His confusion quickly gave way to comprehension, which was her cue to exit the hall.
She could feel his presence behind her. They entered the courtyard, their horses already saddled and waiting for them. Once mounted, they left the bustling manor behind. Catrina realized with a lurch that this was likely the last she’d see of it—and she hadn’t said so much as a goodbye to the people she’d grown to love over the past three years. Though she’d been tempted earlier to seek out the healer, Catrina had decided against it. If anyone sensed the finality in her parting and put Bryce on alert, her escape would fail.
Without wanting to draw attention to herself, Catrina allowed Bryce to set the course and pace. She would have preferred to head due north, of course, but any destination would have to do.
They rode in surprisingly companionable silence, and she soon realized where they were headed. Bristol Sprout. Her mind raced as she calculated the distance between the waterfall and the river which would lead her toward home. Although the border between their countries had been established years earlier, no one recognized it. Both sides’ shared urge to push boundaries was why they found themselves in this current predicament. Only an abbey and a few miles of hilly countryside separated Brockburg from the supposed border between England and Scotland. Her goal was to get to the abbey and send word to her brothers from there. She knew she could travel faster this time, without any retainers to slow her down, than on the single other occasion she’d made the trip. The only question was, once she managed to get away from Bryce, could she reach the abbey by nightfall?
“Look familiar?” Bryce slowed to a stop, dismounting.
As the rush of water pounded in her ears, Catrina thought back to the day they were trapped here, the rain forcing a companionship she could no longer deny.
She should hate him. Instead, her heart raced in anticipation every time he was near.
“Aye.” She handed her reins to Bryce, whose expression was as soft as she’d ever seen it. He was beginning to trust her, she realized. Now, when the moment she intended to break that trust loomed. The sooner she escaped, the better. The thought of sleeping under the stars with nothing but wolves and brigands as company terrified her.
Catrina would have asked him to spread their meal and join her already if she hadn’t feared it would raise suspicion. It was too soon. Better to bide her time.
As they approached the waterfall, Bryce pulled off his tunic and laid it on a rock.
“What are you doing?” She had a bad feeling she already knew the answer.
Rather than respond, Bryce tugged off his linen shirt and tossed it atop the tunic.
She could not breathe. His back to her, Catrina could only stare at the display in front of her. Every inch of his torso looked as if it were sculpted from rock. And then he turned.
His broad, tanned chest was that of a warrior who trained with the broadsword often. She’d seen a muscled chest before. Three brothers who did nothing but hone their battle skills for most of the day should have prepared her for this, but it had not. It was so very different to see him this way.
She tried so hard not to notice the path of muscle that seemed to pull her eyes lower, toward the opening of his…no he was not!
“You can’t be serious?”
The lout chose this moment to reveal a wicked smile. A small, sensual smile that told her how much he enjoyed her discomfort. He began to unbutton his breeches, and Catrina suddenly knew what it meant to be weak in the knees.
“If you’re offended, look away.”
He was taunting her. Of course she was offended. He knew that. What kind of gentleman undressed in front of a lady?
She spun around just in time. Catrina couldn’t hear his movements over the roar of the waterfall, but Lord help her, she could imagine what the rest of his body looked like.
Bryce Waryn was magnificent in every sense of the word.
And a cad for subjecting her to such a thing.
When she heard the splash of water, Catrina finally turned to see him in the pool beneath the sprout. Sunlight glinted on his dark, wet locks as she moved closer to the bank of the small plunge pool.
She briefly considered making a run for it, but even though he was submerged at the moment, she knew she wouldn’t get far. Bryce never took his eyes off her.
“Join me for a swim, Catrina.”
Though his tone told her it wasn’t a serious request, at least not much, Catrina imagined herself stripping bare and jumping into the water, sliding her hands over his taut muscles and allowing him to pull her against him.
What is wrong with you?
She should be concentrating on the powder that was hidden inside a pocket in her kirtle. Evelyn had told her it was enough for one good night’s sleep, so she didn’t worry about the dose. It was getting it in his drink she fretted over.
“Are you getting hungry?” she asked.
He swam to the edge of the water, where she sat on a rock high above him. She had to shout over the sound of the water that spilled into the pool with spectacular force.
“I am.”
The look he gave her was unmistakable. She shivered, and the core of her womanhood tightened as his stare lingered. What an odd sensation. She’d never felt anything like it. But truly she had also never seen anything quite like him.
His gaze held hers for a moment longer until he slipped under the water, disappearing from view. The seconds ticked by. Where was he? She stood and looked closer for telltale signs of his presence under the water.
Finally, he came to the surface as she circled the area. One look at her face and he actually began laughing. Laughing! My God, when he wasn’t so serious, the man had an absolute knack for making her lightheaded. The deep sound, so rare and genuine, almost made her feel guilty for what she was about to do. Which was absurd. He was her captor. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
“Perhaps you should turn your back.”
She whirled about quickly and marveled at the immediate snicker behind her. This was so unlike the Bryce she’d come to know.
Walking to Davie, she began to unpack the bags at his sides. Eventually Bryce joined her and did the same with his own mount.
Without speaking, they moved to a flat, grassy area in the glade that made a perfect spot for a meal. Laying out a blanket and taking out the cook’s finely packed meal, Catrina had a hard time concentrating on the task at hand. It was a perfect, sunny day. They were surrounded by green, mossy rocks and blooming flowers that marked the season. It was lovely. Perfect even.
But she couldn’t forget her purpose.
When it came time to pour the wine from the flask, Catrina felt the air whoosh out of her. This was by far the most dangerous part of her plan. Somehow she had to turn his attention elsewhere.
Fortunately, she had planned for this.
“It seems I forgot the sack of bread and cheese,” she managed to say. “Can you get it, please?”
It worked. Without flinching, Bryce stood and walked to where the horses were tied. Her hands shook as she reached for the vial, popped it open with one hand, as she had practiced a hundred times, and sprinkled the contents into his glass. There was even time to circle it around a few times before he returned.
Catrina let out a breath.
She had done it. Surely he would drink the wine. The draught was virtually undetectable.
She could see Brockburg in her mind, imagined her brothers’ reactions when she strode through the gates. And her family would finally be safe.
Bryce’s entire body felt heavy as he walked back to their makeshift meal. A goddamn picnic. It was his first, and last.
He’d suspected something was amiss from the moment she asked for this outing. The best way to reveal her plan, he had decided, was to play along with it. He’d been alert for some form of trickery, and his suspicions were confirmed when he watched her slip something into his drink. A sleeping potion? That he had not expected, but it made sense.
&n
bsp; Evelyn.
The healer had asked his permission to administer the sleeping concoction to Catrina. The cunning woman had saved it instead, and now she planned to use it on him.
He’d actually begun to enjoy himself. Knowing she was already jittery, Bryce had decided to throw her even more off balance. The idea of disrobing in front of her had taken hold during their ride. But the look on her face had almost been enough for him to put an immediate halt to the ‘game.’
She’d stared as if she’d never seen a man’s bare chest before, which he knew could not be true. Not for a woman raised by men.
By the time he jumped into the water, he was so hard the cold barely affected him.
Aye, the kiss meant to dampen his desire had instead inflamed it. He kept imagining those full lips on his, her breasts cupped under his hands. Thinking of how it would feel to touch them, tease them. Make her nipple harden beneath his fingertips. It seemed he could think of little else.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and prepared himself to forget how she made him feel. Forget everything save the fact that she was his captive and she was trying to escape.
“Found it.” He tossed the sack onto their makeshift table and took the goblet she offered but did not sit down. He would need to dispense of its contents without giving away her ploy.
“Did you hear something?” He carried the offending wine with him to “explore.” A safe distance away, he tossed the tainted contents and returned, pretending to drink heavily.
“‘Twas nothing but a squirrel,” he said. Tilting the goblet toward him so she would not see it emptied, Bryce reached for a slice of cheese and popped it into his mouth.
“Tell me, Catrina, what makes you suddenly so pliable?”
If he hadn’t been watching for a reaction, he would have missed the flash of uncertainty. As it was, he saw it quite clearly.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Oh yes, you are.
“The picnic lunch and agreeable nature that you’ve yet to display since my scouting party found you unconscious on the river bank.”
She was actually close to death that day. If they had not found her—
“I’m usually very agreeable. Being held captive tends to bring out the worst in a person.”
Since coming back to Bristol, he’d inquired around the village and learned as much as possible about the lovely Catrina Kerr. “Demure” was one word he had never heard used to describe her.
“Ahh, so you traveling across the border and putting yourself in danger to challenge your Toren’s authority in person qualifies as agreeable?”
There it was. The slightly furrowed brows and hard set line of her lips that told him he was in for an earful. It was precisely the reaction he had hoped for.
“How kind of you to remind me of my broken betrothal. So much for your English knightly code of conduct. My lord.”
He took another sip of his empty goblet. Bryce didn’t have much experience with a sleeping draught but knew their conversation would have to come to an end. Soon. He looked forward to watching her plan unfold.
“My pleasure.” And he meant it. Conversing with Catrina was easy. Enjoyable. He could almost forget how much he hated her brother. Under different circumstances, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the shapely woman sitting so prettily across from him. Likely the same way he felt about most noble-born women. They were off limits, enjoyable to look at, but not to touch. The last thing he needed to distract him from his mission to secure Bristol once and for all was a woman to make him soft. He mistrusted them, and with good reason. Now for a piece of acting…
“Och, you’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He was going to enjoy this. Bryce let his eyes drift shut and then opened them, watching her reaction. Hopeful. Afraid.
He lay down and closed his eyes once again, imagining all the while what it would be like to share this story with Thomas and his siblings.
The sound of the waterfall drowned out her movement, but he could sense Catrina was no longer sitting across from him. He waited another moment and opened his eyes, watching her untie and mount Davie.
And then she was gone. The madwoman truly thought to escape back to Scotland, alone. If she didn’t manage to get herself killed, he was going to do it himself.
11
Her heart still pounding furiously, Catrina wasted no time making her escape. The draught had worked more quickly than expected. One minute, Bryce was talking. The next, he was sleeping. The dose was meant for her, and she had no idea how his extra weight would alter the effects. She had at least a few hours, though, and could ride through the open moorland as quickly as anyone.
But could she reach Jedburg Abbey by nightfall? Catrina sped along the river, knowing she risked exposure. If she left the river, getting lost was also a risk, so she decided it was the preferable path. The other option, hiding herself among the trees to the east, would force her to use the tracking skills her brother Alex had taught her. And while he was an expert tracker, she was only passably good at understanding clues left behind by those less observant, and the trees could hide any number of ill-intentioned men. Besides, this was the flattest route home and she needed to be fast. Thank the saints, the highest peaks, Cheviot Hills, were far enough to the west to avoid, but there was at least one incline that would test Davie’s skills.
No signs of reivers. Other than the abbey, there was nothing other than a few farmhouses and abandoned pele towers between Brockburg and Bristol. Of course, that only accounted for anyone traveling between north and south.
Better to think of something other than brigands. But not Bryce. If only her traitorous mind would obey. She could hardly reconcile his easy manner earlier.
And those muscles. Dear lord, what a body. She should have been quite scandalized but had instead stared unabashedly. It hurt to think about him waking up alone by Bristol Sprout. He’d hate her, no doubt. Just as she’d begun to break down his walls, she’d ruined it by betraying his trust. But what was a promise made to a person who held you captive?
She would never see him again.
As the open terrain gave way to a thicket of trees, Catrina was forced to slow. Looking constantly in every direction, her heart sank when she spied three riders on her left.
She had two options. Run or stay. On open terrain, she’d put Davie’s speed and stamina against the best.
They spotted her.
One of the men pointed and all three sped up. She’d hesitated too long and had no other options now.
Maybe they would greet her and move along?
Maybe Davie will sprout wings and fly to Brockburg.
She stopped when all three riders circled her. Reivers. The hobblers they rode were bred for navigating difficult terrain and their sleeveless leather jacks clearly marked them as thieves of the north. Scottish or English, she couldn’t be sure, but their leader carried a flag with the designation of each country on either side. Traitors with an allegiance only to themselves.
“Greetings, my lady.”
Maybe they would be nice reivers.
“Are ye lost?”
Scots. Not that it mattered.
“Nay, kind sirs. I’m a visitor to Jedburg and just returning from a ride.”
It was an absurd claim, and everyone knew it. They all moved closer. These men would not be letting her go anytime soon. At least, not without some sport first.
“Ye must be tired then. It’s a long way from Jedburg.” The man with the flag, the tallest one of the group, dismounted and rammed the flag into the earth.
“Stop!” He didn’t move toward her. Not yet. But she knew her reprieve wouldn’t last for long. Catrina’s hands slipped on her reins. A wave of dizziness gripped her. She’d known fear before. At Bristol when she awoke from her injury. When she first met Bryce. But never like this. Somehow she’d known the Waryn men would never hurt her. These reivers, however, were not knights. They were thiev
es who preyed on both sides of the border, taking what they wanted and giving nothing in return. No clan. No crown. No honor.
“I am a witch.” Somehow her voice didn’t waver, even when the other two dismounted and walked toward her.
She was trapped.
“Will you put a spell on us?” The leader laughed. He didn’t appear at all intimidated.
“Aye. Take one more step, and I will do just that.”
The conviction in her voice gave them pause. It was going to work. She knew the superstition of her people.
They glanced at one another, close enough that their stench nearly made her gag. Every instinct told her to flee, to use the advantage of being mounted and get away. But if she were caught, Catrina had no other defense but this one. It had to work.
Before she could elaborate, the tall man grabbed her by the leg and pulled hard. Catrina fell into his arms as all three groped her at once. She kicked and clawed at them. “Unhand me!” They were immune to her screams.
A lady, alone, was apparently too tempting to resist.
Suddenly one of the men, whose hand was wrapped around her arm, was thrown backward so forcefully, he nearly took her with him.
“What the hell?” He sounded as surprised as she was.
The others released her and Catrina fell into the ground.
She pushed herself up in the mud, the smell of the wet ground replacing the horrid stench of the men. What was happening?
“Stay down!”
It couldn’t be. But that voice was unmistakable. She could only see the back of one of the reivers and another lying on the ground. He was bleeding from his shoulder. She shuddered, watching as Bryce kicked one man in the gut and, at the exact same time, thrust his broadsword at the one who’d pulled her from Davie. She couldn’t see exactly where Bryce’s sword found its mark, but apparently it did. The man’s scream was a testament to his injury. Now two of the men lay on the ground. The third apparently thought better of engaging Bryce and ran toward his horse. Sheathing his sword, Bryce watched him go, walking toward her.
What just happened? How did he get here so quickly?
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 10
