Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

  “And at night,” Rodney continued darkly. “’Tis worse at night, for they cannot bear to go and piss alone. Nay, they must awaken a man, for he must hold the light if they are within a keep, or he must find a suitable place if they are in the wilds. A man cannot even sleep through the night without a woman needing to piss—and no sooner does he finish his duty and return to slumber, then she has need of his services again. Such a load of fuss ’tis over a deed which should be no bother at all!”

  The rush and gurgle of the water grew louder, increasing Jacqueline’s discomfort with every passing moment. They halted when it echoed loudly, the sound of the horses drinking from the stream carrying to her ears. Jacqueline could imagine the water swirling around the horses’ hooves and she fidgeted. The knight tightened his grip upon her, apparently thinking that she was trying to escape him.

  She wriggled, her need increasing by the moment, and heard the knight catch his breath. His fingers spread out, his gloved hand spanning her belly as he urged her buttocks back against a part of him that had not been there before.

  Jacqueline froze, knowing with sudden clarity what she felt, her earthy urge forgotten. She had not been raised on a farm without seeing what was what. The imprint of his erection told her more than she truly wished to know of his plan for her.

  He was indeed like Reynaud. The knight’s fingers moved in a languorous circle, burning a trail of heat through her kirtle. Jacqueline’s heart began to pound.

  He lied about seizing her to serve his pleasure.

  He had already stolen one kiss, after all. Jacqueline could guess what he would demand of her this night. God in heaven, but she had to escape!

  “And another thing—” Rodney began, but Jacqueline interrupted him sharply.

  “I have to piss!”

  Chapter 3

  Jacqueline used Rodney’s language, though it sounded coarse on her tongue, the knight’s touch feeding her urgency. “I have to piss now!”

  “You see?” Rodney crowed. “They are all the same. Now, Angus, you who have insisted upon keeping this wench can find her a spot to her liking.” He laughed, obviously enjoying that his own prediction was coming true. “And we shall see how long you wish to keep her after that.”

  “You shall have to wait for a moment or two,” the knight said tersely. Jacqueline heard the stallion cross the stream, leaving the garrulous Rodney behind. Angus dismounted and her back was suddenly cold without his strength there. He rummaged through something as she sat alone and she assumed he tethered the great beast.

  Mostly she worried about sitting so still and straight that she could not lose her balance and fall. ’Twas difficult to do with the blindfold, and she realized how much she depended on her vision. That only reminded her that she would not be able to flee while she was bound and blindfolded.

  Somehow she had to persuade him to set her free. Jacqueline started when Angus slipped her shoe upon her bound foot, then nearly smiled that he ensured her foot was shod. ’Twould be easier to run through the woods with her shoes.

  She jumped when his hands closed around her waist. He could take her now, and there would be naught she could do to defend herself. Who would aid her in this wilderness? Not Rodney.

  Indeed, he might take his turn.

  Jacqueline clenched her teeth in terror. The knight lifted her down, and she did not know whether ’twas by accident or design that her breasts fairly slid down the length of him.

  “I thought you had another urge,” he murmured under his breath.

  ’Twas precisely the wrong comment he might have made.

  Jacqueline felt her cheeks burn, then knew she paled in fear. “Never!”

  That only made him chuckle, and a more ominous sound could not have been. He urged her forward but she could only shuffle, between the restriction of her bound knees and injured ankle. Jacqueline forced them both to a halt.

  “This is nonsense,” she said with all the indignation she could muster. “I cannot relieve myself this way. How shall I see to keep my garments from being soiled?”

  Angus hesitated for a moment, then pushed her blindfold over her head. Jacqueline winced at the brightness of the light, then looked up at the man watching her so carefully. Distrust shone in his gaze, but she did not care. She dared not show her fear.

  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 if 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 farther one looked into the woods, and the shadows were deep. Jacqueline realized that she would not have to get far to disappear from Angus’s view.

  She managed to stay ahead of him 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 in 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 assessed 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.

  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 if 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 wat
ch 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 stepfather 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 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.

  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. 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, and fell into the pool with a splash. Jacqueline was already running in the opposite direction. 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. She 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 leaped 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. 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.

  She disliked her disadvantage and hated him for putting her at it. She wished she were safely at Inveresbeinn by now! She wished she were 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. 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 in
grained 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. 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 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 leaped after her when she clearly injured her ankle anew. He was surprised at her determination, 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 he. 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?”