Five Unforgettable Knights (5 Medieval Romance Novels)

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Och, but she was lovely. God’s truth, she might have been wearing that infernal meal sack she’d rolled out of so indignantly and Iain would have still thought her exquisite.

  They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, neither speaking.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said at last. “Dinna mean to.” He leaned against one hand and propped up a knee, watching her. She averted her gaze; the silhouette of her face nodded against the twilight shadows of the forest. Iain reached out, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes in the darkness. “I dinna mean to,” he swore.

  She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t allow it. Forced to hold his gaze, she glared, making some choked sound that revealed both her anger and her pain.

  He’d meant well. Christ, but he had. It was all he could do not to avert his gaze from her accusing look, so much self-disgust did he feel.

  She began to weep then, right there before him upon the forest floor. Damn the pain; he drew her into his arms and held her, her body trembling softly within his embrace.

  Page clung to him, unable to refuse the comfort of his strong arms.

  How many times had she yearned to be held thus? How many times had she wept alone?

  Too many to recount.

  It felt so good to be embraced... so good to be held as though she were loved. For the space of an instant, she could almost believe...

  She buried her face into the crook of his neck and was heartily grateful he could not see the tears she shed. It was enough he could hear them. She couldn’t stop the tremors. Heaven help her, she tried, but couldn’t.

  “What does it mean?” she asked on a sob.

  “What, lass?” he whispered.

  “Suisan.”

  He peered down at her. She could feel his gaze, and the sweet warmth of his breath, and dared to lift her face to his.

  “It means lily.”

  “Lily?”

  “Bonny and sweet,” he whispered.

  “Nay,” Page denied.

  “Aye, lass,” he murmured, and continued to stare down at her. “Lovely...” He lowered his face and touched his mouth softly to hers. “Sweet,” he whispered, and then pecked her lips with another gentle kiss.

  Page’s arms tightened about his neck, her heart hammering like a ram, and near to bursting with gratitude. “Thank you,” she relented softly, and prayed with all her heart that he would deepen the kiss once more.

  She wanted to give him everything. And her body was all she had.

  Hope, like weak candlelight, flickered within her heart.

  For an instant she thought he might, for he stared down at her as though he would, his heart beating as fiercely as her own, his breathing as labored. She almost drew him down to her, so much did she wish for it, craving the gentle reassurance of his warm lips, the hunger in his kiss.

  He came so close...

  She could almost sense the heat of his mouth so near her own that her stomach fluttered wildly. His embrace tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. In that intimate position they remained for what seemed an eternity—a heartbeat too long, for she lost the chance to lift her mouth to his lips and ask for what he would give her in that wordless language that lovers shared.

  “We should go now,” he said, and Page’s heart knotted with regret.

  “Yes,” Page replied softly, sullenly. “Afore it gets dark.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her playfully. “Och, lass, but it is dark,” he pointed out jovially.

  His laughter and his waggish tone brought a reluctant smile to Page’s lips. She found herself teasing in return. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  He laughed softly. “Didn’t ye now?” And then his mood turned serious. “Page,” he whispered.

  For an instant Page could scarce breathe, so much pain did the single word evoke. It wasn’t a name she’d been given; she’d simply grown into it, having carried out a page’s duties for her father. It spoke of loneliness and sorrow and disdain.

  Suisan was beautiful. Lilies. A wistful smile came to her lips. He’d said he thought her lovely and sweet, but she thought him wonderful and beautiful and kind, and her heart threatened to steal away with him.

  Without considering the significance of her request, she said, “Call me Suisan... if it please you...”

  He didn’t reply at once, and then after a moment whispered, “Aye, lass... it would please me verra much.”

  That night Page couldn’t sleep.

  Her heart raced and her body thrilled with awareness of the man who lay sleeping beside her. It was impossible to forget the way it had felt to lie within his arms—as though it were the very place she’d always longed to be, and she never wanted to leave.

  But she had to go.

  She was more determined now than ever.

  For her own sake, if not for her father’s—she didn’t want Iain coming after her, didn’t want to lose her father now that there was, at long last, a chance to know him.

  She didn’t want him to regret his decision.

  Then, too, she was heartily afraid she was wrong about the attraction she was feeling toward Iain MacKinnon—that it wasn’t one of the body, but one of the heart and mind.

  Aye, for she was tempted to love him.

  When she thought of him, her heart seemed to swell with emotions—both bitter and sweet. Lying next to him now, she felt alive as never before.

  Suisan.

  The memory of his whisper sent a quiver down her spine.

  When he spoke the name, it was so easy to dream... to imagine him loving her... to envision the children she would bear him... to remember his kiss...

  She closed her eyes, battling her wayward emotions and her private fancies. Jesu, but she couldn’t allow it—couldn’t give her heart to this man. He would crush it beneath his feet, with no more effort than it took for him to conjure that devastating smile.

  She shifted upon the pallet, inadvertently tugging at the wrist he had bound to his own, and her throat tightened.

  Tomorrow.

  She had to find a way to leave on the morrow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She was planning escape.

  He was no fool. He could see it in her eyes, the devious little brain churning behind them.

  Good.

  Let her. He hoped she stumbled into a gullet and wolves dragged her out and feasted upon her body as they had Ranald’s—the bloody damned Judas!

  ’Twould be for the best, he thought, for then he could save the sawed girdings for Malcom...

  He’d determined to be rid of the both of them, no matter what it took, and it would be better to do it before they arrived again at Chreagach Mhor, where Malcom was like to be watched closely.

  Damn, but he’d waited far too long to see vengeance carried out. He’d as lief be gutted than wait any longer.

  No Sassenach wench was going to stop him. Damn Iain. She’d bewitched the fool for certain. And he didn’t see how. She was a foulmouthed wench who would have turned his own blood to ice long before she chanced to heat it.

  Christ, but he could spy it in their eyes... the way they watched each other when either thought the other could not see. It had been revolting enough to watch Iain draw her into his protection, when she no more deserved it than her bastard father did. But to know that he’d gone back after the scraps of her clothing, in order to prevent her escape? He could scarce stomach the thought.

  Aye, Iain was a fool, but that was well and good, for a fool smitten by a woman was a fool of the greatest sort.

  He planned to make short work of this requital. Iain would never know what befell him... until the moment ere he closed his whoreson eyes .. . and then he would tell him...

  Everything.

  Aye, he’d watch the bastard suffer the truth as he finally closed his eyes —just as he’d envisioned doing to Iain’s father.

  In the meanwhile, he watched the scene before him with an inward smile, waiting for just the proper moment to step into the fra
y.

  “What harm can come of my washing in the lake?” Page asked, her tone fraught with challenge.

  She’d nigh had them convinced, and then Angus had been quick to remind them of her midnight swim, and the fact that she’d attempted to use the lake to make her escape, nearly succeeding in the endeavor. It seemed the majority of them could not swim, after all. She gave the old man a withering look, and informed him resolutely, “Well, the MacKinnon promised me a wash, and a wash I’ll be getting!” And she turned about to make her way down to the water’s edge, daring them to stop her.

  Angus placed himself within her path, and Page swore beneath her breath. Rot and curse these stubborn Scots! “Ye’ll be takin’ one when the MacKinnon returns, and no’ a minute sooner!”

  Page didn’t dare wait for his return. “And when might that be?” she asked. “Where has he gone?”

  “To clean up ye’re bluidy mess,” the old man said cryptically, standing stubbornly before her, arms akimbo.

  “You are a mulish, bearish old man!” she told him angrily. “Why is it you persist in plaguing me so? Isn’t it enough that you steal me away from my home, keep me in fetters and abuse me with your mouths? You would have me live in filth, as well? I am not accustomed to sleeping upon the dirty ground and I need a bath!”

  “Och! I dinna wish to even trouble myself, ye saucy Sassenach wench! Though for some godforsaken reason, the MacKinnon is thinkin’ to keep ye!” He thumped his chest with a hand. “I’ll be seein’ that he does!”

  Canny old man! Though they trembled, Page’s hands went to her hips in challenge. “Aye? And where might I go, prithee?”

  He didn’t reply, and Page stood there staring, inviting him to answer. By God, she was going to escape this morning if it killed her!

  Last eve she’d thought to never have another opportunity, but this morning one had presented itself like a miracle from Heaven. She’d been only half-awake when the MacKinnon had risen and unfettered himself from her, but in enough of a weary stupor that she’d not bothered to open her eyes. Nor had she dared to face him. And then he had gone—to Christ knew where, for there yet no sign of him and she felt desperate to leave before he returned.

  Before he could look at her with that knee- weakening, soul-stirring gaze.

  And leave, she would—if ever she could convince the old fool standing before her that a bath was a perfectly harmless pursuit.

  “Certainly you cannot be afeared of me?” she taunted him.

  Still he didn’t respond, merely continued to eye her as though she were some evil sorceress about to perform her witchery and vanish before his eyes. Page might have laughed at his vigilant expression and ready stance, save that she was too angry to indulge in even a shred of good humor.

  “Really!” she persisted. “You cannot be afeared of me! Wherever would I go?” she asked a little hysterically. Her eyes scanned the immediate horizon, once again surveying her greatest vantage spot—where the forest trees hung like curious old men over the lake. Their foliaged limbs brushed the water’s edge, as though stretching downward for a cool drink. It offered a temporary hideaway.

  If she could ever get herself into the lake.

  The horses were also tethered near the far bank.

  It was perfect.

  It was time to play upon their vanity, Page decided, and her brow lifted in challenge. “Certainly the lot of you... how many?” She peered about, counting, and then turned to Angus. “I count at least a score of you,” she told him. “Certainly you can manage a single weakly woman?”

  “Fie!” Angus exclaimed.

  “Aye, Angus,” Dougal piped in. “Surely we can manage a single weakly woman?”

  Page nearly laughed aloud at the question in his tone.

  “Fie!” Angus exclaimed once more.

  “I dinna see anything amiss wi’ allowin’ the lass to wash,” Broc interjected, stepping into their midst, and eyeing her knowingly. Page was almost thankful to the great behemoth. Almost, for then he added, “Och, but I would be verra pleased if she would bathe herself, dirty as she is. Can no’ ye smell that Sassenach stench?” he asked, and laughed uproariously.

  Page narrowed her eyes at him, thinking he should say a prayer of thanks come nightfall that she’d not be present to box his ears into oblivion. Jesu, but she’d like to stomp him into the ground with booted feet! Arrogant Scotsmen! She’d certainly had more than her fill of the lot of them! She cast Broc a furious glance and said, turning to address a mottle-faced Angus, “Follow me into the water, if you please... if you do not trust me...”

  “Verra well, let her bathe herself,” Lagan decreed, and then he waved a hand at the lot of them standing idly about. “But follow her in. Dinna let her oot o’ your sight.”

  Page met his gaze and shuddered, for she could tell he did not like her, nor did he trust her. Were he to have it his own way, he’d not afford her any opportunities.

  “Lagan!” Dougal protested. “I dinna need a bluidy bath! I dinna want to follow her in! She can bathe herself, and we can watch from the bank!”

  “I’ll bathe wi’ her,” Kerwyn exclaimed, his tone fraught with innuendo. He laughed, amused by himself.

  “And I,” agreed Kermichil, sharing a private smile with Kerwyn.

  Page shuddered at the lecherous looks that suddenly appeared in their eyes, the knowing glances they exchanged between them.

  And then suddenly they were all peering at each other just so, mumbling in their Scots tongue and laughing, racing to strip down to their bare buttocks.

  Page’s eyes went wide.

  God’s truth! This, she hadn’t bargained for!

  All at once they began to stampede toward her, and it no longer mattered that Angus stood between her and safety. She gave a little shriek of alarm and ran toward the lake, wading in quickly. The frigid water struck her like ice palms, snatching her breath away, but she ignored the sting of her flesh and rushed headlong into the deepest water.

  Jesu, but neither had she expected it to be so cold!

  When she was far enough out that she could no longer stand, and was certain no one had followed, she turned, treading water, trying to stay afloat despite her billowing gown, and watched, stupefied, as the entire lot of naked Scotsmen frolicked like babes in the water. They had all of them discarded their meager clothing and now stood in the shallow water, their male anatomy bared to the breeze, splashing water at each other and laughing uproariously. Though she’d definitely not mistaken the lecherous glances they’d given her, they’d somehow forgotten even her presence now, preoccupied as they were with their own revelry.

  Only Angus, Broc, and Lagan stood upon the bank.

  Grinning at the lot of them, Lagan walked away without sparing Page a glance, shaking his head and laughing as he went.

  Broc, for his part, stood laughing—laughing and scratching at his groin, the gesture too earnest to be precisely obscene, and the thought struck Page suddenly that he was the one man here who was in sore need of a bath. Jesu, but there was no other way to rid himself of those fleas. In a momentary lapse, she thought to tell him so, and then decided against it, reminding herself that she didn’t care whether he ever rid himself of the accursed contagion. The sour-tempered behemoth was no concern of hers at all. Let him suffer the vermin, for all she cared! She hoped he scored his skin raw!

  Angus, on the other hand, stood glaring at her—as though to blame her for the loss of good sense in the grown men surrounding her. Well, she was certainly not to blame!

  Her gaze traveled the lot of them. None of them were paying her any mind. Kerwyn stood in shallow water, bending over to dunk his gnarled head into the frigid lake. He brought it up, shaking water like a wet beast, and making horrendous noises that sounded to Page’s ears like a wounded animal. To her amazement, she watched as Kermichil did the same, and then stood waiting for Kerwyn to try again, as though they were having some curious contest of sorts. Page could scarce imagine what they might be competing over
.

  Whose head would turn blue first from the cold?

  Her teeth were chattering as her gaze returned to the bank. Angus was waving for her to come nearer. Though she was tempted to try to make her escape now, while the lot of them were preoccupied, she did as he bade her, knowing that Angus would foil her plan long before she set it into motion. The old man was wily as a fox, and he was watching her too closely for her to even attempt an escape as yet. The last thing she needed was for him to begin shouting at her now and draw attention.

  Resisting the urge to cast a longing glance at the spot where the horses were tethered, Page waded back toward shore, though not all the way. She stopped when Angus gave her leave to, remaining at a safe distance from the others. And then she began to wash herself, pretending an interest in a nonexistent stain in her gown. She scrubbed at it incessantly, taking quick peeks at the old man watching from the shore. When she’d taken long enough with that self-imposed task, she dared her first duck beneath the water to wet her hair, coming up quickly, watching Angus and the others as she unplaited her hair. Still, no one but Angus watched her. Even Broc wandered away. But she knew it was merely a matter of time before they tired of their child’s play and decided to plague her once more, so she didn’t linger once her hair was unbound. She plunged into the water once more, this time taking her time about resurfacing.

  Knowing Angus would be watching, she took great pains to remain in the same spot, and didn’t dare wait too long before resurfacing. She didn’t intend for Angus to call the guards after her. On the contrary, her intent was to stay under longer and longer, until he lost interest.

  Until she deemed it long enough a time to make that mad swim toward freedom.

  He was staring anxiously when she resurfaced for the second time, but Page continued on, pretending to bathe, until at last it seemed he was not quite so suspicious. She dunked herself a few more times for good measure, and on the final time found him busy speaking with Kerwyn and Kermichil.