by Lynsay Sands
Blake frowned at his betrothed, suspecting her sweet smile and the veracity behind her words. Rolfe's interruption, however, caught his attention.
"That is impossible. It would prolong the ordeal by at least another week, perhaps two."
As Blake absorbed the truth of his words, Seonaid turned on him bitterly. "What do ye propose? Shall we just leave her here in the woods to make her way alone, unattended?"
"Nay, of course not," Blake murmured, suddenly cheerful. "We shall have to see her home." When Rolfe turned on him with dismay, he shrugged. "Well, she gave her word, and as my betrothed, her word is my word. And a promise is a promise. We can hardly force her to break her word." When Rolfe continued to glare at him, too angry to speak, Blake shifted uncomfortably and turned back to Seonaid more sternly. "We shall see her home as you promised, howbeit that is all I will agree to."
Seonaid relaxed and even smiled at him. " 'Tis all I ask, m'laird."
Blake blinked. She really had a charming smile. Quite charming. Why had he not noticed that before? Because she hadn't smiled at him before.
"Nay."
All of them turned toward the bishop as he stepped out of the bushes to join the growing group.
"Forgive an old man for interrupting, but it would seem to me a detour to England would serve little purpose and merely delay a wedding that has been delayed far too long already. We shall hie to Dunbar."
"But what about the sister?" Seonaid asked with a sinking heart, seeing all chance for delaying the wedding slipping away.
"There is a simple resolution," he said soothingly, then turned to Helen. "Sister ... ?"
"Helen," the woman squeaked.
The bishop nodded solemnly. "Sister Helen, you may travel with us to Dunbar to attend the wedding if you wish. Lord Rolfe and I shall be traveling back to England then, and we would be pleased to escort you on your visit. Or," he added, when Seonaid made to protest, "or we can surely spare three men to escort you now. We presently have three more men than we started out with anyway, thanks to Lord Angus." He nodded pleasantly toward Gavin and his two men as he spoke, then raised his eyebrows and took a listening attitude as he awaited Helen's decision.
For her part, Lady Helen looked rather confused. Turning, she peered uncertainly at Seonaid, then back to the bishop before blurting, "I shall attend the wedding."
"Good, then we shall head for Dunbar." The bishop smiled graciously, then turned and moved back through the trees until they enveloped him, presumably to return to the camp the men had inhabited during the wee hours of the morning.
Blake peered unhappily from the bishop's disappearing back to his would-be bride and sighed, then shook his head and turned to order Little George to bring their horses into the clearing. Rolfe moved to his side.
"We should disarm them," the king's man murmured, considering the women as they prepared their mounts.
Blake raised his brows. "Do you think they would use their swords against us?"
"They already have."
"That was at the abbey, and they knew not who we were then. They did not try to fight their way out of the clearing," Blake pointed out, his gaze slipping over Seonaid's body. While he had, at first, been shocked at the sight of her in braies, he was beginning to appreciate the way the outfit outlined her slender curves and--
"Aye," Rolfe said, interrupting his thoughts. "But they will be less likely to try to escape do they not have their swords."
His words brought a frown to Blake's lips. It still rankled to think his betrothed might actually not wish to marry him. He was the one who should, and had, been reluctant to marry her, one of the dreaded Dunbars. She should be grateful he had even shown up, no matter how late in the day. Yet she appeared less than eager to be his bride. Fascinating, he decided, then realized she had yet to experience any of the sweet words that normally dripped from his honeyed tongue in the presence of women. Normally he began to spin a verbal web of beauty about a woman the moment he met her. Yet he hadn't had the least urging to do so with his betrothed. In fact, he found himself more prone to curse at her than soothe her with sweet assertions. Most odd.
Shaking his head, he moved forward as she hooked a satchel to her horse and quickly grabbed for her sword. Seonaid must have sensed his approach for she stilled a moment before he reached her but made no movement as he disarmed her. Instead, she waited until he'd stepped away, then turned slowly to face him.
"You could have asked, m'laird."
Blake raised his eyebrows. He'd expected anger, rage, even snarling and spitting fury. Instead she appeared completely calm. She even tossed a glance toward her companion, which caused the smaller warrior to unsheathe her own sword and step forward to offer it to him.
Blake accepted the weapon with some surprise. He took a wary step back as he confessed, "I did not think you would surrender it willingly."
"Why not?" Her lips curved up in amusement as she shrugged. "If 'twill make ye feel safer to have me unarmed, so be it. 'Sides, surely with such big, strong men around we'd have no need to defend ourselves?"
Blake frowned. There was no guile in her expression, not the smallest sign of sarcasm in her tone, and yet he was positive she was laughing at him. Worse yet, he suspected the little woman, her friend, had caught the joke and was silently laughing as well. Scowling, he muttered under his breath and turned away to rejoin Lord Rolfe.
"Think you it was wise to give up our weapons?" Aeldra asked quietly.
Seonaid shrugged. "They're less likely to expect an escape attempt if we are unarmed. 'Sides, we can replace them easily enough."
"How?" Helen asked, moving to join them.
"We have friends not far from here," Seonaid informed her quietly, then glanced toward the men. The bishop and the big man from the chapel had left the clearing, presumably to gather their animals as well as the rest of the men and clear away the signs of their camp. That left Sherwell, Lord Rolfe, Gavin, and the other two Dunbar men present, but without their horses. There would hardly be a better time to attempt an escape. "Aeldra, help Helen mount her animal."
Catching the meaningful expression Seonaid tossed her, Aeldra nodded and took Helen's arm to lead her around the large beast Seonaid stood before. Moving calmly, Seonaid stepped to the front of her mount's head and began to coo and pet him softly, her gaze shooting first to the men still talking at the edge of the clearing, then to the two women and two horses hidden by her massive animal's bulk. Aeldra helped Helen mount her horse, instructing her to lay her upper body flat along the animal's neck and head to prevent drawing attention, then moved to her own mount and quickly slid atop the beast, pressing herself flat on the animal's neck as well.
Seeing the men hadn't noticed their activity, Seonaid moved back to her stallion's side, grabbed the pommel in one hand, jammed her foot in the stirrup, and quickly pulled with her hand and stepped with her foot to propel herself upward and sling one long leg over the beast's back.
She had mounted and was grabbing for Helen's reins even as the expected cry of alarm went up. Ignoring it, Seonaid tugged on her horse's reins and pressed her heels to his belly, urging him into a bolt. The beast immediately shot forward, Helen's horse following. Aeldra took up the rear.
"Damn! Little George, bring the horses!" Blake roared, whirling from the sight of the disappearing women and starting through the woods.
Rolfe followed him closely. "Do not tell me you have decided to participate in getting the wedding done? I began to think you would simply trail me about, hampering my efforts as much as possible until it was either a fait accompli or the lady escaped."
Pausing, Blake turned to face him. "Do not think I have changed my mind about the wedding. Howbeit, do I continue to leave the situation in your hands, I very much fear I shall be bounced around indefinitely, chasing the woman from one end of Scotland to the other. 'Tis far better to see the matter settled one way or the other by escorting her back to Dunbar, and it appears to me the only way to accomplish the task is to h
andle it myself." With those insulting words, he turned to continue forward, only to pause as Little George appeared, trailing three horses.
"They made a run for it," Blake explained dryly, answering the question in his massive man's eyes as he accepted his own reins. He quickly mounted, as did Lord Rolfe. His gaze shot to the Dunbar men and he frowned at their solemn expressions. "Mount up and follow with the rest of the men."
Gavin nodded stoicly, his expression remaining dignified and grim until the three men had ridden out of view; then his face cracked in a grin. "I can hardly wait to return to Dunbar and tell the laird about this."
"He's sure to get a good laugh oot o' it," one of the other men agreed, then commented, " 'Tis twice now the English has lost oor Seonaid. Hoo many more times diya reckon 'twill happen 'ere we arrive home?"
Gavin shrugged and turned to move into the woods, intent on gaining his horse. "Twa or three, I'd wager. Fetch yer beasties and follow me. We'll gather the rest of the English and follow."
The women did not get very far. It was no one's fault, just happenstance. Helen's mount set her foot down wrong as she landed after leaping a log in their path. Releasing a scream of pain, the animal went down hard, sending Helen to the ground with a cry of alarm.
Tugging sharply on her own mount's reins to bring him to a halt, Seonaid glanced back to see Aeldra make good use of her swift reflexes to steer clear of the fallen horse and rider.
Turning her animal, Seonaid urged him back to the fallen mare, releasing the breath she'd been holding when Aeldra reached the girl and horse first and helped Helen to her feet. Apparently, the woman had suffered a fright but was otherwise unhurt.
"Is she all right?" Helen asked anxiously as Aeldra turned her attention to the mare struggling back to her feet.
The shorter woman examined the leg briefly, watching as the mare hobbled lamely a step or two, then glanced up at Seonaid and shook her head.
Mouth tightening unhappily, Seonaid bent to grasp Helen's arm and draw her attention. "Come. Mount behind me. We'll share my mount."
"But my mare," she protested. "She is hurt."
"We have no time to tend her," Seonaid snapped as Aeldra mounted her own horse. "Gavin will see to her."
"But--"
"There is no time to argue. They are comin'."
Sighing, Helen nodded resignedly and struggled onto the saddle behind her with a little help, then clasped her arms around her waist as Seonaid urged her horse forward. They'd taken only a few steps when they heard the thunder of approaching hooves.
Cursing, Seonaid pressed her heels to the horse's belly, urging it to gain speed, but she knew the effort was useless. The approaching riders were pounding toward them at a dead run. And her mount now had the weight of two to carry. Seonaid wasn't surprised when after less than a hundred yards the men caught them up and shot past them, then slowed their own horses and dropped back, two of them crowding her mount and Aeldra's together from the sides. Lord Blake slowed his own before them, forcing them to come to a halt.
Silence reigned for a moment as they all eyed each other; then Blake offered a chilly smile. " 'Tis obvious by your abrupt departure that you are eager for the wedding to occur. Howbeit, I fear your sense of direction is somewhat lacking. I must tell you, you were headed the wrong way once more, my lady. Dunbar is west."
"Ha, what a wit ye are, m'laird," Seonaid said. "I doubt not but ye leave the women laughin' at ye at every turn."
Blake's gaze narrowed. Her words could be taken in either of two ways and he very much suspected she meant it in the most insulting light. "Rolfe?"
"Aye?" The red-haired Englishman urged his horse forward, glancing at him questioningly.
"Mayhap you should take the good sister onto your mount," he suggested.
"She rides with me," Seonaid said grimly, urging her horse backward as the other man moved his own horse toward hers.
"She rides with Lord Rolfe," Blake ordered grimly.
Seonaid opened her mouth to snap at him, then smiled suddenly with a nasty sweetness before asking, "Affeared I might escape ye? Again?"
A wry smile tugging at his lips, Blake nodded. "Aye."
His honesty surprised her so much, Seonaid simply sat there as Rolfe moved forward and lifted Helen gently from her horse to his own, settling her comfortably before him as he moved the horse a short distance away.
Seonaid was frowning her displeasure at Blake when he suddenly smiled and called out to the other man. "Little George."
"Aye?"
"Aeldra rides with you."
Nodding grimly, the large man urged his horse forward to collect the woman, but she was of no more of a mind to make things easy than her mistress. The little hellion kicked the great man in the shin as his horse reached her side, then tried to punch him in the face as he ignored the first strike and lifted her from her own mount to his. In the end, he had to catch both of her small hands in one of his own and hook one of his great legs over both of hers to prevent her from doing herself damage. He managed to calm her as he settled her on the saddle before him, but she glared at him with disgust before throwing Seonaid an apologetic sigh as she sank against his huge chest.
Mouth tightening as she saw her ability to escape slipping away, Seonaid glared at her betrothed, almost daring him to come near her.
Blake picked up the challenge at once and urged his own mount toward hers. Seonaid immediately made her own stallion side step away, and the animal responded at once. Blake's eyebrows rose at the skill, but he urged his horse closer, unsurprised when she again deftly avoided him. Shaking his head, he glanced toward Little George and nodded. Understanding the silent order, Little George moved forward even as Blake did again. When Seonaid automatically began to urge the mount into a side-step, she found herself coming up against Little George's horse. Before she could instruct her stallion to move forward or back, Blake reached out and caught her about the waist, drawing her easily onto his lap.
He wasn't terribly surprised when she immediately began to struggle against him, though he was a bit startled by her strength as she did so. Tightening his arms around her, he hid his surprise with an expression of mixed exasperation and amusement. "We can do this the easy way, my lady, or the hard one. 'Tis up to you."
"Then it'll be the hard way," Seonaid muttered. Elbowing him in the chest, she tugged hard on his horse's reins, so the animal reared up, hooves pawing the air and sending Blake toppling from the saddle behind her. Seonaid grunted with satisfaction as the beast settled back on all fours, then squeezed her knees and sent him into a dead run for the hill ahead.
"Aye, I can see you are handling the situation much better than I," Lord Rolfe commented with amusement, peering down at Blake from his seat on his mount. "No doubt we shall reach Dunbar within the year at this rate."
Cursing, Blake struggled back to his feet, accepting the reins of Seonaid's horse when Little George offered them. Mounting the animal, he didn't even bother to comment to the man, but charged off after his betrothed.
His horse was fast and Seonaid rode him well, but her horse was faster, he saw with interest and not a little disapproval. In his opinion, 'twas a shame to waste such a beast on a woman; a warrior would have got more use out of it. Still, despite the animal's speed, they had gone quite a distance before he managed to catch up to her. Glad he wore the plaid and not encumbering mail, Blake raised his feet to the saddle and launched himself at her. He was a little behind Seonaid but caught her with his left arm as he flew past, tugging her from her mount and bringing her crashing to the ground on top of himself. Her own landing cushioned by his body, Seonaid recovered first from their tumble and struggled to her feet, attempting to flee toward her horse, but Blake regained himself enough to reach out and clasp her ankle before she'd managed a step. His hold on her, pitted against her forward momentum, sent her crashing to her stomach on the forest floor.
Shifting onto his hands and knees, he started to rise, then paused to grab her ankle again whe
n she started to scrabble away from him in the dirt. Falling back to her stomach, Seonaid rolled onto her back to kick at him with her free leg. Catching the second ankle as well, Blake held it fast, then cursed when she immediately sat up to strike out at him with balled fists. Yanking her ankles wide apart, he dragged her along the forest floor until he knelt between her open legs. Then he stopped her struggling by the simple action of launching himself on top of her. His legs quickly stopped the action of her own, and his hands grabbed hers and dragged them above her head so they were unable to strike out at him. Face-to-face and panting heavily, they glared at each other where they lay, then Blake began to feel a sense of awareness stealing through his body.
Frowning over the surprising reaction, Blake managed a wry smile as he regained his breath somewhat, then muttered, "You are a fair handful, my lady."
Seonaid did not smile back. "An' ye're an English dog."
His smile losing some of its luster, he arched his eyebrows arrogantly. "That is a fine thing coming from a red shank."
Seonaid's eyes narrowed at the insulting term the English often used to refer to Scots. She spat, "Better a red shank than the spawn of a Sassenach."
"Methinks your protests excessive, my little rough-foot. Mayhap you are not as adverse to the wedding as you would have me believe." He arched an eyebrow when she merely glared at him, too furious to speak. "Out of words to parry with, my lady?"
" 'Tis sorry I am to admit it, m'laird, but aye," Seonaid admitted with a suddenly sweet smile. Then she added, "But then, I have ever been better with the sword than with words. Shall we try those now instead?"
She began to struggle beneath him again as she spoke, and Blake found himself briefly distracted by the surge of heat her movement engendered within him. It took him a moment for her challenge to sink in. When it did, he shifted his lower body to still her struggles and released a short, deep laugh. "Nay, my lady. The only sword I would use with you is one you have not to use back." He was satisfied by the sudden deep red flush coloring her cheeks. "You are quite lovely when you are not cursing or spitting, my dear. Your mouth is really rather sweet when not spewing filth; 'tis shaped like a heart with full curves and--"