Borderland Bride

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BORDERLAND BRIDE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright © Samantha Holt, 2013

Cover Art ® 2012 by VALERIE TIBBS

BIN# JGPI2003011-SH1

Electronic Publication Date:  March 2013

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Borderland Bride

Samantha Holt

Chapter One

Northumbria, England 1368

Inhaling deeply, Jake clutched at the reins of his mount, slowly releasing his grip as the forest stilled around him.
Alone
.

The scratching of the scruffy hound interrupted the quiet, and Jake studied it with a wry smile. He’d be lucky to catch a rabbit, let alone a boar, with this flea-bitten mutt. The hound ceased his scratching and froze, his ears perking up. Jakes hands tensed on the reins once more, his muscles bunching as his pulse beat beneath his skin.

A howl breached the silence and the hound darted off through the undergrowth. Jake kicked at his mount. Hell, the mutt was quick. He could just pick out the sounds of scuffles and grunts under the heavy pounding of hooves. He grinned. Mayhap he would catch a boar after all.

The hound stopped unexpectedly, grinding to a halt in the dirt. His mount reared as they came upon a wall of bodies in the clearing. Jake looked at them in distaste. They were coarsely dressed and in need of a bath. The stench of them pervaded the fresh forest air

The men turned, one by one, and he noted the sweat upon their brows and their heavy gulps. Were they hunting too? Whatever they were kicking at, they knew well enough they should not have been.

He glared at them. “You are poaching on Lord Dominic’s land.”

They jumped simultaneously as his voice echoed through the silence, and scattered in all directions. Jake cursed. Damn peasants knew his brother forbid hunting on his land.

Jake grabbed at the reins, making to give chase when a flash of colour in the undergrowth caught his eye, a pale blue in amongst the fusion of greens. He jumped down and stepped gingerly over to where the peasants had stood. The blue fabric of a woman’s gown winked up at him. A swathe of auburn hair covered her face, the tumbling curls tangled around her. Gold strands glinted under the sunlight that crept through the trees and he gulped.

She lay unmoving, hands splayed on either side of her head. Jake’s stomach churned. If the peasants had found her like this it was likely they meant to relieve her of any possessions.

He knelt down beside her, noting the expensive fabric of her gown and delicate hands. Aye, her soft skin gave her away as a noble lady and it was likely any jewels she had were long gone. But what was she doing out here alone?

Carefully, he pulled aside her tresses. His heart gave jolt at the sight. She had taken a beating, one side of her face swollen and puffy. Great purpling welts circled her neck, fingerprints clearly visible. He cursed again. Had he just come across some murderous outlaws rather than the harmless peasants he had thought them to be? Anger boiled inside of him. If he had but given chase, he could have brought at least one of them to justice.

God’s blood, he dare not imagine what her last moments must have been like.

His throat tightened. What to do with her? He could not just leave her to rot in the woods. Jake studied her face once more with a sigh. A shame so fine a beauty should meet such an end. Even with the swelling in her face, it was clear she had been blessed with striking looks. Her unmarred cheek offered up smooth and creamy skin, and her dark lashes stood out in stark contrast. A slight scattering of freckles marched across her nose, just visible under the dried blood. Jake smiled sadly. He never understood why most women hated freckles. He thought them wonderfully enticing.

Brushing a finger across her cheek, Jake was surprised at the warmth of it. God’s teeth, if he had only come across her moments before he could have stopped such an atrocity. He pictured the men’s faces and swore he would avenge her. He
would
bring the outlaws to justice.

As he drew his hand away, an eyelid fluttered open. His heart leapt. Her other eye couldn’t open - it was too swollen to do so - but he could see the immediate panic in her expression. She struggled to turn onto her side to escape him, her injuries hampering her movements.

Fearing she would do herself further damage, he spoke soothingly to her. “Have no fear, lass. I’ll not harm you.”

Either her fear had consumed her or she didn’t understand him, because she continued to try to scrabble her way across the leaf-strewn ground, the dried foliage crunching as her hands clawed desperately at the soil.

Hastily, he wrapped his large hand around one arm, attempting to keep her still. She continued to struggle, in spite of her obvious pain, but her movements were limited and had little effect on his strong grip. Unsure of how to reassure her of his intentions, he grabbed at her other arm, trying to get her attention.

“Calm down, lass. I wish to help. You’ll do yourself an injury.”

She fell limp in his arms, not relaxing under his assurances, but seeming to tire of her exertions. The fear remained visibly etched on her face, but Jake took the opportunity to tuck an arm under her legs and the other under her neck so he could pull her into him. Jake thought she would scream, her mouth worked as if she meant to, but no sound came out.

He hauled her into his embrace, noting the blood that marred the side of her gown. Lord, she had suffered a thorough beating. His clenched his jaw, trying to control his anger lest the lass see it. Not that she could be much more afraid.

He held her for a few moments as her open eye clung to his face, awaiting whatever terror she expected him to release upon her. He attempted a reassuring smile but it had little effect. Ack, not surprising. Jake was not known for smiling.

The panic in her face subsided, though it still lingered behind her pale blue eyes. He continued to murmur reassurances to her, hoping the message would eventually seep into her fear stricken mind.

Exhaustion claimed her swiftly, her arms going limp, her eyelid growing heavy. She fought it, trying to keep her gaze fixed on him, a warning glint visible. His mouth twitched. Ack, she was a stubborn one. If she lived long enough, he suspected she would be a handful.

Clicking to his mount, he clambered to his feet, the auburn-haired maiden hanging lifelessly in his arms. The white destrier padded faithfully over and he tugged on the reins, gently pulling the steed to the ground so he could mount him easily with his delicate burden.

Jake directed the steed towards Thornewall, whistling to the hound, all the while praying the woman did not die in his arms. If he could keep her alive long enough, he could send for his brother’s physician once they reached Thornewall Castle. She could well have internal injuries and he could not risk aggravating them, so he forced himself to keep to a gentle trot, the dog nipping at his heels. At least they were but a few miles from his brother’s keep. As her soft body brushed against his chest, he clenched his jaw and willed the beautiful damsel to live.

~* * *~

They travelled rapidly across the rugged Northumbrian countryside, but the beauty of the jutting rocks and hills swathed with purple heather was lost on Isabel. Darkness and pain encompassed the whole of her world. She wished to block out her surroundings, to sink deeper into nothingness, but a tiny part of her mind insisted on fighting. She could feel her body jostling but she couldn’t comprehend the reason behind it.

Her side stabbed in pain with each inhalation and it seemed as if every part of her throbbed. However, the worst pain was in her ears. She was aware of a rushing sound - as if she stood next to a huge waterfall - and it produced the most agonising ache.

It took all Isabel’s willpower to prise one lid open. Fear drummed in her heart as she focused hazily on the large man that towered above her, his gaze intent on the horizon.

She became conscious of his arms wrapped carefully around her, holding her onto his lap, and Isabel recalled his face swimming in front of her, as she had lain prone on the forest floor. He had spoken to her, of what she knew not, for she had been unable to hear him through the rushing in her ears. At some point the realisation had pierced her terror, he was trying to help her.

Isabel latched her gaze onto the large man, the sight of him calling up the strength to work through the pain. From her vantage, she could not see his eyes, but the strong set of his jaw stood out, lending him a powerful but handsome appearance. He had a prominent nose and sun-kissed skin. Her open eye traced the cut of his chestnut brown hair, just long enough to brush at the collar of his hauberk. It was ruffled, as if he had just whipped off his helm, and if she were well enough, she suspected she would have fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

His eyes flicked down to hers, a look of concern etched into them. Did he expect her to die? The warmth of his eyes belied his strong appearance, the colour not far from the brown of his hair, and they served to steel her determination.

She would yet live.

In defiance to the men who had hurt her and in defiance to those who would try to harm her should they ever find her, she would yet live.