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Highlander's Desire: Winter Solestice (Against All Odds Series 2) Page 4
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Her lashes fluttered open and Dagmar grinned at the sleepy look on her face. “Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” Dagmar said. “I thought I heard some noises outside, but it could easily just be people moving—“ Dagmar’s voice was cut off by the shouting of men. Soon the shrieking of women joined in and Dagmar was up and out of his tent, his sword in hand. Fires blazed like ravaging beasts as women and children ran toward the back of the village. Dagmar noticed Aila join him, but couldn’t take his focus off the fires.
“We need to move!” she yelled, the sound barely breaking through the blood that roared in his ears. Dagmar grabbed Aila’s hand and half-dragged her to the side of the village where the fence made a formidable barrier.
“I agree, but we have to move smart. Whoever is attacking us has the advantage so far.”
“There’s an exit, Dagmar,” Aila said, pointing to a splice in the fence. She moved over and showed him. He went through first, carrying his spear and letting Aila hold his bow and quiver of arrows. They worked their way through the woods and flanked the invading army. High up on a hill, Aila and Dagmar got their first good look at what they were facing. “We have to figure out how to drive them back. If we can close the gates—“
“They’ll set them on fire and roast us alive.”
“What about the exit? We can lead them out and up here. It’ll at least buy us some time.”
“Alright, Aila,” Dagmar said, seeing the wisdom in her theory. “I’ll go first. We’ll head back in, gather our forces, and drive them back to close the gates. If they’re dumb enough to focus their efforts there, we’ll come from inside and flank them.”
Aila worked to calm the women and children who now sat huddled in fear at the back of the village. “Listen. The men are going out first, to work on flanking the invading armada. We’re all going to follow very quietly. We want to help our men out by being extremely quiet, okay?” When even the smallest children nodded their heads, all Aila could do was pray to Thor that they’d all make it out of this alive. That’d be enough festive cheer for all of them.
“Now, Aila,” Dagmar said. She opened the splice and helped the first women through before Dagmar grabbed her. The force of his kiss drove straight down to her toes and was so drenched in love that the other women stopped and stared. “Be careful.”
“I love you,” she said before disappearing through the crack to guide the other women. Once they were settled, Aila tried to make them as comfortable as possible, even stopping to tell a group of children that there would be plenty of spoils to play with come Solstice time.
“You seem happy,” Dragna said, when Aila stepped over to see how she was doing.
“I am, I suppose.”
“It’s a good look for you.” She smiled. “He’s a good man, Aila.”
“I know. I’m just not sure he does. I love him. We’ll have to see if he loves me as much.”
“I’d venture that he loves you just as much. It took him a while to come around to it, but anyone with eyes can see it now. It happened in his heart the first time you were together. For you it happened years ago, long before boys even know much about the difference between us and them.”
“How did you know we—?“
“I’m an old woman who’s been there plenty of times, sweetheart. Not to mention, it’s something that sort of shows.”
“Does everyone know?” Aila was mortified just by the thought of the whole village knowing her personal business.
“They might not have, but that scorching kiss he gave you sort of settled any estimations. I think the village is happy just knowing that the two people who could and should rule them seem to be dancing the same jig. You’ve got yourself a good man and no one would argue that you’re not an amazing woman. We’d all like to see you settle down and live a happy and full life together, ruling side by side. It’d be the best of Solstice offerings for all of Hail.”
“With all of this going on, I’ll settle for having a village to go back to,” Aila said, not wanting her worry for Dagmar to show. When Dragna slid her warm and worn hand over hers, Aila bit her lip.
“Have faith, honey. Your man’s been through worse and come out the other side looking pretty damn good. If I was sixty years younger I’d give you a run for your money on that man.” Aila laughed despite the tense set of her body.
***
Dagmar met Breslin, Bregnan, and Svenbreck near the gates, as fires rages just outside. “I need you two, take half the men we have and distract them. Sven, you’re with me.”
“We’ll give them a run for their spoils,” Breslin smirked. On the count of three, Breslin and Bregnan ran through the gates and into the fray.
“Let’s go,” Dagmar said. He took the other half of their men, including Svenbreck and flanked their unsuspecting attackers. With a righteous yell Dagmar ran his sword through a sentry who stood guard, easily dispatching him. He saw arrows flying from the men whom he’d ordered to stay back from the front line. They took out several men, some even landing in their own fighters. He turned away from the archers in time to see a mammoth of a man bringing his sword down. Swinging up hard, he felt pain radiate straight to his shoulder as it popped from its socket. Grunting he beat the huge man back, slicing his sword across the enemies stomach. The man just kept coming at him, his sword arm intensely strong as Dagmar tried to defend himself with one nearly useless arm.
His own hands slippery with sweat, Dagmar missed blocking the man’s sword and felt it slice a gash in his sword arm, searing pain straight to his brain. “Shit!” he yelled, anger infusing him with a healthy dose of adrenaline. Swinging like a well-trained madman, Dagmar swung and hacked his way into the enemy, criss-crossing him with gashes and slices until he got one good slice to the back of his knee. When the man fell, Dagmar finished him by beheading. Taking a breath, Dagmar looked up to see Breslin and Bregnan doing well, working together to beat back the horde that had come to take their village. “Keep some alive!” he shouted toward the twins. Rushing to help, Dagmar found a young man, barely old enough to wield a sword. Using his fist, he punched the kid hard across the bridge of his nose and watched the poor kid drop right in front of him.
“Finish them off Bres!” Dagmar yelled. “I’ve got a prisoner!”
Two hours later, Dagmar sat in the food tent with the young boy, who now sported a severely broken nose. “Tell me who you are.” The boy just looked at him with dark eyes that held a mixture of hate and fear. “Look boy, I can make your life miserable to an extent that you can’t even imagine. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make sure you get back to whatever’s left of your people.”
After the boy refused to talk, Dagmar sighed. With a sorrowful heart, he took the boys left thumb in his hand. Putting pressure on the joint, Dagmar felt the bones give way as the boy screamed in pain. Letting him calm down, Dagmar tried again. “Just tell me who you are, where you come from and I’ll let you go.”
Met with a wall of silence, Dagmar broke another of the boy’s fingers. Two more sessions of broken fingers and the boy decided to talk. “I’m Dangur. I come from Dunkerie, across the river. My father, the ruler there, said that we could easily take your village and land. He doesn’t know that I’m here fighting.”
“He’ll know when you go back from with a broken nose and four broken fingers. To your credit you have more guts and gall than some men I know. My healer will fix you up and we’ll see that you make it home safely.”
Dagmar met Breslin and Bregnan outside the tent. “He finally talk?”
“Yeah,” Dagmar sighed. “We need to go get our women and children. Then we’ll see about getting him back home.”
“But we-“ Bregnan started.
“We’ll deal with the rest later,” Dagmar said. “But right now, we need to let our women know that we’re okay and that Hail is safe again.”
***
As dawn crept over the horizon Aila saw the men headed in their direction. When Dagmar topped
the hill she ran to him, pressing her lips warmly to his as he caught her. He laughed when her lips kissed all over his face. “Easy, woman, I’m not dead.”
“Thank the gods,” she said. “I’d be coming up to Valhalla to kick your arse meself.”
“Well, I’m not planning on leaving that soon, nor that way. It was a wicked fight, but we drove them back. Got some nice plunder from the battle, too.”
“Leave it to a man to think about the treasure before the life it may have cost him.”
“The best treasure of all is right here,” Dagmar said, scooping her up. “Let’s go home!” Dagmar led the return, carrying Aila the entire way. When everyone was once again inside the fenced wall, Dagmar grabbed Aila again and kissed her soundly, to the resounding elation of their people.
THE END
*** Thank you for reading this story ***
To read the third story in the ‘Against All Odds’ Series CLICK HERE.
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Just keep reading, the stories are just below!
Or you can click here and go to the Table of Contents where you can choose which story you want to read first.
By the way, have you solved this book’s Riddle?
Q: What is it that no man wants, but no man wants to lose?
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Protected By The Cowboy
Western Romance
Prologue
Inez Guzman dreamed of being a nurse since she was a little girl. When she was 5-years-old, a mobile medical clinic came to her neighborhood in Mexico City to vaccinated the children and old people against the flu. She remembered swarms of women in blues scrubs walking from family-to-family down the long line of people waiting for their shot, gathering their names and medical information, asking all of them if they needed to see a doctor for another reason other than receiving their vaccination. Almost all of them did. Inez’ neighborhood was a poor one and most of the children had not seen doctors since they were born, the same could be said of a good number of the adults as well.
When the nurse came to her family, she smiled at Inez with a brilliant perfect smile. Her voice was so cheerful and happy as she asked her about how she was feeling. But then a rough man came and interrupted the nurse, shoving her by the shoulder, telling her to hurry up, that people were waiting. The nurse apologized to the man for the wait and politely asked him to wait his turn and then tried to start talking to Inez again. But the man was very angry and he shoved the nurse again, harder this time causing her to stumble backward.
And then the nurse hit the man.
Inez remembers it so clearly. The man’s large, beefy hand shoving the nurse in the chest and her feet tangling briefly, but then finding solid footing. The nurse’s face was so full of rage, the corners of her mouth turned downward, her jaw set, and then she reared back and seemed to punch the man with her entire body right in the man’s nose. She remembered the sound of her fist against the soft bones of the man’s face, a hard packing sound followed by a spray of blood from his broken nose. The man fell straight back into the dirt, unconscious. The nurse then returned her attention to Inez with the same broad and friendly smile.
She decided to become a nurse on that very day. She had never seen a woman so powerful, so strong. Her father was a gentleman who never laid his hands on his wife or children. But Inez knew many men who did. Men who used their wives as punching bags when they were drunk, or just whenever they became angry. Men like her uncles, her grandfather. But the nurse, Inez knew no man would ever touch her. She was to be treated with respect or you would face her wrath.
So Inez worked hard in school, was always at the top of her class, but her family was poor, and she was sent to work at one of the cell phone factories when she turn thirteen. She hated it, but her family needed her. She saved her money, though. Every extra peso she made, she stashed it away, keeping it buried in a coffee can in the weed backyard of an abandoned house two streets down from her. Every week, the amount grew larger and larger, and she knew that God was looking out over her because no one ever discovered her can. God wanted her to become a nurse as much as she did. He wanted her to go to America, find a better job, and then go to school to become a nurse.
And on her 24th birthday, Inez counted up her money—her pounds of coins and wads of dirty bills—and she had saved up $5000, which was enough to pay the coyotes to take her across the border into the deserts of Arizona. She had to admit that it wasn’t the way she wanted to come to America. But it seemed like America only let the wealthy into their country legally, and not even her $5000 was enough to convince the American government that she would be a productive citizen. So her only way across the border was to give her money to the coyotes and pray to God that when they dropped her off in Arizona, the sun would not be too hot, or her walk to civilization too long.
But the coyotes were not good men. In fact, they were not even coyotes, but killers. Dirty white men who smelled of sweat and cigarettes who did bring her group to America, but they only brought them here to execute them and leave their bodies to rot under the boiling sun.
Inez ran, though. The minute they stopped, she felt that something was wrong, and when the men rolled up the door of the box truck her group was riding in and she saw the semi-automatic rifles over their shoulders, she knew she was about to die, so she ran. She ran out into the hot desert with bullets chasing her, slamming into the dirt around her feet, whizzing through the air over her head. She had never been so scared in her entire life, but she didn’t lie down and cower in the hot dirt, she ran. She ran for hours under the scorching sun, her body dripping with sweat until she found an asphalt road and a sweet retired couple picked her up just as she was about to collapse.
She told them her car had broken down and for some reason they believed her and told her they would take her as far they were headed, to a town called Apache Junction.
Inez felt so lucky. She was safe, she still had a few hundred dollars hidden in her shoe, and she believed she would never see the dirty white men again.
But she was wrong, they were coming for her.
Chapter 1
Most people think that Arizona is nothing but a bunch of gun crazed hillbillies running around in the desert, and the fact is, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong in that assumption. Arizona has more than its fair share of yahoos and peckerwoods running around shooting their mouths off, carrying around some big guns they don’t need, and driving around in gas guzzling pickup trucks that they don’t have much use for, either, other than proving that they have a lot of money, or at least pretending they do. But for the most part, Arizona has a lot more good, hard working people than we do crazies, and the only reason you hear about them more is because the whacko’s have bigger mouths and make for more interesting television footage.
Arizona is in my blood. My family—the Collins—have lived in the state for 100 years longer than it's been a state. My family were a group of madmen who traveled across the country from Pennsylvania and Ohio in covered wagons, fought off bandits, fought off Apaches looking to collect their scalps, and decided for one reason or another that a nearly uninhabitable stretch of copper orange desert was a fine and dandy place to set up a homestead and raise a family. And I’m sure if I knew my ancestors from way back when, I would have laughed at them and told them to hustles their asses back home because one-half of them were going to die of heat stroke, and the other half burn up with fever caused by small pocks. But a couple of them, well, they would make it out of those harsh early times alive and prospered.
The first of our wealth came entirely from gold. Back in the mid-19th century, southern Arizona was absolutely teeming with the stuff, but the thing was there weren’t enough people around to pick up off the ground and turn it into folding money. But the Collins’ were here and we scooped up by the ton. And when that all disappeared, we became a bit more sensible and went into copper.
Needless to say, but precious metals were good to my family … At least until it all ran out. Well, the family at least with the family claims. Then for some reason or another, my father—the senior Henry to my junior—thought it was a fine idea to go into horse and cattle ranching. Which would have been incredibly profitable if we didn’t live in a sun-blasted desert?
Now I won’t say that the Collins Ranch of Gold Canyon, AZ went belly up—it’s alive and well, obviously, because it's running takes up the bulk of my time and money—but it’s really just more of an expensive hobby as opposed to an actual business. Don’t get wrong, it brings in an income, and I’m damn proud of the horses—we dropped the cattle back in the mid-80’s due to the overall cost—that come out of here. But the fact is, year-after-year, more money goes out than comes in, and on certain days it feels like a thousand pound weight dragging off my shoulders. But on days like today, when the sun comes up and turns the sky into a riot of brilliants oranges and reds, and I’m riding on top of my favorite horse watching it happen, I love it more than life itself. Just like Arizona, ranching is in my blood, and even if it was completely bankrupting me—which it’s not even close to doing—I would still soldier on and work two or three jobs just to keep it afloat.
“Henry!” But, yeah, there are some days, though, where all I want to do is hide away out in the desert, and when I hear Juan calling for me, I know today is going to be one of those days where I wish I could disappear. Not that he’s coming up here to tell me anything bad’s happening, but some days, all I want to do is ride and pretend the land around me is the land of my ancestors and that the only people out here are me, Myself, and I. But the illusion is completely broken when Juan rides right up on me on one of the ATV’s.