His Conquest (4 page)

“They must have traveled farther,” yet another man stated.

“With the freshness of these tracks,” the second man said, “not very much. Wherever they are, they are close. We will break up. Ulric, take two men and ride east. Everyone else, we will circle to the west and meet on the other side.”

Hoofbeats sounded, and then slowly faded.

Seathan heaved a sigh.

“They have left,” Linet whispered.

“Fo-For now. When they do not find me, they will return and search this area again. Come.” Head pounding, he released her. In the muted light, he staggered toward the rear of the cave, focusing on each step.

The dismal surroundings grew brighter as they moved deeper inside. They rounded the corner and the cavern opened to the outside. Sunlight streamed into the darkness like a golden rain to erase the shadows.

A look of awe painted Linet’s face. She stepped to the ledge, scanned the gorge sprawled below. “It is beautiful.”

“Aye.” He stumbled.

She whirled. Worry streaked her face as she hurried back and set his arm over her shoulder to steady him. “You must lie down.”

He grimaced. As if he had an option. His legs were beginning to give, and his mind was quickly following. Even now, he fought for coherent thought. With her help, he settled against the layered rock, the sun upon his face.

Linet glanced at his right side, frowned. “Why did you not tell me you were bleeding?”

“Na-Naught but a wee scratch.”

“A scratch?” she scoffed. “I have tended to warriors from enough battles to know the injury is more than that. I need to cleanse the wound. Stay here.”

Before he could object, she stood, removed her cape, and withdrew the water pouch she carried. Sunlight streaming behind her framed the slender lines of her body shielded beneath a linen gown.

His rebuke fell away as he took in the smooth curve of her ankle. Her gown concealed neither her slim waist nor generous breasts. Even confused by fever, he couldn’t help but admire her supple curves.

Ignorant of her effect on him, after giving him a drink of water, she knelt before him. “I must remove your tunic to see the extent of your injury.”

A part of him wanted to refuse. But the warrior in him understood the threat of a wound untreated. This lass, wrapped within her innocence, knew naught of her potent effect.

“I can remove it my-myself.” Seathan tugged the tunic over his head, his muscles screaming at the movement.

She grimaced as she leaned closer. Her soft breath skimmed across his inflamed skin, and he gritted his teeth.

Linet looked up.

Stilled.

Green eyes held hers, hot, burning with fever, but also laden with desire. His feral look sparked awareness in her body like flint to steel. Her lips tingled with remembrance of their kiss within the cell, that dangerous moment when she’d forgotten her objective, the reason she’d sought out Lord Grey. She inhaled, and his scent, that of earthy male and domination, flooded her senses.

She pulled back, but images of him covering her mouth and of her drowning in his taste remained. No, she could not ponder such sensual thoughts. He was a dangerous temptation, one she could never accept. They had little in common except her brother, a man they both despised.

Taking a steadying breath, Linet tore a strip of cloth from her chemise, dampened it, and gently began to cleanse the wound. Honed muscles rippled beneath her touch, skin battered by scars, those of a man seasoned by war. Those of a man who fought for what was his. Those of a man loyal to his country and family.

Unnerved by her attraction toward a man who was dangerous to her on so many levels, she removed the cloth. She wrung the strip of fabric out, redampened it, only to have to touch him again. To be reminded of the man who stirred desires best ignored.

Under her touch, his body tensed and a pained breath hissed from his mouth, but he made no protest.

“The wound is long, but thankfully not deep,” she forced out as she fought for calm. “As we travel, I will find herbs to pack against the gash to ensure it does not fester.” She again wrung out the cloth, then continued dabbing away the small flecks of dirt outlining the wound. “In time, you should be left with only a scar.”

“You are a healer?”

At the softness of his words, she tensed. His simple question fooled her not. He sought clues as to who she was, details she could never give.

“No. I have aided our healer when the necessity arose.” She gave him an admonishing look. “You need rest, not meaningless talk.” Before he could push for further information, a trait she was learning to expect from him, she stood. “Though it is early, you need to sleep. Besides, with Lord Tearlach’s men searching for you, it is too risky to travel.”

He eyed her a long moment, then started to get up.

The fool! She caught his shoulders. “If you move about, you will reopen your injury.”

Seathan grimaced, shoved her hands away, and pushed to his feet. He gestured toward the far wall. “Th-There are blankets behind the stacked wood. Lift them and you will see other provisions as well.”

A grand concession on his part. “Stay there until I retrieve them.” With efficient movements, she withdrew the blankets and started to make a pallet, anything to try to keep her mind off Seathan, off a man who made her too aware of herself as a woman.

After all these years, and all the many men she’d met, nobles, knights, warriors from other countries, none had ever inspired but a token of interest. Now, she was attracted to a Scottish rebel who, if he learned of her connection to Fulke, would use her as leverage against her brother. And his trust? No, the pittance she’d earned would be forever lost.

“Linet?”

Seathan knelt beside her, his eyes too sharp, his nearness too potent. “What is wrong?”

The sincerity in his voice unnerved her further. “Nothing, I am but making a pallet.”

“You are shaking.”

She glanced down to find her hands trembling—from thoughts of him. She swallowed hard. “I am tired.”

“Aye, af-after traveling through the night, we both need rest.” He lifted the edge of the blanket near him and helped spread it out.

“I told you to wait until I was done.”

Seathan scowled. “I am a knight, not a crippled old man.”

“You never need anyone, do you?” she asked, annoyance slipping into her voice.

Fevered eyes narrowed. “And what of you? Who do you need?”

“No one,” she replied, and immediately regretted allowing her question to become personal. She shook her head. “Lie down and rest.”

“You will do so as well.” By the ire in her eyes, Seathan expected her to argue. To his surprise, she nodded. Unsure how much longer he could remain on his feet, he lowered himself on the blankets. Every muscle in his body screamed, but they had made it to safety.

The soft weight of worsted wool covered him. “Here is my rolled cape to put beneath your head.”

Though her voice was cool, her thoughtfulness touched him. A part of him had expected her to leave, not remain, nor tend to him as one who cared about him. Aye, she cared—that he lived. But she’d freed him from the cell for her own purpose.

Why?

They both had their secrets, he reminded himself as he watched her gracefully move about. How would she react if she learned the rebels were planning an uprising? The bloody English were confident they’d conquered Scotland, a foolish belief. His countrymen were a different breed compared to the thin-blooded Englishmen. Unlike the Sassenach, the Scots would not cease to pursue their goal of freedom, regardless of the odds.

“Here.” Linet handed him a cup with water.

Seathan drank slowly, the cool water heaven against his parched throat. He drained the wooden cup then handed it to her; their fingers brushed. Awareness poured through him in a lethal sweep.

“My thanks,” he said.

Linet’s eyes dilated as if she, too, had felt the heat. She nodded, turned away. “Go to sleep.”

The foolish woman. Even in his condition, he could see her weariness. “I—I said you will rest as well.”

She stiffened. “I will, eventually. For now I will keep watch.”

He shifted, winced at the pain. “Nay. You wi-will lie now or I will drag you down here if necessary.”

“I…” She again checked his wounds as if they were her only concern, but he saw through her guise.

He shot her a warning look.

With a nervous glance, she slipped between the covers beside him.

Exhausted, satisfied that she’d stay, and ignoring the brush of their bodies, Seathan closed his eyes and succumbed to the inviting bliss of sleep.

Silence.

Long seconds passed.

The slow rise and fall of his chest assured Linet the rebel was asleep. She allowed herself to relax. It was amazing he’d held out this long.

Seathan shifted onto his back. Sunlight caressed the hard planes of his face, and the shadow of a full beard over his square jaw. In rest, his expression softened, hinted at lines carved by laughter. Intriguing. Lord Grey did not strike her as a man who would relax enough to give way to humor.

He mumbled in his sleep.

Drawn, she watched him. Her mouth tingled with remembrance of his lips covering hers. A mere kiss and he’d almost destroyed her. What would it be like if they made love?

Heat stroked her face at her untoward thoughts. She dismissed them. They were but musings. Without his awareness of them, they hurt no one.

Curious, Linet leaned closer, drawn to the man who was as great a mystery as a threat. His warmth curled around her, his inner strength as inherent as his domineering force.

Tiredness washed over her, but a sense of peace as well.

Peace?

Odd when her life at this moment held naught but chaos.

His steady breaths lulled her, as did the safety she felt by his side. She yawned, slid a hand’s breath toward him, and for the first time in many days, slipped into an undisturbed sleep.

Seathan opened his eyes, his senses alert. The aches of his body provided an immediate reminder of his escape from the dungeon, and the morning sun streaming into the cave was an indicator that a day had passed. He glanced down at the lass.

Not any lass. Linet.

With his mind clear, he studied her as she slept, noting how her slender body curled against his with innocent trust. Her cheek lay flush upon his chest, her lashes crafting perfect half-moons against her ivory skin, and her long amber-gold hair loosened from its braid now framing her face.

His gaze drifted to the curve of her mouth. Memories ignited of their heated kiss within the cell, of the passion, the unexpected rightness of it that had scorched his soul.

Nay, ’twas only his mind’s haze from the torture he’d endured that invited such randy thoughts. Regardless of a woman’s passion in bed, well he understood their capacity for treachery. Though an innocent, Linet was still a stranger, a woman with secrets, far from a person he could care for, much less trust.

What had driven her to give him his freedom? The reason involved Tearlach, of that he was sure.

Throat dry, he again took in the inviting lines of her mouth. If he kissed her again, would her taste be different? He lowered his mouth a degree, her soft breaths tumbling over his cheek, her warmth inviting him closer. His body hardened, trembled with anticipation.

Bedamned he would know.

He claimed her mouth. A soft moan escaped her as he guided her, teased her, savored the supple lips that slowly responded.

Thick lashes flew open. Startled lavender eyes cleared, darkened with pleasure. On a shudder, her body softened, molded against his own.

Then she was kissing him back.

Heat.

It burned through him as if a torch thrown. He drowned in the scorching blaze, pressing her back to lay his full length against her soft curves. He had to have her, taste her every inch.

Ignoring the lancing pain of the injury along his side, he cupped her mouth, took the kiss deeper, until she whimpered in his arms and arched against him as does a woman in need.

On a groan, he inched down to taste the silken curve of her jaw, then grazed his teeth along the slender column of her neck, her gasps of pleasure threatening to break his hard-won control.

With every sense steeped in her, he shoved her linen gown away to expose her breasts. God in heaven, they were a wondrous sight.

Linet stilled. Her hand caught his fingers hovering over her breast. “No!”

Seathan met her gaze, the desire in her eyes in direct contrast to her request.

A distant shout echoed nearby.

He turned toward the entry, blinked. God’s teeth! He’d been so caught up in the woman, he’d ignored the noise that had obviously pulled him from his slumber.

Seathan withdrew his dagger. His arm ached from the quick movement. He ignored the pain. At least the dizziness of last night had passed.

“What is it?” she asked.

Her wild, sensual look had him gritting his teeth. He placed a finger over her lips, silently groaned at their softness. “There are men outside.”

Eyes dark with passion clouded to fear. Linet nodded.

He removed his finger, then shoved to his feet, the blade curled within his hand. “Stay here. They should not find us.” With quiet steps, he crept to the entry.

A rustle of clothes sounded as she repaired her gown. Soft footsteps sounded in his wake, then paused. “Can you see them?” she whispered.

“Nay, but they are close.” Her scent teased him, as did the memories of her full breasts. Bedamned, what had he been doing kissing her, much less entertaining notions of making love to her?

He peered out an open sliver between the moss cover.

Shadows flickered in the trees.

“They are coming,” he whispered.

Sticks cracked, hooves clopped as the men rode into view.

“Lord Tearlach has deployed a large contingent,” Seathan said, impressed by the number of knights.

“You are a valuable prisoner.”

Nerves rode her voice, which he expected, so why did her reply leave him on edge? He glanced at her; she hesitated, then looked away.

“What?” he whispered, his anger finding a foothold.