by Lynsay Sands
"Do ye intend to lay upon me all day aspoutin' your pretty words, m'laird?" she interrupted in a decidedly bored tone. "Or shall ye let me up?"
Blake stiffened at her words as Little George and Lord Rolfe arrived, their saddles conspicuously empty of women. Turning his head toward them, he raised an eyebrow, and Little George quickly explained.
"The men caught us up right after ye flew after the girl. We left the other two with them while we followed to see if you needed any help. Howbeit, 'tis obvious you have all in hand here."
"Oh, aye," Blake agreed dryly. Shaking his head, he got slowly to his feet before offering a hand to Seonaid. Much to his surprise, she accepted the offer of assistance. He realized his mistake almost at once, for she did not use his hand in order to raise herself up, but instead to pull him down. He'd barely understood the meaning behind the sudden tug to his hand when he felt her foot lodge itself somewhere in the vicinity of his groin. Then he was sailing through the air, somersaulting over her head onto his back with a crash that reverberated through his entire body. He did not even notice she had regained her footing and was charging toward the woods once more.
"Are you all right?" The smile Little George struggled to hide as he slid off his mount took away somewhat from the concern underlying the question.
"Of course he is all right." Still seated on his mount, Lord Rolfe didn't even try to hide his amusement. "He is handling the matter, can you not see that?"
Groaning, Blake shifted onto his side, then got gingerly to his feet, wincing at the pain in his lower regions as he did. "Which way did she go?" he muttered as soon as the pain had lessened enough to allow speech.
Little George pointed toward the woods and Blake groaned, took a step toward his horse, then shook his head and set out on foot. It seemed to him it would be less painful to run than to set his jewels on a horse's back to be bounced about.
After several moments of running, he had to wonder if he hadn't made the wrong decision. It seemed to him this little jog merely exacerbated the pain he was suffering. And the wench proved quick on her feet, certainly faster than he'd expected. He almost doubted he could catch her up, and it was both a surprise and a relief when he actually managed to close the distance between them enough that he could lunge forward and tumble her to the ground once more. There they tussled briefly before he managed to subdue her using his maltreated body. After the abuse he'd suffered at her hands, it was almost a relief when she gave up struggling and began to spit curse after curse at him. Some of them actually made him flush. Where the devil had she learned such a litany? Good God, she knew more curses than he did.
He gave her a shake to silence her, then sighed and shook his head. "Your tongue is as sharp as your blade, my lady."
Seonaid's eyes widened slightly at his tone of voice as he made the announcement. "Ye almost sound admiring, Sassenach."
"Aye, for truly I do appreciate your wit." When he saw her eyes narrow, he grimaced and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to continue this behavior all the way to Dunbar?"
"Did ye think I'd make it easy on ye?"
"Nay, but I fear I should warn you, should you continue to try to escape, forcing me to chase and tumble you, I may be moved to anticipate the exchanging of the bands and consummate the marriage before we even reach your land. 'Tis fair true the feel of your body squirming beneath me fans fires I did not think you could."
As he'd expected, Seonaid stilled at once. Blake smiled widely. "Ah, my lady, you fair wound me. Would you not wish to handfast with me? 'Tis what it is called, is it not?"
She was frowning at him oddly, her nose twitching.
Raising his eyebrows, he lifted himself slightly from her body. "What?"
"Is that you?"
"What?"
"Ye smell like a bloody barn. Could ye no bathe before ye came to fetch me?"
Blake pushed himself away from her at once, then reached a hand down to help her up, pulling it back as he recalled what had happened the last time.
Amusement on her face, Seonaid rose under her own impetus and led him toward the horses as they broke into the clearing. This time, all of them were there; Lord Rolfe and Little George had the women before them again, and the bishop, the three Scots, and the men-at-arms were all in attendance. Ignoring their presence, Seonaid moved to Blake's horse in silent surrender, but paused before mounting him and glanced back at Blake where he still stood watching her. "By the by, about anticipatin' the weddin'? I think ye should be aware of all things afore ye make yer decision."
"Such as?"
"Such as while ye've taken away me sword, I still have me sgian dubh an' I'll no hesitate to use it should ye try anything. 'Twould be a fair shame for your lovely deep voice to suddenly start singin' high."
Turning away, she mounted the horse, her expression cold as she waited for him to climb up behind her.
"What is a sgian dubh?"
Rolfe, Bishop Wykeham, and Little George peered up blankly from their positions around the fire. They had ridden throughout the day, traveling at a slower pace than usual to avoid taxing the overburdened horses. Now they sat, relaxing about the fire they had prepared as darkness had settled over the land. Seonaid, Aeldra, and Helen were all just beyond the trees, bathing in the cool river water. Blake had considered setting a guard on them but had decided against it. Instead he'd set six guards on the horses. The women could not flee far without horses.
The thought of horses made Blake shift uncomfortably. He did not know how the other two men had faired, but for himself, it had been a hell of an uncomfortable ride, and he was grateful to finally be able to rest. His lower body still ached from the kick he'd received. Eight hours of riding hadn't aided in his recovery much, and he'd spent most of the ride torn between warily watching the woman who sat so stiff and still before him and trying to ignore the odd sensations holding her so close caused.
The whole venture had taken an unexpected turn for Blake. He'd started out as reluctant as a man on the way to the Tower. Now he could not really say how he felt. Part of him still balked at marrying the wench, but another part, the same part presently aching from her kick, showed some interest in at least the consumation of the wedding. Much to his dismay, his Amazon betrothed was extracting all sorts of interest from his body. He'd seen the first signs while wrestling with her in the woods, but his interest had continued and even intensified throughout the day. Truly, he'd cursed himself a time or two for suggesting that the women be forced to ride with the men. Having her bottom firmly pressed against him had been mightily distracting.
Were that all it was, Blake supposed he could accept his reaction as an aberrant desire, take her to wife, then to bed, and forget about it. But his reactions to the female were a bit more complicated. He hadn't been lying when he'd claimed to enjoy her wit. He did. He enjoyed sparring with her verbally. He'd even enjoyed the chase when she'd fled, first on horseback, then on foot. And damned if their brief struggles hadn't set his heart to pumping with an adrenaline that had given him a sort of thrill. Worse yet, he was even beginning to enjoy her refusal of him. She was a challenge. Blake had never been able to resist a challenge and, to date, no woman had truly offered him one.
"A sgian dubh is a knife, m'laird," the Scot named Gavin answered his question, drawing Blake from his ruminations. " 'Tis about yeah long." He held his hands about six inches apart. "Some of 'em are quite sharp an' nasty, could slit a man's throat clear through, or castrate him in a flash," he added, the twinkle in his eyes revealing he'd overheard Seonaid's threat.
Chapter Six
Seonaid ducked her head under the cold stream water, then straightened and slicked the hair off her face as she peered around the clearing. She suspected there was a guard somewhere, despite the impropriety of it, but could see no one from where she stood in the river.
Her gaze slid to Aeldra and Helen, who were grimly attending to their ablutions next to her. Both of them looked about as downhearted as a pair could be. Seonaid could
n't blame them. She was a bit disheartened herself. They had been captured. Not once, not twice, but three times. Things weren't going quite according to plan, but she hoped to change that.
Sidling closer to Helen in the water, Seonaid nudged her to get her attention. When the other woman turned, she asked in hushed tones, "Helen? Do ye recall which plant yer maid used to make the Camerons sleep?"
The shorter woman appeared surprised at the question but considered it briefly. Finally, she bit her lip and said with uncertainty, "I think I might recognize it again did I see it. Why?"
"I'm thinkin' me betrothed an' the others might need a rest after all their traipsin' around." Seonaid didn't bother to hide the wicked glint in her eyes. A smile widened her lips when Helen's brows flew up.
"Oh, aye, I think ye may be right." Aeldra's grin matched Seonaid's as she joined the conversation. "They can take a little nap whilst we tend to seein' Helen home."
"Aye." Seonaid removed the smile from her face and glanced warily around, concerned their standing about smiling and talking might raise suspicions in their hidden guards. The three women shouldn't be so happy at the moment.
"I shall need to look about the woods a bit," Helen pointed out, looking concerned.
"Aye." Seonaid nodded, but knew searching about the woods could be a problem. They might manage a quick look about did they claim a need to relieve themselves, but she knew getting a lot of time to hunt up the plant wasn't possible.
"Perhaps we could help," Aeldra suggested.
Seonaid nodded. "Ye'll have to tell us what it looks like. We'll split up as if to relieve ourselves an' each bring back what samples we can. Come."
Helen described the plant in question as they waded out of the water. Once on shore, they were silent as they dried off and donned their clothes, then Seonaid announced, "I've a need to find a handy bush."
"As have I," Aeldra said loudly. "I'll go this way." She moved into the woods on the left.
"I ... er ..." Helen cleared her throat, then said a little louder, "I do too. I'll just go over here."
Seonaid watched her disappear into the woods on their right, then peered around slowly. Nothing moved. There was no sign of anyone about, but she felt sure someone was there. Or at least not far away. She rather hoped the latter was true. It would allow them the freedom to look for a few minutes at least. She moved into the brush straight ahead, scanning the ground as she walked.
Helen had been very particular with her descriptions of the plant in question. At least Seonaid had thought so at the time, but as she scoured the ground in search of the proper plant, she began to think they all looked terribly similar. Still, she did the best she could, grabbing up several handfuls of any plant resembling the one Helen had described. She had no idea how much of the plant the woman would need, but she suspected it would be a plentiful amount to manage to send the whole camp to sleep.
Helen and Aeldra were waiting at the river's edge when Seonaid returned. She glanced from them to the surrounding woods as she asked, "Did either of ye spot anyone?"
Seonaid frowned when both women shook their heads. She hadn't either and was beginning to think it might mean there hadn't been a guard posted after all. Propriety might have swayed the Sherwell from posting a guard to watch them bathe, she realized. It wasn't as if they would have been foolish enough to try to escape without the horses. Glancing back to Helen and Aeldra and the collection of plants they were sifting through, she decided to hope for the best. They had to sort the plants. They would have to hope either the guards weren't posted or they were so far away as to not be a concern. Joining them, she dumped the plants she had found in the pile and knelt to help with the chore.
"How did we do? Did we get what ye need?" she asked as Helen examined the offerings.
"I am not sure," the woman admitted. "I found two plants I think might be the one she used. And you have one of them here too." She lifted the plants in question, and Seonaid had to admit they were very similar. One was a slightly lighter color than the other and perhaps a little larger.
"Well, was it the lighter or the darker o' the two?" she asked.
The Englishwoman bit her lip as she considered. "I can not be sure. It was dark when she showed them to me. I--" She shook her head helplessly.
"Perhaps the bigger ones are only a different color because they are older," Aeldra suggested.
"That could be," Helen allowed doubtfully.
They were silent for a moment, considering the plants, then Seonaid shifted impatiently. "Try to remember, Helen, an' pick which one ye think 'tis."
The smaller woman stared at first one, then the other plant, then reached for the bigger-leaved one. "The larger one, I think."
Seonaid nodded, scooped up all the pieces they had of the larger plant, and tucked it in her plaid. "Come along, then; we'll offer to cook the sup. How did yer maid feed it to the Camerons?"
"In a stew."
"A stew it is then," Seonaid announced and led the way back to camp.
Her plan seemed simple enough. Offer to cook, make a stew, dump the leaves in, feed the men, wait for them to drift off, then saddle their mounts, free the rest of the horses, and set out. Simple.
Not so simple.
"Let you cook the sup, my lady?" Blake actually laughed at the idea. "What? So you can poison me? I think not."
Seonaid did her best to look properly aghast at the suggestion. Then she did the only thing she could think to do. She shrugged and said, "Fine. Sister Helen merely mentioned she made a fine rabbit stew, which started me hankering for some. Howbeit, I shall survive with the stale bread an' old cheese we brought with us from the abbey. I'm sure you men have something to make do with too." Then she started to walk away. Much to her relief, Blake stopped her after two steps.
"The nun was going to do the cooking?" he asked with sudden and obvious interest.
"Aye." She turned back. "Well, you doona think I ken how to cook, diya?" she asked with a sneer. "My only contribution was goin' to be to catch the rabbits she'll need to feed us all."
Blake remained silent for a minute, then nodded. "Fine. But you are not hunting the rabbit. I will send a few men out after them. I shall set two men to build a fire and--" He paused suddenly and frowned. "We have naught to use for a pot to cook the stew."
Seonaid found herself flummoxed by the comment. Dear Lord, she hadn't even considered a pot would be needed for the stew. She almost slapped herself in the head for such stupidity, but before she did, Helen stepped forward and blurted, "I have a pot, my lord."
Seonaid turned to gape at the woman in surprise. "Do ye?" she asked.
Helen nodded. "Remember the sack I mentioned leaving in the stables when you asked if I had brought anything with me?"
"Aye." Seonaid nodded.
"Well, the pot is in it. 'Tis why I left it in the stables but collected it when we were saddling the horses. I thought ... well ... it saved my life once." She shrugged.
Seonaid could have hugged the woman for such brilliance. Her respect for Helen rose. She was a clever wench.
Aware Blake had started barking orders behind her, sending some men to hunt rabbit and others to start a fire, she shared a smile with the Englishwoman, then said, "Ye'd best ask him to assign some men to help ye root out whatever wild onions and such ye can find around here fer the stew, to cover the taste o' the weed. Do I offer, he's sure to get suspicious I'm tryin' to poison him again."
Helen nodded but didn't move. After a hesitation, she admitted, "I am not sure how much to add."
Seonaid frowned, then shrugged. "Guess."
"But if I add too much it could kill them."
"That would be little loss," Seonaid said with amusement, then sighed when she saw the alarm on Helen's face. The English never had understood the Scottish sense of humor. "I was teasin'," she explained. "Very well, 'tis better to err on the light side, I suppose. Even do they not sleep as long as we'd hope, so long as it is long enough for us to get away ..." She shrug
ged.
Helen nodded solemnly, then moved past her to approach Blake.
Seonaid decided to seek out a comfortable spot to settle. It would require a bit of time for the stew to cook, and it seemed to her a nice rest was in order did she wish to travel through the night. With Helen forced to cook the stew, there was little chance of her getting a rest, but if necessary Aeldra and Seonaid would take turns holding her up before them while they rode. It would slow them down, but there was little else she could think to do. She sat on a soft patch of grass, tried to relax, then lay on her side and closed her eyes. She sensed rather than saw Aeldra claim a patch of grass at her back.
"Will you stop glaring at the woman."
Blake scowled at Rolfe's impatient words but merely shook his head, never once taking his eyes off his betrothed. "She is up to something. I can feel it."
"She is sleeping," Rolfe said with exasperation.
"So she would have me believe," Blake said wisely. "In truth, she is plotting. And when she thinks she has me fooled and I have let down my guard, she will rise up and slaughter us all."
Rolfe gave a snort of laughter. "She is your betrothed, not some demon sent to plague you."
"Is there a difference?" Blake asked dryly.
Giving up on him, Rolfe shook his head and walked away, leaving Blake to stare at the woman he felt sure feigned sleep. She looked angelic in repose, but he had a tender set of jewels to prove she was anything but. Seonaid Dunbar was hell's spawn and that was all there was to it. He would not let down his guard around her again. He sat and watched her and could almost believe by the rhythm of her breathing that she truly was sleeping. He felt sure she hadn't yet given up. The woman had already proven herself too damned stubborn to simply surrender. Nay. She was up to something. He just wished he knew what it was.
The scent of the stew cooking eventually began to weave its way around the camp, and Blake found himself inhaling the aroma with growing anticipation. It felt as if he had been traveling forever. He had been forced to make do with moldy bread and moldier cheese for the majority of their meals during the trip. The very idea of a real meal, even something as simple as rabbit stew, was enough to have his mouth watering. The actual aroma of it, delicious as it was, nearly had him panting. He could not wait to eat.
