The Chase (8 page)

“They made a run for it,” Blake explained dryly, answering the question in his massive
man's eyes as he accepted his own reins. He quickly mounted, as did Lord Rolfe. His gaze
shot to the Dunbar men and he frowned at their solemn expressions. “Mount up and follow
with the rest of the men.”

Gavin nodded stoicly, his expression remaining dignified and grim until the three men had
ridden out of view; then his face cracked in a grin. “I can hardly wait to return to
Dunbar and tell the laird about this.”

“He's sure to get a good laugh oot o' it,” one of the other men agreed, then commented, “
'Tis twice now the English has lost oor Seonaid. Hoo many more times diya reckon 'twill
happen 'ere we arrive home?”

Gavin shrugged and turned to move into the woods, intent on gaining his horse. “Twa or
three, I'd wager. Fetch yer beasties and follow me. We'll gather the rest of the English
and follow.”

The women did not get very far. It was no one's fault, just happenstance. Helen's mount
set her foot down wrong as she landed after leaping a log in their path. Releasing a
scream of pain, the animal went down hard, sending Helen to the ground with a cry of alarm.

Tugging sharply on her own mount's reins to bring him to a halt, Seonaid glanced back to
see Aeldra make good use of her swift reflexes to steer clear of the fallen horse and
rider.

Turning her animal, Seonaid urged him back to the fallen mare, releasing the breath she'd
been holding when Aeldra reached the girl and horse first and helped Helen to her feet.
Apparently, the woman had suffered a fright but was otherwise unhurt.

“Is she all right?” Helen asked anxiously as Aeldra turned her attention to the mare
struggling back to her feet.

The shorter woman examined the leg briefly, watching as the mare hobbled lamely a step or
two, then glanced up at Seonaid and shook her head.

Mouth tightening unhappily, Seonaid bent to grasp Helen's arm and draw her attention.
“Come. Mount behind me. We'll share my mount.”

“But my mare,” she protested. “She is hurt.”

“We have no time to tend her,” Seonaid snapped as Aeldra mounted her own horse. “Gavin
will see to her.”

“But”

“There is no time to argue. They are comin'.”

Sighing, Helen nodded resignedly and struggled onto the saddle behind her with a little
help, then clasped her arms around her waist as Seonaid urged her horse forward. They'd
taken only a few steps when they heard the thunder of approaching hooves.

Cursing, Seonaid pressed her heels to the horse's belly, urging it to gain speed, but she
knew the effort was useless. The approaching riders were pounding toward them at a dead
run. And her mount now had the weight of two to carry. Seonaid wasn't surprised when after
less than a hundred yards the men caught them up and shot past them, then slowed their own
horses and dropped back, two of them crowding her mount and Aeldra's together from the
sides. Lord Blake slowed his own before them, forcing them to come to a halt.

Silence reigned for a moment as they all eyed each other; then Blake offered a chilly
smile. " 'Tis obvious by your abrupt departure that you are eager for the wedding to
occur. Howbeit, I fear your sense of direction is somewhat lacking. I must tell you, you
were headed the wrong way once more, my lady.

Dunbar is west."

“Ha, what a wit ye are, m'laird,” Seonaid said. “I doubt not but ye leave the women
laughin' at ye at every turn.”

Blake's gaze narrowed. Her words could be taken in either of two ways and he very much
suspected she meant it in the most insulting light. “Rolfe?”

“Aye?” The red-haired Englishman urged his horse forward, glancing at him questioningly.

“Mayhap you should take the good sister onto your mount,” he suggested.

“She rides with me,” Seonaid said grimly, urging her horse backward as the other man moved
his own horse toward hers.

“She rides with Lord Rolfe,” Blake ordered grimly.

Seonaid opened her mouth to snap at him, then smiled suddenly with a nasty sweetness
before asking, “Affeared I might escape ye? Again?”

A wry smile tugging at his lips, Blake nodded. “Aye.”

His honesty surprised her so much, Seonaid simply sat there as Rolfe moved forward and
lifted Helen gently from her horse to his own, settling her comfortably before him as he
moved the horse a short distance away.

Seonaid was frowning her displeasure at Blake when he suddenly smiled and called out to
the other man. “Little George.”

“Aye?”

“Aeldra rides with you.”

Nodding grimly, the large man urged his horse forward to collect the woman, but she was of
no more of a mind to make things easy than her mistress. The little hellion kicked the
great man in the shin as his horse reached her side, then tried to punch him in the face
as he ignored the first strike and lifted her from her own mount to his. In the end, he
had to catch both of her small hands in one of his own and hook one of his great legs over
both of hers to prevent her from doing herself damage. He managed to calm her as he
settled her on the saddle before him, but she glared at him with disgust before throwing
Seonaid an apologetic sigh as she sank against his huge chest.

Mouth tightening as she saw her ability to escape slipping away, Seonaid glared at her
betrothed, almost daring him to come near her.

Blake picked up the challenge at once and urged his own mount toward hers. Seonaid
immediately made her own stallion side step away, and the animal responded at once.
Blake's eyebrows rose at the skill, but he urged his horse closer, unsurprised when she
again deftly avoided him. Shaking his head, he glanced toward Little George and nodded.
Understanding the silent order, Little George moved forward even as Blake did again. When
Seonaid automatically began to urge the mount into a side-step, she found herself coming
up against Little George's horse. Before she could instruct her stallion to move forward
or back, Blake reached out and caught her about the waist, drawing her easily onto his lap.

He wasn't terribly surprised when she immediately began to struggle against him, though he
was a bit startled by her strength as she did so. Tightening his arms around her, he hid
his surprise with an expression of mixed exasperation and amusement. “We can do this the
easy way, my lady, or the hard one. 'Tis up to you.”

“Then it'll be the hard way,” Seonaid muttered. Elbowing him in the chest, she tugged hard
on his horse's reins, so the animal reared up, hooves pawing the air and sending Blake
toppling from the saddle behind her. Seonaid grunted with satisfaction as the beast
settled back on all fours, then squeezed her knees and sent him into a dead run for the
hill ahead.

“Aye, I can see you are handling the situation much better than I,” Lord Rolfe commented
with amusement, peering down at Blake from his seat on his mount. “No doubt we shall reach
Dunbar within the year at this rate.”

Cursing, Blake struggled back to his feet, accepting the reins of Seonaid's horse when
Little George offered them. Mounting the animal, he didn't even bother to comment to the
man, but charged off after his betrothed.

His horse was fast and Seonaid rode him well, but her horse was faster, he saw with
interest and not a little disapproval. In his opinion, 'twas a shame to waste such a beast
on a woman; a warrior would have got more use out of it. Still, despite the animal's
speed, they had gone quite a distance before he managed to catch up to her. Glad he wore
the plaid and not encumbering mail, Blake raised his feet to the saddle and launched
himself at her. He was a little behind Seonaid but caught her with his left arm as he flew
past, tugging her from her mount and bringing her crashing to the ground on top of
himself. Her own landing cushioned by his body, Seonaid recovered first from their tumble
and struggled to her feet, attempting to flee toward her horse, but Blake regained himself
enough to reach out and clasp her ankle before she'd managed a step. His hold on her,
pitted against her forward momentum, sent her crashing to her stomach on the forest floor.

Shifting onto his hands and knees, he started to rise, then paused to grab her ankle again
when she started to scrabble away from him in the dirt. Falling back to her stomach,
Seonaid rolled onto her back to kick at him with her free leg. Catching the second ankle
as well, Blake held it fast, then cursed when she immediately sat up to strike out at him
with balled fists. Yanking her ankles wide apart, he dragged her along the forest floor
until he knelt between her open legs. Then he stopped her struggling by the simple action
of launching himself on top of her. His legs quickly stopped the action of her own, and
his hands grabbed hers and dragged them above her head so they were unable to strike out
at him. Face-to-face and panting heavily, they glared at each other where they lay, then
Blake began to feel a sense of awareness stealing through his body.

Frowning over the surprising reaction, Blake managed a wry smile as he regained his breath
somewhat, then muttered, “You are a fair handful, my lady.”

Seonaid did not smile back. “An' ye're an English dog.”

His smile losing some of its luster, he arched his eyebrows arrogantly. “That is a fine
thing coming from a red shank.”

Seonaid's eyes narrowed at the insulting term the English often used to refer to Scots.
She spat, “Better a red shank than the spawn of a Sassenach.”

“Methinks your protests excessive, my little rough-foot. Mayhap you are not as adverse to
the wedding as you would have me believe.” He arched an eyebrow when she merely glared at
him, too furious to speak. “Out of words to parry with, my lady?”

“ 'Tis sorry I am to admit it, m'laird, but aye,” Seonaid admitted with a suddenly sweet
smile. Then she added, “But then, I have ever been better with the sword than with words.
Shall we try those now instead?”

She began to struggle beneath him again as she spoke, and Blake found himself briefly
distracted by the surge of heat her movement engendered within him. It took him a moment
for her challenge to sink in. When it did, he shifted his lower body to still her
struggles and released a short, deep laugh. “Nay, my lady. The only sword I would use with
you is one you have not to use back.” He was satisfied by the sudden deep red flush
coloring her cheeks. “You are quite lovely when you are not cursing or spitting, my dear.
Your mouth is really rather sweet when not spewing filth; 'tis shaped like a heart with
full curves and”

“Do ye intend to lay upon me all day aspoutin' your pretty words, m'laird?” she
interrupted in a decidedly bored tone. “Or shall ye let me up?”

Blake stiffened at her words as Little George and Lord Rolfe arrived, their saddles
conspicuously empty of women. Turning his head toward them, he raised an eyebrow, and
Little George quickly explained.

“The men caught us up right after ye flew after the girl. We left the other two with them
while we followed to see if you needed any help. Howbeit, 'tis obvious you have all in
hand here.”

“Oh, aye,” Blake agreed dryly. Shaking his head, he got slowly to his feet before offering
a hand to Seonaid. Much to his surprise, she accepted the offer of assistance. He realized
his mistake almost at once, for she did not use his hand in order to raise herself up, but
instead to pull him down. He'd barely understood the meaning behind the sudden tug to his
hand when he felt her foot lodge itself somewhere in the vicinity of his groin. Then he
was sailing through the air, somersaulting over her head onto his back with a crash that
reverberated through his entire body. He did not even notice she had regained her footing
and was charging toward the woods once more.

“Are you all right?” The smile Little George struggled to hide as he slid off his mount
took away somewhat from the concern underlying the question.

“Of course he is all right.” Still seated on his mount, Lord Rolfe didn't even try to hide
his amusement. “He is handling the matter, can you not see that?”

Groaning, Blake shifted onto his side, then got gingerly to his feet, wincing at the pain
in his lower regions as he did. “Which way did she go?” he muttered as soon as the pain
had lessened enough to allow speech.

Little George pointed toward the woods and Blake groaned, took a step toward his horse,
then shook his head and set out on foot. It seemed to him it would be less painful to run
than to set his jewels on a horse's back to be bounced about.

After several moments of running, he had to wonder if he hadn't made the wrong decision.
It seemed to him this little jog merely exacerbated the pain he was suffering. And the
wench proved quick on her feet, certainly faster than he'd expected. He almost doubted he
could catch her up, and it was both a surprise and a relief when he actually managed to
close the distance between them enough that he could lunge

forward and tumble her to the ground once more. There they tussled briefly before he
managed to subdue her using his maltreated body. After the abuse he'd suffered at her
hands, it was almost a relief when she gave up struggling and began to spit curse after
curse at him. Some of them actually made him flush. Where the devil had she learned such a
litany? Good God, she knew more curses than he did.

He gave her a shake to silence her, then sighed and shook his head. “Your tongue is as
sharp as your blade, my lady.”

Seonaid's eyes widened slightly at his tone of voice as he made the announcement. “Ye
almost sound admiring, Sassenach.”

“Aye, for truly I do appreciate your wit.” When he saw her eyes narrow, he grimaced and
raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to continue this behavior all the way to Dunbar?”

“Did ye think I'd make it easy on ye?”

“Nay, but I fear I should warn you, should you continue to try to escape, forcing me to
chase and tumble you, I may be moved to anticipate the exchanging of the bands and
consummate the marriage before we even reach your land. 'Tis fair true the feel of your
body squirming beneath me fans fires I did not think you could.”