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

  ‘I can try,’ she replied.

  Dropping her cloak to the ground, Eva tucked her foot into the cup of his hands, bracing herself on his shoulders. He hoisted her light frame easily and she pushed her arms through the window to grip the ledge on the outside. The cold air numbed her fingers as she wiggled her body up and through, the fine embroidery on her gown rasping on the coarse stone. Palms balanced on the soles of her slippers, Bruin hoisted her up until his arms were at full stretch, then he released her.

  ‘Hold on!’ he said suddenly, snagging one of her swinging ankles, fine-boned beneath silk stockings. He worried he might crush her ankle bone beneath his grip. ‘Eva, can you see how far the drop is to the ground out there?’

  Sides squeezed by the opening, she peered down into a thicket of shrubs and brambles, only a few feet away: the height of a man. Trees clustered alongside the shrubs, close enough for her to grab hold. The temperature had dropped below freezing, too cold for snow; everything was covered with a thick, hard layer of glittering ice. Beyond the shrubs, a forest of deciduous trees stretched back into the distance. An eerie light, watery, slowly dissipated as the sun rose, flickering through the bare branches The winter forest turned into a mass of delicate sparkles.

  ‘Not far.’ She turned her head, keeping her voice low. This back wall of the stables formed part of the bigger curtain wall circling the castle, but the trees on this side had been allowed to grow too close to the wall: a weak point in its structure. She could slither down, right now, and run, run away from all this, from Bruin and her night of shame, leaving him locked in the barn to await his brother’s return. She closed her eyes, the long-held tears finally falling, streaming down her cheeks, dropping through the icy air, crystal droplets. No. She couldn’t leave him.

  ‘Eva, can you hear me?’ His voice was muffled.

  ‘Yes,’ she managed to reply. ‘I can jump down easily and I’ll come around.’

  ‘Be careful,’ she heard him say.

  She looped her arm around a branch and swung out from the window. Lichen smeared a green stain on her sleeve. The chill air flowed beneath her skirts, piercing the fine wool of her stockings. Teeth chattering, she plunged into the thicket of brambles, ice bouncing up around her, thorns scratching her legs and arms, tearing at her gown. Her gaze darting this way and that, she checked to see if anyone was around on the ramparts behind her, in the forest. The place was deserted.

  Silently, she extricated herself from the brambles, lifting the whippy, snagging tendrils up and away with careful fingers, intending to walk along the curtain wall until she found an opening. Her boots crunched over the frozen earth as she followed the mossy stones, flecked with ice crystals. An undulating path, fairly well-trodden, mirrored the line of the wall. With a sinking heart, she realised that the only way back into the castle was through the gatehouse itself, where Steffen would have guards posted. Rounding a corner, the stone structure rose before her and she stumbled on a protruding stone, her step hesitant, wondering what she could do.

  Eva stopped. Inside the gatehouse, someone was shouting. A male voice, harsh and booming, coupled with the clash of swords. Then, amidst a cacophony of warning shouts, Bruin sprang out from beneath the archway on his horse, no saddle or bridle, his reddish-gold hair like a flame against the drab stone. Chainmail glinting, his brawny thighs urged the animal forward, flicking a flaxen rope around the horse’s neck, controlling the animal. He spotted Eva immediately, crouching in the shadows next to the wall. He waved his arm in a wide arc, grinning triumphantly, indicating that she climb up to the path that led down from the gatehouse.

  Heart flaring with relief, Eva scrambled up the slope, frost lacing her skirts. As her toe hit the rubble of the track, Bruin came towards her, the horse at a fast trot, mane flaring out like a sun ray. Leaning low in the saddle, he braced his arm around her waist and swept her up before him in a flurry of skirts, wedging her back against his stomach. Secure. Safe. As her back thumped hard against his chest, an arrow whistled through the air towards them, bouncing off the iron-hard ground. Breathless, smiling, she shifted around, inhaling the musky scent of him, catching at the collar of his surcoat for balance, questions tumbling from her mouth.

  ‘Later,’ Bruin said. ‘Let’s get out of here first.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Racing through the frost-spangled trees, Bruin urged his horse on, the pace relentless, his arm braced like a vice across Eva’s stomach. Despite their speed, the lack of a saddle, a sense of security stole over her; she knew, instinctively, that he would not let her fall. He controlled his horse with expert precision: a twitch on the makeshift rope bridle, a nudge of his knees; man and animal working together. Errant flakes of snow, floating through the air, whispered against her cheeks, dabs of cold. Around them, everything was white: the rolling fields, stone walls, hedgerows, all covered in a hazy coating of frost. Icicles, blasted by the wind during the night, hung from branches in weird, contorted shapes. As the sun rose, the sky lightened to a translucent blue, grey-streaked, and the sound of creaking ice permeated the woodland.

  Pulling gently on the rope around the horse’s neck, Bruin slowed the animal to a walk. The solid muscles in his chest flexed against her spine, sturdy and comforting. ‘Let’s walk for a bit,’ he said, his breath stirring the top of her veil. ‘I think we’re far away enough now.’

  Her fingers pleated the coarse hairs of the horse’s mane. Her hands were freezing, her gloves left on the table at Deorham. She should tell Bruin there was no need to run, or to hide; Steffen wasn’t even at the castle. But that would reveal how she had traded the ruby in order to see him, to be with him. Humiliation chafed her innards. ‘How did you escape?’ she asked instead. ‘It was only after I had jumped that I realised the only way back into the castle was through the gatehouse. I wasn’t sure what to do.’

  ‘I realised it, too.’ Bruin laughed, a confident sound ringing around the silent, serried trees. Trunks ridged and calloused like old man’s skin. ‘But luckily for me that poor unfortunate manservant arrived with food to break our fasts, and I was ready for him.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Knocked him over the head with my sword hilt, then bolted him in. My horse was in the stables below, so I untied the rope and made for the gatehouse.’

  ‘With no saddle and no bridle,’ she murmured with admiration. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  His laughter rumbled against her back. ‘That’s because it was, Eva. The guards on the gate were half-asleep anyway.’ Lifting his arm, he pushed back a low, overhanging branch so they could ride beneath it. ‘I’m surprised you waited for me, though. This was your chance, Eva. You could have run away and had your freedom from both me and my brother.’

  She twisted her head around, appalled that he should think such a thing. ‘The idea never crossed my mind!’ Blue fire shone in her eyes, ferocious, flecked with outrage.

  ‘Why not?’ He lifted his shaggy eyebrows. ‘After everything that has happened, Eva? After what I did?’ His reference to their night together was obvious, blunt, and she blushed, eyelashes dipping fractionally towards her red cheeks.

  ‘Because I’m not the sort of person to leave you locked up.’ A loose thread, silken and fragile, poked up from the neck seam of his surcoat; she concentrated hard on it, avoiding his gaze. ‘And I don’t go back on my word.’

  The granite of his eyes lightened to iridescent silver, streaked with blue. ‘But I, of all people, don’t deserve your loyalty, Eva,’ he murmured, the cleft above his top lip deepening, as if some invisible person pressed their thumb into the space, shadowing his skin. ‘Why did you not run?’

  Stupidity, hot and breathless, swept over her; he made her feel foolish for not taking the chance. Had she made the biggest mistake of her life? In the glorious aftermath of their lovemaking, that effervescent bubble of limitless time, her mind had
flirted with the thought of a life with Bruin. An insane, madcap dream, a chimera. She knew that now. Of course, he was desperate to be rid of her and was astounded, probably annoyed that she hadn’t taken herself away. It was time for her to leave him, before her heart withered away with sadness.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she replied, her words miserable, flat. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  The odd, off-key note of her voice jarred through him. Bruin peered down at her. Her head was tilted regally, stony gaze fixed straight ahead. A breeze sifted between them, blowing her flimsy veil to one side, exposing the downy skin of her neck, the lustrous coil of hair. Alternate threads of blue and green wool made up the warp and weft of her over-gown. Gilt embroidery embellished her collar: a neat chain stitch, worked by an expert hand, intricate lines and whorls.

  His heart lurched. His upper arms grazed her slim shoulders. He remembered the goose-down perfection of her skin sprawled against him. So fragile. And yet her physical appearance belied an inner strength that surpassed the courage of even the very best of his men. He was glad she hadn’t disappeared. That she had stayed. His blood had soared with unexpected joy when he had spotted her as he rode out from the gatehouse, pursued by angry shouts. He was in no doubt now that she would have worked out some way to free him, if he hadn’t managed to extricate himself. But why would she do such a thing—for him? A glimmer of hope laced his heart.

  * * *

  It was market day in Ranscombe, a sprawling, untidy village lying to the north of the forest. Laden carts, glossy rumped horses, ponies with heavy packs tied to their backs; all jostled for space in the central square. Stalls lined the cobbled area; people crowded into the middle, muffled up against the cold in heavy fur cloaks, woollen felt hats. Merchants shouted out their wares, each trying to raise their voice above that of their neighbour, vying for trade. Dogs sniffed at leather-bound legs, lurking around for scraps, then scooted off suddenly, shouted away by some indignant trader, some dogs so thin that the outline of their ribs poked through their coarse-haired pelts.

  ‘We can stop here and find something to eat,’ Bruin announced, as he steered the horse towards a wooden rail. His chest grazed Eva’s back as he dismounted and secured the horse’s rope with a loose knot around the rail. He clasped Eva’s waist, sweeping her down from the horse’s back.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ he said, as soon as her feet were steady on the ground. His silver eyes narrowed, gimlet-sharp, shrewd. Was she reflecting on her robbed innocence? A knife of guilt twisted in his gut; he cleared his throat. ‘Are you thinking about—?’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ She thrust her chin up, cheeks flaring red. She knew what he had been about to say; she had no wish to listen to his apologies, his regrets. A huge lump lodged in her throat. Her chest fluttered, dangerously. Don’t, don’t cry, she told herself firmly. She drew her spine up straight, his large frame shadowing her from the bright noon sun, and cleared her throat. ‘Bruin—’ she said, her speech emerging awkwardly. She smoothed her veil against one shoulder, fingers fretting the material, patting nervously. ‘The thing is—I think it would be best for both of us if you leave me here now.’

  ‘Leave you—?’ Horror creased his lean features. Of course, she couldn’t wait to get away from him after last night. After what he had done.

  ‘Yes, Bruin. Leave me here. You need to go back to your own life—with the King, I suppose…’ she waved her hand in the air distractedly, as if indicating the spot where she believed the King to be ‘…and I—I need to find Katherine, make sure she’s settled into her new life.’ Yes, yes, that was what she should do; the idea came to her in a moment: find Katherine, for her friend would help her as she had helped in the past.

  A man pushed past them, carrying a large, flat board of currant buns, fragrant, just cooked, followed by a drift of steam. His scrawny shoulder knocked against Eva, making her stagger. Bruin scowled darkly at the man, catching at Eva’s wrist to balance her. His brain scrambled to understand her words. Surely she needed to stay with him for longer? His thumb played along the cuff of her gown, rubbing unconsciously against the raised embroidery, slipping over the silken flesh of her wrist. Her pulse throbbed beneath his touch. Hopelessness, a sense of desolation, swept over him; he didn’t want her to go. His mind searched for reasons to keep her with him, all the time studying her tight-lipped expression, her hunched shoulders. Guilt scoured his chest; he had done this to her; no doubt it would be better for both of them if they parted ways. But he couldn’t let her go. Not just yet.

  ‘You can’t be on your own, Eva.’

  His hand lingered on her wrist. She scarce heard his words. Eyes blurring, she stared as if mesmerised, his strong tanned fingers stroking her white skin, the trace of blue veins. Her belly fluttered, sensation coiling, remembering. His hands on her naked body, rough and questing, no boundaries. Her resistance began to fray, a fragile rope stretched taut, weakening. She shook her head so forcibly that her tears flew out, darting spangles. ‘Don’t,’ she breathed. ‘Please don’t.’

  He snatched his hand away. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, mouth settling into a grim line. She must resent even the smallest touch after what had happened. Entranced by the sleekness of her wrist, he hadn’t been thinking. ‘Eva, it’s not safe for me to leave you on your own. Steffen will still come after you. You know that.’

  She lowered her head. Her boots poked out from her skirts, muddy, stained with dew. ‘No, he won’t.’ Her voice was quiet, threaded with sadness.

  ‘But Steffen wants to know where your ruby is.’ He clung to the excuse like a lifeline, a rope that linked them together; this had to be the reason why she must stay at his side. He would protect her from his brother; he owed her that, at the very least.

  ‘He already knows.’

  His breath seizing, he recoiled as if she had stabbed him in the chest, his mind tacking back to the evening before, the meal with his brother. ‘What happened after Steffen hit me over the head, Eva?’ A ruddy colour rose in his cheeks. His eyes darkened, forbidding, unsteady. ‘What did he do to you?’ Sweet Jesu, why had he not thought to ask her earlier when she had come to him in the stables? But earlier had never happened, had it? He had fallen on her like an eager puppy, never giving her the chance to speak, or explain. ‘What happened?’ A searing wretchedness ripped through him.

  ‘Nothing happened, Bruin. Your head was bleeding so much, and I wanted—’ Eva’s voice drifted off, unsure how to explain her need to care for him, without revealing her true feelings.

  ‘You wanted—? What did you want, Eva?’ he rapped out sternly.

  ‘To tend your wound,’ she whispered tremulously. Tears brimmed against her eyelids. ‘Stop shouting, Bruin, please…’ Her voice wobbled.

  Guilt flooded his stern expression. Contrite, he cupped her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was muted. ‘So the only way Steffen would let you come to me was if you told him the whereabouts of the ruby!’ Had she truly done this? For him? He could scarce believe it. ‘You traded the only thing you had left in the world for me,’ he acknowledged quietly. A dancing lightness wheeled around his heart. A bubbling effervescence, gaining momentum.

  She nodded, hanging her head, waiting for roar of his anger, his condemnation. He would tell her how stupid she was, what a fool she had been to give away the last drop of her security and waste it on him. Only it hadn’t been a waste. Not for her, anyway.

  To her surprise, he seized her chin, tilting her tear-streaked face upwards, compelling her to meet his eyes. ‘You did that for me,’ he murmured, amazement colouring his low tone.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied simply. Her breath puffed out, white smoke in the chill air.

  ‘But why?’

  Because I love you. The words ricocheted against her heart, unspoken. ‘I couldn’t leave you like that, Bruin,’ she said instead, trying to imbue her tone with a sense of brusque practic
ality. ‘No one would have. You were injured.’ She clasped her hands together, flicking nervously at her thumbnail with her index finger.

  ‘I would have been all right.’

  ‘I didn’t know that then. Anyway, I knew I would feel safer with you than in a bedchamber with Lord Steffen lurking about.’

  ‘Did you?’ His tone was husky, eyes alight with scintillating flecks, darts of molten silver.

  The tip of his thumb grazed the bottom curve of her lip. In her mind’s eye, she watched their bodies rolling naked in the hay, the hushed whispers of their fevered breath. The muscles in her chest contracted, her brain sweeping hot with the memory of their desire. She closed her eyes. This would not do, this thinning of her self-imposed resolve.

  She turned her head, trying to wash her mind of its sensual thoughts; his hand fell away. ‘Steffen is not a threat to me any more. He has everything he wants now. You can let me go.’

  No! I don’t want to let you go.

  The words banged in his brain, insistent, clamouring. He thought quickly, eyes like iron flints, charged with liquid light. ‘But Steffen has stolen something that was not his to take. Are you going to allow him to do that?’

  ‘I have to. This way I am free of him, free of the worry that he will always try to come after me.’ She laid a hand on Bruin’s chainmail-covered forearm. The links lay flat, chill beneath her skin. ‘Do you understand that?’

  ‘Aye, I do,’ he replied. He folded his arms across his surcoat, expression openly challenging. The pallid morning light fired the short bristles on his jaw. ‘But I still think you need to take back what is rightfully yours. Where has the woman gone who fought me in the forest just a few days ago? The woman who battered my chest with her fists? Who called me a thug, a barbarian; who wouldn’t even deign to ride the same horse as me? My brother is in the wrong and if anyone can fight to win back what belongs to them, then it’s you, Eva.’