His Conquest (7 page)

He’d shifted himself on the floor in response to her abrupt demands. If he’d shown her but a hint of contempt, she would have left him to apply the mixture himself. No, something else stewed within his mind.

As she applied the next swathe of ointment, he stiffened. She looked up. Stilled. He was watching her, but within the pain shadowing his green eyes, awareness resided as well.

Heat trembled through her body, spun by her need of him, not as a warrior, but as a man. A forbidden man whom she wanted with her every breath.

As if he sensed her thoughts, his dark brows narrowed with warning.

Realization washed over her. Sweet Mary, he wanted her.

That she could affect this complex man thrilled her, then she grew somber. Seathan was dangerous, a Scottish rebel who viewed her as the enemy. Neither did he know of her blood bond to Fulke. Kneeling here but a hand’s breath away, staring at him, wanting him was like playing with fire—a dangerous blaze that might easily leave her life scarred.

Unnerved, Linet broke eye contact. “I need to apply the salve on the cuts across your chest.”

Instead of a reply, he started to lift his tunic.

At the trembling of his hands, she helped him remove the neatly sewn garment. Honed muscles, battered by bruises and recent cuts, greeted her.

She silently damned her brother, that Fulke would order a man tortured so. One day his quest for wealth and power would lead to his downfall.

Seathan motioned for her to begin.

“You can talk,” she said, her nerves on edge, the silence prodding her awareness of him as if she stood too close to a fire.

He only arched an ominous brow.

Frustrated, she swept her fingers through the silky ointment upon the flattened rock, then carefully smoothed the slippery gel over the first of many cuts. She tried to ignore the ripple of muscle, the warmth of his skin against hers.

And failed.

“We must stay here for at least two days,” she said to break the tension, “for you to heal.”

“We will rest this night, no more.”

The lackwit! “After your blood loss this day, if you try to travel on the morrow, you might die.”

“If I remain here and do naught, the cost could be many lives.”

If he’d said anything else, she would have argued. Damn him, why did he have to be so noble, put others before himself? Because he was a leader, a warrior whom men would admire. And follow.

Linet nodded. “On the morrow then.” But she would ensure they kept their travel slow. As if he’d be able to move faster than a slow walk. But he’d try.

She gently tugged down his tunic after she’d covered the angry gashes, marks that would mend and become lost among the numerous scars littering his body. Unlike the scar he bore on his heart due to the woman who’d hurt him. ’Twould seem that would never heal.

“Rest.” Linet stood and walked to the opening. She leaned against the time-worn stone and watched the rush of water pour over the ledge Seathan had clung to but a short while ago. A tremor rippled through her body. Then another.

“Linet?”

At the soft rumble of his voice, she stilled. Exhausted, she didn’t want to spar with him further. “Go to sleep.”

“Lie with me.”

At his delirious command, her heart stumbled. He sought but another body’s heat. No, she lied to herself. When he’d watched her before, she’d recognized the raw need burning in his eyes. If she chose, he would give her body its every dream.

Warmth swept through her as she imagined his fingers skimming over her flesh, touching her, savoring her every shiver. “You need rest.”

“Look at me.”

Foolishly, she turned.

Stilled.

Desire, hot and intense, still darkened his gaze. Sweet Mary, how could any woman turn him away? Yet with the secrets she harbored, how could she accept the temptation he offered?

He lifted his hand.

Her throat went dry. “I…”

“Need rest as well,” he said into the thickening silence.

Angst, relief, and disappointment swept through her in quick succession. Lost in her own desires, she’d misread his intent.

Too aware of this Scottish rebel, a warrior who represented everything she’d ever wanted in a man, she closed the distance. With her body aching with need, she stretched out by his side.

He drew her against him.

“You should not be moving,” she cautioned, wishing for nothing else than for him to hold her.

A lie.

She wished for so much more.

“Go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled.

She closed her eyes, but with him flush against her, his soft breaths caressing her neck, she doubted she’d find sleep this night.

Seathan shifted on the pallet and pain tore through his body. With a grimace, he shook off the fog of sleep and surveyed his surroundings.

Through the worn stone opening, slivers of dawn greeted him. The rush of water echoed from below. A soft, cool breeze, laced with mist and earth, filled his senses.

The cave.

In his dreams, he’d slept within his own bed, the fire in the hearth roaring hot.

But not alone.

A soft groan caught his attention. He glanced down. Linet lay snug against him, the soft curve of her breast inches away from his fingers, the swell tempting him to touch.

The fragile light of dawn carved soft shadows over her fine-boned face, accented the lush sweep of her lashes and her full lips.

His body hardened. On a muttered curse he closed his eyes, willed himself to calm. But with each breath, he inhaled her tempting scent.

“Seathan?” Her throaty, rough morning murmur had him looking down.

A mistake.

The innocence of her expression stole his every thought, his ability to resist what he wanted most.

On a groan, he leaned down and covered her mouth. The velvet softness of her lips had him deepening the kiss, falling into the sensations she made him feel. As within the cell, he lost himself to her taste, that of woman and need, her passionate response feeding his own.

Linet shifted against him, her eyes watching him with desire.

His body demanding its need, Seathan rolled her over, expecting her to tell him to stop, to play a maiden’s game. Instead, like a temptress, her eyes sparkled with longing as she watched him, then deepened to something dark, something dangerous, something desperate.

Slender fingers touched his chest, skimmed down to pause a hand’s breath from where he’d hardened to a painful length. “Take me.”

And his good intent fractured.

Through sheer will, he held, waited, giving her a chance to withdraw the offer, to deny him what he’d wanted since he’d met her.

The rush of water from the falls below churned within the potent silence.

She’d lost her chance.

In one sure stroke, he tore away her gown, bared her to him for his view. God in heaven, she was everything he’d imagined and more. From the fullness of her lips, to the slender curve of her neck that drew his eyes down to her full breasts.

His body roared with a painful ache. He had to touch her. Injuries bedamned, he had to have her. He reached out, slid his hand along the smooth satin of her throat. Her moan had him reaching lower to cup her soft curves, leaning forward to taste.

“Seathan.” She arched against him, her body quivering. “Seathan, wake up!”

At the abrasive urgency in her voice, he paused. The dregs of sleep cleared. He opened his eyes.

Linet stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, but dark with desire as well.

Seathan glanced to where his hand cupped her breast. God’s teeth, his making love to her had been a dream!

“Get off me!” Linet tugged her gown to cover herself, her breasts still tingling from Seathan’s touch.

He blinked in confusion, shoved away, and stared at her in disbelief. “God’s teeth. I am sorry.”

She scrambled back, too aware of him, shamefully, aching to lie beneath him again. “Sorry?”

He blew out a deep breath, shook his head. “It was a dream.”

Clutching her gown against her chest, she rose. “It seemed very real to me.”

“I told you I am sorry,” he said, the grogginess in his voice clearing. “Never would I touch you without your wanting me to.”

And she believed him.

The air pulsed thick between them, a force that a bare word would shift into desire.

She shivered, ashamed that after the impropriety of his touch, she wanted to feel his hands upon her again. Trembling, she glanced toward where the sun peeked above the horizon.

“We must leave.”

The coolness of his words had her facing him, taking in his pale skin, and his eyes still edged with fever.

“You need to rest at least another day.” She paused. “Several would be best.”

He shoved to his feet.

“Seathan.”

“We will go,” he said, his tone even, but his eyes burning with desire that held its own warning.

Shaken by her answering need, she nodded. To remain here, wanting him this much, might lead to a greater risk.

Seathan sucked in a deep breath, shoved aside another limb, and trudged through the dense wash of trees with Linet in his wake. His head spun, his muscles screamed, and the gash in his side ached like a bore goaded. Pain he deserved after waking up with his hand on Linet’s breast.

She’d trusted him to keep her safe, a vow he’d given. Yet he’d touched her as if she were a wanton, far from what a lady of her innocence dictated. When he’d released her this morning, she’d pushed back, shaken, and had eyed him with distrust.

Distrust he deserved.

Though she’d insisted they remain within the safety of the cave another day to allow him to further heal, he’d refused. He could not endure another night with her silken body wrapped within his arms, her scent teasing him and inspiring his every fantasy.

Since their departure, she’d remained silent. Had he expected her disposition to improve after his improprieties?

Though she’d nay admit it, he’d seen her desire, which helped bloody naught. That she was a virgin condemned him more. He was a warrior, a man who was always in complete control of his thoughts, of his every move.

Except, ’twould seem, with her.

Even as he damned himself, his body still throbbed with unspent desire. Never had a woman haunted him, much less a lass mired in secrets. The snippets he’d learned about her since she’d helped him escape Breac Castle did not diminish her mystery.

The land curved up, the late afternoon sun pouring over the land. His body protested as he pushed on. At least with the night’s rest, his wound had quit bleeding. The tight binding she’d secured around his side would prevent its reopening.

What ties held her to Breac Castle? More important, whom did she seek to evade, the viscount or another powerful lord? And why would she have risked her life to slip into the dungeon to free the viscount’s most valuable prisoner? A question that again led his suspicions to the viscount himself.

He’d sensed her innocence. When he’d kissed her, her passion was all that a man dreams of, but her hesitancy was revealing. Unless…

Anger flared. Seathan slanted a look at the breathtaking lass who walked at his side. Was she Tearlach’s intended, her virginity preserved for their wedding night? That would explain her innocence, her denial that she was his lover, the reason why she would reside within Breac Castle, and why she would have in-depth knowledge of the secret passageways. As a future bride, Tearlach would have disclosed the secret escape routes in case of danger.

As for her dislike of the viscount, perhaps her guardian was responsible for her placement in the viscount’s grasp? It made sense. Her guardian could have easily arranged her marriage to the viscount for a political tie, even against her wish. A forced union, more so with a brutal man such as Tearlach, would have given her solid motive to dare to free the viscount’s prize prisoner from his cell.

God help her if she had failed in their escape. Outraged, Tearlach would have hauled her into his bed and raped her, marriage be damned. And with his twisted mind, he would have found pleasure in her screams of pain.

Fury roared through Seathan as he thought of the bastard’s hands upon her, her silken skin marred by his carnal greed. Trembling, Seathan fought for calm, stunned by the depth of his emotion. Naught had occurred. Linet had freed him, they’d escaped, and the viscount wallowed in the anger of an empty marriage bed.

He scanned the forest ahead, thick with shadows and foliage that might easily hide an ambush by Tearlach’s men. Bedamned. Since he had not arrived to meet Alexander and Duncan at the predetermined place but a league away, by now his brothers would be searching for him. He had to intercept them before Tearlach’s men did.

“There is a stream to our left.” Linet pointed through the pines to where the gurgle of water echoed. “I need to refill my water pouch.”

A wise idea, but from her worried glance, he suspected her motive had more to do with providing him time to rest, which left him humbled.

He nodded. “We will stop.”

Weathered pine needles muted their steps as they pushed forward, their rich fragrance combined with that of damp earth and spring. Ahead, water tumbled in a soft rush. A layer of thin ice lay against the shore, giving way to the gentle flow of the stream.

At the mossy edge, Linet knelt.

Seathan joined her. Water rushed between time-softened boulders slick with a veil of moss as they dipped their water pouches into a deep pool near the edge.

“How do you fare?” Seathan asked.

She arched a delicate brow, taking in the sheen of sweat coating his brow. “A question I should be asking you.”

He lifted the water pouch, secured the top, and set it on the ground. Leaning over, he took a long drink, the cool flow refreshing against his throat. Seathan splashed water on his face and leaned back. He turned to Linet to find her watching him.

Guilt edged him. “What I did this morning was wrong.”

A blush swept up the angle of her cheeks. “It was,” she agreed, “but you explained it was a dream.”

“Do not excuse me.”

She shrugged. “I was but stating a fact.”

So she was. Still, that she took his impropriety so calmly while he floundered with the issue left him on the defensive. “Do you always argue so?”

Surprise flared on her face. “Argue? We are but talking.”

They were, but his shame demanded her outrage. Frustration gnawed at him. “Throughout our time together, regardless of my words, you fear little.”

“You want me to fear you?”

Was the woman addled? He exhaled. “A fool would not. You are secluded with a desperate rebel.”

“You will not harm me.”

“You seem sure. A dangerous acceptance toward a man you barely know.”

Linet secured the top to her water pouch, stood. “And a man who can barely remain standing from his wounds.”

He shoved to his feet. The forest swam around him, then cleared. “Who are you that you do not fear me?”

She looked at him for a long moment. Sighed. “The woman who has given us both a chance at life.”

A shout echoed from near the top of the hill.

Tearlach’s men! Seathan caught her hand, hauled her with him, and bolted for the nearby brambles, his body trembling from the effort.

“Under here.” At the outer edge, he dropped, dragging her with him.

Linet scooted against him beneath the leaf-filled limbs.

A flash of a rider near the top of the hill came into view, then another. That hill had been their destination. Thank God they’d paused to refill their water pouches.

Several more men rode past, then disappeared into the trees. The thrum of hooves slowly faded.

Linet turned toward him, her face pale. “They will return.”

“Aye, but when they do, we will be long gone.”

Worry crowded her face. “How many days before we reach the Highlands?”

“I am unsure.” Because their trek northward would come later, a fact she would learn once he reached his castle. He refused to risk her attempting to flee by telling her now. Not that he believed she’d wish to return to Tearlach, but until he knew more about her, he would keep her in his sight.

“Come.” He started to inch back.

The crack of a stick to the west had him scrambling back under the shrub, hauling Linet with him.

“I did not hear any horses,” she whispered.

“Nor I,” he agreed as he scoured the forest in search of hidden men.

“Mayhap the viscount’s men have broken into two search parties.”

“’Twould appear so.” He prayed she was wrong, but no other explanation fit.

After a long moment, the soft snort of a horse betrayed whoever hid in the distance.

“Whoever they are, they have horses,” Seathan whispered.

Linet frowned. “If they are Lord Tearlach’s men, why would they be hiding?”

“Aye,” Seathan agreed. “A question I am wondering as well.”

Another stick cracked from behind the distant clump of trees.

“From their actions,” Seathan said, “’twould seem they were hiding from Tearlach’s men.”

“They are rebels?”

“I am not sure. Whoever they are, we will wait here until they have left.”

Bushes rustled, this time closer. The bough of a thick fir shifted. A bay appeared, led by a fierce, dark-haired warrior, followed by a blond-haired knight leading a coal-black steed.

“Christ’s blade,” Seathan hissed.

Worry ripped through Linet. “What is wrong?”

Instead of responding, Seathan rolled from under the bush and stood. His body swayed.

The lackwit! “What are you doing?” Linet hissed as she scrambled out. “You will be seen!” Or worse.

He wove forward.

Sweet Mary! She ran and caught his arm, tugged. “Come back. They will see you!”

Instead, he jerked his arm free, stumbled toward the men.

The fierce man who’d mounted the bay turned. Black hair draped around a face tempered by determination. The scar slashing down his left cheek added to his menacing expression.

No! She bolted for Seathan.

As quick, the second man whirled, his blond hair secured behind his neck, which framed the face of a god.

Seathan stopped. “Alexander, Duncan!”

Heart pounding, she halted at his side. “You know those men?”

With unsteady steps, he continued forward. “Aye, they are…my brothers.”

Relief swept her and, after it, fear. One man she could escape from if the need arose, but three? What should she do? If she tried to slip away now, surely the men would give chase.

As he continued to move forward, Seathan began to weave.

The fool. She ran and put his left arm over her shoulder, taking some of his weight.

“I need not your help,” he said through gritted teeth.

Linet held, sensing his request came from his not wanting to appear weak before his brothers.

Before he could say more, soft hoofbeats echoed in the crisp air as the two men cantered toward them. The largest man, his hair as black as Seathan’s, drew to a halt, the menace carved on his face changing to relief.

The warrior with blond hair and a deep cleft in his chin drew up to his side.

The black-haired man jumped to the ground and caught Seathan’s shoulders. He studied him in a quick sweep. “God’s eyes! Who beat you?” Cobalt eyes lashed toward Linet, darkened. “What happened to him?”

The blond-haired god jumped to the ground, caught Linet’s shoulder before she could step back. Fierce green eyes pierced her. “Tell us!”

“The lass helped me escape,” Seathan rasped.

“Escape?” At once the blond-haired man’s hold on her eased.

The black-haired man looked far from convinced. “From where?”

“I—” Seathan started to sway.

“He needs to sit,” Linet interrupted, shooting both brothers a cool glare. “If you have not noticed, he is about to fall over.”

The dark-haired man held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “Duncan, catch his other shoulder.” He and the other brother helped Seathan toward the thicket of trees where they’d hidden a short while before.

Shielded within the alcove of leaves, the blond-haired man turned toward his brother. “I will retrieve the horses.” He hurried through the trees toward where they’d left their mounts.

“The gruff one’s name is Alexander,” Seathan forced out.

“Gruff,” the dark-haired brother snorted as he helped Seathan settle against a moss-blanketed stump. “I could not hold a sword to you.” His gaze shifted to Linet, grew serious. “You saved my brother. For that I am in your debt.”

The blond warrior led the horses into the thick leaf-strewn limbs which would shield them from view. “How is he?”

Seathan winced as he shifted to a more comfortable stance. “Not dead. And able to speak for myself.”

Relief swept Duncan’s face, and dimples deepened in his cheeks. “Aye,” he shot back with a twinkle in his eyes, “it looks as if you will live. The surly ones always do.”

Emotions swamped Linet at the obvious affection the brothers held for each other, their family bond strong. A bond that until her father’s death, she, too, believed she’d held with Fulke. A bond her brother had manipulated until he’d gained total control over his inheritance.

Tired, weary of the deception surrounding her life, she focused on Seathan, on a man whom she’d come to admire. “You need to rest.”

Grim appreciation shadowed Seathan’s face. “Duncan, meet Lady Linet.”

An inquisitive blond brow arched with interest. Duncan took her hand, bowed, and kissed behind her knuckles. “My lady, the pleasure is mine.”

His Grecian good looks and effortless grace assured her that many a woman had fallen to his easy charm. He seemed an approachable man, a trait not shared by his oldest brother. She glanced toward Seathan. Interest sparked in Lord Grey’s eyes as he watched her interaction with his brother. Irritated by his assessment, and the fact that he affected her so when Duncan’s magnetic presence and smooth manner had done naught, she withdrew her hand.