The Chase (12 page)

“So?” Blake asked. “They are probably friends of Comen's too, and seeking a spot to rest
on their travels.”

“Aye.” Little George nodded. “But they have joined Gavin and the women at the fire, and
Gavin is regaling them with tales of our troubles with keeping the women. The Campbells
are finding it mighty amusing... and they are flirting outrageously with Seonaid and
little Aeldra.” The last part seemed to upset Little George more than anything else, and
Blake wondered if the man was attracted to Seonaid's cousin. Either way, if Gavin had been
regaling the Campbells with tales of their troubles keeping the women in line, Blake would
be the laughingstock of Scotland, he realized with a sigh.

“I could do with a hand after all,” Blake announced, gesturing to his poorly half pleated
plaid. “Send Gavin down to help me with it.”

It wasn't until Rolfe had nodded and turned to walk back with Little George that Blake
realized that might not have been the most clever tactical move. Now he would add the fact
that he couldn't dress himself to the other tales. At least it would get Gavin away from
the men and shut him up.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath and set back to work on the plaid. He hadn't
given a very impressive showing to date. Every time she managed to escape him, Blake felt
as if he appeared that much less able in her eyes. He wasn't used to appearing
incompetent. He was a warrior, for heaven's sake. Lords all over England paid exorbitant
fees for him and Amaury to bring their warriors out to fight battles for them. And now he
was the focus of humorous stories, and couldn't even dress without assistance.

“ 'Tis quite odd really.”

“What is odd, Helen?” Seonaid asked the question in a desultory voice. Floating on the
loch's surface, its cool water lapping at and caressing her naked body, she was too
relaxed to work up any real interest in what the woman might be talking about. It was the
first chance she'd had to relax since leaving the abbey. After the unfortunate incident
with the poisoned stew, she had decided there was little chance the men would let down
their guard again, at least not until they reached Dunbar. That being the case, Seonaid
had concluded it might be best to simply allow themselves to be escorted back to her home,
then try again once they were there.

Fortunately, Blake had allowed Seonaid and Aeldra to carry their swords once again.
Unfortunately, he was still insisting that the women ride with the men. Aside from drawing
out the trip because they were forced to move at a slower pace to avoid overtaxing the
horses, it had also made for a terribly strained

ride. At least it had for Seonaid, who found it incredibly discomfiting riding double with
Blake. She was terribly aware of his chest at her back, his legs rubbing against hers and
his arms around her body. She had sat silent and stiff for the few hours they had ridden
yesterday after leaving Comen's cottage behind, and through the whole day today as they
had traveled.

When they had come upon this small loch in late afternoon, Blake had decided they would
stop early and set up camp for the night. Lord Rolfe had seemed annoyed, but Seonaid had
been relieved. It might delay arriving home by a few more hours, but her muscles had been
aching from sitting so tensely before Sherwell on his horse, and she had wanted nothing
more than a swim in the cool water. She had been so eager for the treat that Seonaid
hadn't even minded when Blake and Lord Rolfe had insisted the women needn't aid in making
camp, but should go tend to their evening ablutions. Not that she expected the men would
ever allow any of them to cook for them again, but the three of them could have helped by
bedding down the horses and collecting wood for a fire. Were they traveling with her
father and his men, they would have been expected to do so. They had grown up fighting to
prove they were as strong, smart, and skilled as the Dunbar men. Treating them like
fragile ladies was not allowed.

“Lord Blake,” Helen explained what she had been speaking of. “I have heard it said he
could talk the birds out of the trees yet have seen no evidence of this skill to date. He
has yet to say anything the least complimentary. I can understand why he would not attempt
to flirt with or flatter me, as I am dressed as a nun, but why has he not attempted to use
his silver tongue on you to make you stop attempting to escape? I think it just seems odd.”

A snort sounded behind Seonaid, but she didn't open her eyes or glance around in the water
to where she knew her cousin was swimming. Seonaid was busy controlling her expression to
hide her own feelings regarding the matter. In truth, it had already occurred to her that
his sweet tongue appeared to be missing in her presence. The man certainly had not taxed
himself in an effort to try to compliment her, and though she would never admit it,
Seonaid found it a touch distressing. Was it that he could find nothing about her to
compliment? Or could he simply not be bothered because he disliked her so? Either
possibility was distressing. While she was trying to avoid it as long as she possibly
could, she knew she would have to marry him eventually. Who wanted to be married to a man
who thought so little of his bride?

“Mayhap he realizes 'twould be a waste of time,” Seonaid said at last, with forced
derision.

“'Tis possible,” Helen allowed. “You are not like other women, after all. He may realize
that sweet words are not apt to win you.”

Seonaid opened her eyes and frowned up at the darkening sky. She had never considered
whether fine words would win her or not. She had never considered what would impress her.
She might like sweet words, though that would surprise anyone who knew her. Seonaid had
been fighting to make a place for herself in her own clan her entire life. From childhood
she had known she was betrothed to the Sherwell, and had listened to her father curse the
name just as long. As the Sherwells were so hated by her father, it had always seemed to
her that being intended to marry one was a bad thing, a strike against her. She had fought
to make herself acceptable, to make him proud, and the only way she could think to do that
was to be the best soldier she could be. But perhaps sweet words would be nice once in a
while. And the fact that he hadn't bothered with them rankled her. She almost found it
hurtful. What was wrong with her? Was she not worthy of compliments?

Hurt pride, fear, and anger mingling through her, Seonaid stood up in the water and moved
toward shore. She'd had enough relaxation for one day.

“The women seem to be taking their time about their ablutions,” Rolfe commented.

“Women always do,” Blake said as he added wood to the fire.

“You do not think they have managed to flee again?”

“They will not try to flee without horses, and I have four men watching the animals,”
Blake reassured him.

“Aye, I know.” When his words brought Blake's questioning gaze his way, Rolfe shrugged.
“They are the king's men, in my charge to see to these weddings. They check with me on
every order you give them.”

Blake scowled at the news. He had quite forgotten the men were not under his rule. He was
used to having an army of warriors at his service. But he had dispersed most of his own
men, allowing them time to visit their families while he saw to this duty. The knights
traveling with them were under Rolfe's rule. He would have to try to keep that in mind.

“What if the Dunbars have friends near here we know not about? The women could have
slipped away, gained horses from them, and” Rolfe broke off abruptly when Blake
straightened to peer at him sharply.

“Do you know something I do not?”

“Nay.” Rolfe's mouth turned down in a frown as his gaze slid around the surrounding trees.
“I just have a feeling something is not right.”

Blake shifted on his feet, his own gaze slipping around the surrounding forest. He would
have shrugged off Rolfe's concerns except that he too had felt a bit anxious since
stopping for the night. It was nothing he could give a name to, simply a faint sense that
all was not well. Or perhaps a sense that someone was watching them, that they weren't
alone.

“I'll go check on them,” he said finally.

Rolfe merely nodded, but was obviously relieved. Blake supposed the man was well past
tired of the whole endeavor.

A mere gesture to Little George was enough to make the large man take his place at the
fire, then Blake headed into the trees. There was a narrow path leading from the small
clearing in the woods down to the edge of the loch. It was obvious others had set up camp
here on occasion over the years. Blake wasn't surprised. It was quite a handy spot. The
clearing rested a good twenty feet away from the loch itself, allowing privacy to anyone
wishing to bathe or tend to other personal needs.

He moved at a quick clip at first, but slowed when he knew he was nearing the end of the
trees and would soon step out on the narrow clearing along the loch's edge. His ears began
to strain then, listening for sounds from the women that would tell him their location. He
didn't wish to mortify Sister Helen by catching her in a state of undress. He didn't
really think such an occurrence would be all that upsetting to Seonaid or Aeldra. He could
be wrong, but his betrothed's lack of maidenly modesty regarding his nudity suggested she
had seen her father's men or even her brother and cousin in a similar state a time or two
in the past, and perhaps had been spotted herself as well, which he supposed would be
quite likely

considering her life riding with the men.

Blake found the idea of other men seeing Seonaid's naked body a bit unsettling, so he
quickly pushed the thought away and concentrated a little harder on detecting voices or
the sound of splashing water, but there was no sound at all coming from up ahead. Blake
tried not to let this and Rolfe's comments bother him, but he did pick up his step a bit.
If the women had slipped away again, and

The thought died abruptly as he stepped out of the trees and spotted the women in
question. Helen and Aeldra were still in the water. The small Scot was floating on the
surface, her eyes closed, and Helen was simply standing in the water, watching Seonaid,
who was on the shore and walking toward where her clothing lay in a heap. Blake couldn't
take his eyes off her.

In Blake's experience, women were soft. They had soft bodies with curved hips, plump
thighs, and gently rounded breasts and bellies. It was one of the things he liked best
about them. They were comfort with feet, their breasts soft pillows for his head, their
bodies warm cushions he could sink his into. There was nothing soft about Seonaid. Her
body was all lithe muscle that shifted and stretched as she moved. He was sure if he
touched her, she would be as hard as any one of his soldiers. And yet she was still
beautiful, her body as sleek as a cat's, her every move feline in its grace. She might not
be a soft rest for his head and body, but she was as much of a feast for his eye as any
woman he had ever met.

Blake couldn't look away from her lean length. His mouth had gone dry at first sight of
her. When she reached her plaid and suddenly glanced up, Blake found himself helpless to
do anything but stare back as her eyes went wide with surprise. While he was still
searching his mind for something to say, an apology perhaps, her surprise turned to a
flash of what might have been alarm. It was quickly followed by a mask of steely
determination.

Nothing in Blake's life had shocked him more than when she suddenly reached down,
purposefully grabbed her sword, then strode forward.

He was so stunned at such an aggressive reaction to his presence that he merely stood
there, frozen. Perhaps if she had raised her sword or said something, he would have
snapped out of his surprise and reacted, instead of just standing there like an idiotor
like a child caught peeking. Then movement in the water drew his gaze in time to see
Aeldra come bounding out. Like Seonaid, the short blonde did not even bother with her
shift, but grabbed her sword instead. It was at that moment that Sister Helen turned and
spotted him there. The shriek she let loose was what Blake had needed to snap him out of
his shock.

“I was not” he began apologetically, but Seonaid had reached him and, much to his
amazement, reached out with her free hand and gave him a shove. Caught off guard, Blake
stumbled to the side, regained his footing, and started to turn back, just as the clang of
metal hitting metal rang in his ears.

Completely alert now, Blake whirled to see that Seonaid was doing battle with a man who
had apparently approached him from behind. She hadn't been reacting to him at all, or
perhaps the first surprised widening of eyes had been at the sight of him, but apparently
the sword grabbing and steely determination had been caused by this fellow's approach.

These fellows, he corrected himself, as he spotted a second and third man moving around
the battling couple. Blake automatically reached for his own sword, only to find he'd left
the bloody thing at the campsite. If his memory served him correctly, it was leaning
against a log near where he had been building the fire. He hadn't thought to grab it
before heading down to the loch's edge. Why would he? He hadn't thought he'd need it to
simply check on the women.

Bloody hell, Blake thought with disgust even as his eyes skittered over the area. He
spotted a good-sized branch nearby and snatched it up. It would do little against a sword,
but was better than nothing.

Blake had raised the branch in hand and braced himself for the attack when Aeldra, naked
and still wet, raced past him, yelling a war cry as she ran. The woman might be small, but
her bellow near ripped the ears off his head.

Bloody hell, he thought again as the little Scot stopped the two men by engaging the first
in battle. Blake stood and gaped for a moment at the sight of the two beautiful, naked
women swinging their swords so skillfully. Fortunately for him, the third man also was
momentarily stunned into stillness. As were the other three men he now saw behind them.
There were six in all, it would seem. And other than the two presently receiving a
fighting lesson, they were all rooted to the spot at the sight of the two women battling
their compatriots; one raven-haired and tall, one blond and small, both seeming completely
oblivious to their own nudity.