Finders Keepers (Norman Brides) Read online

  Finders Keepers

  Norman Brides series

  By

  Lynn Wood

  Copyright © 2014 Lynn Wood

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design ©Melissa Alvarez, BookCovers.Us Cover Photos © iStockPhoto.com/©John North, ©RMAX, ©Avesun Cover Photos © Depositphotos.com/©exinocactus, ©Gnilenko

  …Losers Weepers

  Titles by Lynn wood

  Fiction:

  Norman Brides Series:

  Keeper of the Stone

  Finders Keepers

  The Promise Keeper

  … Coming September 2014

  Also By l. m. wood

  Awakening Series:

  Awakening

  Choose

  The Firstborn Series:

  Michael, Beloved of God, Prince of Heaven

  Dancing with the Devil

  Non-Fiction:

  Lessons In Illumination

  …A Beginner’s Guide to the Eternal Way

  Yoga Behind the Veil

  …A Journey of Self-Discovery

  …A Last Request

  “Is it true a man cannot deny a friend a dying wish?”

  “Certainly I would find it very difficult, if not impossible, to do so.”

  “And are we friends, Luke?” Her voice was barely a whisper across the small distance separating their mouths. His head was bent close to hers so she wouldn’t exhaust herself lifting her own off the pallet to be nearer to him.

  “Yes, Melissa, I hope you may think of me as your friend.”

  “Then I have a favor to ask of you, Luke. A last request. A dying request.”

  “What is it? If it is within my power, I swear to you I will grant your bid.”

  Her lips curved triumphantly as he fell nicely into her trap. “You swear?”

  “Yes, on my honor as a knight. I vow I will see your appeal through.”

  “Come closer so I may whisper my appeal in your ear. It is rather embarrassing to speak the words out loud. I certainly would not want one of your men to overhear.”

  Curious, Luke bent closer, thinking to reassure her about the impossibility of his men overhearing. Her voice was so soft he was having trouble hearing her from only inches away. Then her lips brushed against his ear and he lost his ability to think of anything else. When he was able to recover his wits long enough to wrap his mind around the favor she sought from him, he assumed he must be the one suffering from the effects of fever. He almost reached up his hand to check if his own head burned. Melissa could not have possibly just asked him the entreaty he would swear she just whispered in his ear. He must be hallucinating. Perhaps her fever was not caused by her injuries, but was from some dreaded disease that just happened to strike at the same time as his brother’s assault on her, and now seemed intent on making him its next victim.

  “Luke?” The hope in her voice should have sounded pitiful to him, yet it sent his manly passions surging through his body. In the space of a moment, he was fully aroused and the palms of his hands were damp with sweat. He thrust an impatient hand through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to remove himself from this cave. The walls were starting to close in around him. He needed to get away from Melissa’s feminine scent. The one he was suddenly so profoundly, so achingly aware of.

  Melissa reached up to brush a stray lock of his shoulder-length hair from his face. At her soft touch he jerked away from her hand as if she held a branding iron. “You promised me, Luke. You gave me your word of honor as a knight.”

  Luke looked down at her with wild eyes. “You cannot be serious. I am absolutely certain I misunderstood you. Believe me you do not want to know what I imagined I heard you just ask me.”

  Melissa smiled at the panicked expression she read in Luke’s eyes. In their brief acquaintance she witnessed those same eyes filled with pity, outrage, indignation, even sputtering with rage and injured male pride, but never had she seen him as overset as he was in the present moment. “Did you imagine I confessed to you I did not wish to die a virgin?”

  He covered her mouth with his hand to keep any more such confessions from spilling out. “Would you mind keeping your voice down? I am certain any of my men would be only too happy to oblige your wish.”

  She pushed his hand away from her lips. “But I do not want any of your men to oblige me. I want you.”

  …PROLOGUE

  The little girl stood and stamped her feet, her gangly limbs like those of a young colt all askew in her disappointment. She wore a look of outraged disbelief in her stunning blue eyes as she watched from the river bank as the warriors in their sleek, silent boats set off down the river. She was in such a rage about being left behind she didn’t even lift her hand in acknowledgement of her twin’s excited wave as he rowed his own boat between the warriors and under Amele’s watchful eye. It wasn’t fair Michel got to go along and she didn’t. Wasn’t she the better swimmer, the faster runner? Wasn’t she even more skilled with a blade than Michel? But for once all of her frantic arguments, her pleading, cajoling and even whining were for naught. While they were all packing up their supplies to leave, Amele commanded her sternly to sit on the bank and wait for them to return. They would not be gone long. She wasn’t to get into any of her usual mischief.

  Melissa was so angry at the unfairness of it all she swiped away the stinging tears threatening to fall from her lashes. Just because she was a girl she didn’t get to go with him when Michel was being trained with the rest of the warriors. She would show them. She would show them all she was good enough, strong enough, and fast enough to be in charge of her own boat.

  Jumping up from her perch on the steep bank she scurried down to the water’s edge and with all of her strength she pushed, pulled, towed, and kicked one of the remaining boats to the edge. Breathing hard she just managed to launch the slender craft into the water, but she was unprepared for the swiftness of the current or how quickly her vessel was swept up in it. She didn’t even have time to retrieve the oars from the river bank. Panicked at the thought of Amele’s reaction to her losing one of the Salusian’s prized vessels, she raced out into the cool water as best she could in her clinging skirts and just managed to catch a hold of the rear of the craft before it was out of reach. It took her several tries to actually climb into the boat and right herself on the narrow bench in the middle of the craft where the men sat to wield the long oars she left behind on the river bank.

  Having accomplished her first objective to pursue the warriors, she sat down in the vessel and smiled with delight as it set off in swift pursuit of the other boats. She would show them, she thought with a joyful smile curving her lips at the sight of Amele’s expression when she caught up with them. She soon realized how fortunate she was that her craft seemed to know where they were going, because she had no idea of their direction, and even if she did, without the oars she left behind she had no means by which to steer. As fast as she raced along the surface of the rushing water she could not see any sign of Michel and the others. She wasn’t concerned. She was convinced she would soon catch up to them and then Amele would take over. He would know how to get the boat to stop.

  Melissa was only just becoming a little bit nervous when she spotted the others up ahead. At the sight of them all lined up, she thought her little boat picked up even more speed in its hurry to catch up, as if it too was excited about the prospect of proving itself to be the equal of the other crafts who were all chosen by one of the warriors while it was forced to remain behind with her. She felt an empathetic pang of sympathy for her tiny ship.

  Melissa knew enough not to stand up and rock the boat in an effort to try to attract the warriors’ attention, so instead she
yelled from her seat on the narrow bench. Unfortunately the sound of the hurrying current, tripping over stones and tree roots in its path, must have carried away her voice as no one turned around to acknowledge her greeting. The boat picked up even more speed. It wasn’t until she was almost upon them she realized why the sleek vessels were all lined up in a straight row, and why the warriors were all straining mightily to row in reverse to keep their crafts so tightly in line. She noticed Michel was rowing frantically too, and how his boat remained in line with the others. For a brief moment she puzzled over how his young arms could match the strength of the grown men who strained against their own oars in boats on either side of him. Then she saw the lead attached to her brother’s boat and knew it was the warriors who were maintaining her brother’s craft in line with theirs. She wondered if Michel knew of their trickery or if he thought he was actually keeping up with the others and thought how he would brag of it later around the fires near their grandmother’s tents.

  The seconds flew as her own boat raced along the tide until Melissa realized too late why the men labored so greatly to remain in place. The rushing waters grew louder until she was almost upon the other crafts. She screamed then, her terror lending strength to her child’s voice.

  At the sound of her fearful protest, Amele turned in the craft behind Michel’s and saw her barreling toward the edge of the falls. The shock on his face had her readying her lips for her usual excuses and explanations. But it was the fear on his face that struck ice into her heart. Immediately he turned to intercept her, rowing with all of his considerable might, but from the horrified look in his dark eyes, Melissa could see he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. She was going over the falls. She was going to die. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. If they had taken her along with them, this would never have happened. It wasn’t her fault. ‘Oh God, oh God, please don’t let me die. Papa will be so furious with me for disobeying Amele. Are you going to send me to hell for defying him?”

  She thought she heard muffled laughter in response to her frantic prayer. Even in her rising terror she could feel the indignation rise in her heart at the thought that her heavenly Father would find her current, life-threatening situation amusing. He was supposed to be rescuing her, not laughing at her predicament, even if it was her own fault. She could see Amele’s lips moving but couldn’t hear his instructions over the thunderous current. The others watched stunned as her boat sped towards them, even as they continued to strain to keep their own vessels, along with her brother’s, from going over the falls.

  Melissa was close enough now to feel the invincible pull of the current and knew there was nothing in this world to keep her from going over. No matter how fiercely he battled against the tide, Amele’s boat was barely inching in her direction. Dread choked off her scream of denial. Her eyes met Michel’s frantic ones so like her own. The look in his told her he knew she was going to die. Seeing her own desperation echoed in her twin’s eyes forced her to action. She couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

  Without giving herself a chance to look back, Melissa stood in the wildly rocking boat, her fragile plan to leap in Amele’s direction and hope he would catch her. She understood the foolishness of her strategy, but if she was going to die anyway she would not take the coward’s way out and just sit there and let the claws of death claim her without a contest. Did not Salusian blood run in her veins? Was she not destined to one day be the Keeper of the Stone?

  Amele was close enough now she could hear him shouting at her to sit down. Their eyes met. He was still too far away to reach her. She stepped onto the narrow bench where she previously sat, with the front of her boat just a breath away from angling over the edge of the falls.

  Afterwards she wasn’t certain if she leapt or if the boat tipped and sent her careening over. She only knew she flew like a bird for long moments. She watched as her boat hit the churning water below and broke apart, and unable to meet a similar fate with her eyes open, she clenched them shut just before she collided with the surface.

  The shock of the impact stole her breath away and it was unfortunate, because she was already under the teeming surface and she instinctively opened her mouth to catch it, then was forced to choke back the water that filled it. She was spinning in the churning water. Everywhere she looked appeared the same. She couldn’t tell which way was up or down. So rather than try to strike out towards the surface and risk heading deeper under the dark water, she let herself be tossed and turned and carried far away from where she first entered the water, trying and failing to hold her breath to keep from swallowing any more of the river than she already had.

  When she woke up she was lying on the stony bank with the sound of rushing water nearby. She twisted her head from side to side, not recognizing where she lay. Her limbs ached. Her head hurt. Her chest was burning and she coughed up what seemed like enough water for her to have drowned in. She struggled into a seated position and looked gingerly around, shoving the long wet tail of her clinging hair away from her face. Her vision was blurred, but not so fuzzy she couldn’t see the stranger sitting there watching her.

  “Who are you?” She asked, her voice raspy from coughing up the water in her chest, wondering who he was and what he was doing just sitting there watching her. His eyes were so dark she could not see any light reflected in them, but he sat there with an amused smile curving his lips as he met her curious expression.

  Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Are you all right?”

  Melissa inspected her arms and legs before answering. “I guess so. I’m not dead, am I?”

  The stranger laughed heartily at her confusion. “No, not yet, but I think you are not destined for a long stay in this world. Perhaps you would like to come with me now.”

  “Come with you where?”

  “Come and see.”

  Melissa was tempted. There was something appealing about the stranger’s offer, and his deep voice tugged at some lost memory inside of her. Part of her wanted to take him up on his suggestion, but regretfully she shook her head. “I cannot. My papa would be angry if I went off with a stranger.”

  “I think we are not destined to remain strangers for long.”

  Melissa sighed. She was too worn out from her ordeal, and too young, she thought, to understand the other’s cryptic remark. So instead she asked, “Do you want to be my friend?”

  His white teeth flashed against his dark skin at her suggestion. “I suppose we could try that.”

  “Do you know where we are? Can you take me back to the others?”

  “That will not be necessary. They will eventually work their way here looking for you. I will keep you company until they arrive.”

  Melissa heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you. Sometimes I get scared when I’m alone.”

  “You needn’t be. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Melissa smiled. “Would it be all right if I sat in your lap until Amele finds me? It’s cold here, isn’t it?”

  The stranger opened his arms to the little girl with the wild dark curls and stunning blue eyes. Melissa crawled into them and sighed with contentment as they closed around her. The stranger was warm. She supposed she should ask his name. Her eyelids grew heavy and she rested her face against the long column of his throat. Before she had a chance to see to the introductions, she fell asleep in his arms.

  The stranger sat holding the slumbering little girl in his embrace until he heard the distinct echo of the approach of those who searched for her. He could take her now. They would never know he was here. They would just assume her small child’s body never surfaced and remained lost beneath the water. As tempted as he was to simply carry her off, he reluctantly rose and laid her gently down on the steep bank. They were friends now, after all, and one did not carry one’s friends off without their permission.

  Besides, he thought with a twitch of his lips, he doubted it would be long before he and young Lady Melissa of Heaven’s Crest met again. She’d bee
n tempted by his offer to accompany him. And why not? They were destined to spend eternity together.

  …Prologue

  The young boy ran on swift, sturdy legs through the woods of his family’s expansive lands. The massive stone keep of the Michaels’ lord stood majestically in the background, looking down from its proud perch on the more humble inhabitants of the surrounding village who relied upon its thick walls and the strong arms of the lord’s fighting men for protection during uncertain times. From its parapets, deep blue flags emblazoned in silver with the family’s crest flapped in the brisk breeze.

  Young Luke barely took notice of the grandeur of his surroundings. He was his father’s second son, not his heir. Even though he was still more youth than man, he understood he would never ascend to the position of lord over these rich lands. His half-brother, Mason, his father’s elder son would be given the honor to rule in their father’s stead.

  Luke thought he would mind less deferring to his older brother if Mason were more worthy of the honor granted him by right of birth. Instead, Luke hated his older brother… and feared him. This last he admitted only to himself in the silence of his rooms at night. Luke thought he could put a name to the darkness that dwelt within his brother’s black heart. Evil. He saw it lurking in Mason’s eyes as they followed Luke whenever they were in the presence of their father. He heard its threat in his brother’s voice when he taunted him and felt it in the brutality of the blows when they engaged each other. Mason only laughed when Luke could not suppress the tears of pain from springing to his young eyes. It was an evil laugh, reminiscent of the demon who must surely be his brother’s sponsor in this world of men.

  Each time he heard it, Luke vowed to harden his tender limbs and never again give Mason the satisfaction of reducing him to tears. Over the fleeting years of his young life he’d learned to hide his pain with a careless grin and a biting humor. He could now match Mason taunt for taunt, until his brother no longer took pleasure in their game. It was the innocent Mason sought to break and defile, as if the mere existence of purity was a personal insult the Almighty flung in his face.