Marriage Deal With the Outlaw & the Warrior's Damsel in Distress & the Knight's Scarred Maiden : Harlequin Historical August 2017 (9781488021640)

by St. Harper George; Fuller, Meriel; Locke, Nicole

  Not like you. The thought whipped through her, a streak of fire. This man was young, only a few years older than herself, with every muscle in his body honed, not an ounce of spare flesh on him. Katherine’s knights were older, grizzled, barely capable of running for more than a few yards. They had the experience, aye, but were no match for this man’s physical ability.

  ‘I’m right to be cautious.’

  He sighed. ‘I agree, but you can be too cautious. You saw that I came with those other knights to the castle. You have to trust me.’

  But I don’t trust them either, Eva thought. She sighed. She had little choice in the matter; this man was her only way out of the forest and it was growing late. A snowy twilight drew around them like a dark sparkling curtain. Katherine would be worried. Tentatively, she raised her hand and he pulled her upwards. Tottering for a moment, she placed her full weight gingerly on the damaged leg.

  Bruin watched her face pale, her skin grow waxy. ‘It hurts, doesn’t it? Let me carry you.’

  ‘No, give me a moment. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘There’s no time,’ he responded gruffly. ‘Here, hold this.’ He shoved the brand towards her, closing her fingers decisively around it. ‘Take care not to burn any more of my hair; I have no wish to be completely bald by the time I reach my horse.’ Pulling on his gauntlets, he bent down, sweeping her feet from beneath her, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Bruin cut off her speech, his tone low and forceful. ‘You’ve held me up long enough. We’re going back to the castle and we’re going like this, whether you like it or not.’

  * * *

  Hoisting her high against his chest, he carried her back through the trees, through the scurries of falling snow. His stride was purposeful and sure, never losing his footing across the lumpy, uneven ground, ignoring the over-arching brambles that clutched and snagged at his surcoat, at the flowing hem of the maid’s gown. Sensibly, she had fallen silent, quiet in his arms, but he wasn’t fooled by her chastised demeanour. Her shoulder muscles were tense, contracted against his upper arm; she kept her head positioned stubbornly away to avoid touching him, refusing to let it rest. He grinned suddenly; her neck must be hurting like hell with the strain of maintaining her distance from him. Her hip curved temptingly against his forearm, the faintest smell of lavender rising from her skin. His chest squeezed with unexpected delight.

  Eva gripped on to the torch, holding the flame out before her like a ship’s figurehead, her knuckles white. The memory of this man’s over-familiar touch on her flesh was branded on her brain: a scorch mark, throbbing, vivid. The way he had plucked at her stocking. The way his fingers had rasped against her soft skin, leathery and calloused like those of a peasant, and yet he was obviously high-born, a count in his own right. The air shivered in her lungs. The wound on her leg was sore, making her unsettled, unsure of herself.

  She gritted her teeth, hating her incapacity to walk on her own two feet, hating the fact that this man had to carry her. His confident domineering behaviour rattled her; his assumption that she would blithely follow his orders, no matter what. She had always been able to look after herself, even more so after what had happened to her; she resented his intrusion, this foisting of unwanted intimacy upon her. His chest pressed against her shoulder, flat plates of hard muscles rippling against the curve of her upper arm, but she was unable to shift away any further, his arms held her too securely. His horse waited on the outskirts of the forest, cropping the few wisps of spindly grass that poked up through the settling snow, jangling the bit irritably between its teeth as they approached.

  ‘We’ll ride back,’ Bruin announced, shifting his grip on the maid. His short beard scratched against her wimple; she jolted back at the inadvertent contact. ‘Hold tight to that torch.’ He turned her in his arms, clasping her waist to lift her into the saddle, but to her surprise, he placed her up front, nearer the horse’s neck.

  ‘Oh!’ Eva said, surprised, rocking forward to grab the horse’s mane for balance. Her grasp loosened on the torch; she almost dropped it. She sat with both legs dangling to one side, hip wedged up against the animal’s neck. Why had he not placed her in the saddle? ‘I thought you said I was going to ride!’ Her voice juddered slightly, panic slicing through her veins. A beat of pain streaked through her leg.

  ‘You are. But I’m riding, too.’

  ‘No, no, you’re not. You’re going to lead the horse.’ The words jabbed out of her before she had time to contemplate their impact. He couldn’t be near her again; the closeness of him tangled her brain, made her lose her train of thought. He flustered her.

  Bruin’s chin shot up at her imperious tone, his eyes, mineral dark, glittering dangerously. ‘I am riding.’ Rummaging in his saddlebags, he extracted a thick woollen cloak, handing it up to her, frowning. ‘You give yourself of lot of airs and graces, my girl, for one in such a lowly position. Why, anyone would think you were a noble lady, not a servant dressed in rags. By rights, you should be walking alongside me.’

  Eva flinched as if he had hit her. Her mouth snapped shut. She grabbed his cloak with her spare hand, bundling its voluminous folds in her lap, staring rigidly ahead with flushed cheeks. Good God, this man made her forget who she was supposed to be! Not Eva, Lady of Striguil, but Eva Macmurrough, nursemaid to the Lady Katherine’s children. She needed to watch her step, remember to behave in a manner appropriate for a servant. ‘I apologise if I’ve caused offence,’ she replied eventually. ‘Lady Katherine encourages all her servants to be outspoken. She prefers it that way.’ Her reasoning sounded limp, pathetic.

  ‘Really.’ His response was caustic, disbelieving, silver eyes scrutinising her wan face. He had seen the sudden lurch of her body at his accusation, the flare of panic in her eyes. What was she hiding? Her high-handed manner, the regal tilt of her head—all was out of kilter with her appearance, with the clothes she wore. But then, her feisty, stubborn behaviour matched no other woman he had ever met, ever, in his whole life. The girl was a complete puzzle. ‘Well, you’ll just have to put up with my unwanted presence.’ Sticking his booted foot into the shining stirrup, he sprang into the saddle behind her. The horse shifted sideways under his added weight. ‘I’m sorry it will be such an unpleasant experience for you.’

  Lifting the cloak from her lap, Bruin laid it around her shoulders, pulling Eva against his hard torso to tuck in the edges firmly around her. She wrenched forward instinctively, unwilling to submit to his control of her, unwilling to let him win. The torch dipped precariously.

  ‘Give me that,’ he said, taking the torch from her. ‘We can’t afford to lose the light.’ He gathered up the reins in one hand. ‘Do you behave like this all the time? I pity the poor man married to you!’ Circling her with his arms, he jabbed his knees into the horse’s sides, setting the animal in motion, the jerky forward gait of the animal forcing her to grasp at his arm.

  ‘I’m not married,’ she bit out.

  In the flickering light, he traced her haughty profile, the stubborn jut of her chin, and chuckled, a long low rumble in his chest. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Your father must be wringing his hands trying to find someone for you!’

  The luscious sweep of her eyelashes dipped fractionally. He caught the fleeting trace of vulnerability crossing her face, swiftly masked. ‘My father is dead, as is my brother. Killed by the King, fighting to protect their land!’ she blurted out, then clapped her hand across her mouth. Why had she not curbed her speech? She rode with a man who had arrived at the castle with a knight wearing the King’s colours. It was easy to guess where this man’s allegiances lay.

  ‘So your father was a rebel,’ he said slowly, ducking his head to avoid a low-hanging branch, steering the horse through the last few trees at the woodland edge and out on to open ground. His eye trailed across the flushed curv
e of her cheeks, the ebony hair curling out from beneath her linen wimple. ‘With his own land,’ he added significantly. The saddle leather creaked as he adjusted his weight slightly.

  A hot prickling sensation swept up her spine. She had made a mistake. Playing the role of a servant, she should have remembered that her family would have nothing, no land or estates, being entirely dependent on their master, or in this case, Lady Katherine. ‘No—no! I meant—his lord’s land.’

  ‘I see.’ But in truth, he didn’t see at all. He had caught the false note in her tone and wondered at it. What was she doing with Lady Katherine? Maybe the chit’s mother was living at the castle, too. As he tipped back in the saddle, leading the horse down the snowy slope to the castle, he told himself that the maid was not his concern. He shouldn’t care. But strangely, he realised that he did.

  * * *

  ‘My God, Eva! What happened to you? Where did you go?’ Katherine emerged through the arched doorway leading to the great hall, her graceful body silhouetted by the light spilling out behind her. Her willowy slenderness was encased in a sleeveless gown of patterned red velvet, cut low at the sides to reveal a tight-fitting underdress of rose-pink silk. Descending the wooden staircase, set at right angles to the door, she came down into the bailey. At the bottom of the steps, she paused, hugging her arms around her chest to ward off the cold. ‘Goodness, it’s freezing! We were so worried, especially when Peter came back and told us you had run off into the forest.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Eva said, pinning a wide and hopefully reassuring smile on her frozen face. Her muscles ached from the short journey down the hill, her spine stiff, strained from the constant effort of keeping herself away from the knight at her side. Bruin’s arm had roped around her like an iron clasp, winching her continually against his chest. His cloak warmed her; the felted woollen folds lay snug about her shoulders, the fur edging tickling her chin.

  Wheeling his horse around to the steps, Bruin reined the animal in, jumping down in one easy movement to land on the snow-slicked cobbles. He handed the torch to a stable lad who came running up. Rolling her shoulders forward, Eva stretched out the tense muscles in her neck, pert nose wrinkling slightly. How on earth was she going to climb down from this enormous horse without landing in a heap at Katherine’s feet?

  Katherine turned to Bruin. The hanging pearls in her silver circlet bobbed with the movement, gleaming faintly. ‘Thank you, my lord, for bringing Eva back. Your men are all inside.’ Her breath hazed the air. She tilted her head to indicate the lighted doorway behind her. ‘Please, give your horse to the stable lad. Go and help yourself to some food.’

  Bruin inclined his head graciously. ‘I thank you, my lady. But—’ his eyes flicked up to Eva ‘—your nursemaid has hurt her leg. Is there somewhere I could carry her?’

  Lord, no! ‘I can walk now, thank you,’ Eva interrupted briskly. She had no wish to be beholden to this man any longer than was possible. His powerful presence made her feel vulnerable, weak, traits that she had striven long and hard to erase from her character. She had already said too much to him. Gripping the horse’s mane, she slithered down haphazardly, Bruin’s cloak clutched to her middle, unwieldy folds gathering heavily around her, the hem falling to the cobbles. She landed with a thump, gasping, eyes watering at the pain radiating up her leg. She willed herself to remain upright, steady, beneath Bruin’s glittering gaze. Tipped her chin in the air, proud, resolute.

  ‘What did you do?’ Katherine was at her side, holding her arm. Eva flicked her gaze towards Bruin, annoyed by his continued presence, not wanting to talk in front of him.

  Interpreting her hostile expression, Bruin smiled, lifting his eyebrows in faint mockery at Eva’s obvious rebuff. He passed his reins to the stable boy. ‘I see I am dismissed.’ He nodded brusquely towards Lady Katherine, ignoring Eva. ‘Call me if you need any help.’ Climbing the wooden steps two at a time, he disappeared beneath the ornately tiled archway.

  ‘Oh, God!’ Eva pressed her palm to her forehead. As the stable lad led Bruin’s horse away, she was forced to release her hold on the horse’s mane; wobbling slightly, she hopped over to the handrail of the steps, clutching at the polished wood. ‘What a nightmare! That man is hell on earth!’

  ‘But handsome, if truth be told,’ Katherine said, following Bruin’s commanding figure as he vanished into the great hall. ‘Why did you run away? What on earth possessed you?’ Her breath billowed out like a cloud into the snow-filled air.

  Eva swept the loose end of her linen wimple back over her shoulder. ‘That man—’ she jabbed a pointing finger towards the doorway ‘—that man looks exactly like that thug who abducted me. Lord Steffen. I wasn’t thinking straight; I saw that hair, those eyes, and I thought, my God, he’s come back to fetch me, to finish what he started.’ Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. ‘Remember, Katherine, I escaped before Lord Steffen discovered the full extent of my inheritance; I suspect by now he’s worked out what I hid from him. The man’s so greedy; he’ll want the rest.’

  ‘He wouldn’t come back for you; it’s been too long.’ Katherine’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘He’s too busy stealing the riches of other unfortunate heiresses.’

  ‘But I was the only one to escape from him,’ Eva replied. ‘He’s the sort of man who would never forget a slight. He will claim revenge for something like that.’ Shivering, she shifted her feet from side to side, wincing at her throbbing leg.

  ‘I think you need to stop worrying,’ Katherine said. ‘Let’s go inside. Martha can look at your injury.’

  ‘Have you found out why those knights are here?’

  ‘No, I was so concerned about you, I hadn’t the wit to ask. The old knight has asked for bed and board, for one night. I assume they plan to travel further into Wales.’

  Eva’s eyes narrowed to a sapphire glint. ‘I don’t like it; they wear the King’s colours and yet they are bothering with the likes of us. Why?’

  Katherine shivered. ‘Do you think my uncle has plans for me?’ She glanced up at the front of the castle, at the warm glow of light spilling out from the open door, and chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. ‘I should hate it—’ her breath caught ‘—if we were taken away from this place.’

  ‘Just be careful what you say in front of them. At least until we know why they are here. Despite our lack of menfolk, they will regard us as rebels to the Crown.’

  A sift of vulnerability crossed Katherine’s face. ‘I hope you are wrong, Eva.’ She shook her head decisively, as if dismissing the unwelcome thoughts. ‘Now, can you manage, or shall I fetch someone?’

  Eva pursed her lips together, staggering awkwardly to the steps. Snow whirled around her, driven into the sheltered bailey on a sharp little breeze. Bruin’s cloak dragged on the cobbles, hampering her movement. She swung the wool from her shoulders, dumping the cloak into Katherine’s arms. ‘Here, have this; I can’t move at all!’ Placing her uninjured leg on the bottom step, gripping the rail, Eva pulled herself up with grim determination, slowly, one step at a time.

  ‘Eva, this is impossible! This will take all night. Let me fetch someone to carry you.’

  ‘No! You go ahead, Katherine. It won’t take long,’ she replied stubbornly. She could not allow herself to be carried into the great hall, in full view of everyone, in full view of Lord Bruin’s mocking gaze! Sweat gathered along her hairline with the effort of hauling herself up. Katherine remained alongside her, matching Eva’s pace until they finally climbed the one shallow step into the great hall.

  The raftered chamber was full of people, eating, talking and laughing. Fresh straw covered the flagstone floor; dogs trotted up and down between the trestle tables, scavenging for scraps of food, the occasional bone flung in their direction. A huge fire roared beneath the thick limestone lintel of the fireplace, situated halfway along one white-plastered wall. Giant, ornate tapestries decorate
d the plain plaster, each one a riot of coloured thread, depicting scenes of hunting, or great battles. Katherine’s family crest, the golden falcon of the Montagues, was everywhere: in the ornate bosses set into the curving ends of the rafters, above the windows, embroidered extravagantly across the door curtains, gold thread against blue velvet.

  Katherine’s hand on her elbow, Eva slumped on to the nearest bench, the peasants alongside nodding briefly at her without ceasing to shove food into their mouths. Their eyes paused momentarily on her wan face, gazes shifting away immediately. A nursemaid was of no interest; she was one of them, a servant of the Montagu family. Peering across the rows of bobbing heads, the faces flushed with mead, Eva checked the knights seated at the top table at the other end of the hall, making sure that he, Bruin, was as far away as possible. Sitting next to the older knight, his gold-red hair shone out like a beacon. He was laughing at something, tipping his head back. The sinews in his neck wrapped powerfully around the shadowed hollow of his throat, up into his bristly beard. An extraordinary sensation unfurled in her belly, a flickering pang of longing. She couldn’t explain it.

  ‘You’d better go up there, Katherine. Leave me now, otherwise it will look strange that you fuss over me so much.’

  ‘If you’re sure…?’ Katherine hesitated, bundling Bruin’s cloak against her middle. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch Martha; she can help you to your chamber.’

  ‘I’ll eat first,’ Eva said. ‘Please, don’t fuss. Just go. And try to find out why those men are here.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gilbert watched Katherine’s stately figure move through the great hall. Her progress across the uneven stone floor was slow, as she stopped to engage in conversation along the way: she chatted with the peasants who worked in the fields, the soldiers who kept the castle safe from intruders. She smiled and listened with attention, dropping her head considerately if an older person spoke too quietly, the gemstones on her long fingers flashing in the candlelight as she reached out to touch a shoulder or cup an elbow, before moving on.