The Chase (11 page)

Irritated by her own thoughts, Seonaid rolled onto her back, then froze in shock. There
was a man standing over her. Lord Blake. She hadn't heard him approach. Even the horses
hadn't made a sound of warninghe must have crept up on them like a ghost. Actually, she
realized, he rather resembled a ghost, haggard and drawn and pale to the point of being
almost gray-faced. Blake looked exhausted and definitely wasn't happy.

Seonaid instinctively reached for the sword lying on the ground next to her, only to
recall that they had fled unarmed. She had no sword.

“You would be clever not to try anything at this moment.”

Seonaid opened her mouth to give a witty reply, but he forestalled her, growling, “You
would be clever to keep your mouth shut too, else you may move me to doing something we
would both regret.”

Seonaid decided it might be in her best interests to do absolutely nothing, so she lay
there still and silent, watching him watch her. She didn't even move when the tension
suddenly slid out of him and he moved to lie down beside her. She did turn onto her side
away from him then, but got no further before he caught her around the waist and dragged
her back against him. He arranged her so they lay spoon style, then fixed her firmly in
place by casting one leg over both of hers.

That was a little too much togetherness for Seonaid. She opened her mouth and took in a
breath to speak, but Blake's arm tightened around her waist and he growled by her ear,
“Shut up, Seonaid. I am not very pleased with you at the moment. If you know what is good
for you, you shall be quiet and let us both sleep.”

Seonaid shut her mouth. They both lay silent and still and she soon became aware of his
relaxing behind her, his muscles easing. She stared at the streams of sunlight slipping
through the small cracks between the barn slats and listened as Blake's breathing slowed
to a deep, steady sound. There were tiny dust motes moving through the streams of sunlight
and she tried to concentrate on that rather than the way his breath softly stirred the
hair on top of her head, or how his hand had shifted as he relaxed so it was now curled
just below her breast. Every time she breathed in and her chest expanded, it felt as if he
were almost cupping it.

It looked almost as if the dust were dancing in the sunlight, she thought with
unaccustomed whimsy, determined not to admit even to herself she was relieved to see him
here. That she truly hadn't meant or wished to see him harmed. Despite her cold words to
Helen and Aeldra, shehad worried. She'd felt guilty through the entire ride here. She was
glad to see him alive and well. She didn't even mind suffering his hold. In fact, she
couldn't help but notice they fit together rather nicely. Seonaid breathed in again and
Blake murmured, shifting his arm in his sleep so he was definitely cupping her breast. His
hand held her firmly, making her body respond in ways Seonaid wasn't at all used to and
wasn't sure she liked.

She tried to concentrate on the dust motes and ignore the tightening of her nipple and the
liquid heat pooling between her legs, but nearly moaned aloud when he murmured something
incomprehensible by her ear and shifted closer behind her. It was almost too much to
bearhis breath, warm and ticklish against her sensitive ear, his hand tightening and
squeezing her breast, the feel of his hard body nudging up behind her. She wanted to
squirm and arch and writhe against him. But Seonaid's warrior training and

discipline held her in good stead and she managed to force herself to remain still.
Playing dead, her brother had always called it. Seonaid played dead, but knewdespite her
exhaustionshe would not sleep with him pressed against her as he was.

Seonaid slept like the dead. When exhaustion finally overtook her, it dragged her so deep
into sleep that she didn't awaken when the others stirred and rose, not even when Blake
removed himself from her. For one moment, when she finally did wake up, she almost thought
the memory of Blake's arrival had all been a dream. But then she noted the crushed straw
beside her. It had all been real.

Unsure whether she would prefer it to have been a dream or not, she sat up, then forced
herself to her feet. There was much talk and movement coming from outside the barn.
Seonaid supposed it meant that all the men had caught up to them now. She hadn't
considered the matter when her betrothed had appeared but was pretty sure he'd been alone.
She hadn't heard any sounds to suggest a small army of men were making camp outside the
barn.

As she had expected, the area between the cottage and barn was awash with men and horses
when she stepped out into the sunlight. While Seonaid was sure they hadn't ridden in with
Blake, it appeared they had arrived some time ago. Most of them were up and about,
butdespite it being late afternoonsome were just rising from sleep.

In the midst of all this noise and commotion, Seonaid spotted Helen and Aeldra. The two
women were seated alone and appeared rather uncomfortable under the men's accusing glares.
Seonaid almost moved their way to offer moral support, but she had some personal needs to
attend to first. She turned her feet toward the path leading to the side of the river.

Much to her surprise, no one stopped her from going or tried to follow her to the river's
edge, but she understood why when she reached the edge of the river and found Blake
already there, partially submerged in the water. She scowled at the back of his head, but
when the man stood up the scowl slid away. Seonaid's mouth dropped open and her eyes
widened incredulously. She'd noted Blake's fine figure the first time she'd seen him
inside the chapel at the abbey, but he'd been clothed then. He was not now.

Her gaze slid over his wide shoulders and strong arms with appreciation. He had truly
magnificent muscles, she saw, as he reached up to slick the damp gold hair off his face.
Every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and back seemed to shift with the simple action.

Seonaid knew she should really make her eyes stop thereshe felt sure a true lady would
havebut she didn't. Instead, she let them drift down over his magnificent back to his
equally magnificent behind and pause there to ogle him shamelessly.

It was a wonder to Seonaid that she had reached the advanced age of twenty-four without
noticing how beautiful the male body could be. Still, she supposed she was usually too
busy noting what idiots men could be, especially when a woman was about. They often seemed
to act like brainless twits when a pretty face and figure entered their vicinity. Rather
like she was doing at the moment.

The man was gorgeous. Seonaid couldn't recall ever having seen a more delectable behind
than the one Blake was displaying. None of the warriors she'd been raised around had
seemed so perfect. It wasn't

flat and saggy like the one or two she had accidentally caught glimpses of over the years.
Blake's behind was round and... well, pert was the only word she could think of. It made
her want to reach out and squeeze

“Are you going to stand there ogling me all morning?”

Seonaid stiffened, her eyes shooting upward to find Blake still standing with his head
turned away from her. She was sure he hadn't glanced around. There would have been some
shifting of muscle to warn her, so it would seem he'd been aware of her presence since her
arrival... and no doubt his standing up had been an effort to shock her and scare her into
rushing back to the camp, as any proper lady would no doubt have done. Instead, Seonaid
had stood there and gawked at his nakedness like

“Well?”

She let her thoughts scatter again and shifted to prop her hands on her hips with
irritation. “Well what, Sassenach? How can I stand here all day when the day is mostly
over? 'Sides, if yer goin' to put on a show, it seemed only polite to enjoy it.”

“Ah, so youare enjoying it? That is good to know. Then you will not be using the claim of
deformities as an excuse to cancel the wedding?”

She scowled at the smile in his voice.

“But we had best be sure 'tis true of all.” On that note, he suddenly turned to face her,
and Seonaid found herself presented with a full frontal view of him from the top of his
head to his knees. The rest of his legs were submerged under the water.

“God's toes,” she breathed, gaping at him. Had he mentioned deformities? Now she
understood why. The manwas deformed. He was huge. Her thighs squeezed together reflexively
at the thought of him coming anywhere near her with the monster dangling between his legs.
There was no way on God's green earth that he was sticking his sword inher sheath. Gad!
Coupling had looked unceremonious, undignified, and uncomfortable the few times she'd
happened upon couples engaged in the act. Seonaid had always wondered what all the moaning
was about. Now she knew. It was pain. At least she was sure she'd be moaning in pain were
he to try to

“You do not look impressed.” The dry comment drew her gaze up to his face. He was
frowning. “In fact, you look rather... put off.”

Seonaid met his gaze for a moment, but it was all she could manage. Then she merely shook
her head and turned to head back to the camp. Her horror at the sight of his member had
managed to do what her lack of maidenly modesty had failed at. She'd been driven off from
the idea of ducking her head underwater, something she had always found helped to clear
her thoughts. Seonaid had hoped it would help her figure out a way to again escape her
betrothed, but it would seem she would have to make do with a muddled mind for now. Even
more muddled than she had been on first awakening, she admitted to herself. The man had
distracted her mightily with his little display. She was now even more desperate to avoid
wedding and bedding him, and desperation was always a bad thing when one was trying to
form a strategy.

“Are you planning on standing there all day?”

Blake blinked at the question, an echo of his own words to Seonaid earlier. He peered over
his shoulder to where Lord Rolfe stood at the river's edge and shrugged for an answer
before turning back to the water and his thoughts. He had stood, lost in thought, since
Seonaid had hurried back toward camp. The woman was an enigma to him. He felt sure it
hadn't been any sense of maidenly modesty that had sent her running awaythe woman had
stared at him rather boldly until he'd turned and presented her with a view of his front.
Blake hadn't been surprised. He'd spoken with Gavin when the two had ridden out alone
after the three women and had learned more about her somewhat unusual upbringing.

Gavin had proven to have much to say on the subject of his laird's daughter, and most of
it had been praise. Her mother had died shortly after the contract binding Blake and
Seonaid together, and while she should have been looked after by one of the women after
that, Seonaid wouldn't have it. She seemed to cling harder to her brother and father after
the loss of her mother, as if afraid they too might leave her and “go to the angels” were
they out of her sight. Angus Dunbar hadn't been able to stand his young daughter's sobs at
being left behind and had taken both children with him whenever he could. Gavin had said
the pair of them were like his shadows, hand in hand, trailing him about the bailey as he
oversaw the warriors in training and took care of other clan business. When Angus Dunbar's
brother was killed and his children, Aeldra and her brother Allistair, arrived at Dunbar,
they too had joined the party trailing the Dunbar laird about.

When Duncan and Allistair came of an age to begin training, no one found it odd that
Seonaid and Aeldra joined in as well. Both females showed impressive skill and talent for
battle, making up for their obviously lesser strength with intelligence and speed. Having
been around the training field all their lives, and having roughhoused with their brothers
for years, neither female shrank from the possibility of being injured. They both took up
the sword as naturally as most young girls took up the needle.

Blake had listened with fascination. Here was a woman like none he had ever known. Other
than a couple of failed attempts by her sister-in-law, the inestimable Lady Iliana,
Seonaid had received no training in the ways of a lady. She'd grown up running, battling,
and hunting with the men of Dunbar, taught to fight with the specially made sword she
carried, to shoot an arrow as true as her brother, and various other warrior skills.

Seonaid Dunbar was as far from the delicate flowers of womanhood that littered court as
his best friend and valued warrior Amaury was. The good bishop had not been far off with
his comparison of the two, and while Blake had, at first, been horrified by the idea, now
that he'd met the chit, he found her rather intriguing. Certainly she was more interesting
than were any of the court flowers he had often dallied with. Beneath their soft petals
and sweet scents, Blake well knew that those exotic flowers hid thorns ready to rend a man
to pieces if given the opportunity. It was part of the fun for him, enjoying the pleasures
they offered while avoiding the thorns, a task he'd found sadly easy to perform.

Seonaid would be an entirely different prospect. She didn't hide her thorns and she had a
fine, hard armor to stave off any unwanted approach. She also didn't seem overly impressed
with his good looks, which had made conquests so easy for him in the past. Seonaid Dunbar
would definitely be a challenge.

A long-suffering sigh again drew Blake from his thoughts. “Sherwell”

“I'm coming.” Blake interrupted what would no doubt be a complaint or order and turned to
wade out of the water. “Are the rest of the men up?”

“Aye. And the women.”

“Good. We shall head out directly then, and travel at least a couple of hours before
making camp for the night.”

Rolfe didn't look pleased. “I would rather travel through the night, as we are now at
least three and possibly four days away from Dunbar, thanks to all this nonsense. But I
suppose none of us is really up to a rigorous ride today.”

Blake scowled over the reminder of their poisoning. Riding after the women with Gavin had
been the worse sort of torture for him. They'd been forced to stop several times so he
could stand by his horse, dry heaving. There had been nothing left for his body to purge,
but it had definitely still felt like purging. Blake was a trembling, exhausted mess when
they'd finally tracked the women to the barn where they were sleeping. Had Seonaid decided
to fight him, he would have had a hard time stopping her. Thankfully, she'd not caused any
fuss at all, but had heeded his warning and stayed put. Blake had almost been moved to
thank her for it, but instead he'd merely dropped to lay next to her to recover some of
his strength.

He didn't feel much better today. He wasn't quite so weak, but his stomach muscles ached
from their unaccustomed efforts the night before and he still felt a bit shaky. The very
idea of food made his stomach roil threateningly and he didn't really feel up to traveling
today at all. Blake doubted the rest of the men did either, but a slow, easy ride for a
few hours this afternoon that would take them closer to Dunbar, seemed a better idea than
sitting here all day and night waiting for Seonaid to come up with her next escape scheme.

Blake grabbed his tunic from the branch where it had been drying and tugged it on with a
grimace. Angus Dunbar's tunic no longer stank thanks to its washing, but it hadn't fully
dried in the short time he had taken to bathe in the river. It was still damp and clung to
him unpleasantly, which was better than the stench it had carried about with it earlier,
he decided as he next grabbed the plaid. Knowing it couldn't possibly dry in the time it
took for him to bathe in the river, Blake hadn't washed the woolen cloth. However, he'd
hung it over a bush, hoping the wind blowing through it would remove some of its
unpleasant stench. Unfortunately, the airing had done little good, and he wrinkled his
nose with distaste as he caught a whiff of it.

Muttering under his breath about the habits of his soon-to-be father-in-law, Blake laid
the plaid on the ground and scowled down at it with irritation. It was the first time he'd
had it off since trading for it with Angus Dunbar. And he hadn't a clue how to don the
bloody thing again. Oh, he knew he had to pleat it and lay on it, but he wasn't sure what
Angus had done to pull it on and fasten it for him at Dunbar. He had watched carefully but
wasn't at all certain he could repeat the man's actions.

“Need a hand with that?” Rolfe asked, and Blake wasn't surprised to see the other man's
lip twitch. Rolfe hadn't been present when Angus Dunbar had helped him don it, which meant
Little George might have mentioned what had occurred in the keep after he and the bishop
had gone out. But Little George wasn't the sort to gossip, which left only Gavin or one of
his men to have told the tale. Bloody Scots! Gossiping like old women, he thought with
irritation.

“Nay, I can manage,” he answered the question with a touch of resentment. And he did
intend to manage the feat... one way or another.

However, he was no more clever with his hands when he knelt to pleat the plaid than he had
been at Dunbar keep. It didn't help that Rolfe stood there, seeming to loom over him as he
knelt to attempt the deed. He was almost relieved at the excuse to stop his clumsy efforts
when Little George came stomping out of the trees.

“What is it?” Blake asked, noting the irritation on his first's face. Something had
bothered the man mightily.

“A band of men have ridden up. Campbells.” He said the word with disgust, as if he
actually knew the men in question, though as far as Blake was aware, Little George didn't
know anyone in Scotland.