Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle

by Margaret Mallory

  Not a single word.

  With her heart in her throat, she implored him with her eyes to do as he ought. Instead, he stared at her as if she had grown a tail and fins. If he didn’t want to claim her, he could have had the courtesy to greet her as the old friend she was, then told her in private he did not wish to be her husband. His public dismissal was both insulting and heartless.

  Sìleas paced up and down her bedchamber, clenching her hands until her nails pierced the skin. The boy she had known would never have been so unkind. The angry young man who had called her repulsive, however, was capable of such cruelty. All this time, she had made excuses for him. Even now, she was tempted—but failing to acknowledge her in some small way was simply unforgiveable.

  Ian’s words from their wedding day rang in her ears. Have ye taken a good look at her? Ach! She tilted her head back. “Dear God, did ye have to make him more handsome than ever? Was that truly necessary?”

  Ian had been a lovely boy, with kind, sky-blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes—the sort all the mothers cooed over. But there was nothing left of the sweet lad in the man who strode into the house tonight. True enough, his eyes were as blue as ever and his hair the same shiny black of a selkie. But the man had a rough, dangerous air about him.

  It was possible he’d been like this when he returned from fighting on the borders, and she had been too young to recognize it. But the moment he burst into the room tonight, she felt it, recognized it, knew it for the danger it was. And instead of making her wary, a ripple of excitement shivered through her, right down to the tips of her toes. She wanted to be next to him, to feel the power of his presence, to touch the vibrating energy that coursed through him.

  She felt it, wanted it…and Ian ignored her.

  She needed to be gone from this house. Nay, she would not be married to a man who did not want her. She jerked the cloth sack off the hook on the back of her door, threw it on the bed, and started tossing things into it.

  Not all men found her disgusting. She knew several clansmen who would be pleased to have her for a wife—and not just for her lands.

  As she looked around the room, deciding what to take with her, her gaze lingered on the quilt his mother had made her…the colored stones Niall had collected with her…the wooden box Ian’s father had carved for her.

  She’d lived here for five years, but she’d been wrong to think of this as her home. No matter how much she loved Ian’s family, they were his blood, his family. Not hers.

  Sìleas looked down at the gown in her hand and remembered how she and Ian’s mother had talked by the fire as they worked on it together. All her life, she had longed for a family, for a home where people laughed at the table and cared for each other. She had been happy here, despite the waiting.

  Ian’s family had welcomed her from the start, and eventually accepted and loved her. His father had taken the longest to win over—but she had. Losing the family she had come to think of her own would be hard. Very hard, indeed. But she was here as Ian’s wife. If she wasn’t that, she could not stay.

  But where could she go?

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  EXCERPT : KNIGHT OF DESIRE (All the King’s Men #1) by Margaret Mallory

  PROLOGUE

  Monmouth Castle

  England, near the Welsh Border

  October 1400

  The creak of the stable door woke him.

  William’s hand went to the hilt of his blade as he lifted his head from the straw to listen. Soft footfalls crossed the floor. Soundlessly, he rose to his feet. No one entering the stable at this hour could have good intent.

  A hooded figure carrying a candle moved along the row of horses, causing them to snort and lift their heads. William waited while the man reached up to light a lantern hanging on a post. No matter what the intruder’s purpose, fire was the greater danger. The moment the man blew out his candle, William closed the distance between them in three running strides.

  As he launched himself, the intruder turned.

  William saw the swirl of skirts and a girl’s face, eyes wide with alarm. Reflexively, he threw his arms around her and turned mid-air to cushion her fall just before they slammed to the ground.

  “Please forgive me!” he said, untangling his limbs from hers and scrambling to his feet. “Have I hurt you?”

  He would have offered his hand to help her up, but she sprang to her feet as fast as he, her hair falling free of the hood in a mass of bright waves. She stood with her weight forward on her feet, eyeing him warily.

  William stared at her. How could he have mistaken this lovely and fragile looking girl for a man? Judging by the fine silk gown showing at the gape in her cloak, this was a highborn lady he had assaulted. Her features were delicate, her full lips parted.

  He squinted, trying to tell what color her eyes were in the dim light. Without thinking, he reached to pull a piece of straw from her hair. He drew back when he caught the gleam of the blade in her hand. He could take it from her easily enough, but it unsettled him to know he frightened her.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demanded. She was breathing hard and pointing the blade at his heart. “Answer me at once, or I will scream and bring the guard.”

  “I am a knight in the service of the Earl of Northumberland,” he said in a calming voice. “I arrived late and the hall was filled with guests, so I decided to bed here.”

  He was not about to tell her he was hiding in the stable. When he delivered Northumberland’s message in the hall, he glimpsed a certain widow he knew from court. Preferring to sleep alone, he made a quick escape.

  “Now that you know my purpose in being here, may I ask the same of you?” he said, cocking his head. “I believe it is you who should not be found out alone at this hour.”

  She did not answer him, but even in this poor light he could see her cheeks flush.

  “Surely you know it is dangerous for a young lady to be wandering about alone at this time of night—especially with the castle crowded with men and the wine flowing freely.”

  “I could not sleep,” she said, her voice sharp with defiance. “And so, I decided to go for a ride.”

  “You cannot go out riding by yourself in the middle of the night!” Consciously lowering his voice, he added, “Really, you cannot be that foolish.”

  Her eyes flashed and she pressed her lips together—and a disturbing explanation occurred to him.

  “If it is a man you are meeting, he does not value you as he should to ask you to come out alone like this.” He judged her to be about sixteen, half a dozen years younger than he was. Young enough, he supposed, to be that naive.

  “Running to a man?” she said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Now that would be foolish.”

  She slid her knife into the sheath at her belt, apparently deciding he was not a threat after all. Before he could feel much relief at that, she turned and reached for the bridle hanging on the post next to her.

  “I am going now,” she announced, bridle in hand.

  “I cannot let you,” he said, wondering how he would stop her. It would cause considerable trouble for them both if he carried her to her rooms, kicking and screaming, at this time of night.

  “Surely this can wait for the morning,” he argued.

  She stared at him with a grim intensity that made him wonder what trick she would try to get past him.

  “If I tell you the reason I cannot wait,” she said finally, “will you agree not to attempt to prevent my going?”

  He nodded, though he still had every intention of stopping her.

  “Tomorrow, I am to be married.”

  The surge of disappointment in his chest caught him by surprise. Although he was told the castle was crowded with guests for a wedding, it had not occurred to him that this achingly lovely girl could be the bride.

  When he did not speak, she evidently concluded more explanation was required to convince him to let her go. “I do not expect this will be a happy ma
rriage for me,” she said, lifting her chin. “My betrothed is a man I can neither like nor admire.”

  “Then you must tell your father—perhaps he will change his mind.” Even as he said it, William knew that with the wedding set for tomorrow it was far too late for this.

  “I am the only heir to an important castle,” she said impatiently. “I could not expect my father or the King to take my wishes into account in deciding what man will have it.”

  “What is your objection to the man?” William had no right to ask, but he wanted to know. He wondered if this young innocent was being married off to some lecher old enough to be her grandfather. It was common enough.

  “He has meanness in him, I have seen it.” Her eyes were solemn and unblinking. “He is not a man to be trusted.”

  Her response surprised him once again. Yet, he did not doubt she gave him the truth as she saw it.

  “Tomorrow, I will do what my father and King require of me and wed this man. From that time forward, I will have to do as my husband bids and submit to him in all things.”

  William, of course, thought of the man taking her to bed and wondered if she truly understood all that her words implied.

  “Tonight, you must let me have this last hour of freedom,” she said, her voice determined. “It is not so much to ask.”

  William could have told her she should trust the judgment of her father and King, that surely they would not give her to a man so undeserving. But he did not believe it himself.

  “I will ride with you,” he said, “or you shall not go.”

  She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him for a long moment. With the lamp at his back, the girl could not see him nearly as well as he could see her. A double advantage, since he did not want to frighten her. He was well aware that, despite his youth, there was something about his strong features and serious countenance that even experienced warriors found intimidating.

  “You must let me do that for you,” he said, holding his hand out for the bridle. He almost sighed aloud in relief when she finally nodded and dropped it in his hand.

  As he saddled the horses, he tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head telling him this was madness. God’s beard, the King himself had a hand in arranging this marriage. If he were caught taking her out alone at night on the eve of her wedding, the King would have him flailed alive.

  “Keep your head down,” he instructed as they rode across the outer bailey toward the gate. “Make certain your cloak covers your gown—and every strand of that fair hair.”

  The guards remembered he arrived carrying messages from Northumberland, the “King-maker.” They gave him no trouble.

  William and the girl rode out into the cold, starlit night. Once they reached the path that ran along the river, she took the lead. She rode her horse hard, as if chased by the devil. When at last she reined her horse in, William pulled up beside her, his horse’s sides heaving.

  “Thank you for this,” she said, giving him a smile that made his heart tighten in his chest.

  His breath came quickly as he stared at her. She was stunning with her face aglow with happiness and her fair hair shining all about her in the moonlight. When she flung her arms out and threw her head back to laugh at the stars, he stopped breathing altogether.

  Before he could gather his wits, she slipped off her horse and ran up the river bank. He tied their horses and followed. Pushing aside thoughts of how dangerous it was for them to be here, he spread his cloak for her on the damp ground beneath the trees.

  She sat beside him in silence, her gaze fixed on the swath of moonlight reflected on the moving surface of the dark river below. As she watched the river, he studied her profile and breathed in her scent. He thought she had long since forgotten his presence when she finally spoke.

  “I will remember this night always,” she said, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “I will hold it to my heart as a happy memory when I have need of one.”

  He took hold of her hand when she touched him and did not let it go.

  She fell silent again, and he sensed that her thoughts, unlike his own, were far away again. Experienced as he was with women, he was surprised by his intense reaction to this girl. All of his senses were alive with the nearness of her—his skin almost vibrated with it. And yet, he felt a profound happiness just sitting here with her and gazing at the river on this chilly autumn night. He never wanted to leave.

  When she shivered, he forced himself to break the spell. “You are cold and we have been gone too long already. If someone notices you are missing…”

  He did not finish; she knew as well as he the disaster that would follow if she were caught. Resigned, she let him help her to her feet.

  They rode back at a slower pace, riding side by side this time, still saying little. William tried to fix it all in his memory: the moonlight, the dark river, the gentle snorting of their horses. The girl, he knew, he could not forget.

  The guards at the gate wordlessly let them in. When they reached the stable, William helped her dismount. The feel of his hands on her slender waist as he set her down—closer to him than was proper—made his heart race and his head feel light.

  Looking down at her, he felt a longing so intense it caught at his breath. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Only when she took a step back did he realize he had been about to kiss her. It was wrong for many reasons, but he wished with all his heart he had done it. With a sigh, he left her just inside the doorway and led the horses into the pitch black of the stable.

  When he returned, she whispered, “I am most grateful to you.”

  “Lady, I would save you from this marriage, if I knew how.”

  He spoke in a rush, not expecting to say the foolish words that were in his heart. He was as good as any man with a sword, but he had no weapon to wield in this fight. Some day, he would be a man to be reckoned with, a man with lands and power. But as a landless knight, he could only put her at risk by interfering with the King’s plans.

  “I will do my duty and follow the wishes of my father and my King,” she said in a strong voice. “But I thank you for wishing it could be otherwise.”

  He wished he could see her better. Impulsively, he reached out to trace the outline of her cheek with his fingers. Before he knew what he was doing, he had her face cupped in his hands. He felt her lean toward him. This time, he did not stop himself.

  Very softly, he brushed his lips against hers. At the first touch, a shot of lust ran through him, hitting him so hard he felt lightheaded and weak in his knees. He pressed his mouth hard against hers. Dimly, through his raging desire, he was aware of the innocence of her kiss. He willed himself to keep his hands where they were and not give in to the overpowering urge to reach for her body. If she had shown the slightest sign she had been down this path before, he would have had her down on the straw at their feet.

  He broke the kiss and pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he held her to him and waited for the thundering of his heart to subside. God have mercy! What happened to him? This girl, who trusted him blindly, had no notion of the danger.

  Swallowing hard, he released her from his embrace. He could think of no words, could not speak at all. With deliberate care, he pulled her hood up and tucked her long hair inside it. Then he let his arms fall, like heavy weights, to his sides.

  “I did not want his to be my first kiss,” she said, as though she needed to explain why she had permitted it.

  His gut twisted as he thought of the firsts the other man would have with her.

  She took a quick step forward and, rising on her tiptoes, lightly touched her lips to his. In another moment, she was running across the yard, clutching her cloak about her.

  For many years, William dreamed of that night. In his dreams, though, he held her in his arms by the river in the moonlight. In his dreams, he kissed the worry and fear from her face. In his dreams, he rescued her from her unhappy fate.

  In his dreams, she was his.

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F DESIRE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Margaret Mallory, a recovering lawyer, is thrilled to be writing adventurous tales with sword-wielding heroes rather than briefs and memos. Her Scottish and medieval romances have won numerous honors and awards, including National Readers' Choice Awards, RT Book Reviews' Best Scotland-Set Historical Romance, and a RITA© nomination.

  Margaret lives with her husband in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Now that her children are off on their own adventures, she spends most of her time with her handsome Highlanders, but she also likes to hike and travel. Readers can find information on Margaret’s books, photos of Scotland, and historical tidbits on her website: www.MargaretMallory.com.

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