Return of the Rose Read Free

her feet but didn’t have time to run for cover. Instead, she crossed her arms over her face and stood frozen in place.
    The men wrenched their giant horses to a skidding stop, mere inches before colliding into her. Her heart thundered against her chest as she gathered the courage to peek through trembling fingers. The men wore woolen tights and knee-length leather boots. Their shirts were ragged and stained with dirt and blood. They looked vicious in their muddied coats, exhibiting such predatory expressions. A man she assumed to be their leader dug his heels into his mammoth stallion, urging the animal forward until she felt the beast’s breath on her head.
    This was completely insane!
    She squeezed her eyes shut, praying they would all be gone when she opened them and she would be back in her mother’s store. Damn. No such luck.
    The man before her wore a dagger in his belt and held a short primitive bow in his soiled hand. Handcrafted, deadly looking arrows protruded from a deep leather pocket at his side. She winced at the cruel smile he wore, which served only to make him more repulsive. Clumps of mud matted his long, stringy beard. A jagged scar ran across his bottom lip, causing his yellow teeth to show even with his mouth closed. This was no dream. It was a nightmare.
    “Look what we caught ourselves,” the ugly man said, painfully reminding her that the nightmare was not going to end any time soon.
    “Aye, a treasure for certain,” another man commented.
    As if the sight of her made him hungry, the leader licked his lips. “I fear she let our dinner get away. It seems only fair that we keep her in its stead. What say you to that, wench?”
    The smoldering, greedy gazes of his men feasted upon her. Her jeans and T-shirt were on the snug side but other than that…what was the problem? Certainly no reason for them to drool in such a disgusting manner.
    She narrowed her eyes. Nobody treated Morgan Hayes like a mere object to be drooled upon. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, pig-hunting warriors or whatever you are, but I have no idea what this man is talking about. I don’t know who sent you here all dressed up but I can tell you one thing—it’s not funny. The gag is up, boys.”
    Plunking hands on hips, she looked at them with set jaw and tight lips, hoping to hide her growing terror beneath an angry glare. Then she turned and walked off, quickening her pace with each step. If she could just reach the denser area of the woods…
    The gait of a horse sounded behind her, prompting her to break into a full-blown run, yelping as she was jerked off the ground and into the ugly man’s bulky arms. The horrid smell of rotted breath and dried blood saturated her senses, nauseating her. “Let go of me!”
    As if that weren’t enough, another man on a horse suddenly vaulted through the dense brush. He yanked on the reins, coming to a halt a few feet away. He was an older man and twice as big as the one who held her. Chain mail covered his large frame but he wore no headgear.
    “Put her down, Otgar. Now!” the older man barked.
    Whiskers hung over Otgar’s upper lip as his mouth drew back in a snarl. “Stay out of this, Hugo, she’s mine. I found her and I intend to keep her.”
    Otgar and Hugo. This was too much. Figuring she’d stumbled into the middle of a movie set, she looked around for a cameraman. But there were no cameras to be seen. No director yelling, “Cut!”
    She struggled to get loose, but Otgar tightened his grip. Hugo’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of steel. Although she’d never had two men fight over her before, and the idea did have a certain appeal, the Ugly against the Old hardly seemed worth bragging about.
    “The king’s bidding it is that she’s betrothed to another,” Hugo warned.
    “And why should I believe you?” Otgar asked, spittle hitting her cheek. “What would the king have to do with a harlot found alone in the forest? The feast of a pig she’s lost to us and