The Bride Quest II Boxed Set

by Claire Delacroix

  He leaned over the older woman, who held his stare unswervingly though she blinked rapidly. His voice rose with each statement, despite his desire to remain calm. “I knew full well the risk in this, but we had need of sanctuary. I ensured she knew naught of you, I ensured that she did not know where she had been brought, I ensured that there was no way she might retrace her footsteps and lead her clan to you, but you, you have undermined all of that by telling her tales.”

  Angus flung out his hands and roared, both women flinching. “Of course, there is harm in sharing what you know with her! I will not have your demise upon my conscience! Do you not think there is sufficient burden upon me without another load to bear?”

  He glared at the older woman, his hands clenching and unclenching.

  Edana clicked her tongue. “You must use more caution, Angus MacGillivray, if ’tis your intent to make all believe your heart is lost for all time.”

  Angus growled, hating that he had lost his temper, spun and eyed the attentive demoiselle. Her eyes were wide and her expression dismayed.

  “Where has Rodney gone?” she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.

  “To Ceinn-beithe, to demand your ransom, of course.” Angus spoke crisply, seeing naught to be won in pretense at this point. He took a deep breath and reined in his temper. “You may shortly be freed of our companionship, my beauty.”

  His attempt to cheer her failed. She stepped further into the hut, her expression earnest. “But this is madness,” she argued. “No payment of coin will repair the damage done to you. And truly, my family has no coin with which they might pay your ransom...”

  Edana caught her breath and Angus froze. “What is this you say?” he asked, his words dangerously soft. He felt Edana rise to her feet behind him, but he ignored her.

  She evidently took his quietude for encouragement, for she stepped forward, a tentative smile curving her lips. She looked young and soft, yet resolute with her certainty that she was right.

  The woman could tempt a saint, of that Angus was certain.

  “My family sent all their coin to the convent. There is no wealth at Ceinn-beithe, though many a man has thought it must have a full treasury. When there is coin, my family build...”

  “Not that,” Angus interrupted impatiently.

  But the maiden was determined to appeal to him. “You should cease this madness before it proceeds further. You are a man of honor, a knight, a crusader.”

  Her insistence upon believing good of him was nigh as tempting as she was.

  “Am I?” Angus demanded coldly, intent upon destroying her illusions about him. If naught else, she would reveal herself more fully if she continued talking.

  “Of course you are! You wear the cross, you rode to crusade, you sacrificed your own desires. This change of course will win you naught. Take me to Inveresbeinn while all can yet be forgotten. Do not cast away all your noble deeds for a life of banditry!”

  Angus smiled the predatory smile that so troubled her, knowing that alone would shake her determination. “Is that what I do, vixen?”

  Her words faltered and she seemed startled. Already he could see her flush rising. “But, but I am no vixen. I am no temptress. I... I...”

  “Are you not?” Angus purred and leaned closer. “Then how is it that you tempt a man so well? Is this the manner of most novitiates in these days?”

  Jacqueline stared at him, stunned to silence, her blush leaving her as ruddy as the ripest apple. She shook her head, licked her lips, then flushed more deeply when Angus watched the movement of her tongue avidly.

  To her credit, she tried to continue with her entreaty. “What shall you do if the ransom cannot be paid? I have no doubt that you believe your success assured, but what if ’tis not?”

  “Then a captive will be of no use to me,” he threatened, but she was not dissuaded.

  “One hears of knights driven to banditry to see their purses filled again, and yet of others driven to criminal deeds out of grief for their losses, but there are other choices...”

  “Losses? Exactly what losses would those be?” he asked with a care that should have warned her.

  But Jacqueline did not heed his manner in time and Edana was too slow to intervene. “Why, the deaths of your family,” she declared. “Especially since you rode to crusade to save them from the ill fortune that befell them after your father’s refusal to go! Any man might find their demise disheartening, but ’tis not reason enough to become a villain and I fear that when your ransom is not met, you will feel obliged to worsen your crimes...” She closed her mouth suddenly, realizing that she had revealed too much.

  Angus watched her, his countenance set to stone. “How is it that you know so much of my family?”

  Her gaze flicked to the older woman in appeal.

  Angus’ words fell harshly from his tongue. “The tale was not Edana’s to tell.”

  “She sought only to aid you!” The maiden seemed bent on ensuring he did naught regrettable. “She sought to make me understand.”

  “You have no need to understand.”

  “But... but...”

  Jacqueline managed no more before Edana herself spoke in her own defense. “Did you not call me seanchaidh, lad? Stories are my wares and I shall tell them wheresoever I will, regardless of what you might say of the matter.”

  “You should not have told her.”

  The old woman shrugged, unrepentant. “But I did and there is naught that change the fact of it now.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. “I do not recall you being so defiant of the wills of others. You have changed, Edana.”

  The old woman laughed. “Aye, I have changed, and changed more than you know, but that is of little import now.”

  “’Tis of much import,” he corrected. “For your doing this compels me now to leave.” He flicked a look at the demoiselle. “With my captive, of course.”

  “What is this?” the maiden cried. “Where do we go?”

  “It matters naught.” Angus gave Edana a harsh look. “We will leave immediately. Perhaps the seanchaidh would do me the honor of forgetting that this particular story transpired.”

  The old woman lifted her chin and he saw that he had irked her. “I should like naught better. You are not the man I remember, Angus of Airdfinnan.”

  “You remember a boy,” he retorted.

  “I remember a boy, ’tis true, but one with honor in his soul.” Edana leaned in her door. “I see he has been abandoned in the course of your journey. Tell me, do you mourn his loss?”

  Angus paused to meet the elderly woman’s gaze again. “Much has been lost beyond retrieval in this journey. You may be certain that I mourn the loss of the only thing I truly desire. I shall reclaim it or die in the trying.”

  “You should not have come here.”

  “Nay, ’tis clear that choice was yet another error on my part.” Angus marched out of the hut, moving with haste to saddle Lucifer.

  “Go then! You will find no better sanctuary than this!” Edana cried.

  The steed stamped, echoing his master’s impatience to be gone. Angus fastened the saddlebags with savage gestures, then fetched a length of linen from within them. His lips tightened grimly and he blindfolded the maiden, ignoring the older woman’s words.

  “But...” the demoiselle protested.

  “You already know too much,” he snapped. “You will not find your way back here or lead another to this place.”

  She had the sense to hold her tongue. He lifted the maiden to the saddle with terse movements, well aware that the old seer trailed behind him.

  “You ride on a fool’s errand, lad, and with a burden of wickedness that can do naught but draw more of its kind to you. I would wager that you would die in the attempt to regain what you have lost, were I a gambling woman.”

  Angus pivoted and smiled. Edana seemed to shiver at the sight of it. His voice was cold, though it thrummed with his intent. “I fear naught, Eda
na Seanchaidh, for I have naught left to fear. Every event I have ever dreaded has come to pass, regardless of my efforts to the contrary. And even if you should win your wager, I for one should not mourn the loss of this knight.”

  The maiden gasped, but he ignored her response and swung into the saddle. He drew her tightly against him and she had the wits to not challenge him.

  “Do not draw her into this trouble,” the old woman commanded.

  “’Tis too late! She is mine, and I shall do with her whatsoever I will.” The demoiselle shivered, but he held her fast.

  “You do not fool me,” Edana retorted. She strode forward, shaking a finger in recrimination. “There is more honor left in you than that. You may have endured much and you may feel that the world owes you much, but be careful, Angus MacGillivray. You would not be the first to become what you despise.”

  Angus granted her a cold glance but she held his regard unswervingly. “You know naught of what you speak.”

  He spurred the beast without so much as a farewell or a word of thanks, feeling the weight of the old woman’s gaze upon them.

  He dared not say more. It had long been said that Edana could see the future and in this, he feared she was aright.

  And Angus knew he was becoming a man no better than his father’s arch foe, a man who would pay any price himself or demand any price for another to see his goal achieved. He deliberately did not look to the woman before him, for he knew the fullness of what he had done and he was not proud of the result.

  He could only hope that his father would believe as he did, that the prize of his family legacy was worth the price to be paid by himself and this woman.

  * * *

  They rode hard along the narrow, twisting path, the steed evidently as anxious to be gone as the knight who rode him. The forest was still wet with rain, the leaves verdant green with new spring growth.

  Angus of Airdfinnan, Edana had called the knight and the name of the holding rang familiar in Jacqueline’s ears. ’Twas a keep, an old stronghold, and one but a few days ride from Ceinn-beithe. Beyond that, she knew little of it.

  Save that she thought ’twas held by the church.

  Jacqueline’s thoughts flew. If Angus was the son of Airdfinnan, then he was of the local nobility. It would make sense if his family lost their riches as well as their lives, and thus that he would seek coin in compense.

  Though she could not imagine why he thought those at Ceinn-beithe ought to render his due. ’Twas clear there was more to the tale than Edana had told her and her curiosity began to plague her.

  Angus though did not seem inclined to confide his secrets in her. Indeed, he had moved brusquely, as though the old woman had betrayed his trust. Jacqueline knew that Edana only meant to help, though this was not the moment to make such an argument.

  And she appreciated his concern for the old woman’s welfare. She knew Duncan would not demand any restitution from the old woman in the woods, but Angus had not the luxury of knowing that the chieftain of clan MacQuarrie was a just man.

  She realized belatedly that she would have plenty of opportunity to choose a moment to plead the old seer’s case. Aye, they two were utterly alone together and she knew not how long ’twould be thus. The fact of that making her innards chill with mingled anticipation and dread.

  Angus kept one arm clamped around Jacqueline’s waist like a vise and she held her tongue, not even daring to gasp when Lucifer leapt over a narrow stream.

  He must have felt her innards clench, for he chuckled darkly. “You test my lack of faith in miracles by remaining silent for so long.”

  ’Twas hardly a compliment. Jacqueline held herself stiffly, noting that his anger seemed to have faded as quickly as it had arisen. “I have naught to say.”

  “Another miracle,” he muttered, though there was a thread of humor is his tone. “Have you decided then that I am no longer worthy of salvation? Or are you persuaded that the deed cannot be done?”

  “You are not so wicked as you would have Edana believe,” Jacqueline retorted. “Only a fool would take the falsity of your claims over the truth of your deeds.”

  “I had not realized that the capture of virgins was no longer a lawless deed,” he murmured, his lips against her hair. “Perhaps I should begin a collection.”

  Jacqueline opened her mouth and closed it again, momentarily confused. She was tempted to persuade him that she was not so innocent as that, but her virginity was what kept him from claiming her fully.

  She decided to feign insouciance. “’Tis true there is little crime in the capture of virgins,” she declared as calmly as she could. “’Tis the subsequent ravishing of them which troubles fathers everywhere.”

  He was silent, as though she had surprised him again. “Is that an invitation, vixen?”

  “Nay, of course not!”

  To her consternation, something stirred against her buttocks. She wriggled, which only made matters worse, and Angus began to chuckle. She tried to put some distance between them, but he deliberately drew her closer, then bent to kiss her neck beneath her ear.

  “Patience, vixen,” he whispered. “We shall put these woods behind us soon enough, and then you may have all you desire of me in privacy.”

  “I desire naught of you!” she squeaked.

  “Only a fool would take the falsity of your claims over the truth of your deeds,” he teased, sounding as though he was on the verge of laughter. “Perhaps you are no virgin, after all.”

  “But I am!”

  “’Tis clear that you know how to tempt a man, for I am tempted. Perhaps you make an invitation.” He drew her yet more firmly against him, so that she could have no doubt of his state. “And there is only one way to know for certain that a woman is indeed a maiden.”

  She twisted to regard him in horror, pushing the blindfold from her face. His set features revealed naught to her. “You would not steal my chastity!”

  “It seems to me that you offer it willingly.”

  “Nay. I...I would never! I -” Jacqueline halted herself and mustered her thoughts. She only amused him when she responded in outrage and she saw the telltale gleam in his eye.

  “You gave me your word.”

  “My word to not ravish you.” He arched his dark brow, looking rakish once again. “To take what you offer is another issue altogether.”

  “But -”

  They reached a larger road and Angus indicated that she should be silent. They hovered in the shadows of the forest for a moment. Naught carried to their ears but the echo of birdsong. Finally, persuaded that the road was indeed deserted, Angus urged the stallion onward.

  Lucifer tossed his dark mane, apparently preferring the more level road, and increased his pace to a canter.

  “But?” Jacqueline demanded, determined to know his intent.

  “But you continue to tempt me, and now you yourself have declared that your family would not be able to spare any coin.” He paused, a hint of mischief lighting his tone. “Perhaps you would prefer to offer other compensation to me to see your release.”

  Jacqueline twisted in his grip, not surprised to find him watching her intently. “Would you release me in exchange for my maidenhead?”

  “There are no guarantees in this world, vixen, though there is naught ignoble in trying to influence one’s fate.” He smiled wolfishly. “Indeed, you might find that the joys of the convent lose some of their luster when compared to more earthly delights.” His brow arched high. “You might not wish to abandon my side, after all.”

  “Rogue!” Jacqueline spun to face the road ahead as he laughed. Aye, she knew already that if any man could make her forget her desire to be a bride of Christ, ’twould be this man. She wondered suddenly whether her mother had spoken aright in advising that she cast away too much in joining the convent.

  She wondered what ’twould be like to be sampled by a man.

  She wondered what ’twould be like to be sampled by Angus, a man of passion and tenderness, a m
an disserved by the world but still gallant in his manner. Angus could enflame her with a mere glance, and his touch awakened an answering fire within her with disconcerting speed. He was not the only one tempted to do what he should not.

  But Jacqueline knew better than to welcome temptation.

  She heaved a sigh, unable to keep silent on his loss. “I know you are angered that Edana told me of your family, but I am sorry that they are lost to you.”

  Angus’ features set to stone and his words were cold. “You know naught of my family. Edana knows naught of the truth.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She is but an old mad woman who has not left the forest in decades.”

  “Then how do you know her?”

  “All know Edana.”

  “I do not.”

  He made some sound in his throat that might have indicated exasperation. “All raised hereabouts know Edana, or did.”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “That makes little sense. She lives in the forest, far from all. How could any know her?”

  “All go to the cloutie well for injuries and blessings. And many go to Edana for tales.”

  “She is more than a storyteller,” Jacqueline guessed.

  “There are those who believe she has the Sight.”

  “Like whom?”

  “Do your questions ever cease?”

  “I am curious. Who took you to Edana?”

  He sighed. “I suppose ’tis harmless to admit ’twas my father. He had much faith in the old seer and oft consulted her. My mother called it pagan sorcery and would neither go, nor permit us to go.”

  “Then...”

  Angus interrupted her firmly. “As you might well understand, I was sufficiently curious to follow my father secretly and thus came to know the old woman.”

  “She is old.”

  “Beyond ancient, my father said. He declared she had been old when he first visited her and hinted that she was immortal.”

  Jacqueline rolled her eyes at that nonsensical claim. “Immortal or not, her tale of your family made sense to me.”