The Chase (9 page)

As he'd expected, Seonaid stilled at once. Blake smiled widely. “Ah, my lady, you fair
wound me. Would you not wish to handfast with me? 'Tis what it is called, is it not?”

She was frowning at him oddly, her nose twitching.

Raising his eyebrows, he lifted himself slightly from her body. “What?”

“Is that you?”

“What?”

“Ye smell like a bloody barn. Could ye no bathe before ye came to fetch me?”

Blake pushed himself away from her at once, then reached a hand down to help her up,
pulling it back as he recalled what had happened the last time.

Amusement on her face, Seonaid rose under her own impetus and led him toward the horses as
they broke into the clearing. This time, all of them were there; Lord Rolfe and Little
George had the women before them again, and the bishop, the three Scots, and the
men-at-arms were all in attendance. Ignoring their presence, Seonaid moved to Blake's
horse in silent surrender, but paused before mounting him and glanced back at Blake where
he still stood watching her. “By the by, about anticipatin' the weddin'? I think ye should
be aware of all things afore ye make yer decision.”

“Such as?”

“Such as while ye've taken away me sword, I still have mesgiandubh an' I'll no hesitate to
use it should ye try anything. 'Twould be a fair shame for your lovely deep voice to
suddenly start singin' high.”

Turning away, she mounted the horse, her expression cold as she waited for him to climb up
behind her.

“What is asgian dubh?”

Rolfe, Bishop Wykeham, and Little George peered up blankly from their positions around the
fire. They had ridden throughout the day, traveling at a slower pace than usual to avoid
taxing the overburdened horses. Now they sat, relaxing about the fire they had prepared as
darkness had settled over the land. Seonaid, Aeldra, and Helen were all just beyond the
trees, bathing in the cool river water. Blake had considered setting a guard on them but
had decided against it. Instead he'd set six guards on the horses. The women could not
flee far without horses.

The thought of horses made Blake shift uncomfortably. He did not know how the other two
men had faired, but for himself, it had been a hell of an uncomfortable ride, and he was
grateful to finally be able to rest. His lower body still ached from the kick he'd
received. Eight hours of riding hadn't aided in his recovery much, and he'd spent most of
the ride torn between warily watching the woman who sat so stiff and still before him and
trying to ignore the odd sensations holding her so close caused.

The whole venture had taken an unexpected turn for Blake. He'd started out as reluctant as
a man on the way to the Tower. Now he could not really say how he felt. Part of him still
balked at marrying the wench, but another part, the same part presently aching from her
kick, showed some interest in at least the consumation of the wedding. Much to his dismay,
his Amazon betrothed was extracting all sorts of interest from his body. He'd seen the
first signs while wrestling with her in the woods, but his interest had continued and even
intensified throughout the day. Truly, he'd cursed himself a time or two for suggesting
that the women be forced to ride with the men. Having her bottom firmly pressed against
him had been mightily distracting.

Were that all it was, Blake supposed he could accept his reaction as an aberrant desire,
take her to wife, then to bed, and forget about it. But his reactions to the female were a
bit more complicated. He hadn't been lying when he'd claimed to enjoy her wit. He did. He
enjoyed sparring with her verbally. He'd even enjoyed the chase when she'd fled, first on
horseback, then on foot. And damned if their brief struggles hadn't set his heart to
pumping with an adrenaline that had given him a sort of thrill. Worse yet, he was even
beginning to enjoy her refusal of him. She was a challenge. Blake had never been able to
resist a challenge and, to date, no woman had truly offered him one.

“Asgian dubh is a knife, m'laird,” the Scot named Gavin answered his question, drawing
Blake from his ruminations. “ 'Tis about yeah long.” He held his hands about six inches
apart. "Some of 'em are quite sharp an' nasty, could slit a man's throat clear through, or
castrate him in a flash,'' he added, the twinkle in his eyes revealing he'd overheard
Seonaid's threat.

Seonaid ducked her head under the cold stream water, then straightened and slicked the
hair off her face as she peered around the clearing. She suspected there was a guard
somewhere, despite the impropriety of it, but could see no one from where she stood in the
river.

Her gaze slid to Aeldra and Helen, who were grimly attending to their ablutions next to
her. Both of them looked about as downhearted as a pair could be. Seonaid couldn't blame
them. She was a bit disheartened herself. They had been captured. Not once, not twice, but
three times. Things weren't going quite according to plan, but she hoped to change that.

Sidling closer to Helen in the water, Seonaid nudged her to get her attention. When the
other woman turned, she asked in hushed tones, “Helen? Do ye recall which plant yer maid
used to make the Camerons sleep?”

The shorter woman appeared surprised at the question but considered it briefly. Finally,
she bit her lip and said with uncertainty, “I think I might recognize it again did I see
it. Why?”

“I'm thinkin' me betrothed an' the others might need a rest after all their traipsin'
around.” Seonaid didn't bother to hide the wicked glint in her eyes. A smile widened her
lips when Helen's brows flew up.

“Oh, aye, I think ye may be right.” Aeldra's grin matched Seonaid's as she joined the
conversation. “They can take a little nap whilst we tend to seein' Helen home.”

“Aye.” Seonaid removed the smile from her face and glanced warily around, concerned their
standing about smiling and talking might raise suspicions in their hidden guards. The
three women shouldn't be so happy at the moment.

“I shall need to look about the woods a bit,” Helen pointed out, looking concerned.

“Aye.” Seonaid nodded, but knew searching about the woods could be a problem. They might
manage a quick look about did they claim a need to relieve themselves, but she knew
getting a lot of time to hunt up the plant wasn't possible.

“Perhaps we could help,” Aeldra suggested.

Seonaid nodded. “Ye'll have to tell us what it looks like. We'll split up as if to relieve
ourselves an' each bring back what samples we can. Come.”

Helen described the plant in question as they waded out of the water. Once on shore, they
were silent as they dried off and donned their clothes, then Seonaid announced, “I've a
need to find a handy bush.”

“As have I,” Aeldra said loudly. “I'll go this way.” She moved into the woods on the left.

“I... er...” Helen cleared her throat, then said a little louder, “I do too. I'll just go
over here.”

Seonaid watched her disappear into the woods on their right, then peered around slowly.
Nothing moved. There was no sign of anyone about, but she felt sure someone was there. Or
at least not far away. She rather hoped the latter was true. It would allow them the
freedom to look for a few minutes at least. She moved into the brush straight ahead,
scanning the ground as she walked.

Helen had been very particular with her descriptions of the plant in question. At least
Seonaid had thought so at the time, but as she scoured the ground in search of the proper
plant, she began to think they all looked terribly similar. Still, she did the best she
could, grabbing up several handfuls of any plant resembling the one Helen had described.
She had no idea how much of the plant the woman would need, but she suspected it would be
a plentiful amount to manage to send the whole camp to sleep.

Helen and Aeldra were waiting at the river's edge when Seonaid returned. She glanced from
them to the surrounding woods as she asked, “Did either of ye spot anyone?”

Seonaid frowned when both women shook their heads. She hadn't either and was beginning to
think it

might mean there hadn't been a guard posted after all. Propriety might have swayed the
Sherwell from posting a guard to watch them bathe, she realized. It wasn't as if they
would have been foolish enough to try to escape without the horses. Glancing back to Helen
and Aeldra and the collection of plants they were sifting through, she decided to hope for
the best. They had to sort the plants. They would have to hope either the guards weren't
posted or they were so far away as to not be a concern. Joining them, she dumped the
plants she had found in the pile and knelt to help with the chore.

“How did we do? Did we get what ye need?” she asked as Helen examined the offerings.

“I am not sure,” the woman admitted. “I found two plants I think might be the one she
used. And you have one of them here too.” She lifted the plants in question, and Seonaid
had to admit they were very similar. One was a slightly lighter color than the other and
perhaps a little larger.

“Well, was it the lighter or the darker o' the two?” she asked.

The Englishwoman bit her lip as she considered. “I can not be sure. It was dark when she
showed them to me. I” She shook her head helplessly.

“Perhaps the bigger ones are only a different color because they are older,” Aeldra
suggested.

“That could be,” Helen allowed doubtfully.

They were silent for a moment, considering the plants, then Seonaid shifted impatiently.
“Try to remember, Helen, an' pick which one ye think 'tis.”

The smaller woman stared at first one, then the other plant, then reached for the
bigger-leaved one. “The larger one, I think.”

Seonaid nodded, scooped up all the pieces they had of the larger plant, and tucked it in
her plaid. “Come along, then; we'll offer to cook the sup. How did yer maid feed it to the
Camerons?”

“In a stew.”

“A stew it is then,” Seonaid announced and led the way back to camp.

Her plan seemed simple enough. Offer to cook, make a stew, dump the leaves in, feed the
men, wait for them to drift off, then saddle their mounts, free the rest of the horses,
and set out. Simple.

Not so simple.

“Let you cook the sup, my lady?” Blake actually laughed at the idea. “What? So you can
poison me? I think not.”

Seonaid did her best to look properly aghast at the suggestion. Then she did the only
thing she could think to do. She shrugged and said, “Fine. Sister Helen merely mentioned
she made a fine rabbit stew, which started me hankering for some. Howbeit, I shall survive
with the stale bread an' old cheese we brought with us from the abbey. I'm sure you men
have something to make do with too.” Then she started to walk away. Much to her relief,
Blake stopped her after two steps.

“The nun was going to do the cooking?” he asked with sudden and obvious interest.

“Aye.” She turned back. “Well, you doona think I ken how to cook, diya?” she asked with a
sneer. “My only contribution was goin' to be to catch the rabbits she'll need to feed us
all.”

Blake remained silent for a minute, then nodded. “Fine. But you are not hunting the
rabbit. I will send a few men out after them. I shall set two men to build a fire and” He
paused suddenly and frowned. “We have naught to use for a pot to cook the stew.”

Seonaid found herself flummoxed by the comment. Dear Lord, she hadn't even considered a
pot would be needed for the stew. She almost slapped herself in the head for such
stupidity, but before she did, Helen stepped forward and blurted, “I have a pot, my lord.”

Seonaid turned to gape at the woman in surprise. “Do ye?” she asked.

Helen nodded. “Remember the sack I mentioned leaving in the stables when you asked if I
had brought anything with me?”

“Aye.” Seonaid nodded.

“Well, the pot is in it. 'Tis why I left it in the stables but collected it when we were
saddling the horses. I thought... well... it saved my life once.” She shrugged.

Seonaid could have hugged the woman for such brilliance. Her respect for Helen rose. She
was a clever wench.

Aware Blake had started barking orders behind her, sending some men to hunt rabbit and
others to start a fire, she shared a smile with the Englishwoman, then said, “Ye'd best
ask him to assign some men to help ye root out whatever wild onions and such ye can find
around here fer the stew, to cover the taste o' the weed. Do I offer, he's sure to get
suspicious I'm tryin' to poison him again.”

Helen nodded but didn't move. After a hesitation, she admitted, “I am not sure how much to
add.” Seonaid frowned, then shrugged. “Guess.” “But if I add too much it could kill them.”

“That would be little loss,” Seonaid said with amusement, then sighed when she saw the
alarm on Helen's face. The English never had understood the Scottish sense of humor. “I
was teasin',” she explained. “Very well, 'tis better to err on the light side, I suppose.
Even do they not sleep as long as we'd hope, so long as it is long enough for us to get
away...” She shrugged.

Helen nodded solemnly, then moved past her to approach Blake.

Seonaid decided to seek out a comfortable spot to settle. It would require a bit of time
for the stew to cook, and it seemed to her a nice rest was in order did she wish to travel
through the night. With Helen forced to cook the stew, there was little chance of her
getting a rest, but if necessary Aeldra and Seonaid would take turns holding her up before
them while they rode. It would slow them down, but there was little else she could think
to do. She sat on a soft patch of grass, tried to relax, then lay on her side and closed
her eyes. She sensed rather than saw Aeldra claim a patch of grass at her back.

“Will you stop glaring at the woman.”

Blake scowled at Rolfe's impatient words but merely shook his head, never once taking his
eyes off his betrothed. “She is up to something. I can feel it.”

“She is sleeping,” Rolfe said with exasperation.

“So she would have me believe,” Blake said wisely. “In truth, she is plotting. And when
she thinks she has me fooled and I have let down my guard, she will rise up and slaughter
us all.”

Rolfe gave a snort of laughter. “She is your betrothed, not some demon sent to plague you.”

“Is there a difference?” Blake asked dryly.

Giving up on him, Rolfe shook his head and walked away, leaving Blake to stare at the
woman he felt sure feigned sleep. She looked angelic in repose, but he had a tender set of
jewels to prove she was anything but. Seonaid Dunbar was hell's spawn and that was all
there was to it. He would not let down his guard around her again. He sat and watched her
and could almost believe by the rhythm of her breathing that she truly was sleeping. He
felt sure she hadn't yet given up. The woman had already proven herself too damned
stubborn to simply surrender. Nay. She was up to something. He just wished he knew what it
was.

The scent of the stew cooking eventually began to weave its way around the camp, and Blake
found himself inhaling the aroma with growing anticipation. It felt as if he had been
traveling forever. He had been forced to make do with moldy bread and moldier cheese for
the majority of their meals during the trip. The very idea of a real meal, even something
as simple as rabbit stew, was enough to have his mouth watering. The actual aroma of it,
delicious as it was, nearly had him panting. He could not wait to eat.

“Well?” Seonaid asked quietly as Helen moved to sit between the women with a portion of
stew poured into the last of their stale bread. “Will it work?”

“I am not sure,” the redhead whispered anxiously. “I hope I used enough.”

Seonaid hoped she had too but merely nodded. They would simply have to wait and see. Her
gaze turned back to the men eagerly gobbling up the stew. They claimed it was most tasty
fare, and Seonaid had little difficulty believing them. The scent wafting off the portion
Helen had dished out for her smelled divine. She was almost tempted to eat it herself.
Almost.

“They doona seem to be growin' sleepy,” Aeldra murmured with concern as the men began to
finish their food.

Seonaid didn't say anything, but slipped her bread bowl behind her back and tipped it
over, dumping the stew in the grass. The last thing she wanted was for one of the men to
notice they hadn't eaten it. Bringing the empty makeshift bowl back around, she traded it
for Helen's full portion, then dumped it as well. She did the same with Aeldra's as she
watched the men closely. Unfortunately, her cousin was right. They were all almost done
and none were showing the least sign of weariness.

Her gaze turned on Blake with displeasure as she watched him pop the last piece of bread
into his mouth. He had eaten the stew as well as the bread bowl holding it. Getting to his
feet, he nodded toward the three women. “That was delicious, Sister. You have my thanks.
Now I think I shall clean up at the river before retiring.”

“How long did it take to work last time?” Seonaid asked Helen as the three of them watched
Blake leave the clearing. She began to fear the Englishwoman had gone much too light with
the plant in her worry at overdosing them.

Helen thought for a minute, then shook her head. “I am not sure. I recall it seemed to
take forever, but I was frightened at the time. I knew did we fail, I would soon be dead.”

Seonaid shifted with impatience. How long would they have to wait? Would it work? Dear
Lord, what if they had grabbed the wrong plant and merely mixed a harmless herb in the
stew?

She grimaced at the thought. The lost opportunity would be irritating, but almost equally
upsetting would be the lost stew she had just dumped. It had smelled mighty fine, and if
it was untainted and now feeding the earth... well, that was a terrible disappointment.
Were their plan not going to work, they might at least have had a good meal out of it.

Her thoughts were disturbed when Aeldra reached behind Helen to poke Seonaid in the side.
She glanced at her cousin, then followed her nod to where a couple of the men, the ones
who had eaten the fastest, were beginning to rub absently at their bellies.

Seonaid felt a prickle of unease race along her back as she watched the pained grimaces on
their faces. They were looking a tad uncomfortable.