Jacq's Warlord by Delilah Devlin, Myla Jackson Page A

pass.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest and opened his stance.
    “All right then, I’ll just go around you.” She ducked to the right.
    The giant, smelly man stepped again into her path.
    She feinted to the left.
    Moving quickly for such a large man, he once again blocked her path.
    “Okay, I get it. You don’t want me to leave.” Faintly lightheaded from lack of air, she stepped back in the tent and breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Blessed, stench-free air.
    Thoroughly frustrated, she pulled the flap shut with a crack. Not as satisfying as slamming a door, but he got the picture.
    Deflated, she realized he would hardly be insulted. The giant had exactly what he wanted. She was still inside the tent. As she glanced around, Jacq’s foot tapped against the hard-packed dirt. There must be another way out. She walked to the far side of the tent and put her toe beneath the edge. The heavy fabric was too tight for her to lift very 58
    Jacq’s Warlord
    far; she reasoned it was probably too close to the tent stakes. Working her way along the back, she finally found a place that gave a little slack and crowed with glee.
    We’ll see who wins this battle . She dropped onto her stomach and shimmied her way beneath the tent. When she cleared the other side, she stood and looked down at her velvet gown. If it was dirty before, the red fabric was a muddy mess now.
    A crackle of breaking twigs coming from around the side of the tent caught her attention. Her heart jumped as Jacq spun in alarm.
    The giant rounded the corner, a fierce scowl cramming his brows together in a single fuzzy pelt slashing across his forehead.
    Jacq yelped and turned to flee. After only a few steps, a heavy hand clamped on her shoulder. She said a quick prayer that judo wasn’t in this warrior’s skill set, and deliberately backed into him while at the same time sinking into a crouch. Before he could react to her abrupt change of direction, Jacq grabbed the man’s arm and attempted to throw him over her shoulder.
    He didn’t budge.
    Okay, so Plan A didn’t work. Jacq faced the giant with a sheepish grin. On to Plan B.
    If possible, the man’s scowl grew more menacing.
    “If you would only let me explain—”
    Giant-smelly-man caught her around the waist and carried her under one arm like a sack of dog food.
    Bent in half and too close to the ruffian’s body for her stomach to tolerate the stench, Jacq fought her upchuck reflex. Manhandled three times in one day was too much, she ranted silently. Just as she was about to lose her lunch from the acrid aroma emanating from his body, the ride was over.
    He dumped her unceremoniously inside the tent and closed the flap.
    Jacq sat in a heap on the floor, willing herself not to howl like a baby. Lord Rat-face was going to get a piece of her mind the next time she saw him.
    With the thought of revenge warming her blood, she picked herself up and dusted off her skirt. Rufus meant to keep her confined, but by her nature, Jacq detested being idle. Besides a stubborn streak a mile wide, curiosity was also a component of her character—she decided to explore the confines of the tent. In the process, she might learn a little more about the man who was driving her crazy.
    The two chests didn’t yield anything of interest, except for his chain mail shirt. Her wild ride the previous day hadn’t given her the chance to examine it. She lifted the heavy metal garment from the chest and weighed it in her arms. Wow! This one was the heaviest she’d ever held. Its weight gave her a new appreciation for the strength of the men who fought battles wearing one.
    When she found his weapons stacked in a corner, her heart pounded in her chest.
    How could he be so careless to leave her alone with the means to gain her freedom? On 59
    Delilah Devlin & Myla Jackson
    second thought, she guessed he knew she would figure out she didn’t stand a chance on her own. Her face wrinkled in self-disgust. Her dependency on a man for