Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  With a sense of urgency, she continued along the overgrown trail, unable to completely discount the sensation of being hunted. Without warning, a hand grabbed the hem of her plaid and ripped the fabric halfway to the thigh. Stifling a scream, she whipped around to face her attacker and she slumped in relief when she recognized the culprit. She bent at the waist to release her skirt from the clutches of a branch, and admonished herself for leaping to unfounded conclusions.

  Reassured, she set off up the hill. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. It had been hours since she noon meal.

  “Onora will surely have a laugh at my fanciful imagination.”

  She spoke aloud to dispel the disquiet subverting her self-possession. She quickened her steps in anticipation of the noisy dining atmosphere when a sharp tug on her plaid impeded progress once again.

  “Apparently, it is not possible for me to arrive at the keep without shredding my garments further.”

  Her sigh of exasperation was overtaken by a scream when a large hand seized her from behind cutting off her air.

  “Hello, sister.”

  Her mind reeled in shock. Tam stood in the courtyard that morn along with Onora to witness Addis’ departure. How could he be here? Her brain tried to sort through the tangle of questions that vied for attention. She struggled to think as her air dwindled, until her only concern was her next breath.

  He tightened his grip on her throat, shook her roughly, and whispered, “Where is your savior now?”

  Her eyes rolled back and she drifted into a blackened abyss devoid of light and noise. Abruptly he let up on the pressure and shoved her hard to the ground.

  “You will not escape your fate by fainting. Oh no, I want you awake when I take you.”

  She dragged crisp night air into her burning lungs praying she recovered her breath before he inflicted any more damage. Large, rough hands seized her calves. Fragments of rock gouged her back and head as he dragged her across the hard ground into the inky blackness of the woods — her struggles futile against his superior strength. A few yards in, he stopped, dropped to his knees landing hard between her widespread thighs. Single-handed, he tossed his plaid aside to reveal his arousal. She knew a moment of abject terror when he leaned over her, and his erection slid along her leg. Pressing her lips together, she swallowed a sob and prayed desperately to awaken from this nightmare safe and secure in Aeden’s arms.

  An excited grunt from Addis forced her to face the truth of her situation. No one could save her. She had to save herself. She opened her eyes and squandered precious moments to adjust to the waning light.

  Addis’s attention honed in on her exposed flesh. Now would be her one opportunity for escape. Slow, she moved her hand out, curled it into a fist and landed a blow to the side of his face. She connected with his nose, or so she thought. Whatever she hit momentarily stunned him, and loosened his hold. She scurried out from underneath him and scrabbled backwards scooting across the ground on her bottom. He staggered to his feet holding his nose and lurched in her direction, but she had gained her feet and tore off into the brush.

  “Elisande!”

  She looked back once. The sound of his stumbling footfalls spurred her on. Thin, stiff branches from low-limbed trees punctured her face and arms creating tiny beads of blood on her skin. Oblivious to the pain, she ploughed through the undergrowth. At one point, she pulled free of her shredded plaid, which left only her under blouse intact.

  “Elisande!” Addis shouted.

  He was closing in on her. Panic threatened to overwhelm her ability to think. Branches tore at her hair and blouse. Her burst of strength waned. She didn’t think she could keep up the pace much longer. The woods seemed endless and escape futile. Thoughts of collapse entered her mind and she almost gave in to the urge when a distant noise buzzed in her ears. Straining to place the unfamiliar sound, she turned her head into the wind.

  Water!

  She circled back toward the loch. If she could reach the shoreline before Addis, her cries for help would carry across the water to the guards on the parapet. She burst through a break in the trees and onto the beachhead. Along the shoreline to the south, she caught a glimmer of torch light above the tree line. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cried out.

  “Help … someone, please, help me!”

  The echo of her plea reverberated around the loch. It wouldn’t be long before Addis found her out, so she altered her direction skirting the path to Caeverlark using the lighted battlement to guide her. An exposed rock tripped her up and she fell heavily against a large oak. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, but she righted herself, pushed off the tree and continued on, even though a slight amount of weight on her ankle proved painful. She couldn’t let it slow her down — not when she had a good chance of making it to the holding. Inner strength and pure grit fueled her determination up the path.

  A few yards to her left a twig snapped. She dropped to the ground, and rooted around for a weapon. Her hand skimmed over a sizeable rock. She wrapped her fingers around the stone and clutched it while she crawled further into the undergrowth. Just then, a dark shape appeared on the path. She swallowed, convinced he heard her heart’s disjointed rhythm, she froze, uncertain how long she could remain undetected. His breathing was heavy. Pebble, twigs and dry leaves crunched under his heavy footfalls and she knew he headed right for her. Either she stayed hidden and waited for him to discover her, try to out run him on a twisted ankle, or, attack. From her crouched position, she guessed the distance between them and lunged at him.

  She dug her nails into his calf and latched on with the ferocity of dog on a haunch of mutton. He hit the dirt hard. Seizing the moment, she straddled him and brought the weighty stone down on his chest. He screamed and she heard the air seep from his lungs. She scrambled to her feet and hobbled up the hill praying for deliverance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Are you certain ’twas a call for help?”

  “Aye, Tam, it were a woman’s cry all right and it came from the direction of the loch. Kiernan’s already dispatched a few of the men.”

  “A woman, you say?”

  Tam turned to Onora. “Who would venture down to the loch this late?”

  He followed Onora’s worried glance toward the stairs.

  “What is it?”

  She clutched Tam’s forearm. “I have not seen Elisande since our discussion in the solar. It is very unlike her not to take supper in the hall.”

  Tam signaled a female servant. “Gerda, go above stairs and fetch your mistress.”

  “Tam — ?”

  “It will be fine, Onora, you’ll see she had a wee nap and didn’t hear the summons to sup.”

  Gerda returned alone.

  “Well?”

  “Milady is nae in her chamber, and I questioned a couple of the women on my way down. One of the washerwomen was pegging out a line earlier in the day, and greeted milady.”

  She stopped, casting a worried glance at Onora.

  “Continue,” Tam commanded.

  “The laundress said she headed in the direction of the loch.”

  “Oh, dear God.” Onora’s knees buckled.

  “Let’s not panic until we know more,” Tam cautioned. Once he settled Onora into a chair by the lit hearth, he hastened across the chamber and through a door where the garrison was quartered.

  Onora watched him go, and then called for the messenger. A few moments later, a whip-thin man stood in front of her.

  “Carry a message to your chieftain.”

  • • •

  Despite the blow to his chest, Addis caught up to her and grabbed her from behind. She whirled on him, clawed her nails down his face, gouging deep furrows into both cheeks. She fled toward the beach. Trapped and exhausted, she attempted a final call for help and with no other alternative, limped into the loch. Despite her fear, the cold water extinguished the fiery sensation in her ankle. She tried to tread water, like Aeden showed her, but the strong current
dragged her weightless body into deeper waters. Bone numbing fatigue set in and she started to go under.

  • • •

  Aeden heard the words, yet they barely registered. Not much had since the confrontation with Addis. The outcome hadn’t disturbed him — to the contrary — he anticipated and planned for such a scene, that is, until, he accused Elisande of witchery. The slander had infuriated him into losing control, and he never lost control. Though the incident infuriated him, it wasn’t the reason for his distracted air. The unwanted revelation took getting used to, but once he faced the truth of it, he could finally admit how much he missed Elisande. His prickly, fanciful, sharp-tongued wife had carved her indelible mark on his soul and he never spotted it coming.

  From the first moment of their meeting, she blindsided him with her courageous spirit, daring, and feminine ways. Hell, he even found her peculiar rituals and ridiculous notions about Christianity endearing and if that wasn’t a sign, then he didn’t know his own mind. Still, one item nagged at him since she uttered those three illusive words. Had she truly confessed her love for him, or, did she speak from a dream state? He had no idea the effect her words would have on him until they tripped from her lips. Now, he needed to know if she truly meant them, and that’s when he decided to leave the talks. When the council disassembled for the evening, he made his excuses to Bran and ordered his men to ride ahead.

  “So, this is how it’s to be now,” Bran mused.

  Aeden hoisted himself onto Honeybush’s back and raised an eyebrow at his host’s comment. “Say your piece afore it eats at you, Bran.”

  “I nivver thought you would prefer a woman to warring.”

  A smile broke over Bran’s face and Aeden grinned in return.

  “Well, I never thought to have such a woman waiting for me.”

  Bran held out his hand, and Aeden took it. “This old man is gladdened to see you have found love.”

  Staggered by Bran’s offhand statement, Aeden’s eyes went wide.

  Bran’s brows arched in surprise. “You look shocked, my boy. If I’ve spoken out of turn, forgive me, but if you’re not a man who’s in love with his woman, I’ll drink my weight in mead.”

  Aeden laughed, and his grin broadened. “Well, it seems I’ve saved you from a sore head in the morn.”

  The older chief roared with good humor.

  “Good on ye boy, but I believe I shall take my chances with the mead and drink to the happy couple. Safe journey, my friend.”

  A smile lingered on Aeden’s face as Bran disappeared through the keep doors and rode out of the quadrangle, past the gatehouse and beyond the gates.

  All of a sudden, Aeden became aware of a lone rider bearing down on him from the east. He circled his horse around and drew his sword and braced for an attack. He heard a snick as the guards standing watch on the barbican notched their bow. In the faint light, the Maxwell colors were visible and he recognized the Caeverlark messenger. His gut dropped. Tam would only send word if it were life and death. His first reflections veered to Elisande as horse and rider skidded to a halt.

  His face set in grim lines, he demanded, “What news?”

  Swallowing hard, Magnus began, “Chief, you — ” He stopped and looked down.

  By now, Aeden’s mind had conjured horrendous scenarios all involving Elisande. Normally his men were adept at containing sentiment. Witnessing Magnus struggle with his composure put him on high alert.

  “Your hesitation irritates me.”

  His reprimand seemed to snap his soldier from his stupefied condition. “’Tis my lady, there has been an accident,” he blurted.

  “Is she dead?” he rasped.

  “She — ” Once again he halted.

  Aeden blanched, wheeled his mount around and gave the warhorse his head. There had been an accident. He tore across the countryside, oblivious to his surroundings while Magnus’s words rung in his ears. The expression on the young soldier’s face terrified him more than any words the boy uttered. Aeden dug his heel into the buckskin’s flank urging him faster.

  “You will no’ take her from me, no’ now,” he whispered and tipped his head to the sky. “Do you hear me? You can no’ take her!”

  • • •

  Time ceased to exist for Elisande. She’d no idea how long she had clung to the rocks, her hand trapped amid the stone barriers submerged in the frigid water. The will to cry out left her long ago. Earlier, the wind picked up and whipped the water into a frothy chop that battered her against the jagged rocks. With each relentless blow, she prayed for the sweet relief of oblivion. And although the water had calmed once more, the thought of giving herself over to the loch’s murky depths weakened her will to fight. No more pain, no more cold, she thought and closed her eyes.

  “Here — along the shoreline, footprints!”

  She started, and then tried to lift her head from the rock certain she heard a voice, though uncertain if her mind conjured the thing she wanted the most. Her head was fuzzy, and her limbs were weighted. She lay there and drifted into semi-wakefulness. Near the shore, a strong glow lit up the beach. The light reached across the surface of the water like ribbons of hope that almost illuminated her face. She decided the voices were real and cried out. All of a sudden, the torch’s lights blazed as they held them aloft in her direction.

  “Mother of God … on the rocks! ’Tis a white sheet afloat on the water. Looks like a woman’s linen.”

  “I see it too,” she heard another man agree.

  “Form a chain,” instructed a deep voice.

  Every time she closed her eyes, a figure appeared to move closer to her, until he scooped her into his arms.

  “I’ve got her, now pull.”

  Her body cut through the water as she was pulled to safety. She tried to stay awake, but exhaustion won out and she tumbled into a black abyss of nothingness. A jarring motion awakened her and she struggled to speak, open her eyes or move a limb. Not one part of her body cooperated. All she could do was to lay motionless on the gritty sand and listen to the words flow around her.

  “Roll her to her side,” Tam instructed.

  “Should we not take her to the keep straightaway?”

  “Aye,” Ian added, “She needs to get warm.”

  “Aye, aye, but we need to expel water from her chest or she will be dead afore we reach the lower bailey.”

  Then meaty hands pushed in upward strokes alongside her spine, and an overwhelming urge to retch came over her.

  “Come on, lass, dinna leave your mon to grieve you.”

  The mention of Aeden pushed a sob from somewhere deep in her gut and in an instant a powerful gush of water spewed from her mouth followed by a spate of coughing and wheezing.

  “She’s breathing!”

  Her eyelids fluttered and Tam’s craggy face came into sharp focus.

  “Tam — ”

  One instant she was on the ground and the next swaddled in a dry plaid. Black edges of oblivion crept around the fringes of her vision and when next she opened her eyes, the scent of rosemary tickled her senses and her aunt’s tearful directives echoed in the hall.

  “Throw more wood on the fire in Lady Maxwell’s chamber. Gather clean, dry plaids, warm two by the fire, and send Morag to attend me.”

  Once in her room, the two women shooed the men out and set to work. They relieved her of her sodden garments and dressed her in a dry, woolen night rail. Onora instructed Morag to build up the fire. In no time, the hearth blazed and chased the chamber’s chill away. Elisande enjoyed the snap and pop of the flames. She only wished she possessed the energy to rise from the bed and administer a medicinal to whoever suffered from the terrible wheezing breaths. Onora and Morag poked and prodded at her for an eternity before finally allowing her to rest. Her aunt’s tears penetrated the fog that threatened to settle over her self-awareness. Despite her best efforts to stay alert, she drifted in and out of sentience. Fiery heat seemed to encase her body, and she drifted into a dark, fretful state
where naught made sense. The disjointed conversations agitated her fraught mind, and she wished the tinny din that buzzed around her ears would cease.

  • • •

  The landscape passed in a miasma of color. Aeden rode hard, urging Honeybush faster still. Finally, Caeverlark loomed before him. Though the guards anticipated his arrival, they had scarce opened the gateway a hairsbreadth before his mount barreled through the entry. He barreled into the lower bailey, leapt from Honeybush’s back before the horse skidded to a full stop. Servants and warriors alike stayed clear as he bolted up the stairs and in to the keep. The subdued atmosphere sent a chill of dread down his spine and he spied his uncle at the end of the well-scrubbed trestle table.

  “Aeden — ”

  The look of sorrow on his uncle’s face gripped him with terror. He spun around and charged the narrow staircase taking three steps at a time, until he reached the second floor landing. Eerie silence confronted him and the lack of servants about the place forced his heart into his dry throat. He seized the latch handle almost ripping it from its hinge, threw open the door and honed in on the lifeless form in his bed.

  • • •

  “Let me see her.” His voice was alive with anguish.

  Onora removed the blankets and rolled up her night-rail. He almost didn’t recognize her. The bruises and inflamed abrasions stood out in stark relief against the canvas of her cream-white skin. Her once rosy lips were split, raw, and a purplish swollen lump the size of a hen’s egg dominated the right side of her temple. Her tangled hair held bits of debris, and her breath sounded raspy, shallow. His chest heaved with the effort not to break down.