Indeed, she drew complaints from Rodney’s diatribe.
“And my knees? How am I to keep from pissing all over myself with my knees so bound together?”
His eyes narrowed. “You mean only to flee.”
“I mean to piss and as soon as possible, if you please!” Jacqueline rolled her eyes as though he made much of little. “I can only hobble with this swollen ankle, so you have naught to fear.”
He considered her for a long moment.
“If you please!” She shifted her weight from foot to foot in seeming impatience. Rodney started to laugh. Angus scowled and bent to untie the braided leather rope knotted about her knees. He might have said something but Jacqueline turned her back and pushed her bound wrists toward him.
He hesitated again, but she had expected as much. She cast an arch glance over her shoulder. “I will not suffer either of you to lift my skirts out of the way or ensure I am dry afterward.”
He shook his head and untied the last knot. He might have bound her to him—Jacqueline would not have put such a deed past him—but she scampered into the woods.
“You will learn much of women this day!” Rodney cried, laughing good-naturedly as Angus pursued Jacqueline.
First, she must put distance between the two men. She deliberately favored her ankle more than was deserved, to lull the knight into believing her more wounded than was the truth.
The stream was rocky on either side, its flow caught in endless little pools and eddies. The trees met overhead. Though the undergrowth was thin on the banks of the river, it grew more dense the further one looked into the woods. And the shadows were deep. Jacqueline realized that she would not have to get far to disappear from Angus’ view.
She managed to stay ahead of Angus by darting between the rocks, slipping through spaces that were too small for him or ducking under tree boughs that were too low for him.
He muttered a curse, then snatched at her wrist. “Here! This is a fine place.”
Jacqueline considered it, then shook her head. In truth there was naught wrong with it other than its proximity to Rodney. “There is moss on the rock and I would sit for a moment.”
She smiled at him, which seemed to startle him, then spun to march onward.
He found a rock with no moss upon it and she complained of the shade. He selected one in the sunlight and she pointed out a snail upon it, making a great fuss about the shiny residue left of its path. The next spot she declared a certain haven for snakes, the next too close to the woods. The next was, of course, too far from the woods.
If naught else, the man was diligent. She gauged his expiring patience as well as she could and when his features had set, she declared his next suggested rock to be the perfect one. There was naught to be gained in angering him too soon. After all, they were quite some distance from both Rodney and the steeds.
Fortunately for her purposes, she had a sense that Angus was more concerned with honor and chivalry than he would have preferred she know.
Jacqueline grabbed her skirt in two fistfuls as though intent upon beginning what had to be done, then gave the knight a stern look. There was a deep pool behind the rock that she had chosen and Angus stood at its lip. Her rock was directly beside him.
She tried to look as indignant and forbidding as her mother could. “Well?”
Angus folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet hard against the ground. “Well?” He stood only two arm’s lengths away.
“You have to leave!”
He shook his head. “I thought you had to piss.”
Jacqueline did not have to feign her blush, nor the way it deepened with each word she uttered. “I do, but you, but you cannot, you cannot stand there and watch me do so!”
“I most certainly can and I most certainly will.”
Jacqueline flung down her skirts. “Nay. I cannot do this!” He was as calm as she was frustrated with his refusal to do as she desired. She needed a chance to put distance between them. “I cannot permit it. “Tis not proper!”
“Proper?”
“Aye, proper! ’Twould not be right.”
He looked pointedly to the left and the right. “We are hardly constrained by the manners of a court here.”
Her cheeks burned. “’Tis, ’tis indecent for you to watch me!”
Angus seemed to find this amusing, the hint of a smile softening his features. “If it soothes your pride, I have seen many piss, both men and women.”
Jacqueline stared at him for a moment, aghast that he should be so bold, then lifted her chin. “My pride is not at stake. ’Twas you who said I should be returned as I was found. I will not be shamed by a man’s glance—or I shall claim that you stole more than that.”
She folded her arms across her chest in turn, quite pleased with her own quick thinking. “’Twould be your word against my own if I claimed you ravished me here. Who do you think my step-father would believe?”
Any hint of humor faded from his expression. He uncoiled that cursed leather rope from his belt and moved so quickly to knot it about her waist that she had no chance to dart away.
“What is this you do?”
“I ensure that you play no games with me.” He flicked her a dark glance, then knotted the rope securely about his own waist. When her mouth dropped open in horror at his proximity—indeed, he stood closer than before, by dint of the rope’s length—he smiled that slow, wicked smile. “You need not fear. I will not gaze overmuch upon your maidenly virtues.”
Jacqueline’s breath was caught in her chest even as he turned to stare at the opposite shore. This was the worst result possible! He stood directly beside her—she would never be able to escape this way.
Her gaze fell upon the length of cloth, still stuffed in his belt.
“You must wear the blindfold so I can be certain,” she insisted.
His sidelong glance was wry. “Odd how your need for relief seems to have passed.”
“On the contrary, it grows more urgent with every passing moment. But ’tis no small thing to have a man of unknown intent watch this deed!” Jacqueline lifted her chin in challenge. “You must wear the blindfold or I will not be able to relieve myself.”
He looked pained. “After all of this trouble?”
“Aye.” Jacqueline squared her shoulders. “And we shall have to find another suitable place in no time at all. Such matters cannot be postponed indefinitely.”
Angus grimaced, then shook his head. He pulled out the blindfold, evidently confident that she could not go far while she was tethered to his waist. Jacqueline knotted it securely around his head, her fingers inadvertently touching his hair.
’Twas as black as midnight, thick and wavy and surprisingly soft. It hung to his nape and curled about her fingers as if it had a mind of its own. She shivered, remembering all too well her earlier conviction that he was a devil made flesh. She recalled the illicit tingle his kiss launched within her and did not doubt that he could awaken much wickedness within her.
She had to escape him.
Jacqueline made a fuss arranging her skirts over the rock and scrambling about to find a comfortable seat. She made sounds of disgust as she apparently found bits of moss on the rock, then brushed them away with more fastidiousness than they deserved. She insisted that Angus turn farther way, claiming that she did not trust the blindfold. To her surprise, he was indeed as chivalrous as she had hoped, for he indulged her whims, though with rapidly fading patience.
But all the while that she fussed and fidgeted, Jacqueline desperately tried to loosen the knot in the leather around her waist. Angus had tied it with a vengeance and she feared that she might not be able to loose it at all.
She had to succeed! This might well be her last chance for escape. She kept a tight pressure on the line with one hand as the other picked at the fearsome knot. She broke two fingernails and her heart hammered with terror that she would not accomplish the deed in time.
“For a woman feeling such urgency, you
are taking a cursedly long time about this task,” Angus complained. “Now or not at all, make your choice.”
In the last possible moment, the knot loosened in her hand. Jacqueline was free!
“Now will be my choice!” she cried.
Angus must have heard something in her tone, for he snatched at the blindfold. Jacqueline bounced to her feet, despairing that he perceived her intent more quickly than she had feared. He stepped after her, anger flashing in his eye.
In terror, she pushed him hard.
Angus roared. He snatched at her but missed, losing his balance. He fell into the pool with a splash, but Jacqueline did not remain to watch. She was already running in the opposite direction as quickly as she could. She ducked low beneath the branches that snagged at her clothes, ignored the brambles that scratched her flesh and fled as fast as she could into the forest.
She knew her captor would not be far behind.
But the forest was thicker even than Jacqueline had anticipated. Jacqueline had a hard time making her way through the underbrush, the only consolation being that Angus would have a harder time because of his greater size.
“Zounds, woman!” he bellowed altogether too close behind her. “Are you mad?” Jacqueline heard naught but the anger in his voice and knew she could not let herself be caught.
God only knew what he would do to her.
She leapt through the thicket, oblivious to the thorns and the ache of her ankle. Angus shouted when he spied her, but Jacqueline did not look back. She ran and ran and ran, each step punctuated by a pound of her heart and a stab of pain.
The forest was so dense that she could see no more than five or six steps ahead of herself. The branches of the trees interlaced so tightly that the sunlight only reached the forest floor in intermittent patches of gold. She halted, panting, and strained her ears, but heard naught.
’Twas no consolation. For all she knew, Angus was skilled in silent pursuit. Had he not been to Outremer? Aye, a hardened warrior would better know how to hunt than she knew how to flee. She rounded each tree with her heart in her mouth, half-certain he had somehow circled around her and would suddenly appear in her path. Furious, of course.
Aye, ’twas true that he knew something of these woods if he was from these parts originally. If naught else he knew their location while Jacqueline did not.
She disliked her disadvantage and hated him for putting him at it. She should have been safely at Inveresbeinn by now! She should have been recounting the rosary, safe in the embrace of her sisters pledged to the service of the Lord.
Curse Angus!
Jacqueline heard a sudden crackle, precisely the sound a stout stick might make breaking under a booted foot. She plunged away from the sound in panic. The brambles tore at her hands, gnats flew in her face. She burst through a group of bushes and plunged into a cold stream before she knew what lay ahead of her. Her ankle wrenched hard against the stones on the riverbed, the resulting pain bringing tears to her eyes.
But she dared not linger, not now. She hobbled to the opposing bank, her tears of frustration falling when the mud and the weight of her wet skirts made it nigh impossible to scramble up the bank.
Nay, nay, time was of the essence! She grabbed at roots and struggled to climb the bank, glancing over her shoulder with certainty that Angus was fast behind. ’Twas only when she heard a slight sound overhead and glanced up that her heart stopped cold.
For a grim knight offered her his gloved hand, anger bright in his eye.
* * *
Angus had circled around the maiden on silent feet. The panicked sound of her flight was impossible to miss for one so accustomed to hunting as he. He gritted his teeth in frustration as he stalked her, for this was his own fault.
He would never have trusted a man as he had trusted his charge. Indeed, he would have had no reason not to stand directly beside a man and watch as that man relieved himself. The respect his mother had engrained within him for women had betrayed him in this—he had thought this maiden too innocent to be capable of such a trick. He had thought her shy, a delicate and fragile flower.
She had made him look like a fool. And truly, a man who granted trust so foolishly, especially after all he had endured, deserved to look like a fool.
That did naught to improve his mood. He was tired and soaked and irked beyond all. The key to his plan had slipped away from him. Worse, ’twas his own fault that she was in such circumstance and if he did not retrieve her, whatever befell her in these woods on this night would be his fault as well.
He would find her, if ’twas the last thing he did.
’Twas then that Angus caught a glimpse of her through the trees. He glimpsed the river ahead and planned his course, deliberately stepping on a heavy stick so that it snapped. The woman bolted in the opposite direction, precisely as he had hoped. He quickly encircled her and reached the opposing bank while she chose what to do.
He intended to stop her when she crossed the river, though he nigh leapt after her when she clearly injured her ankle anew. He was surprised at her determination to force herself onward, away from him, no less by the terror evident in her manner. He had done naught to make her so very fearful.
Had he?
Then she looked up and all the blood drained from her fine features. Angus feared she would faint anew, perhaps slip beneath the water and drown. That would not serve his ends! He snatched at her, guessing instinctively what she would do.
She did indeed try to bolt, but Angus caught her around the waist. She struggled like a wild bird, kicking and thrashing, but she was far smaller than him. Angus cast her over his shoulder with some effort. He was already sodden from his plunge into the pool, so he waded through the river again, ignoring her frenzied struggle.
“Now you know in truth the trouble a woman can bring,” Rodney began, but Angus held up one hand to silence him. His companion had said more than enough on the matter already.
“Enough.”
Rodney granted him a sly glance and made one last comment beneath his breath. “How much do you wager that she has not yet had her piss?”
The two men shared a smile, even as the lady in question made a sound of frustration. Rodney made to bind her ankles, but Angus halted him.
“Bind her knees again. The ankle is swollen already and she has injured it yet further. The rope will chafe and make matters worse.”
“She had no care for her own wound,” Rodney retorted, though he did as he was bidden. ’Twas no small feat, given the lady’s thrashing. “Why then should we?”
“One fool in a party is more than enough,” Angus said mildly, though he was thinking of the vigor of the woman’s response. Was she so witless that she did not realize the risks facing her in the forest at night?
Then he knew he wondered too much about her, this woman who was naught more than the key to his plan. He should not be concerned with her, beyond ensuring that she was unharmed.
“She will flee again,” his companion predicted skeptically.
“I heartily doubt her ankle will bear the weight of her very far.”
Rodney snorted. “Yet still you would have her knees bound.” He worked quickly, and knotted the leather most securely.
“This lady has a way of confounding expectation.”
“Trouble, ’tis what she is. At least you learn something of women this day.”
When Angus said naught, Rodney marched back to the horses, muttering his usual refrain about Angus having been kicked in the head once too often.
“You cannot do this!” She struggled, sounding as though she was close to tears. She was clearly terrified. Though ’twould be unsettling for a woman to be taken captive, her fear seemed disproportionate to her circumstance.
Again, he felt the unwelcome urge to reassure her.
“I cannot suffer you to flee.” He spoke in a reasonable tone, but she was not consoled.
“’Tis loathsome to truss a woman like a Christmas goose before raping her.”
/>
’Twas the second time she had mentioned rape. That could be no coincidence—though ’twas not for him to know. She was naught but a means to an end for him, after all.
All the same, Angus paused and let her slide to the ground before him. She hissed and wriggled like a furious kitten, her fair hair coming unbound and falling over her shoulders. She shook within her bounds and her flesh was colder than it should have been, but her eyes snapped with defiance. He had the sense that she refused to faint lest she show herself weak again, and despite himself, he admired her valor.
Angus caught her chin in his hand and stared deliberately into her eyes. She trembled and her breath caught, but she did not look away.
“I have told you once that you are worth most to me whole,” he said firmly. “’Tis no lie.” Her lips trembled, their softness tempting his touch, but he refused to yield to desire again.
One fair brow lifted in a bold expression, though her words fell breathlessly. No doubt she was trying to make him think she was less fearful than she was. “And what is “whole” to a lawless brigand? You have already stolen one kiss and ’tis said that a man’s actions speak louder than his words.”
Angus was intrigued by her suspicion. “I am my father’s son and I take naught that is not mine to have.”
She glared at him so hotly that he barely managed to hide his surprise. “I was not yours to capture this day.”
“True enough,” he mused, watching her reaction. This troubled her, and when she was troubled, he had already noted, she was silent. In silence, ’twas easier for him to think of her as merely baggage. “Perhaps that does indeed make you mine to have.”
She paled, frightened and mute once more.
Angus smiled with slow deliberation, intent upon keeping her disconcerted. His urge to reassure her was doubly confounding one—not only did conversation make it more difficult for him to use her for his means, but it led to his granting answers to her. ’Twas imperative that she know as little as possible of him and his plans.
Her fear was the key to ensuring that.
“I thank you,” he whispered, “for making the possibilities most clear to me.”
The Bride Quest II Boxed Set Page 38