Dark Warrior (Warrior #2) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Warrior Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
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She attempted to take each step more carefully, though try as she might her footing remained unsound and she fought to keep herself standing. Land finally was a few feet ahead and she sighed with relief when suddenly her foot slipped on a stone and she lost all balance and tumbled head first into the stream.

The water rushed in, swirling her up and around in circles. She was caught in a whirlpool making it impossible for her to grab onto anything. The water carried her, dipping her, swirling her, filling her with fright. She choked and sputtered each time her head surfaced and fought to gain control of her thrashing ride, finally reaching up to catch hold of anything solid. Her hand snatched a heavy branch hanging over the stream.

She dug her wet hands into the tree bark and looked around her. She could not tell how far she had traveled. The stream had widened and deepened as it had carried her off, but she had never gone farther than the castle, so she did not know if she was merely around a bend or a good distance away.

She felt foolish and fearful. She was naked and knew not where she was, and she did not know what she would do. For the moment she thought it best to pull herself to the water’s edge and sit in the shadows of the large tree that had rescued her.

When her mind calmed she gave her plight rational thought. If she followed the stream she was bound to return to where she had entered. Her clothes would mark the spot.

She would need to be very careful and extremely alert. She shivered at the thought of walking along the edge of the stream naked, but what choice did she have? She could not remain where she was.

She gathered all her courage and set a quick pace alongside the stream, keeping a keen eye and ear to her surroundings. Her pace was steady and she prayed that she was close to the castle.

She stopped suddenly, listening, sure she had heard something.

Voices and the snort of a horse.

She hurried reluctantly into the stream to hide in the water, her head concealed by the drooping branches of a large willow tree. She kept a firm hand on a thick branch so that the swift water would not carry her away. She heard the voices again. They drew closer and she shivered not from the cold water but from the sound of men.

Then one voice, far different from the others, spoke. He commanded like a man confident of being obeyed. His threats were subtle and meant to instill fear and he certainly succeeded, for the other men’s voices quivered when they spoke. She imagined they cowered at his side like the dominions of the devil doing his bidding out of fear.

It could only be one man.

Decimus.

“You will travel where I order, do you understand?”

“Aye, sir.” The voices responded in unison.

“I will snare my prey, no thanks to the likes of any one of you. You are a useless lot with not a brain among you.”

Decimus continued to belittle his men and Mary closed her eyes and prayed they would not find her, though she opened them fast enough when a reference was made to her.

“You allow a mere woman to avoid capture. You were not even able to prevent her escape. She is more a warrior than any of you.”

How odd to hear Decimus praise her.

“Find her or suffer the consequences,” he said sharply. “Now, be on your way.”

She remained perfectly still. They would be gone soon, very soon she told herself. Mary listened as rider after rider rode off. She waited patiently, taking extra care that all the men had left the area and just as she was about to pull herself out of the water, she heard a horse draw nearer to the stream.

“Idiots all of them.”

Fear shot through Mary like an icy arrow. It was Decimus’s voice and he was inching his horse closer to where she hid. She froze and urged her body not to tremble, but her fright was great and shivers raced through her.

She heard him dismount and walk to the water’s edge. She bit her trembling lip and dug her fingers into the branch. She warned herself not to panic, to remain still and he would not find her.

The sight of his hand dipping into the stream suddenly made her angry. It was the hand of the man who robbed her of her family and her life. She took notice of his lean fingers and a sapphire ring he wore, and the urge to see more of her enemy tormented her. If she inched over just a bit she might be able to have a look at him.

He stood abruptly and she stilled.


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