by Mary Wine
Elspeth shivered, moving her lips in unison and eagerly accepting the thrust of his tongue. She wasn’t close enough. Pressing against him, she could feel the beat of his heart and it was suddenly the most important thing to touch. She pulled her hand down, sliding over the wet fabric of his shirt, her fingertips tracing the hard ridges of muscles that covered his chest until she found the source of the beat. Flattening her hand against him, she sighed as the steady beat of his heart filled her palm.
“It was a brave thing to do, lass. I know grown men who would have hesitated, concerned about their own lives.” Hayden spoke quietly, his lips trailing down the column of her neck. She shivered again because his lips were warm and her skin so cold.
“Then why did ye threaten to spank me?”
She pulled away from him, but he held her against him with one solid arm around her waist. That didn’t prevent her from glaring at him. His hand smoothed down from where it was resting against her lower back, over the thick cartridge pleating of her skirt until he was cupping one side of her bottom through the soaking wet fabric of her dress. Her cheeks suddenly heated up, chasing the chill of the water away.
“Ye might find that having my hand on yer bottom is something enjoyable, sweet Elspeth.”
His voice was low and husky, hunger returning to his expression, but it didn’t last. His gaze suddenly shifted to her head and he released her to pluck something from her hair. A broken twig with leaves still glistening with water was tossed to the ground.
“Even if it sounds strange, considering we’re both soaking wet, I think we could use a bath.”
“Aye.” She suddenly felt as if there was sand beneath her corset, being ground into her skin with every rise and fall of her chest. “But where are we?”
Hayden looked up, turning to scan what could be seen. Nothing but rocky hillsides surrounded them. He grasped her hand and pulled her along behind him as he climbed up the steep slope of the riverbed where the earth had been carried away by the rushing water. Clumps of grass were perched on the edge, their roots the only thing holding them in place because the soil had been washed out in a wide bend sometime in the recent days. The river had changed course only recently, proving that fate had smiled on them today.
“Well, we’re some fair distance from Leask Tower.”
A pounding began on the other side of the hill. The hand holding hers tightened and Hayden forced her behind him.
“Get back over the bank until I know who is riding this way.”
His voice was edged in hard command now. The tone of a man who expected to be obeyed.
Elspeth didn’t get a chance to do as he ordered. Horses made the crest of the hill, their noses flaring from being ridden hard. Elspeth gasped as she recognized the horses carried men who wore the colors of the Dalry clan. They pulled up on their reins, turning their heads to stare at them.
“It would be Dalry retainers.”
“Are ye feuding with the Dalry clan?”
Hayden drew in a stiff breath as the horses began moving again, this time bearing down on them. There were only a dozen of them, but that was far too many for the single sword strapped to Hayden’s back.
“The Dalry clan keeps close with the English, too close for my comfort.”
Which was as bad as feuding. A lump swelled up in her throat but she forced it down. This was no time to lose her nerve. There was part of her that wanted Hayden to approve of her, and that did not include cringing in the face of his adversaries.
“Well now, is this the man that didna invite me up to his fine castle?”
“Does that mean ye’d be interested in me marrying yer sister, Pherson?” Hayden’s voice didn’t quiver, it was full and brassy. Pherson Dalry leaned down and patted the neck of his stallion while studying Hayden with eyes as blue as the ocean. His men all smirked, enjoying the moment full well.
“Ye’d be lucky to have a Dalry bride.” Thick pride coated Pherson’s voice. Even sitting atop the horse it was evident that he was a large man. His gaze shifted to her and Hayden’s grip tightened.
“Young Leask, ye are off yer land.” He frowned. “And wearing enough dirt to plant in, too.”
“One of the children went too close to the river.”
The Dalry retainers all frowned, becoming serious. Hope flickered to life inside her. At least it looked as if their clan colors didn’t matter when it came to the life of a child.
“So I had to fetch her out and got swept into the current myself. Laird Monroe had to pull me out.”
“Well, that’s a bit of pleasant news.” Pherson didn’t join his men in smiling in response to her tale. His eyes narrowed and Hayden stiffened.
“So we’ll be leaving and getting back onto Leask land.” She took one step and heard the sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths. Hayden pulled his too, and stepped in front of her, his wider frame shielding her. Horror flooded her as she realized that the numbers were too far out of balance for the outcome to be in question. The thought of watching Hayden fall hit her like a shaft being driven through her chest. She struggled to draw breath, that lump returning to clog her throat completely.
“Not so fast,” Pherson Dalry declared.
Hayden stiffened, his body becoming a mass of tension.
“Leave the lass be, Dalry. She’s on yer land because she risked her life for another. You and I can quarrel about the English another day.”
“Aye, I’ll agree with that.”
Relief blossomed sweet and swiftly, but Pherson’s lips lifted into a smile that chilled her once again. His blue eyes settled on her and the calculated look in them made her struggle for breath again.
“But I will be inviting the lass on up to me home. Seeing as how she looks like she could use a bit of hospitality.”
“No thank ye.” Elspeth stepped out from behind Hayden to speak her mind and the man pushed her back almost before she finished rejecting Pherson’s invitation.
“Careful there, Elspeth Leask, I’ve delicate feelings.” His men snickered, reveling that the man was anything but tender hearted. “Ye’ll walk yerself over here or I’ll fetch ye through Hayden Monroe, and that is a solemn promise.”
His men abandoned their jesting expressions, becoming focused, deadly so.
“You’ll stay behind me.” Hayden’s voice was low and deadly, but it was the sight of Pherson’s men guiding their horses around them that forced her decision.
“I won’t watch ye die, Hayden.” She stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear.
“Ye will stay.” He grabbed a handful of her skirt, but Elspeth jumped back and the wet fabric slipped through his grasp, forcing his hand down the length of her skirt until a full yard was stretched out between them. He shot a deadly look at her, but had to jerk his attention back to the men circling them.
A blade flashed in the afternoon sun and sliced through her skirt. She tumbled backward from the force of resisting Hayden’s strength. The moment she stopped, a hand reached down and lifted her off her feet.
“Ye bloody savage!”
She didn’t care about Father Simon Peter anymore and neither did Hayden. He cursed loud and profanely.
“Release her, Pherson, or I swear I’ll begin a feud that will leave half yer women widows.”
The man holding her pressed her over his horse so that her head was hanging halfway down the side of the animal.
“Now, lad, ye just called me a friend of the English, so what am I to do but prove that I am as Scottish as ye by stealing yer bride and holding her for ransom?” Pherson Dalry chuckled as the man holding her rode up close to him.
“I’ll be waiting on ye, Laird Monroe. Take too long and I might take a liking to the lass.”
Hayden snarled something that was lost as the Dalry retainers reeled their mounts about and took off. Without a horse, Hayden was left standing where he was, but Elspeth caught a glimpse of his fury. It was etched into his face, and even the bouncing of the horse didn’t prevent her from s
eeing it.
He’d come for her.
At least she hoped he would. The fact of the matter did not support her hope, though. She didn’t have a rich dowry, and paying a ransom would take all that she did have. There was no contract binding her to Hayden and making it his responsibility to rescue her. Once his temper cooled, his men might well be able to counsel him into the wiser thing—riding back to Monroe land where he could begin the process of selecting another bride.
That made her heart ache. She wasn’t even sure how it was possible to lament losing him when she had known him so short a time.
Would he come for her?
She prayed he would.
Hayden suddenly understood every cruel execution method he’d heard that was used in England.
Prisoners were boiled alive. Those who printed verses against the Queen were burned at the stake, and he felt the rage that would see a man signing his name to orders such as those.
But he wanted to beat Pherson Dalry to death with his bare hands.
Sheathing his sword, he turned and began running back toward Leask land. Stealing brides was Scottish but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to wrap his hands around Pherson’s throat for giving that order.
And that was a Scottish promise.
“You cut my dress.”
Elspeth glared at her captor and resisted the urge to retch on his steps. That man was too fortunate because her stomach was near empty so her nausea had nothing to send up.
“Fabric is expensive.”
“I know that. I’ve two sisters who remind me constantly by having their accounts come to me to be settled.”
Pherson Dalry raked her from head to toe with his blue eyes. The man had a keen gaze but Elspeth discovered that she had no liking for the man at all. Let him think her shrewish. All that much better for him to long to be rid of her.
“Well, I have to wonder why you need to kidnap another woman when it sounds like you have no patience for the ones related to ye.”
He smiled, his lips parting to flash even white teeth at her. “Well, because, little ruffled hen, I can nae be thinking what I’m thinking about me own sisters. That would be a sin.”
Elspeth refused to be so easily shocked. She propped her hands on her hips and scowled at the man.
“It is still a sin and ye’re a poor excuse of a man for trying to frighten me.”
His smile faded, replaced by a pensive look. “Well now, maybe I wanted to test yer courage. Rumor has it ye ride that stallion of yer brother’s with yer thighs holding ye in the saddle. I confess that I’m interested in seeing what manner of woman ye be.”
She wished she could muster up some tears but her temper refused to allow her any expression save for a scowl. If she could weep he’d be finished with her, but her hands remained poised on her hips and her back straight and strong.
“Ye had plenty of time to come and meet me if that was yer wish. Do nae play me for a fool. Ye want to toy with Hayden Monroe and it has naught to do with what sort of woman ye might have heard I am.”
“Maybe, lass, and then again, maybe I’m enjoying this fortunate turn of events. Every man overlooks an opportunity from time to time. Fate seems to be tossing ye into my hands and I plan to listen to her.”
“Ye will nae be keeping me.”
His expression hardened and he reached out to grasp her arm just below her elbow.
“Careful lass, ye seem to think me more English than Scot, but I’ll warn ye just this once that I am pure Scot and I do nae ignore a challenge.” His gaze lowered to her chest where the swells of her breasts were in sight beneath the stained fabric of her worn chemise. She cursed herself for not changing into a newer one that would have concealed more.
“Especially when that challenge comes from such a delightful package. I believe I’d enjoy proving my worth to ye.”
Elspeth jerked against his hold but his grasp proved solid. Yet it did not pain her. He controlled his greater strength as expertly as Hayden did.
That comparison only made her long for Hayden even more. Her temper stirred and she became torn between directing her scorn at Pherson Dalry and being horrified that Hayden Monroe meant so much to her.
“Men are always so sure that women are soft hearted. As for myself, I find the lot of ye an annoyance.”
She reached over and pinched his hand. “Get yer hands off me. My hearing works just fine.”
An amused chuckle was her response but the man released her and offered her a mocking reverence that his men laughed at. Pherson turned to look at them and their amusement died.
Well, at least she would only need suffer his arrogance. Part of her was grateful that he was refusing to allow his men to make sport of her. A small amount of security against the imposing tower rising up in front of her. The Dalry stronghold was sturdy and impressive. Three towers that had curtain walls running between them to form a triangle. Behind them the hills rose at steep angles, making it impossible to bring a horse down the slopes. That left only the main approach to the fortification, and that was narrow and facing the first tower. With the curtain walls running back at an angle to the other towers, it formed a wedge that looked inaccessible.
“Well then, mistress, up inside with ye.”
There was a challenge in Pherson Dalry’s tone. There was also a hint of anticipation, as if the man would enjoy her resistance. Casting a look back at him, she noticed how much larger he was than herself, but there was no twist of excitement in her belly, only the warm flicker of frustration. She savored that frustration for it held off despair. But not completely.
Her gaze moved over the valley that led up to the fortress, and she cringed when she realized there was no way to force Dalry to give her up. The despair flowed freely around her attempt to ignore it, flooding her and reminding her that the most logical thing for Hayden to do would be to leave her.
Chapter 4
Pherson’s sisters were amusing.
In fact, they were by far the best entertainment that Elspeth could recall seeing in some time.
Tavia and Daracha were both beautiful. They knew it too. That was what made it so much fun to watch while they needled their brother in the most subtle ways—long looks from their eyes with flutters of lashes to complete the moment. They moved in an almost hypnotic fashion, their walk polished and perfected. The moment they entered the main hall, every man there turned to watch them. The sisters didn’t rush but made their way down the main aisle looking as if they were striding into court.
They were certainly dressed for that role. Both wore damask. Fabric was expensive but damask was so pricey, noble families sometimes bankrupted themselves in order to outfit their sons and daughters for court. Tavia was a blonde with rare green eyes, and her gown was made of blue and topaz with velvet edging it. Her sister Daracha had the same coloring as her brother, midnight hair and blue eyes. She wore a dark green that was woven with sapphire blue and edged with sable brown.
They promenaded up the aisle with chins perfectly level and their slim fingers held in front of their stomachers to show off how long and lovely they were. Their hair was held up high on the top of their heads, leaving their necks on display, and the men watching looked as if they approved. Both sank into deep curtsies, remaining there.
“Enough.” Pherson watched his sisters from narrowed eyes. They both stood and fluttered their eyelashes. Their brother groaned.
“What are ye doing wearing those gowns? Ye’re not at court yet.”
Tavia smiled sweetly. “Oh, but, dearest brother, we must practice walking and dancing in them. How else shall we keep from shaming you?”
Pherson ground his teeth. “Well, I’ve got a guest for you to see to so get those overpriced gowns off and save them for when ye are at court. Take her to the bathing house since I do nae think she’ll fancy me doing it.”
Elspeth snorted at Pherson. He turned and raised one eyebrow mockingly.
“Would ye prefer to be my prisoner, la
ss? In which case, ye’ll think yer current condition clean compared to how ye will be in a few weeks being kept in the dungeon.”
“We do not have a dungeon, brother.” Tavia offered her comment with soft tone.
Her brother snarled. “Why does every thought ye have sail right out of yer mouth the moment you think it?”
Daracha lifted her chin and sent an innocent look toward her brother. “Forgive us, brother, we were shocked to hear you threaten a woman. You have always kept yer battling between men, and we have never had reason to think you cruel toward a helpless woman.”
“She’s not helpless. She jumped into a spring swollen river and came out living, so don’t be telling me she lacks strength.”
There wasn’t a single indication from either woman that their brother’s words either impressed them or not. They lowered themselves again, the damask fabric of their gowns puddling on the hard stone of the floor with the stiff sound of silk. Elspeth couldn’t help but stare at the dresses; she could not hope to have anything so fine, even for a wedding.
“Make yer choice, Elspeth Leask. Get ye off with my sisters or I’ll see to making ye comfortable.”
She shot him one more hot glare before following his sisters. At least the idea of bathing was a pleasant one. Now that she was half dry, she felt even more grit stuck between her clothing and her skin. Walking ground it against her in places, like beneath her waistband and stays. Her head itched and it was took great effort not to scratch herself as if she had fleas.
They cleared the hall and went down another set of stairs set near the corner. It was darker there, the light from the sun only having narrow arrow slits to enter through.
The scent of smoke was in the air, and Elspeth could see a slight glow coming from the fireplace set into the far wall. Daracha pulled a large apron off a hook set into the wall, and covered her expensive dress with it before taking a candle that sat in an iron holder near that hook. She carried the candle toward the fireplace and set the wick against the coals. It flickered to light, casting a friendly glow around the girl’s face. She looked back at Elspeth.
