Hers to Choose Read Online Free PDF Page A

done?”
    Eric thought for a moment. “Separate our dead from the enemy’s, Jon. Gather what personal effects you can and burn the bodies of our own dead. We will collect the ashes for their loved ones. Leave the Haarb as they are for the carrion eaters.”
    He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. I must have lost more blood than I thought. Moving has become problematic. Eric felt her eyes watching. A sense of tired futility washed through him. All these good men dead. And for what? To bring back an unwilling bride?
    “Commander?”
    Sophi’s soft voice interrupted his grim thoughts.
    “ Yes, Flight Leader ?” He couldn’t summon the energy to open his eyes.
    “Commander, can you move?”
    No. “Yes.” He opened his eyes to see her kneeling next to him with an expression of grave concern.
    “ There is something you must see. Can you get on your horse?”
    No . “Yes.” He rolled to all fours and staggered to his feet with the assistance of the boulder. He propped himself on his hands until his head stopped spinning, then pushed upright. Bright red palm prints remained behind. His horse was impossibly distant, too far for him to reach—at least six feet. Just one foot in front of the other. Ahh. Steady my boy, move a muscle, dear friend, and I’m on my face. Don’t remember mounting being this difficult. Why am I on my horse? Ah, yes. The oh-so-ravishing Sophi.
    “Commander? Commander DeStroia? Eric?”
    “ Flight Leader .” He blinked slowly, trying to focus. Hmm. I see two of her.
    “Are you all right?”
    No. He forced his voice to remain firm and level. “Yes, Flight Leader . What ‘must’ I see?”
    “Follow me.”
    Happily, his horse followed Sophi’s without guidance. He concentrated on remaining upright and mounted.
    He had no idea what distance they rode but it couldn’t have been far. At the change in temperature and lack of light, he opened his eyes. Sophi had brought them to the entrance of a cave.
    “Duck your head, Commander. The ceiling gets low.”
    He smashed his nose on his horse’s neck and got a mouthful of mane. All went black.
     
    * * *
     
    Murmurs of conversation and the splash of water penetrated his consciousness. Dreaming. Desert. No water. He shifted. A moan escaped his lips. Pain. Goddess, the pain. He bit back another moan as he moved in his blankets. Blankets?
    “ Flight Leader , Commander DeStroia wakes.”
    “I’m coming, Adonia. How is he?”
    “Much better, Flight Leader . His fever has broken.”
    A cool cloth bathed his face. Heaven. A blacksmith had taken up residence in his skull and was beating his way out, one ringing hammer blow at a time. He forced his eyelids open for a brief second. Sophi. She of the cool, wet cloth. He tried again, blinking, attempting to focus. Stunning, aqua-eyed Sophi. Not a dream.
    “ Welcome back, Commander. Drink, please.” A clay cup pressed his lips, then cold water. Heavenly nectar must taste like this. He sucked it down.
    Pushing at his blankets in an abortive attempt to sit, he made a discovery. Damnation. “Wheer r my kllozz?” Humpf—didn’t come out right.
    He fell back. By the seven hells, I’m weak. His eyes closed. “Where—are—my—clothes?” There, that was intelligible.
    “Don’t stress yourself, Commander. You were bleeding from countless wounds. I had to strip you to determine your injuries. The worst is the stab wound in your groin. You are lucky. It did not perforate your gut. Mostly, I think you suffer from blood loss and dehydration. A day or two more of careful tending and you will be able to get up.”
    He lay with his eyes closed, too weak and in too much pain to object further. “How long?” he croaked.
    “Umm?”
    “How long have I been out?”
    “ Twenty-four hours.”
    He groaned softly . “Where are we? How are my men?” The splash of water and low masculine laughter reached his ears. Again he tried to sit up, only to fall back weakly. “Damnation, woman. Where in the