The Guardian

Chapter 3

Jack leaned against the barn and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night. The moon was high above, casting a silver glow across the land. The Indians had names for the patterns the stars made and he learned how to navigate by them; a skill he found invaluable. He would teach it to Nora, as well. He would teach her everything he knew. And she would master it all. Of that, he was positive, though he couldn't say what made him so sure.

He saw the movement coming toward him out of the corner of his eye first. He pressed himself flat against the wall, staying in the shadow of the barn. The figure in the dark was clearly evading something – or attempting to. It dashed behind a tree, then behind another. They crouched low and kept to the shadows. Who was it? Why didn't they want to be discovered? Goose flesh ran over Jack's skin. Rogan. Had he found her then? Was everything to start now?

The cloaked figure was competent at hiding, but no match for Jack. As the dark figure approached him, he dove for its ankles, taking them down easily. There was a muffled oath and the struggle began. The person beneath him clawed, kicked, kneed, and writhed, but it did not take long before Jack had their wrists pinned over their head and his body firmly pressed along the length of theirs.

Or, more accurately, the length of hers.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" He growled down at Nora.

"Get off me this minute!" She spat back.

"No." He did shift his weight a bit to the side and lessened his grip on her wrists. He was sure their brief brawl in the dirt would leave bruises on her fair skin. "Answer my question."

"You're not my father."

"Fortunately, no, my lady. However, I am supposed to be your protector, which is not an easy task when you are sneaking off into the night. Especially after that rather moving speech this evening about working together."

Nora knew that fighting was of no use. She relaxed her body beneath him and refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare past him up at the dark sky.

"You are hurting me," she said softly. It was hard to admit, but he was. He could clearly overpower her when he chose.

"What I would like to do, my lady, is wring your beautiful neck," he countered. But her words cut through the anger and he pushed himself off of her, yanking her up to stand in the process. She jerked away from his hold, and he let go of her. "Where is the stone?"

"In my saddlebag." Nora lifted her chin to him. He had to admire her sheer bravado. She was not easily intimidated.

"Where were you going with it?"

"Nowhere."

"Horse shit. You can spread that one out, my lady, and fertilize the garden."

"You are crass, Mr. Justice," Nora sighed.

"What I am, Lady Eleanor, is in no mood for games."

"Are you ever?"

"Not particularly." Jack ran a hand over his face, then dropped both his hands to his waist and studied her. It was then that he saw how she was clothed. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Nora sighed again. It was pointless. His manners were not likely to improve. "Breeches, Mr. Justice."

"Why?"

"They are easier to ride in, sir," Nora explained. When she saw that he was not going to just let her by, she huffed and continued. "I feel restless tonight and I thought a quick ride would ease my spirits. I had fallen out of the habit of bringing my saddlebag along with the stone, my money and weapon. I thought I should start carrying it with me again when I went out, even if it was only for a short amount of time. So everything I own, but for the rest of my clothing, is with me now, sir."