Read The Bride Hunt Online

Authors: Margo Maguire

The Bride Hunt (3 page)

BOOK: The Bride Hunt
6.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

The barbarian threw his head back and laughed, showing brown, rotted teeth. He released her so suddenly that she fell backward into the dirt. Ignoring the pain caused by the torn flesh at her wrists, she shot a pleading look in Roger’s direction; but he lay unconscious at the opposite end of the enclosure.

Anvrai had gone deadly still, and Isabel wondered if he’d done it intentionally to avoid notice.

Mayhap he was dead.

She felt her chin begin to quiver as tears welled in her eyes.
I will not weep
.

Blinking rapidly, she took a deep breath, pulled herself up to a sitting position, and ignored the two men, who had begun to argue loudly…over her.

Red-Beard suddenly bent to slice the straps that held her so tightly, but the dark-eyed one
stopped him. Apparently acquiescing to Red-Beard’s price, he dropped several coins into the man’s hand.

Isabel realized she had just been purchased as a common slave.

She clenched her teeth and withstood the humiliation without any notable reaction as she watched Red-Beard stride away, stuffing his newly gained coin into the pouch at his belt. Then she glanced up and took the measure of the dark Scot, considering every possible way she might manage to kill him.

T
hough Anvrai’s wrists bled with the futile effort to get free, he ignored the pain and tried manipulating the manacles around his wrist. He managed to turn his hand far enough to grab hold of the chain that held him pinned to the ground. With so little leverage, ’twas difficult to pull, but he had to do something.

They’d taken Lady Isabel away, and there wasn’t a soldier alive who didn’t know what that meant.

For the first time since they’d arrived there, Anvrai had gotten a good look at Lady Isabel as they’d hauled her out of the enclosure. He shouldn’t have been so shocked by her appearance.

The beautiful lady, with her elegant sable hair and flashing golden eyes was dirty and disheveled. Her hair hung in dark clumps down her back, and her fashionable, silken kirtle was gone. Naught but a torn, chainsil chemise covered her nakedness, but just barely. Every detail of her body was visible through the thin, worn cloth.

Barefoot, and with her hands tied behind her back, she stumbled over the rough ground as the Scots guard shoved her out of the enclosure. And there was naught Anvrai could do about it.

He did not want to be responsible for her. ’Twas one thing to do battle, knight against knight in defense of a holding. But this was a much more personal struggle. His duty to her was far too similar to the charge his father had given him years before with his last breath.

But Anvrai had not been able to protect his mother and sister, and they’d died horribly. Norsemen had overrun his family’s manor, murdering his father and all who impeded their pillaging. As he lay dying, Alain d’Arques had sent a young Anvrai out to hide his mother and sister from the invaders. But the murderous barbarians had caught them.

Those memories were best forgotten. He’d survived, and he would do so again—with or without Lady Isabel.

In frustration, he pulled up on the chain, using every bit of force he could muster for the task, but he had to be careful not to alert either of the men who remained on guard. Taking care to close his hand over the chain so ’twould not rattle, he pulled as hard as his broken body would allow.

It moved slightly. If he could get it all the way out of the ground, he did not think it would take much more effort to pull out the restraint on his other hand. By then, however, the men on guard would take notice. But if he could use the loose chains on his arms as weapons, the two would be hard-pressed to come close to him.

As dusk fell, the fading light worked in Anvrai’s favor. He strained to pull free before the guards lit the torches and took note of his actions. He still had not seen Roger, but that did not mean the young man wasn’t somewhere nearby. Roger could very well be lying unconscious only a few yards away, and because of Anvrai’s blind eye, he would not know it.

 

The rough stones on the path hurt Isabel’s bare feet as her captor pushed her forward, past several low timber huts. To keep herself from succumbing to a paralyzing fear, Isabel counted each cottage and took note of every detail—
every pail, every cart, every stack of animal skins.

Both Roger and Sir Anvrai were physically incapacitated as well as tied, which meant there would be no valiant hero to come to her rescue. Her plight was no fanciful tale, told in the secure comfort of her mother’s solar or her father’s hall. Isabel quivered with the knowledge that she was doomed to suffer whatever consequence the chieftain chose to inflict upon her.

The largest building in the village was a long, timber cottage with two shuttered windows, a thatched roof, and a stout wooden door at the far end. When Isabel’s guards pushed her toward it, she realized it was her destination…the place where the dark-eyed chieftain would be waiting for her.

Beside the door stood two burly Scots, holding spears. They grinned at her, and one of them made a remark to the other. Isabel did not understand the words, but when the men started to laugh, she pulled away and ran.

Taking the guards by surprise, Isabel managed to elude them. Without thinking, she made a desperate dash toward the far side of the cottage and ran around its corner, hoping her speed would keep her captors from catching her. Mayhap she could distract them all, and Roger and Anvrai would have a chance to get away.

’Twas an unreasonable hope, and Isabel could not think of them at that moment. All she knew was that she had to get away. The thought of being touched by that foul-mouthed barbarian made her feel ill.

Running as fast as possible with her hands bound at her back, Isabel hardly heard the shouts behind her. She reached the end of the cottage and kept moving toward the hills, where sheep grazed peacefully in the gloaming. She did not care where she went, as long as she could get away from the village…away from the fate that awaited her there.

A sudden, sharp pain stabbed through the arch of Isabel’s foot, and she pitched headlong into the rough turf. She struggled to rise, but could not push herself up. She rolled to her side and tried to get to her feet, but rough hands grabbed her and yanked her up.

One of the men tossed her over his shoulder, and Isabel cried out in agony. The position crushed the air out of her lungs and pulled painfully at her arms. Someone struck her, and she pressed her lips together to keep from calling out again. There was no one to help her, and nothing she could do to help herself.

They carried her directly into the chieftain’s cottage and dropped her upon a pallet of furs near the fire. While the men spoke in excited
tones to the chieftain, Isabel managed to get onto her knees, hastily surveying her surroundings.

The place was well lit with tallow candles, the odor of which permeated the large room. Remnants of a greasy meal lay upon a table in one corner, and beside the discarded bones lay a short knife.

Isabel turned her eyes away from the blade and tipped her head down, allowing her hair to drape down the sides of her face. Mayhap the chieftain would forget he’d left his knife there if she did not call attention to it with her gaze. ’Twas within reach if only she could manage to distract him enough to take it.

First, she would have to get him to cut the ropes that bound her hands together. Did he wear a knife upon his belt? She ventured a glance toward him and saw that he did. There was also a long sword, which he removed as he closed the door behind the village men.

When they were alone, he turned and spoke to her.

Isabel swallowed thickly. She struggled to her feet and turned, showing him her wrists and arms. “Free my hands,” she said. Her voice did not sound nearly as strong as she would have liked, nor did she think he understood her words, but he could surely see what she meant.

When he started to walk toward her, Isabel
tried not to quiver in fear. He was easily twice her size, and when he loosened his belt and let his leggings drop to the floor, she clamped her lips tightly together to keep herself from crying out.

He displayed his male essence as though proud of the damnable thing—the cock between his legs that would put a brutal end to her virginity.

She took a shuddering breath and averted her eyes. She had to remain composed if she was going to outmaneuver him and get her hands on that knife.

She moistened her lower lip and saw that the action inflamed him. The cock grew even larger, though that hardly seemed possible. “I-I’ll cooperate with you,” she said, as though he could understand, as if she were not quaking in fear and revulsion. If she did not fight him, mayhap he would cut her loose. She could only hope he would lower his guard long enough for her to grab that knife.

Isabel’s legs quivered as he approached. He slid his knife from his belt, and she held her breath as he took hold of the cords that bound her wrists and sliced through them.

Her hands dropped painfully to her sides. “Thank you.” She smiled tremulously, forcing
herself to turn and face him. Isabel was no seductress, but she was going to have to imitate the flirting she’d seen at Kettwyck. Between maids and grooms, ladies and knights…Isabel had witnessed many of their rituals, their courting behavior. Yet she had not known exactly what lay concealed within the grooms’ braies, nor had she realized they could wield the thing like a weapon.

She backed up slightly, veering toward the table. Dark-Eyes followed her. He spoke again, but Isabel concentrated on what she had to do. She lifted one hand and touched his forehead, then smoothed back his hair as though caressing him. She forced herself not to recoil from the coarse, filthy texture of his unruly mane, but to follow through with her plan.

She had to entice him, to make him forget everything but what he wanted from her.

She let her hand drop to the neckline of her torn chemise and took hold of the single, ragged cord that held it in place. One more step, and she would reach the edge of the table. “I hope we don’t have to take this too much farther,” she whispered as she groped for the knife with her free hand.

Slowly, she loosened the drawstring, but before the bodice fell free, Dark-Eyes pounced.

 

’Twas almost fully dark. Ignoring the pain in his side and the hammering at the back of his head, Anvrai sat up and pulled out the last stake that held him down. With both hands and legs loose, he should be able to take on his Scots guards without too much difficulty.

Only one of them came at him.

The man drew a sword and struck, but Anvrai rolled aside and rose to his knees, swinging the chain that was still attached to his manacles. It hit the sword, knocking the weapon out of the guard’s hand. Without wasting a moment, Anvrai stood and rammed the man in his midsection, knocking him down.

Before the guard could come to his feet, Anvrai lifted him by his tunic and struck him, holding the heavy chain in his fist. The Scot could not defend himself against Anvrai’s blow and fell heavily to the ground.

With his head pounding almost unbearably, Anvrai managed to stand in the middle of the pen and turn his gaze toward the village. There was some commotion taking place, which was likely the reason only one guard had been left to watch over him and Roger.

Roger lay unconscious—or perhaps asleep, with his hands tied to a fence post. Anvrai walked over and nudged him with his foot.
When the young man did not react, he crouched down and sliced through the leather bindings that held him to the post. The sudden sound of screams in the village brought him to his feet again.

’Twas Isabel.

Ignoring the pain in his head and the dizziness that came with it, Anvrai left Roger and vaulted over the fence, still carrying the sword. The path was dark, but a few scattered torches lit the village, and Anvrai headed toward them, using the trees and brush for cover. He moved quickly, and when he reached the first hut, the acrid smell of smoke burned his throat. ’Twas a good deal more than what he would expect from a fire pit.

One of the buildings was afire.

Anvrai hurried toward the center of the burgh, staying close to the buildings and any other structure he could use for cover. ’Twas not difficult to stay out of sight amid the confusion. A large building near the center of the village was in flames. Men and women ran toward the site, carrying buckets, tossing water upon the fire.

Anvrai narrowed his one good eye and searched the scene, looking for Isabel. If she were trapped inside that cottage…

One of the shutters near the rear of the building flew open and a plume of white smoke bil
lowed from the window. A moment later, Anvrai saw a face. Isabel’s face.

She was coughing, choking for air as she tossed a large bundle of animal skins to the ground, then threw her legs over the edge. Anvrai caught her before her feet hit the ground.

“Sir Anvrai!” she cried in surprise. “You are—”

“We’ll talk later,” he interjected. “Are you all right?” She looked pale, shaken. Staring at him, her eyes were wide and uncertain, but she nodded. Her thin chemise was torn and stained, and there was a dark bruise on her cheek. Her lower lip was discolored and swollen. The urge to go back into that cottage and pummel whoever had hurt her consumed him. He hoped the man inside was incapacitated and would burn there, before burning in hell.

Anvrai gritted his teeth and turned Isabel toward the path he’d taken to get there. The notion of running away grated on him, but they had to go back, quickly, while the distraction of the fire worked to their advantage. Once they got Roger, ’twould be no easy task to find a place to hide. “Come then. We’ll have to hurry.”

“Wait.” Isabel bent to pick up the items that had fallen from the skins. Handing him a knife and a cook pot, she took the rest herself.

“Leave all this,” he said. The knife might be
useful, but the pot and all the rest would just slow them in their flight.

“W—we’ll need it.”

Anvrai did not take the time to argue but started moving. He might be responsible for her, but if she did not make haste, he would not answer for her safety.

Lady Isabel limped noticeably but made no complaint as they ran to the place where Roger still lay upon the ground. They entered the enclosure through a wooden gate, and Isabel hurried to the young man, falling on her knees beside him. “Is he…Is he alive?”

“Aye, last I saw.”

She placed her hands upon Roger’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Roger!” she cried in a quiet, urgent voice. “Roger, we must go!”

There was still only one guard in the enclosure, and he lay unconscious from the blow Anvrai had struck a short while before. They didn’t have much time. The man would soon come to consciousness and raise the alarm. As it was, the fire seemed to be spreading, which might extend their opportunity for escape as the villagers worked to contain the flames.

A weak moan from Roger’s direction drew Anvrai’s attention. He lowered himself to one knee beside the young knight, pulled him up by the arms, and tossed him over his shoulder.
Wincing with the pain in his side, Anvrai decided ’twas too minor an ache to signify a broken rib. But the wound in his shoulder burned like the brimstone of hell.

“You cannot carry him!”

“Aye. I can.”

“But your ribs! I saw the way they beat you!”

BOOK: The Bride Hunt
6.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Over The Boss' Knee by Jenny Jeans
Eater of Lives(SPECTR #4) by Jordan L. Hawk
Guardian Awakening by C. Osborne Rapley
Cry Me a River by Nancy Holder
The Eye of the Hunter by Frank Bonham
Mastering Will by Amber Kell