on the little Marceil at all—but she didn’t cower or grovel as someone who’d been a slave. Probably because her masters had never had to break her spirit in order to control her. When the Esri enchanted a human, they controlled them body and mind. The human never knew what was happening. They never remembered. While the Esri couldn’t take over a Marceil’s mind, they could … and did … enslave their bodies, controlling every action with a thought or a touch.
Reaching the far end of the roof, Tarrys turned and met his gaze. “Do you want me to shoot slowly so you can see what I do, or normal speed?”
Charlie stepped out of her line of fire. “Normal speed. Show me what you’ve got.” He studied her delicate profile as she faced the target, wondering why he’d never noticed how pretty she was. Her features were small—everything about her was small—but perfectly proportioned. Except, perhaps, her eyes, which were just about big enough to drown in. And that lower lip of hers, which was definitely full enough to catch his attention.
He shook his head and pried his gaze from her mouth. Her violet eyes flicked his way, unreadable, whispering of miles of untold depths. What was going on in that head of hers? He’d never before wondered, he realized. Never before noticed the gleam of sharp intelligence.
Too bad he was about to leave for Esria.
Without warning, Tarrys reached over her shoulder for an arrow, nocked and shot it, then reached for a second. He watched in stunned admiration as she fired six arrows in less than six seconds, hitting the target in a perfect line, top to bottom, alternating each arrow high and low.
A whoop of appreciation erupted from his throat. “Hot damn, eaglet. That was brilliant.”
He caught a glimpse of a smile on her mobile mouth before she handed him the bow. “Your turn.”
Charlie laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Her smile bloomed, amused and enchanting, then disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared, as if she were charmed by him and rather wished she weren’t. And wasn’t that an interesting thought? Yes, indeed, he loved a challenge.
“I’ll get the arrows,” she said.
His gaze followed her, watching her slender hips as she ran lightly across the roof. Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from her and focused on the target. A competitor by nature, and feeling a strange desire to impress, he was determined to make a good showing. As good as humanly possible.
Humanly possible, indeed.
Tarrys met him with the arrows and handed him one, not quite meeting his gaze. Charlie took a deep breath, nocked the arrow and drew the bow, then aimed and released. And watched the arrow land at the edge of the middle circle. Not bad, but …
“You’re not holding it right,” Tarrys said softly beside him.
He forced his pride down and met her gaze, seeing no smugness in her expression. “Show me.”
She hesitated a moment, then closed the distance between them. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder as she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, revealing delicate wrists and a thin, rustic wood bracelet.
“You’re wearing holly,” he said, surprised. Holly was the only thing known to protect humans from Esri enchantment. “I didn’t know it worked on Marceils.”
“I’m not sure it does,” she admitted. “Larsen asked me to wear it anyway, just in case.”
“Good idea.”
Her scent teased his nostrils, sweet and crisp like some kind of exotic, forbidden fruit. But it was the touch of her slender fingers as she adjusted his grip that sent desire flaring sun-bright inside him and blood surging between his legs.
Whoa. This was the little eaglet. The Sitheen’s not-quite-human mascot. But his hormones couldn’t have cared less.
Maybe Harrison was right. Maybe he should take her with him. She was a far better archer than he could ever hope to be. And he was surprisingly attracted to her, which might be kind of fun, if the feeling was mutual. But, no, he needed to move fast and quick and didn’t need to be responsible for anyone, especially a tiny slip of a woman. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to go back there. She was safe here, and Myrtle relied on her.
Tarrys shifted her hands, bringing the inside of her wrist to rest on the back of his hand. He could feel her pulse racing like a raw recruit’s before his first dive.
Hot damn.
But as his gaze dipped to her mouth, he noted the tenseness of her lips and suddenly wondered if her pulse raced from fear rather than attraction. The thought slammed into him hard. Of course it was fear. She’d been Baleris’s slave, the slave of a rapist and murderer. Being this close to him … to any man … probably terrified her.
Hell.
“Now sight your target, imagine the flight of the arrow, and aim into