The Chase

by Lynsay Sands

  "Lord Blake," Helen explained what she had been speaking of. "I have heard it said he could talk the birds out of the trees yet have seen no evidence of this skill to date. He has yet to say anything the least complimentary. I can understand why he would not attempt to flirt with or flatter me, as I am dressed as a nun, but why has he not attempted to use his silver tongue on you to make you stop attempting to escape? I think it just seems odd."

  A snort sounded behind Seonaid, but she didn't open her eyes or glance around in the water to where she knew her cousin was swimming. Seonaid was busy controlling her expression to hide her own feelings regarding the matter. In truth, it had already occurred to her that his sweet tongue appeared to be missing in her presence. The man certainly had not taxed himself in an effort to try to compliment her, and though she would never admit it, Seonaid found it a touch distressing. Was it that he could find nothing about her to compliment? Or could he simply not be bothered because he disliked her so? Either possibility was distressing. While she was trying to avoid it as long as she possibly could, she knew she would have to marry him eventually. Who wanted to be married to a man who thought so little of his bride?

  "Mayhap he realizes 'twould be a waste of time," Seonaid said at last, with forced derision.

  " 'Tis possible," Helen allowed. "You are not like other women, after all. He may realize that sweet words are not apt to win you."

  Seoanid opened her eyes and frowned up at the darkening sky. She had never considered whether fine words would win her or not. She had never considered what would impress her. She might like sweet words, though that would surprise anyone who knew her. Seonaid had been fighting to make a place for herself in her own clan her entire life. From childhood she had known she was betrothed to the Sherwell, and had listened to her father curse the name just as long. As the Sherwells were so hated by her father, it had always seemed to her that being intended to marry one was a bad thing, a strike against her. She had fought to make herself acceptable, to make him proud, and the only way she could think to do that was to be the best soldier she could be. But perhaps sweet words would be nice once in a while. And the fact that he hadn't bothered with them rankled her. She almost found it hurtful. What was wrong with her? Was she not worthy of compliments?

  Hurt pride, fear, and anger mingling through her, Seonaid stood up in the water and moved toward shore. She'd had enough relaxation for one day.

  "The women seem to be taking their time about their ablutions," Rolfe commented.

  "Women always do," Blake said as he added wood to the fire.

  "You do not think they have managed to flee again?"

  "They will not try to flee without horses, and I have four men watching the animals," Blake reassured him.

  "Aye, I know." When his words brought Blake's questioning gaze his way, Rolfe shrugged. "They are the king's men, in my charge to see to these weddings. They check with me on every order you give them."

  Blake scowled at the news. He had quite forgotten the men were not under his rule. He was used to having an army of warriors at his service. But he had dispersed most of his own men, allowing them time to visit their families while he saw to this duty. The knights traveling with them were under Rolfe's rule. He would have to try to keep that in mind.

  "What if the Dunbars have friends near here we know not about? The women could have slipped away, gained horses from them, and--" Rolfe broke off abruptly when Blake straightened to peer at him sharply.

  "Do you know something I do not?"

  "Nay." Rolfe's mouth turned down in a frown as his gaze slid around the surrounding trees. "I just have a feeling something is not right."

  Blake shifted on his feet, his own gaze slipping around the surrounding forest. He would have shrugged off Rolfe's concerns except that he too had felt a bit anxious since stopping for the night. It was nothing he could give a name to, simply a faint sense that all was not well. Or perhaps a sense that someone was watching them, that they weren't alone.

  "I'll go check on them," he said finally.

  Rolfe merely nodded, but was obviously relieved. Blake supposed the man was well past tired of the whole endeavor.

  A mere gesture to Little George was enough to make the large man take his place at the fire, then Blake headed into the trees. There was a narrow path leading from the small clearing in the woods down to the edge of the loch. It was obvious others had set up camp here on occasion over the years. Blake wasn't surprised. It was quite a handy spot. The clearing rested a good twenty feet away from the loch itself, allowing privacy to anyone wishing to bathe or tend to other personal needs.

  He moved at a quick clip at first, but slowed when he knew he was nearing the end of the trees and would soon step out on the narrow clearing along the loch's edge. His ears began to strain then, listening for sounds from the women that would tell him their location. He didn't wish to mortify Sister Helen by catching her in a state of undress. He didn't really think such an occurrence would be all that upsetting to Seonaid or Aeldra. He could be wrong, but his betrothed's lack of maidenly modesty regarding his nudity suggested she had seen her father's men or even her brother and cousin in a similar state a time or two in the past, and perhaps had been spotted herself as well, which he supposed would be quite likely considering her life riding with the men.

  Blake found the idea of other men seeing Seonaid's naked body a bit unsettling, so he quickly pushed the thought away and concentrated a little harder on detecting voices or the sound of splashing water, but there was no sound at all coming from up ahead. Blake tried not to let this and Rolfe's comments bother him, but he did pick up his step a bit. If the women had slipped away again, and--

  The thought died abruptly as he stepped out of the trees and spotted the women in question. Helen and Aeldra were still in the water. The small Scot was floating on the surface, her eyes closed, and Helen was simply standing in the water, watching Seonaid, who was on the shore and walking toward where her clothing lay in a heap. Blake couldn't take his eyes off her.

  In Blake's experience, women were soft. They had soft bodies with curved hips, plump thighs, and gently rounded breasts and bellies. It was one of the things he liked best about them. They were comfort with feet, their breasts soft pillows for his head, their bodies warm cushions he could sink his into. There was nothing soft about Seonaid. Her body was all lithe muscle that shifted and stretched as she moved. He was sure if he touched her, she would be as hard as any one of his soldiers. And yet she was still beautiful, her body as sleek as a cat's, her every move feline in its grace. She might not be a soft rest for his head and body, but she was as much of a feast for his eye as any woman he had ever met.

  Blake couldn't look away from her lean length. His mouth had gone dry at first sight of her. When she reached her plaid and suddenly glanced up, Blake found himself helpless to do anything but stare back as her eyes went wide with surprise. While he was still searching his mind for something to say, an apology perhaps, her surprise turned to a flash of what might have been alarm. It was quickly followed by a mask of steely determination.

  Nothing in Blake's life had shocked him more than when she suddenly reached down, purposefully grabbed her sword, then strode forward.

  He was so stunned at such an aggressive reaction to his presence that he merely stood there, frozen. Perhaps if she had raised her sword or said something, he would have snapped out of his surprise and reacted, instead of just standing there like an idiot--or like a child caught peeking. Then movement in the water drew his gaze in time to see Aeldra come bounding out. Like Seonaid, the short blonde did not even bother with her shift, but grabbed her sword instead. It was at that moment that Sister Helen turned and spotted him there. The shriek she let loose was what Blake had needed to snap him out of his shock.

  "I was not--" he began apologetically, but Seonaid had reached him and, much to his amazement, reached out with her free hand and gave him a shove. Caught off guard, Blake stumbled to the side, regain
ed his footing, and started to turn back, just as the clang of metal hitting metal rang in his ears.

  Completely alert now, Blake whirled to see that Seonaid was doing battle with a man who had apparently approached him from behind. She hadn't been reacting to him at all, or perhaps the first surprised widening of eyes had been at the sight of him, but apparently the sword grabbing and steely determination had been caused by this fellow's approach.

  These fellows, he corrected himself, as he spotted a second and third man moving around the battling couple. Blake automatically reached for his own sword, only to find he'd left the bloody thing at the campsite. If his memory served him correctly, it was leaning against a log near where he had been building the fire. He hadn't thought to grab it before heading down to the loch's edge. Why would he? He hadn't thought he'd need it to simply check on the women.

  Bloody hell, Blake thought with disgust even as his eyes skittered over the area. He spotted a good-sized branch nearby and snatched it up. It would do little against a sword, but was better than nothing.

  Blake had raised the branch in hand and braced himself for the attack when Aeldra, naked and still wet, raced past him, yelling a war cry as she ran. The woman might be small, but her bellow near ripped the ears off his head.

  Bloody hell, he thought again as the little Scot stopped the two men by engaging the first in battle. Blake stood and gaped for a moment at the sight of the two beautiful, naked women swinging their swords so skillfully. Fortunately for him, the third man also was momentarily stunned into stillness. As were the other three men he now saw behind them. There were six in all, it would seem. And other than the two presently receiving a fighting lesson, they were all rooted to the spot at the sight of the two women battling their compatriots; one raven-haired and tall, one blond and small, both seeming completely oblivious to their own nudity.

  The men definitely were not. Their eyes were wide and hungry as they watched the women swing their swords overhead, the movement seeming to lengthen their torsos, drawing out their already flat stomachs and, lifting their firm breasts. It was a hypnotic sight, even for the men battling them it would seem, for either they were completely unskilled warriors or they were too distracted by the women to fight properly. Seonaid and Aeldra had no trouble taking advantage of their distracted state. Seonaid dispatched the first man she engaged within three blows; Aeldra was not far behind. Then both women turned to the other four men on the edge of the woods.

  The men looked so entranced at the sight of the two naked women facing them, Blake half-expected them to drop their swords and pledge their fealty. One even had a silly grin on his face, as if he'd wandered into a bevy of bathing beauties offering to bed him rather than behead him. But what they would have done would never be known, for the silence of the clearing was suddenly broken by the snapping of twigs and the thunder of footsteps as a great herd of beasts crashed through the woods toward them. Seonaid and Aeldra immediately backed away from the four men, forcing Blake to back up with them. They kept their swords pointed at the four they had yet to finish, but warily noted the direction the sound was coming from as they gave themselves room to be able to fight off attackers from either direction.

  When Little George charged out of the woods with Rolfe and a passel of knights on their heels, Blake realized that Helen's scream must have been heard. Relaxing, he turned his attention back to the attackers even as the women did, only to find the spot where they had been was now empty. They had fled during the distraction and had even taken their wounded with them.

  "Oh, dear."

  The soft murmur of dismay drew Blake's gaze back to their would-be rescuers, who were all now standing still, staring at the naked women, just as their attackers had. Bishop Wykeham was the speaker, and even he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the sight. Blake scowled and moved toward the group of men, but couldn't resist glancing back over his shoulder as he did. The sight that met his gaze gave him sympathy for the other men. The women were still frozen in battle stance, legs slightly parted, swords up and at the ready, pale skin pulled tight over taut muscles. They could have been Roman statues. They were a beautiful sight to behold.

  And everyone was beholding them.

  "We were attacked," he announced grimly, his voice sharp enough to draw every eye his way, though some came very reluctantly, he noted. "They ran off as you came stomping into the clearing."

  Silence met his announcement, but Blake couldn't help noticing the way every man's eyes kept slipping past him, then back, then to the women again.

  "What are you waiting for?" he snapped with irritation, snatching his sword from Little George. The man had obviously noted its presence by the fire and had the foresight to bring it to him when they'd heard the scream. "Search the woods. They cannot have traveled far while they are dragging two wounded men with them."

  "Two dead men," Seonaid corrected, and Blake glanced over his shoulder again as she relaxed her stance and moved unhurriedly toward her clothes. "At least mine was dead."

  "Mine too," Aeldra announced, following her in the same relaxed fashion.

  Seonaid nodded, as if she'd expected as much, then said, "Now, if ye've all done enough gawkin', could ye no go away an' let us dress?"

  Blake forced his eyes up from watching her as she walked and cleared his throat as he turned back to the men. "Come. Move back into the woods and give them privacy."

  "Do you think we should?" Rolfe asked. "What if the attackers have not gone far? They could return."

  It was a valid point, but Blake couldn't help noticing the way Rolfe's gaze kept skittering out toward the loch where Sister Helen still huddled. She had moved closer to shore, but had apparently dropped to her knees because the water covered her up to her neck. She might have thought she was preserving her modesty, but the water was extremely clear and they could see a good deal of her upper body even underwater.

  Blake had never imagined a bride of God in the nude, but he also would never look at one again in the same light. God's toes, becoming a nun did not leave a woman a dried-out husk, as he had always imagined. Sister Helen had as lush a figure as any of the women at court. It was as beautiful in its own way as Seoanid's.

  "We will stay close enough to hear if you shout," he announced to the women, forcing his gaze away and gesturing for Rolfe and Little George to back off into the woods. The bishop was already walking away, and the other men had heeded his orders and headed off to look for the men who might still be milling about in the forest. Though he would not have been surprised to hear that they were searching very close at hand, close enough to keep an eye on the women as well.

  "Oh, aye. Thanks fer that," Seonaid said dryly in response to his words. "Ye were ever so helpful the first time they attacked, it does my heart good to know yer near enough to help again should they return."

  Blake winced, but merely sighed and ushered Rolfe and Little George ahead of him.

  Chapter Eight

  "He had no sword," Aeldra murmured as she snatched up her shift to pull it on.

  Seonaid grimaced as she tugged her shortened shift over her head. Her cousin had ever been fair and was quietly rebuking her for embarrassing her betrothed with her parting words.

  "He had no sword an' grabbed up a stick to try to help us fight," the woman persisted.

  "Aye, I ken," Seonaid admitted reluctantly. She'd almost yelled at him to get the hell out of the way and let them get on with it. She'd been a bit distracted, trying to keep an eye out to be sure the man didn't come bulling into the group of men with his branch. Fortunately, he had appeared as dumbstruck by the scene as their attackers were. Though she would never admit it, it had been terribly embarrassing to be caught unclothed and then be forced to battle that way. But it had also been rather handy in one respect, as it had clearly given them the advantage. Seonaid wasn't foolish enough to imagine it was their advanced skill with the sword that had so enthralled everyone. Nay, it was the fact that they'd been naked that had set the
men back on their heels. Most women would have at least pulled on their shifts before storming into the fray. Their lack of modesty had no doubt dismayed the men as much as the sight of them had seemed to mesmerize them. But when it came to battle, who gave a damn what you were wearing? It was definitely not a time to consider fashion.

  Seonaid was aware of Aeldra's continued stare as she pulled on her braies, then picked up her plaid. She tried to ignore the eyes boring into the back of her head as she gave the material a shake, then laid it on the ground to pleat, but found it impossible. It didn't help that her own conscience was pricking her for the unfair insult.

  "Oh, all right," she gave in with irritation. "I'll apologize to him later."

  Aeldra's mouth quirked at the reluctant words, but she knew her too well and asked, "When?"

  "Later. When the time is right." Seonaid straightened her shoulders bullishly as she answered. She would not be pushed into giving a date and time for the apology. She'd give him one when she bloody well felt like it. Of course, Aeldra was kin, carried the same blood, and could be just as bullish. Fortunately, she didn't get a chance to force the issue. Helen had made her way out of the water and now rushed over to join them, snatching up her own clothes along the way.

  "Seonaid, we have to go," Helen blurted, tugging her shift on as she spoke.