by Jackie Ivie
Nothing had worked. It wasn’t working now, either. Dallis licked her lips and sucked in on the lower one, tried to breathe shallowly to prevent the pinpricks of her nipples from straining against the fabric like they were, reminding her, plaguing her…tormenting her.
That’s when Payton’s eyes opened.
He looked across at her without one change in his breathing. Dallis’s eyes went wide as they met his. She could only pray it hadn’t been somewhere on her face before she could halt it…and then hope it was true!
He peeled back the sett that had shadowed his head, lifting it slightly from where he’d rested atop his arm, and then one eyebrow rose while the smallest smile quirked at his lips.
Dallis gasped and turned her head into the pallet at her cheek so swiftly, she scratched her nose on the weave. She stayed that way for long moments, breathing straw-smell through the material, while ripples ran over her back and shoulders as she sensed him, felt him coming to her. The impression that he was moving toward her grew into certainty. Her breathing quickened, the trembling got worse, and despite everything, she couldn’t get her body to cease reacting.
That was the most mortifying.
She knew he was nearing. There was a whisper of sound so soft, primed ears wouldn’t have heard it, and there was a tinkle from metallic objects. Then, another. Again. As if weaponry was swaying with Payton’s movement. He wouldn’t dare try to gain intimacy with her now! Not when they had so many about them—and not after claiming his hatred.
Besides, she wouldn’t let him. Would she?
Dallis hunched her shoulders, drew her knees slightly up, and struggled with the wellspring of want deep in her core that answered. This was horrid. Worrisome. Elicit. Exciting. Enticing….
She held her breath and heard nothing but the steady cadence of deep slumber, accompanied by grunts and snores. Nothing else.
Dallis tipped her head just slightly, moved her eyes to the corners so he wouldn’t spot the movement, and then knew it didn’t matter. Payton was back atop his arm, heavily asleep if the rise and fall of the sett covering him was any indication, and nothing about him looked primed to see to his wife’s discomfort. Except perhaps the small smile that graced his lips.
“’Tis easier for both of us if you’d unbend a bit, Wife.”
Dallis kept everything on her body stiff and unyielding, just as she had for what seemed hours now. Despite what discomfort it caused. She wasn’t enjoying one moment of being in his forced proximity, atop his horse, and bundled together with his blankets. She hoped her stiffness demonstrated it.
“’Tis easier for both of us…Dallis,” she replied.
He chuckled. That felt horrid when combined with the way his chest muscles jostled her head. Dallis straightened even more.
“Unbend a mite. I’ll na’ bite.”
“I’m na’ afraid even if you do,” she replied haughtily.
He grunted, which probably went for a reply and gave her silence again. It was just as well. They’d been traveling since before the sun set. After everyone but her had eaten a filling meal of roast venison since the clansman named Edwin had returned and awakened everyone with his hunting prowess. All of which the men must appreciate since they’d spent a massive amount of time clapping him about the shoulders and praising him. Loudly. That had made it impossible to get further rest, once she’d finally dropped to sleep.
Dallis was exhausted, mentally and physically and emotionally. And she was out-of-sorts. She was also queasy when she first awoke. Lady Evelyn could have told them that. It was his fault, too. She added that to her other ills and found a direct blame: Payton Dunn-Fadden. It was just as well that he hadn’t spoken a word to her beyond the order for her to get atop the horse without issue.
Until now.
“Well, I’m na’,” she repeated, as if looking for an argument.
“I’ve na’ made the claim of it,” he replied. “Here.”
He was holding something toward her beneath the blanket, or he was shifting for no reason other than to unseat her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Hard biscuit. You need something for sustenance.”
“I ate fully,” she lied, and then her belly rumbled in direct discord.
“I doona’ wish to force it, Wife. Take it. ’Twill do the bairn good.”
“I am na’ hungry.”
“Verra well. I’ll force it.”
He slapped it into her hand, surprising her with how he managed to do that, since it was beneath the blanket and he wasn’t looking anywhere near it. He seemed intent on where they were heading and all she got from a swift glance at his face was a view of a set jaw. He had her bundled with a length of plaid, while he was wrapped in his cloak, leaving only their heads and his one arm outside the blanketing. He needed that arm for the reins.
It was easy to see since the moon-imbued mist threading through the trees about them and across the moors wasn’t thick enough to swallow a partner atop a horse. It was thick enough to cover over the others, though, making it look and feel like they were alone. Dallis trembled and blamed it on the elements. It was colder than last eve, too, with the absence of snowfall. She set herself to munching on the roll he’d given her.
“You readied now?” he asked when she’d finished.
Dallis’s eyes widened. “For what?”
“You need your rest. Unbend. Sleep. I’ll hold you.”
“I already got my rest,” she argued, and then couldn’t stop the yawn that gave that lie away.
“I will have to do something about that lying tongue. I truly will. But for now could you please be a good lass, and rest?”
He took away her choice with the hard pressure of his free arm, the one beneath the blanket. She couldn’t fight such strength when used without warning and he knew it. That’s why he did it. Dallis slumped into the enclosure created against his belly, settled her head into the enclave beneath his throat, and almost kept the sigh of relief from sounding.
“I am…na’…tired.” She murmured the last of it against the center of his chest, right where his heart was thumping with a solid, steady rhythm.
“Fair enough,” he replied above her, and the flesh at her ear echoed it.
“I doona’ wish anything to do with you…Dunn-Fadden.” Her whisper was fading toward the end. That’s because he was cradling her in place, with his hand holding her head, and his arm against her back.
“Fair enough,” he agreed again.
“It’s true,” Dallis continued. “I’d rather be with any other man than…you.”
He snorted, ruffling her hair with the force of it. “The next thing you’ll be averring is that you doona’ lust after me, either,” he replied.
The moment he said it, she stiffened. Everywhere. It was in preparation for smacking at something and he must have known it. It was his fault she couldn’t move, since the arm at her back hardened to the consistency of iron, making a struggle worthless.
“I don’t lust after you,” she said through clenched teeth, which was the best she could manage.
“You should save it for when we reach Edinburgh. Or, at the verra least, Ballilol. That would be the fair move.”
“I doona’ lust after you,” she repeated.
He chuckled a sound that echoed through his chest, and the arm at her back loosened slightly.
“You denounce it without reason, Wife. I ken the look you give me. I just canna’ act on it. Na’ yet.”
“I doona’ lust after you!” She wasn’t clenching her teeth any longer.
His response was full amusement. The belly she leaned against rocked her with it.
“The lasses have been lusting after me since I arrived in Edinburgh and gained myself title of King’s Champion. Actually, I mis-speak. They’d been lusting after me a-fore that. Even a-fore our marriage. A-fore I’d even reached my manhood. I ken the look. I just told you. And you have it.”
“You are the most self-satisfied, arrogant, con
ceited, boorish, unchivalrous, maddening…!” She ran out of adjectives before she ran out of breath and resorted to finishing it with a scream of sound.
“Payton, we attempt silent progress through here,” one of the clansmen about them said.
Dallis’s gasp was lost against his chest. She was mortified. Out-of-sorts again. She didn’t need him to clamp her to him, either, since she shoved her own head against his chest with the embarrassment and stayed there.
“’Tis only Redmond,” he advised her, in a softer tone.
“I know,” she replied.
“You ken ’tis Redmond speaking?”
“Your men all have distinctive voices. His is easy.”
“He has little regard for the vagaries of the flesh. And a woman’s desires.”
“I am na’ interested,” Dallis informed him.
“And he sees a stalker behind every tree, a threat about every boulder, while an ambush awaits at every turn.”
“We are in Stalker’s Wood,” Redmond replied from somewhere beside them.
“And he eavesdrops,” Payton told her.
Dallis giggled.
“Stalker’s Wood.” Redmond continued. “’Tis known for hiding reavers and murderers and the like. We’ve little by way of force and weaponry.”
“I thought we were attempting silence,” Payton replied to the lesson.
There was a huff for an answer, and then came the heavy thudding sound of a body. Falling from a horse. And then a scream.
It wasn’t Dallis making the sound. Her throat wouldn’t open enough for it since the dark blobs of tree limbs looming from the fog seemed filled with even blacker blobs, and these turned into silent, claymore-wielding men.
Chaos filled the fog, alive with grunts and anguish. It was peopled with metal against metal, more thumping and the swish of material, including Payton as he tumbled from the back of the horse, leaving her shoulders and back open to the elements since he’d taken his cloak with him.
Dallis grabbed for the reins just as the horse reared, caught sight of Payton’s lunge from a crouch to a spinning maneuver that looked to take off an opponent’s head, and then the horse reared, nearly unseating her. Dallis split her legs and slid into the saddle, warmed from Payton, just as Orion’s hooves reached ground. Then he was racing, dodging trees that advanced without warning, while he appeared to be trying to unseat her from the way he chose the lowest limbs to pass beneath.
She had Orion halted before he could succeed, and made him stand, trembling and heaving for breath beneath her while she did the same. And then she knew her real jeopardy. If Payton and his men perished…where did that leave her? She didn’t even know where they were, except that it was known as “Stalker’s Wood.” What good would that do a lone female—without an escort and without a weapon?
Damn that Payton! None even knew she was missing. As far as the Kilchurning or the Dunn-Fadden laird knew, she was still in her tower. None would assist her or come looking for her. No one would even mount a rescue. Blast that man for calling her into an argument tonight—and damn her own tongue for doing this! Heartbeat sounds grew until they flooded everything else, making it impossible to hear what had happened…or was still happening.
This reaction wouldn’t do. And she’d been trained better. Fright-filled thinking and defeated attitude gained one naught save heartache and waste. What was it she’d been schooled to do? Dallis went over it wordlessly: Stay emotion. Gather knowledge. Assess belongings for use. Act as needed.
Dallis hugged the blanket closer about her and tried to modulate her breathing so she could get past the spooks and banshees that every fog was peopled with. To hear. That seemed the lone sense available for her use.
There was nothing making sound. Nothing to see. Nothing to sense. There wasn’t anything in the woods except Orion beneath her, a cold no amount of blanket diminished, and her own heartbeats, although they’d tempered to a hum just shy of a spinning wheel’s vibration.
She had no injuries. She had a strong horse, also uninjured. She had a blanket. She had freedom. She had her wits. She was just on the assessing part of her belongings when a shrill whistle split the night, carried easily on the fog. She shifted her head in the same direction Orion did, although it pulled on the reins. Dallis loosened them and let him go.
“God’s blood, but you have more sense than to bolt from a fight!”
Payton was angered, but he wasn’t speaking to her. He’d yanked the horse’s head level to his and was lecturing his steed. He and several others were congregated at a copse, defined by slanted limbs above their heads. They were breathing hard, covered with muck and blood, and they were adding to the opacity, since the heat of their bodies was making more mist.
“How many did we lose, Martin?” Payton lifted his head away to ask it.
“One.”
Dallis’s back clenched.
“Davey.”
She echoed Alan’s cry, although his turned to sobs that someone tried to comfort.
“Davey? God damn my hide.”
Payton carried a great amount of heartbreak in his voice, Dallis decided. It made her own heart twinge. He dropped the reins, although it was more like he flung them, and turned away.
“Injured?”
“Seth took a blow to the head. I doona’ ken how bad. He canna’ say.”
“Bronwyn will see to it. She lives?”
“Aye. And the spinster. Seth was guarding them. ’Twas why he took the head-blow.”
Payton grunted. “They paid?” he asked.
“Fully,” Redmond replied.
“What clan?” Payton barked it.
“None that can be seen. I counted eleven dead. Differing setts. Misfits. Driven from their own clans. The world is better without.”
Dallis decided that was probably Dugan with that information.
“’Twas fourteen.” That was Redmond again.
“Fourteen.”
Payton’s voice sounded disgusted, but to Dallis that couldn’t be. His band had just taken on fourteen men intent on murder and robbery and lost but one?
“They carried good weaponry, though.”
“Take it,” Payton ordered. “And get Davey.” He turned toward her. Dallis pulled back and didn’t even know why. “Davey Dunn-Fadden was my cousin. He worshipped me. Me. And now he’s gone. Every time I’m around you, I lose someone close to me. Your presence comes at a high cost, Wife. Still.”
“I lost more than thirty,” Dallis replied without one inflection.
He shrugged. “I care little what losses to the enemy. I care about my losses. Close losses. Come. The journey just got worse. And it dinna’ get shorter. Mount up, those that can. And someone stop Alan’s wailing.”
He plucked the reins from where they dangled, turned away from her, and he started walking.
“You’ll na’ ride?”
It wasn’t Dallis asking it, although it had barely penetrated her mind that he wasn’t even willing to sit a horse with her, so it could have been her with the question. It sounded like Dugan again.
Dallis was shivering. The question would have stammered if she’d asked it. It was frigid atop Orion without Payton’s bulk. Or, the reaction was settling in, taking her strength in consequence.
“Until I find a burn and cleanse the leavings from myself, I’ll na’ sully Orion’s coat. You ken as much.” He was leading the horse, fading as he did so.
“Payton?”
Dallis whispered it and wasn’t certain he’d heard. She couldn’t tell visually, since the length of the reins took him into the opacity and rendered him a vague upper body shape with no discernible lower legs.
“Aye?” he finally replied in such a soft voice it could have been a goblin as easily.
“I’m sorry about…Davey.” Her voice broke on the name.
“Save it for your maker.” He wasn’t whispering. Then he got louder. “And someone see to Alan’s wailing!”
Chapter 12
Payton
found a burn about midmorn, although it was more like the burn found him. Dallis was slumped forward into her blanket, willing the cold and misery away, when the crust of snow Payton was atop collapsed, sending him into the rushing freeze of an ice-water stream.
She’d never heard some of the words he filled the air with, although Lady Evelyn’s gasp from somewhere behind her was easy to hear and decipher about how shocking such language was. It didn’t stop Payton. He pulled himself out of the water and onto the snow, cursing all about him, including the daylight that had weakened the ice crust atop the ravine. She gaped as he started stripping, without one care or thought to any ladies present.
Dallis averted her eyes. Not so Lady Evelyn. That woman had a blush about her that was easy to spot in the daylight Payton was still using blasphemy on. Dallis watched her aunt watch Payton, and felt a momentary anger before letting it subside. He’d said he was lusted over. It must be true.
Lady Evelyn didn’t turn aside until Payton was covered over in a large hank of plaid that Redmond pulled from a pack and took to him. Dallis knew that from the glance she gave that direction before wishing that move undone. Payton was swathed in the sett, pulling it close which defined everything, he had it hooded atop his head, and he was directing the ire directly at her.
“Most souls await shelter a-fore bathing in an ice burn, My Laird. And a change of feile-breacan. As well as a fire.” Redmond said it in his usual unhurried fashion, but there was an urgency to the higher tone he used that had another of the men shouting orders.
“Quick! Get a fire started. We’ve peat in Davey—I mean Alan’s bags. And get the tent up!”
It was Martin directing them this time. Dallis watched as they got a windswept spot selected, since bare ground was better than snow-melt to sleep atop, pulled the tent from a bag, unfurled it, and had it erected before Alan got a firepit marked out and a spark going. Dallis had to help him. There wasn’t anyone else, and the lad looked awkward and untrained at it.