Ravished

by Keaton, Julia

  RAVISHED

  By

  Julia Keaton

  © copyright Julia Keaton

  Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright July 2012

  www.juliakeaton.com

  Dedication:

  To the loves in my life, Bryan, Bryce, and Bronte. I would be nothing without them, and they give me hope for a brighter tomorrow every day. I love you all.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  While I try to use terminology in a way that is readily understood, some terms when using modern sensibilities and word usage to identify them could make the Tudor slang and terminology more difficult to understand. Therefore, I’ve included a glossary of terms at the end of this book for clearer definition.

  Julia Keaton

  CHAPTER ONE

  The middle of nowhere (England/Scotland border) 1540

  “Unhand me you goatish, fly-bitten canker-blossom!”

  The outlandish words echoed over the countryside like the voice of god. Startled birds scrambled in flight with a rush of wings to escape it. The forest fell eerily silent at their passing, still as a tomb.

  The echo stunned Alexandra from her self-absorption, her dilemma briefly forgotten. Quiet roared in her ears. Frigid wind whipped her cape out like a sail, fallen leaves blowing like a vortex around her horse’s legs. She froze, listening for the broach of peace again, hope burgeoning in her chest. She’d thought herself utterly, completely alone, never to see another soul for all eternity.

  Oaks, birches, and other trees she had no name for boxed her in, leaves burnished in flame and gold. If she hadn’t been in such trouble, she would have thought it quite beautiful. The ground was relatively smooth underneath the tangling brush that obscured her passage--and which way she’d come. The forest was as thick and impenetrable as the king’s army. She knew this--had been roaming the land for an eternity, looking for a way out. If she hadn’t fallen asleep and her horse hadn’t had a mind of his own--

  A fearful cry filtered through the trees. She jumped in the saddle like she’d been goosed. Closer this time, its direction more distinct as she moved through the woods. From the West? She wondered. Shielding her eyes from the setting sun, she strained her senses in her search. The voice had to be coming from there. She thanked god for blessing the stranger with powerful lungs.

  Alex nudged her horse, Firedancer, forward, her decision made. Low limbs snapped like the crack of a whip with their passing, twigs and dried leaves crunching underfoot. The noise, deafening to her ears, made Alex cringe and grit her teeth in anxiety. Though she had no cause for quiet other than safety’s sake, she felt until she had assessed the situation that caution was best.

  Certes—she wanted no part of what was ahead.

  They had gone only a short distance when the trees began to thin. Broken stumps rotting in the ground were evidence of man’s progress. Alex could just make out the clearing of the road. She had been so close all this time.

  As she neared, the human presence became more discernible. Movement caught her attention, a flurry of color, but she dared not reveal herself.

  A woman shrieked suddenly like a cat thrown in water. Alex grimaced at the sound.

  “Oy! Giver over, luv!” a man yelled.

  Ah, so it was a lover’s quarrel. She shook her head in disgust. How a man could say such to a screaming shrew was beyond Alex’s grasp. And to think, she would soon subjugate herself to such games.... A heavy sigh escaped her. If only Grandfather hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now. She cleared her head of her woe, determined to face the here and now.

  ‘Twould be uncomfortable interrupting their tryst, but she need be on her way. Alex nudged Firedancer onward.

  “I say again, release my purse, brigand!”

  Alex halted, stunned. What ho! A thief? Heroics were completely out of her depth. She gazed longingly to where she knew the road to be, debating what to do.

  Why could the chit not just hand over her coin and let the man be?

  A second ticked by. Firedancer twitched in nervousness, mirroring her emotions. A bead of sweat crept down her neck, and she wiped at it with her shoulder.

  The girl obviously needed help, and there was no one else around ... Alex would charge the thief. Perhaps that would frighten him off. And if not ... well, she could keep going. She nodded in satisfaction. Aye, ‘twas a good plan.

  Withdrawing her rapier for effect, Alex dug her heels into her horse’s flanks before she could change her mind. Firedancer leapt into eager action, plunging through the short distance of forest. Low branches tore at her head and arms, filling her mouth with leaves. She spat and sputtered, clinging for dear life to the saddle, praying she wouldn’t be scraped off on one of the trunks. What insanity had possessed her to keep such a flighty animal?

  Firedancer vaulted into the air and over a bush like he’d sprouted wings. The gauntlet was clear—except for a man and woman standing stock still in the road.

  The girl was the only one to react, flinging herself from Alex’s path of doom. A strangled battle cry erupted from Alex’s throat.

  She swung mightily at the mammoth of a man, her victory imminent, missing him by an arm’s length as the blade sailed safely through the air and out of her grasp.

  Firedancer, a war-horse who never missed his chance for glory, ground to an immediate halt, slamming her into his head as he rear kicked the thief. Bright lights danced before her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to disperse them. She whirled around, horrified to see him crumpled in a heap.

  “What have you done?!” Alex whispered furiously at Firedancer, rubbing the knot welling upon her forehead, thinking frantically of the implication of murder. She jumped off and stumbled, then hobbled like an old woman to the man. Poking him cautiously with her toe, she was gratified to hear him moan in pain.

  “He still lives you foul-tempered horse.” Looking him over, she saw his head looked to be bumped mighty hard, and the girl had taken the hide off his bones with her claws, but he would live.

  Everything had worked out according to plan.

  The girl sobbed from across the road, drawing her attention, looking upon Alex with a woebegone expression. ‘Twas difficult for her to believe she’d stood up against such a giant of a man. Either the girl was lightminded or ... or ... well, the girl was lightminded. She could think of no reason why she would have done such a foolhardy thing.

  Shrugging, Alex withdrew a length of braided leather from a pouch at her waist. ‘Twill do the job well, she thought.

  Crouching low to the ground, her eyes watered at the unwashed smell of thug. Holding her breath, she put her shoulder against his back and pushed ... and pushed. Straining every muscle, forced to breathe the foul air, she finally managed to roll him onto his stomach. She stood, panting from her exertion. He hadn’t looked that heavy. She wrestled his beefy arms to his back and bound them together. Satisfied he could cause no more hurt for a time, she turned to leave.

  Somehow, the distraught girl had come skidding across the dirt into Alex’s ‘waiting’ arms.

  Between reverent, hurried kisses on Alex’s face and neck, she murmured, “I thank thee, kind Sir. You are my hero ... my Savior!”

  Sputtering, Alex pushed her away and held her at bay with one hand, frantically checking her mustache with the other. She sighed, relieved as she felt its comforting presence. The paste was hard put to stand up to such rigors.

  The girl began thoroughly covering her knuckles and palm with affection. Alex snatched her hand back like she’d taken a bite out and hugged it to her breast. “Madam! I pray thee, we must remember propriety above all else!”

  Subdued for a moment, the girl raised her worshipful gaze to Alex’s horrified one. It seemed she had somehow managed to make a conquest of the lady—using
the term loosely. Dusty black hair hung in straggled locks down to her waist. Her face was covered with grime and a few tear tracks, but cleaned up, she would be a lovely girl. She had the look of a cat to her—a wildcat—with her arched brows and amber eyes.

  Alex desperately needed to be away. She had enough complication in her life, she needed not one more.

  “W-what is your name, Madam?” She moved casually closer to her horse.

  The girl chuckled and smiled coyly—as though they were not standing in the middle of nowhere beside a trussed ruffian. “Forgive me, kind Sir. I do but forget my manners.” She curtsied deeply. “I am Constance Blackmore. My father is Lord Derwin.”

  Saints! She never would have imagined.... What sort of father let his child roam the countryside unescorted?

  Playing her part, Alex removed her plumed cap and made a sweeping bow. She thought it wise to forego kissing the maiden’s hand. “Lord Alex Montague at your service. Protector of the innocent, righter of injustice.” She rather liked the way that sounded, and it was well worth the prick of guilt she felt at her deception.

  Lady Constance twittered. Alex smiled nervously, eyeing her horse, wondering if she ought not to have encouraged the girl.

  “Perchance we shall meet again, milady. If it pleases you, I must be away. The hour grows late.”

  “It most certainly does not please me. I wouldst have you see me home to my father. He will be very worried.”

  “I cannot, forgive me.” She climbed onto her horse. “’Tis near full dark, and I must find shelter for the night.” She did not like the dark. There was too great a chance she’d injure herself--or rather, Firedancer would injure her.

  Constance clung to her leg. Alex resisted her first impulse to shake her off like an annoying pup.

  “You can stay at Derwin Hall.” She batted her lashes beguilingly. When Alex made no response, she said, “You cannot leave me here. What sort of gentleman are you?”

  “Saints! I cannot go traipsing about the country-side. I say thee, nay!”

  Constance pouted, sniffling a little, working into Alex’s guilty conscience. The girl couldn’t be that far from home, and taking her there would be the right thing to do. No. She shook her head. Her mind was made, she would not back down.

  Impatient with Alex’s silence, Constance said, “You will take me, or I shall ... I shall tell my father of your dastardly deeds, deceiver!”

  Her eyes widened. Mayhap she had misjudged the girl. “Deceiver? I would never—”

  “Protector of women are you? My father will—”

  “Nay, hush.” She sighed heavily. “What wouldst you have of me?” Alex asked softly, covering her eyes with one hand and resisting her strong desire to bolt. She could outrun the girl. It was possible she could escape with her hide intact.

  “’Tis plain as day. Take me to my father’s house. ‘Tis but a short ... distance. I am sure of it.”

  Guileless, beseeching eyes stared up at her. No doubt she’d ensnared many a hapless fool in her schemes. Alex groaned. Being a hero was no fun a’tall. She really hadn’t a heroic bone in her body. All she could think of was getting rid of the girl. She should be on her way. Time was of the essence, and here she sat, bickering like a child.

  Lady Constance touched Alex’s sleeve hesitantly. “My father will be very grateful to you,” she said, a tremulous note to her voice. Her wide, clear eyes filled with unshed tears—a ploy that doubtless had worked on many a man. But Alex was not a man and therefore not given to their weakness.

  * * * *

  “An it please you, my lady, cease and desist! I cannot keep my mind on our surroundings with your constant prattle.”

  Night shrouded them in its inky embrace, the light of the moon doing little to illuminate the gloom through the darkened wood. Firedancer jumped at every rustle of leaf, every night insect’s song, making her a wreck. Doubtless his nervousness was what had destined him to be her mount instead of some brave knight’s.

  She looked into the dusky woods, wondering when the days had grown so short. Winter was fast approaching, but Alex felt the heat of hell entwined about her waist.

  She knew it was her punishment for her deception—not that she believed she deserved it. Dire circumstances could force even the most steadfast to take drastic measures.

  “How testy you are. My father will likely hold great feasts in your honor. Where do you go in such a rush?”

  “The McPhersons,” Alex replied distractedly. Constance sucked her breath in sharply, unnoticed.

  Was that light ahead? Alex raised up in the saddle and peered intently into the dark.

  “You can’t mean to see them alone? They would roast you alive, pick their teeth with your bones! They are most hideous, odious--”

  “Spare me if it pleases you.” Constance’s words had finally snared Alex’s attention. She knew nothing of her mother’s family, and to hear Constance describing her cousins made her throat tighten uncomfortably. Would her only chance for salvation be merely the mists of a dream? “What have they done to earn such a vile reputation in your esteem?”

  “’Tis too numbered to count. Just this past fortnight they have stolen much cattle. They have brought terrible humiliation to my father for as long as I can remember. And their women.…” Alex felt her shudder against her back. “I’m afraid to even speak of them.”

  To hear her cousins badly maligned did not bear well with her. Did she truly want to find them and discover firsthand what Constance said was true? What possible reason would Constance have for lying? She could think of none, for the girl displayed no dubiousness of character. She paused, thinking. Unless her cause was to keep Alex at her house--an unwelcome thought she quickly pushed aside.

  Were her kin truly thieves? Surely if they were it was because need drove them to it, and she had enough riches they would never go hungry in twenty lifetimes. She felt a sudden onslaught of pity for her relations.

  Constance yelped excitedly. “There! ‘Tis Derwin Hall! Faster, I must tell my father of all the excitement we have had.”

  Obliging her reluctantly, she urged Firedancer into a canter—any faster and they risked injury from uneven road and potholes.

  The cavernous trees thinned and eventually petered out, spreading open into a wide clearing as far as she could see. No longer obscured by growth, the stars shown a clear path to a bridge leading across a stream, the babbling water rushing past cleared land to a copse of trees. Ahead, illuminated by moonlight, she could see a massive manor house, almost a castle with its fortifications, but it was clearly being modernized due to the recent building boom. They were a wealthy people, evidenced by the glass windows adorning the stone facade, which also told her something important ... they were at peace, for no lord would be so foolish as to build such a house in war ravaged country. But King Henry had been strengthening his borders, adding castles for his defense. The incongruity of this half-castle struck her as folly when war could break out at any time, especially so near the border of Scotland.

  Lights glowed in the night, drawing her eyes. Fires. Fires snaked about its base, giving her pause.

  “What are all those lights?” Constance asked with wonder.

  Men, at least a hundred, milled about the grounds, preparing for something.... Alex wondered at first if the castle had been besieged. Had she been wrong to think there was no war here? She slowed.

  As they neared the bridge, a hue and cry went up, followed by another and another. Alex stopped, still running distance from the bridge.

  “How long have you been away?” she asked accusingly.

  Constance was unnervingly silent behind her. She wanted to throttle the girl. “Well ... I believe ‘twas ... perhaps a day ... well, actually the night before and today as well.”

  Search parties. A hundred men bearing arms and torches. How long had they been searching? And why had this road not been checked?

  “I have seen you to your father’s house. ‘Tis far enow.”


  “Nay, I would be trampled if I walked now—see the men approach? ‘Twill be all well and good, my father shall wish to reward you for my safe return.”

  Just get off my horse! she thought frantically as men seemed to swarm around them, pushing them forward on the grounds. Someone helped Constance off the horse, and Alex was pulled unceremoniously down. A groomsman took her reins and Alex snatched them back only to have them taken again just as a bellow echoed over the crowd.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The torch-bearers merged in mass, surrounding them, their faces grim, silent, as though awaiting an execution. Constance chattered joyfully, ignorant of her own folly, or perhaps blatantly ignoring it. Alex heeded not her words, escape foremost in her thoughts.

  They’d abducted Firedancer. Without him, she had no hope of reaching her destination, no hope of success. So she waited. She knew not what would become of her, but a dread presentiment crawled into her mind and lay heavy on her breast. She did not wait long.

  The hum of Constance’s chatter ceased abruptly, and a prickle of unease danced across Alex’s spine. Sensing the change overcoming the crowd, she slowly turned, fearing the worst, and found herself faced with a wall of shining armor.

  Alex became aware of sounds she hadn’t heard before: the creak of leather buckles holding plate in place; men talking in awed, hushed tones; her own harsh breathing. She felt as though her mind had been clouded--but it had, and by her own foolishness.

  Flames twisted and flickered, reflecting off polished metal and shining into her eyes.

  Her eyes focused on the breastplate before her, steel etched by a master hand--whorls and vines twined into a crest held aloft by wolves. Inexplicably, she felt a thrill of excitement. She blinked and looked up, and up, her lower jaw remaining fixed level while the rest of her face turned skyward.

  A strong jaw came into view first, covered in faint, dark stubble, clenched in anger. She followed the line as she would with fingers, like a caress, up past his cleft chin to his full, grim set lips. She swept past his nose, broken at least once--a man who likely enjoyed battle. But when she reached his eyes ... she shuddered, her unnerving flights of fancy disappearing in an instant. Dark, perhaps deep sapphire, they pierced her with intense scrutiny, like a lance seeking and finding its target. She was looking into the most fascinating, forbidding face she’d ever clapped eyes on ... and his attention was fixed on her. Half limned in golden flame light, half in shadow, he looked as fierce as a pagan of ancient lore.