for Sarbough. She wouldn’t hear any of
his excuses or allow him to distract her
again. She didn’t care if he kissed her for
hours. She sucked her lips into her mouth
to remove the lingering feel of his kiss
from them.
Carsha looked relieved. “Mama told
me to stay away from you. You might kill
me with your sword.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I’d never
hurt a person with my sword. That would
be horrible.”
Carsha didn’t look convinced, but she
looked less frightened.
Nash reentered the room, tugging a
sweater on over his head. Maralee’s eyes
fixated on the chiseled muscles of his
abdomen. All too soon his sweater
covered that beguiling flesh and she
squelched a pout of disappoint.
“Put your boots on, Maralee. You’re
coming out to play, too,” he said.
She started, dragging her eyes up to
his. “Me?”
Nash smiled at her and, as if her heart
was connected directly to his smiling lips,
it began to pound furiously within her
chest.
“I would guess you don’t have fun
very often.”
Maralee frowned, trying to think of the
last time she’d had fun. She came up
entirely lacking. “No, I guess I don’t. I
need to get back to Sarbough.”
“It’s getting late.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll walk you back later, I promise.
But right now, I think Carsha could use a
little cheering up.”
Maralee’s gaze darted to the child
who had just lost her father. She couldn’t
very well deny the poor girl a moment of
reprieve from the sorrow she must be
feeling.
Maralee put on her boots and followed
Carsha and Nash out into the forest
surrounding the cabin.
“Go gather your friends and bring your
brothers as well,” Nash said to Carsha.
Carsha gave Nash a testing look.
“What if I say I won’t?” She planted both
tiny fists on her hips.
Nash seized her around the waist and
declared, “Then I’ll throw you away.”
He tossed the little girl high up into the
air and Maralee gasped, covering her
mouth with her hand. Nash caught the
child easily and Carsha giggled as he
hugged her against him.
“I won’t do you what you say!” she
shrieked between peals of laughter.
“Then I’ll feed you to the boars.” He
lifted her and made loud snorting noises
against her neck. Carsha squealed in
delight and squirmed. Maralee smiled at
the child’s obvious glee.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll do it!” Carsha
promised.
Nash set the girl on her feet, smiling as
broadly as she was, and Carsha dashed off
to find her friends and brothers.
“You’re really good with kids, aren’t
you?” Maralee asked. She wished she
could find easy affection with someone—
anyone. Her childhood had been utterly
lonely. Her hours had been spent training
to make her deceased family proud. To
carry out their legacy. She didn’t regret
any of it. But she’d been so alone. Her
aunt, by marriage, had moved into the
estate house and taken care of things for
Maralee until she had left at the age of
sixteen, but Aunt Bailey had never shown
her any affection. Affection made a Hunter
weak. At least, that’s what Aunt Bailey
had told her.
Nash smiled at Maralee. “My people
share in the responsibility of raising the
children. Even though I don’t have any of
my own, I am expected to care for the
children of others. I enjoy it. Their parents
teach them to hunt and survive. I only have
to play with them and keep them from
harm.”
Maralee sat down on the porch step
and Nash took a seat beside her. “It’s
peaceful here,” she murmured. As she
glanced around, she noticed there were
many more structures than she had first
realized. It seemed they were at the very
edge of a large settlement.
“Usually,” he agreed.
“How large is your village?” she
asked.
Nash hesitated. “There are a little
under seventy families,” he said. “Over
three hundred men, women and children.”
“That many?”
He
nodded,
seeming
distracted.
Carsha raced back to Nash’s cabin with a
dozen additional children in tow. They
were all smiling in anticipation of Nash’s
usual antics, but they paused when they
noticed Maralee sitting on the step.
“She doesn’t have her sword,” Carsha
informed them. All eyes moved to
Maralee’s hip, which was indeed devoid
of weapon.
Nash
patted
Maralee’s
hand
encouragingly and stood up. “So what
shall we play this afternoon?”
The children looked at him and then
back at Maralee.
“I know,” Carsha said, jumping up and
down. “We’ll play ogre.”
“Ogre?” Nash questioned.
“She’ll be the ogre,” Carsha said,
pointing at Maralee with a theatrical flair.
“She’ll capture us and put us in the
dungeon so she can eat us. The dungeon
will be Uncle Nash’s porch, and you’ll be
the hero, Uncle Nash. You have to rescue
us and take us to your castle at the hickory
stump.” She pointed to the stump across a
small clearing in front of Nash’s cabin.
“I like being the hero,” Nash said,
grinning. “You’re the ugly ogre,” he said
to Maralee, glancing down at her with a
teasing smile.
Maralee felt awkward, and decided
Carsha had made her the ogre for a
reason, but she hated that the children
were so leery of her. Maybe if she played
their game admirably, they would trust
her, maybe even like her the way they so
obviously liked Nash.
“If I capture you, you have to stay in
the dungeon,” Maralee told them, hopping
off the step to her feet. “I need someone to
guard my dungeon and keep the hero from
rescuing my dinner.”
The children glanced around at each
other, and then one of the older boys, an
adolescent in his gangly years, said, “I’ll
be the guard.”
“Your name?” Maralee asked.
He glanced at Nash nervously, and
then whispered, “Dart.”
“Okay, Dart’s my guard. Don’t let
Nash take my prisoners.”
“I won’t,” Dart vowed, holding
Maralee’s gaze for a scant second before
taking his place in front of the porch
dungeon.
“Who shall I eat first?” Maralee
yelled.
Screaming children scattered in all
directions.
Maralee grabbed the nearest child, and
the small boy cried, “Help! Help! The
ogre’s got me.”
She set the boy on Nash’s porch and
went after another child while Dart tried
to keep Nash from saving her first victim.
It didn’t take long for Maralee to get into
their game.
“I’m going to eat you!” she shouted in
her most monstrous voice as she chased
the children around the cabin, catching
them with maximal effort and hauling them
back to the porch. They were fast little
buggers.
Nash put on quite a show as he
rescued each child, sometimes allowing
Dart to tackle him to the ground to
increase the suspense. The captured
children were jumping up and down on the
porch chorusing, “Save me, Nash! Save
me!”
When Maralee captured the last child,
most of the children were huddled around
the hickory stump, cheering on the hero.
She was exhausted when she heaved
Carsha up on the porch. Dart was
sprawled on the ground, gasping for air.
Nash had taken to stealing her prisoners
two at a time.
“Hey!” Maralee called to him.
to eat around here?”
He laughed, setting two children down
by the stump and turning to retrieve the
last few still on the porch. “There will be
no children for your supper as long as the
heroic knight of the castle is here.”
“So you’ve knighted yourself, have
you?” Maralee challenged.
He made a go for the porch and she
tackled him around the waist, bringing him
down easily as he gave very little
resistance. “Help!” he called, stifling his
laughter as Maralee pinned him to the
ground. “The big, ugly…smelly, foul…
vile, disgusting, grotesque, old ogre has
got me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe
I’ll have hero for supper tonight.”
“Get the ogre! Save Uncle Nash!”
Carsha yelled and all thirteen of the
children rushed forward, piling on top of
them, squashing Nash flat on the bottom of
their mound of small bodies.
“You’ve turned your hero into
mincemeat,” Nash said, struggling to draw
breath beneath the weight piled on him.
“Ogres
don’t
like
mincemeat,”
Maralee complained, pressed flat between
Nash and the children. “I give up. I won’t
eat children anymore.”
“And no mincemeat either?” Carsha
asked, giggling as she tumbled down the
mound of people she climbed.
“No, never mincemeat,” Maralee
gasped, her lungs protesting.
“The ogre starved to death. The hero
wins,” Nash said. “Now everybody off!”
The children climbed off the pile one-
by-one. Maralee could only concentrate
on her awareness of Nash’s hard body
pressed against hers.
“An ogre could acquire a taste for
mincemeat,” Maralee murmured close to
Nash’s ear.
He stiffened, and then chuckled.
“Mincemeat could acquire a taste for
ogres.” When the final child climbed from
Maralee’s back, he gasped, “I think I
broke a rib.”
Maralee rolled off him. He struggled
to rise, clutching his side and then helped
her to her feet. The brush of his fingertips
against the inside of her wrist left her
breathless.
“Let’s play again!” Carsha cried,
jumping up and down in her excitement.
Nash released Maralee’s hand and
they exchanged weary glances. “You kids
play. You’ve worn us adults out,” he said.
The
children
groaned
with
disappointment and Maralee smiled at
Nash before turning her attention to the
children.
“I’ll play,” Maralee said, “but only if I
get to be the hero this time. Nash can be
the big, ugly, smelly, foul, vile, disgusting,
grotesque, old ogre.”
“But you are so much better suited to
the part,” he teased.
Maralee’s mouth fell open with
indignation. “You’ll pay for that, Ogre,”
she said. “You don’t get a guard.”
“Don’t need one. I can catch children
for my supper and keep heroes at bay at
the same time.”
“We’ll see.”
Nash chuckled. “Are you all ready to
get eaten?” he asked the children. They
screamed and scattered again.
Nash somehow managed to catch three
children at once. He was as sure-footed
and swift as they were. He scooped them
all up into his arms and set them on the
porch. They all made Maralee feel clumsy
and slow.
“Help us, Hero! The ogre’s going to
eat us,” they chimed.
Maralee made a run for the porch, but
just as she was about to rescue the first
child from the dungeon, Nash caught her
around the waist and lifted her into his
arms.
“I’ve captured your hero already,” he
said, triumphantly. “What are you going to
do now?”
Carsha chanted, grabbing one of Nash’s
legs and trying to trip him.
He stumbled and nearly lost his grip
on Maralee before he recovered his
balance.
“Don’t drop me,” Maralee squeaked,
and wrapped both arms around his neck.
He had several children pulling on
each leg now, as he walked around the
area, growling like a professional ogre,
dragging the kids around as if they were
no more than pesky flies. They were all
laughing as they tried to bring the ogre
down, but none harder than Maralee who
was won over by the lot of them.
“Children!” a voice echoed through
the forest. “Time to come home now!”
“Already?” several complained.
They released their hold on Nash, and
he set Maralee on her feet. The children
began to disappear into their homes,
waving farewells as they went inside.
Carsha was the last to leave.
“Can we play again tomorrow, Uncle
Nash?” she asked, looking up at him with
undisguised adulation.
“Of course,” he said, tousling her dark
gray hair.
“And Maralee, too?” Carsha asked,
glancing at the young woman standing
beside her uncle.
; “You’ll have to ask her.”
Carsha took Maralee’s hand in both of
her small ones. “Will you come and play
with us tomorrow?”
“I don’t think I’ll be here tomorrow. I
need to go back to the village tonight.”
“Why?” the child asked.
“Well, I don’t have a place to stay,
and—”
“You can stay with Uncle Nash. Can’t
she?” Carsha gave Nash a stern look.
“Of course, she can.”
“It wouldn’t be proper,” Maralee said,
even though she really wanted to spend
more time with him. Alone. In his cabin.
In his bed of furs.
“Why not?” Nash asked, his brows
drawn together in confusion.
“Stay, Maralee. Please! I want to play
some more. You can be my friend.”
“I’d like that,” Maralee said, warmth
spreading through her chest. “I had a lot of
fun.”
Carsha smiled. “Me too!” she chimed
and ran off in the direction of her house.
She waved enthusiastically from the porch
and went inside.
“Had fun, did you?” Nash asked.
Maralee smiled and nodded. “I did.”
His answering smile had her pulse in a
frenzy. “I’m glad,” he said. “And you’re
staying until morning?”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “I…
yes, I’m staying.”
He smiled and placed a hand on the
small of her back to guide her back into
his cabin.
Once inside, Maralee rubbed her
hands over her upper arms, trying to
regain warmth. She hadn’t noticed how
chilled she’d become while playing
outside.
“You’re cold,” Nash assessed. “I’ll
get the fire going again.”
She smiled gratefully. “Do you have a
bathroom?”
He actually blushed and avoided her
gaze. “The forest outside.”
She nodded. She was used to roughing
it. Going to the bathroom outside didn’t
bother her in the least. “I’ll be back in a
few minutes.”
He watched her go to the door. “I’ll
come with you,” he said.
“You don’t trust me?”
“I…it’s not that. It’s getting dark.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, “and I
promise I won’t run away. You still have
my sword. I’m not leaving here without
it.”
He hesitated, but nodded finally. “I’ll
see what I can find for supper then.”
She smiled. “Great. I’m famished.”
Twilight already marked the close of
the short winter day. Maralee left the
cabin and skirted to the back of the
structure for privacy. She glanced around