A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [61]
After a moment’s fear, Sally’s determination to save her son returned, bringing with it all of Mace’s uncertainties about the reality of his pedigree, as well as a growing delight in just feeling her courage.
It took twenty minutes to reach the foot of the ridge through the deep snow. The emotions of the sentries remained with him, not increasing from two. Why should they? They only saw a single woman with a dog riding alone on a draft horse. What possible kind of threat could she be? Mace snorted at that kind of stupidity and walked under the trees that marked the start of the ridge.
The ground rose abruptly before him, a jagged rise about seventy feet tall. There were spots that were sheer, but others were still graded enough that he could ascend without changing his form. Sally hung on to his mane with both hands, and her knees tightly gripped his sides as he went up the slope, pushing his way through the bushes. He stepped in a hole at one point, but the rock shattered before his leg did and he yanked his hoof free, moving forward without hesitation. Her tail wagging, Ruffles followed.
That was when he started to feel other men besides the sentries. Given the good view from the top of the hill, and the fact that it was steep enough to defend, it wasn’t surprising that they were here. He felt a multitude of men and even a few women. Most of the men reeked of violence and greed, but none of these were aware of the newcomers.
He took note of each of the two sentries’ reactions. One eyed Sally with a lust that Mace was fully prepared to tear out of him. The other was certain that there was more here than he was seeing. He expected a trap.
Mace kept climbing, making his way up the bluff slowly for his companions’ sakes, and he took the time to study not just the feelings of the men on the ridge but those in the camp on the other side. He felt Jayden right away, recognizing the unique patterns of the fourteen-year-old against the surrounding morass. Those patterns had changed, though, and Mace snorted as he walked, ascending a ridgeline almost the same as a goat and ignoring the growing amazement of the sentries. Jayden had changed since he left home. The stubbornness and anger were gone. The boy who followed Mace everywhere had turned into a frightened creature, cowering and alone, but still with a core of courage deep down that wasn’t much different from the one inside Sally, and was just as determined not to give up.
Mace stopped, his tail swishing uncertainly. He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected to find the boy raging arrogantly, and to just toss him over his shoulder and cart him back to Sylph Valley. This person felt very much like a child again, desperately wanting someone to rescue him. More, as Mace zeroed in on those emotions, reading the nuances almost as effectively as reading a mind, he realized that Jayden was praying for him to be the one to come for him.
This reminded him again of what Sally had said, that the boy loved him. He still didn’t get why, since the love certainly wasn’t returned, but still . . .
Mace had loved in his own way every single woman he’d ever slept with. It hadn’t been the love of a master/sylph bond and it certainly hadn’t been with the deep soul tie he longed for, but the love had always been there. It was the way he was made. Few had loved him back though. Most saw him as a sexual toy or a conquest; he’d felt it even as he pleasured them. Even Lily had only taken him at first to keep him from searching for a master among the girls she was raising. Only two had ever truly loved him back, one being Lily, after he’d become hers, and the other being the woman who rode him now. Now Jayden felt the same way. He wanted Mace to come to his rescue. At the same time, judging from the despair that swamped the courage he had, the youngster was certain