Word count; 2307

Notes at the bottom.

CHAPTER 3:

The sun was high in the sky, midday, most likely and it was warm, uncomfortably so even

The water was nice and cool against her skin and she scooped up some more. Monroe had insisted they'd take a break at the river so the horse could have a drink as well as the men, and Charlie, naturally.

She was sitting on the river banks looking out over the water, the current strong and demanding as twigs, branches and the odd piece of garbage drifted past where she was sitting.

It was another long, hard day on the road but luckily they were getting closer to Willoughby. They had about a day or two left before they would reach the village and she'd be reunited with her mother, grandfather and uncle.

On the other hand it would mean that she was back under her families scrutiny and that wasn't something she was looking forward too. This time she spent with her new men, Connor and Monroe had been liberating. Yes, Monroe kept a close eye on her but nowhere near like her mother did or even Miles. She felt like he knew that she could take care of herself.

He'd been warming up to her, once more. His answers had become less clipped and he smiled more often. It was crazy how much she had missed that smile. For an ex- maniacal sociopath he had one of the best smiles she'd ever seen. Wide and with these dimples on each side that elicited a strange flutter in her stomach.

Completely absorbed in her thoughts she didn't hear the snapping of a twig behind her, nor the footsteps coming towards her.

Charlie let out a scream as she was grabbed from behind, immediately stilling when she felt the cold press of metal against her side. Her breath was labored and she fought to get air into her lungs, this being complicated due to the thick arm that was wrapped around her throat.

"Well, well. Look what we have here, Drew." The voice was nasal and high but unmistakably male. She felt the pudgy body of her assailant behind her as his arms kept her trapped against him. Not again, she couldn't believe this was happening again, though this time thankfully she hadn't been drugged before hand. Not that it mattered since there was a knife pressed against her side and she couldn't reach her's due to the fact that her arms were pinned.

Her eyes flew from left to right but she couldn't see anything. For a little bit of privacy she had gone around the bend of the river and she regretted walking the few extra yards, thinking that maybe it had been too far because she didn't hear loud footsteps approaching as a sign her men were coming to help her.

Charlie let out a foul curse when she got some air back into her lungs and without warning she snapped her head back, satisfied when she heard a crunch and a curse from behind and the grip on her was loosened. Though it wasn't much it was just enough for her to wrestle herself free and she immediately drew her own knife "Stay the hell away from me, you smelly bastard!"

The man in front of her was absolutely disgusting. Pudgy to the point of fat, his clothes, hair and skin seemed like they hadn't seen water for the better part of a year and when he smiled he revealed a row of black teeth, the ones that weren't missing, that was. When his smell reached her it was all she could do not to throw up, putrid and rank.

"We've got a feisty one here, Drew." Her eyes were drawn to the shadow behind the first man and she noticed a second one. As fat as the first one was, so skinny was the second but no less filthy. Just because there were no hot showers didn't mean that you should forgo bathing altogether, at least, not in her opinion. "Looks like, Mick."

The fat guy kept his knife pointed towards her. "Grab her little pig-sticker, Drew. Then we can get on with the show" The horny sneer on his face leaving no question about what the 'show' would be all about, but she wasn't about to give up without a fight.

As the skinny guy approached her she tightened her grip on her knife. It wasn't like she hadn't killed before and this was definitely in self defense. 'Drew' Kept advancing on her and when he reached for her arm she struck out and stabbed him right in the shoulder.

The man let out a loud wail and backhanded her across her face. She was surprised by the strength of the man's hit, not expecting it from such a skinny man. Though she should know not to judge a book by it's cover. The slap had caused her to lose grip on her knife and fall to the ground, when she looked up she noticed it was still embedded in the skinny man's shoulder.

Though satisfied with the power of her strike she was now, however, without a weapon to defend herself and the two men started advancing towards her, both at the same time. "You're gonna pay for that, you little bitch" Drew's sneer was slightly diminished by his wince when he pulled the knife from his shoulder and pointed it towards her. Great, now she was going to get killed with her own knife.

All of a sudden the man known as Drew arched his chest forwards and let out an agonizing scream. Charlie faintly registered the tip of a sword piercing the filthy man's chest before it disappeared once more and Drew went down, hard.

As the now dead Drew fell to the ground it became clear what had happened because as the body slipped into the dirt it revealed the lean frame of one Sebastian Monroe, and he was furious. Normally blue eyes were nearly black with rage and the murderous look on his face would have sent Charlie running for the hills had it not been directed at the fat perv who was still standing on his feet.

Blood was dripping from Monroe's sword and she saw him rearrange his grip on the hilt. The muscles in his arm flexed as he pointed the razor sharp tip of the sword in the direction of the only other man standing. An abundance of feelings washed over Charlie, relief, pride and an undeniable bolt of heat shot through her body, warming her from head to toe. She knew there was nothing to fear anymore, Monroe was here and he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

She knew this, without a doubt, and it still surprised her everytime. Because she had been fighting him for the better part of a year. Because she had feared and hated him for so long, it was still a strange feeling to know that this man would do anything to keep her alive, to keep her safe.

"Whoa, man." Fat guy held up the knife, palms outstretched and facing down to seem less threatening as he looked at Monroe. Charlie could only imagine what was going through fat guys mind right now as he took in the lethal man in front of him. "No need to go all Rambo on us, man. I'm willing to share, hell, I'll even let you take first crack at her, what do you say." The words were an obvious attempt to calm Monroe down and Charlie couldn't help a small smirk from forming on her face. She wished she was still compassionate enough to feel sorry for the fat man, but to be honest all she felt was relief. Relief that in mere seconds this insect in front of her who thought himself a bad-ass monster would be cut down by, according to some, the biggest monster of all.

Monroe had lowered his sword just the slightest bit, but the second the man mentioned sharing he'd lunged forward and thrust the unyielding blade of his sword into the man's chest. It was completely silent aside from the gasping and gurgling sounds of a dying man and Charlie could breathe again.

She should be angry that she hadn't been able to defend herself, she should have been furious that he once more came to her rescue as some sort of twisted knight in shining armor. But when she felt rough, calloused hands grasp her face and blue eyes bore into hers all she could do was let another sigh of relief escape her lips.

"Charlotte?... Charlotte!" She was shaken out of her reverie at the sound of his insistent voice. His thumbs were stroking her cheeks and his worried blue eyes were searching her face for signs of hurt, narrowing when they rested on her cheek that was quickly turning red. "Bastards!" It was nothing more than a growl but it made Charlie smile all the same.

"I'm fine, I'm OK." She covered his hands with hers and widened her smile just slightly to reassure him of that. "Just a smack in the face, nothing serious. Really, Monroe. I'm fine."

The tops of his hands felt nearly as rough as his palms, evidence of the rough, hard life that he'd lead. She allowed him to help him to her feet and shivered when his hands made quick work of checking her over for any more injuries. She noticed his eyes slowly turning back to the bright blue color she was getting so used to. The angry lines around his mouth faded and softened when he learned that her cheek was indeed the only part about her that was hurt, aside from her pride, that is.

"Dump them in the river. I want them out of my sight." His voice however was still strained, still rough and harsh with anger. The words he'd spoken caused her to look away from his vibrant eyes and his tempting mouth, so close to hers as he assessed her.

It was then, and only then that she noticed Connor and her 5 men were directly behind him. Weapons drawn but unused as Monroe had already made the two men pay for even thinking about hurting her.

She watched as Pete, Mark, Roger and Devon lifted the two bodies and carried them over to the water. There was no regret or sympathy when she saw the two bodies bounce on top of the fast moving waves of the river before going under completely. She was safe again. He'd saved her again and the wave of gratitude and relief she felt causedher to collapse against his chest.

Hesitant arms wrapped around her and she was pulled softly against his hard body. His palms splayed on her back, his sword forgotten on the ground as he held her. "You're OK." It wasn't much more than a murmur. "You're alright."

And she was. She was alright and he'd made sure of it. Charlie startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder and slowly, regrettably, she pulled away from Monroe, already missing his warmth.

Pete was standing to her left, holding out her knife with a smile "Took this from the skin-and-bones dude, figured you'd want it back."

She had to keep her fingers from grasping Monroe when he pulled back from her and took several steps away. Grabbing his sword from the ground he kept his eyes cast downward, now completely ignoring her and Pete. Part of her was glad Pete had interrupted their embrace but another part, and she found it to be the biggest part, was slightly miffed that she'd now have to miss those strong arms wrapped around her.

Back at the wagon she had to convince Pete that she was fine, that nothing had happened to cause her permanent damage. Over the past few days she found that Pete was taking over the part from Miles, mothering her, sometimes to the point where she was seconds away from punching him in the face.

They got onto the wagon and without pause headed back onto the road, wanting to get out of that place as fast as possible. Charlie did not disagree one bit. They rode for about three to four hours before Monroe decided that this was a good place to make camp. This was also the last day they could travel along the river so they figured they'd better make the most of it.

Monroe was sitting by the fire, a whetstone in his lap and he was sharpening the blade of his sword. His movements were methodical, fluid and smooth, like he'd been doing it for years. Which she realized, he'd probably had.

When everyone had settled in for the night and Mark had offered to keep first watch, Charlie found it hard, nearly impossible to fall asleep. She kept thinking about those men, about their disgusting appearance and they putrid smell. Then her mind drifted elsewhere. Over to the man currently lying at her feet. Monroe.

He didn't look disgusting. His teeth where white and even, a perfect row which she wished he'd show in that smile of his, more often than he did. Nor did he smell putrid. No, when he'd pulled her into his arms she'd buried her nose in the crook of his neck, fighting not to inhale too deeply. He'd smelled wonderful. He had smelled like the woods, like fresh air and sweat. He'd smelled warm and comforting and so undoubtedly male.

She remembered the monstrous look on his face when he'd saved her, exactly like the way he looked when he struck down those men in that bar. To so many people he was that monster. The monster who was responsible for so much pain but none knew the pain he'd had to endure. And for some reason, she thought, he might be a monster, but he was her monster.

She turned in her sleeping bag but it was futile. Her mind was racing and she couldn't get to sleep, she knew tonight was going to be fitful to say the least so she quietly got up and snuck out of the camp. She told Mark that she would stay within earshot of him and she was taking her knife and grabbed a sword for good measure before slipping into the dark woods.

Author's notes;

Damn, this story has completely gotten away from me. I was planning on it being just pure PWP but it just decided that it needed to be a full out romance story, damn.

Anyways, there will be sex, eventually, but right now Bass and Charlie aren't doing what I want them to do, so I decided to oblige them and just see where they are going to take me.

I hope you guys are still enjoying the story, even though it's taking me a while to get to the naughty stuff.

As always, thank you for reading. Comments, critisisms and reviews are very much wanted and welcomed.

Love, Marisa