Margaret Moore - [Maiden & Her Knight 03] (9 page)

Denis gravely nodded. “With the amount of wine he has drunk, Osburn will probably pass out, but I think you are wise about the Norsemen, especially now that they have seen her … like that.”

“Yes, I think Ingar was very serious about her worth as a slave.”

“And he is right.
Mon Dieu!
Such beauty and such spirit! I swear, my friend, that if she were to produce a sword and try to take command of the ship, I would not be shocked.”

Alexander sighed as he moved his belt and scabbard close beside him. “Neither would I, although she has given me her word she will not try to escape again.”

Denis’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. “Truly? Her word?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe she will not. Normans hold their honor very dear, or so I have been told.”

“I suppose.”

Denis hugged his knees. “Why do you not rest now, and I will let you take the second watch? You must be very tired after chasing her all over the riverbank.”

Alexander gratefully slid lower, so that his head was resting against the furled sail as he closed his eyes. “Thank you, Denis.”

Something pushed against Alexander’s back. He was on his feet in an instant, his scabbard in his left hand and the hilt of his sword in his right. The weapon was half out of the scabbard before he was even fully awake.

Several of the Norsemen were staring at him, as surprised as he was, in the breaking daylight.

“There is no need for alarm. We are just in the way,” Denis quickly explained from where he stood off to the steering board side. “They want to raise the mast and set the sail.”

“Oh.” His heartbeat still as rapid as a wren’s wings in flight, Alexander shoved his sword back into the scabbard, then joined his friend. His prize huddled near the prow, cloaked in the blanket, watching the Norsemen set about their task. Also in the bow were two of the Norsemen. They held a stay attached to the top of the mast, ready to help haul it upright. They were so close to her that she was as good as guarded.

Loose and tousled, her hair made him think that she, too, had just awakened. Her eyes were a little puffy from sleep, yet they shone with a sharp awareness of where she was and what had happened to her.

She met his gaze with undisguised hostility, but all Alexander could think about was the fact that beneath that blanket she was very nearly naked, clad only in that gossamer-thin silk shift that hid so very little, especially when it was damp. Aided by the memory of the kiss last night, his desire burst instantly, vibrantly to life.

Trying to subdue his unwanted craving, he forced his attention to Osburn, who lay near her, the wineskin at his feet. It looked as if he slept where he’d fallen.

“Oui,”
Denis said as he straddled one of the vacated sea chests. “He has not moved. A drooling man, even one so delightfully attired, is not a pretty sight, is it?”

Alexander gave his friend a sardonic little smile of agreement as he sat astride the sea chest to his friend’s right. “You didn’t wake me to take the second watch.”

“You were sleeping as peacefully as a newborn babe, and I said to myself, ‘Denis, he has earned a good rest, and you can sleep later.’
She
did not awaken until the Norsemen ordered her out of the way, too. Otherwise, nobody went near her.” Denis’s dimples appeared. “They were whispering about her all night, though. They think that although she is beautiful and they wouldn’t mind making love with her, they agree with Ingar. She is not worth the fight she will surely put up.”

“I didn’t know you could understand them.”

Denis grinned. “I understand enough of the words and the way they said them.”

Alexander turned his attention to the activity on the ship, and how far they had come from Bellevoire. They had left the river, and, although they were close to shore, they were definitely at sea, which explained why Ingar was setting the sail.

Four of the brawnier Norsemen put the mast into the slot for it in the keel. Aided by the two pulling on the shroud, they levered the mast upward hand over hand, walking toward the slot until it settled into place with a thud. The raised mast swayed a moment, but the mastfish kept it from tipping backward, and an oaken block was slid into place to hold the other side of it steady. Then, the yard and furrowed sail were attached and the sail unfurled, the white square catching the quickening breeze. Except for the lines at the bottom of their sail, there was no other rigging. It was a simple, if heavy task, done with quick efficiency by Ingar’s men.

Finished, they sprawled on the deck between their sea chests and fell asleep at once—except for the two who scowled at Alexander and Denis, clearly not pleased by the other men’s temporary possession of their sea chests. Alexander and Denis quickly rose and went back to the center of the ship, where they sat down. The lady, Alexander noticed, stayed where she was.

“Ingar says we should arrive after midday if the wind holds,” Denis remarked as he reached for a wineskin. He offered it to Alexander. “It’s water, not wine. I think Osburn has finished all of that.”

“I don’t suppose Ingar mentioned exactly where this fortress is?” Alexander asked as he took a drink. The water was not very cold, and it tasted leathery, but he was glad to wet his throat.

He had accepted Lord Oswald’s word that the place where they would hold the lady was safe, secure and secluded, but after yesterday, he was not nearly so willing to take the man’s promises at face value.

“No, only that it is somewhere in Glamorgan, in the south part of Wales that Prince John used to rule.” Denis shook his head. “The wilds of Wales.”

“He wanted her far from home so that her husband couldn’t find her.”

“Then he has chosen well,” Denis agreed.

“How did you sleep, Norman?”

Alexander and Denis both looked up to see Ingar towering over them. Grinning, he swept his cloak out behind him and crouched opposite them.

“Well enough,” Alexander replied. He decided to take this opportunity to ask some questions, since Ingar seemed in a jovial humor. “Is the location of this fortress of Lord Oswald’s truly a secret?”

“You have not seen it, or who guards it, or you would not wonder,” Ingar replied. “It is not much of a fortress, yet he has hired Brabancons for a garrison, so I expect that anybody who does discover it does not live to tell about it.”

Alexander tensed and Denis stared. The Brabancons were the fiercest mercenaries in Europe, men infamous for their greed and cruelty. They would kill anyone—man, woman or child—who stood in their way. They were so notoriously vicious that both Richard and his father had banned them from England.

Lord Oswald was Richard’s enemy, so it should come as no shock that he would use such men, yet the hiring of Brabancons was something Alexander had not expected.

“He pays for the best men for the job,” Ingar said, obviously amused by Alexander’s reaction to the news of the mercenaries. He reached out for the wineskin and took a gulp. Wiping his lips, he belched, then said, “You and I are proof of that, ya? I am the best captain of the best crew in the western seas and you are skilled at stealing.”

Annoyed, Alexander rose. “I am
not
a thief.”

His gray eyes twinkling with a sly certainty that angered Alexander even more, Ingar straightened so that they were eye to eye. “Not an ordinary one, of course. I should have said
kidnapper
.”

“I was destined for knighthood and it was for that I trained.”

Crossing his arms and genuinely puzzled, Ingar raised a thick blond brow. “Why would you waste your time and skill with that? Chivalry is for boys playing at war, not men who can really fight.”

“I don’t expect a Norseman to understand.”

“That does not mean he cannot fight,” Denis said, leaping to his feet as well as his friend’s defense. “He once held off an entire village all by himself.”

Ingar looked so impressed, Alexander decided he wouldn’t clarify that the villagers had, for the most part, been armed with sticks—except for the butcher with the cleaver.

“I thought he would be good,” the Norseman said. “I would gladly welcome such a man into my crew, Norman, if you wish to fight to good purpose.”

“I have no desire to plunder and pillage.”

Ingar threw back his head and laughed. “Of course you do. All men do, if they can. Most cannot, though.” He ran a canny eye over Alexander. “You would be a wealthy man if you join me.”

“I have been promised a knighthood and money after we collect the ransom.”

The sly, knowing look lingered in Ingar’s eyes. “You abduct a woman for ransom and yet you are too good to sail with me?”

Alexander’s jaw clenched. “This is different,” he muttered, telling himself it was so.

“He never said he was too good to sail with you,” Denis protested.

Ingar, however, was clearly not offended, for he smiled as he regarded the Gascon. “There is no need to defend him. It is his loss if he will not join me.” He put his hands on his lower back and stretched like a cat after a long nap. “This wind will speed our progress. Now I will sleep until midday, when we should be near Oswald’s fortress. There are some treacherous rocks that guard the bay, and while Lars is good with the steering board, I am better.”

With that, he went back toward the stern, said something to the man holding the tiller, wrapped his cloak around himself and lay down.

“A strange fellow, that Norseman,” Denis remarked as they settled back down beneath the sail.

Alexander silently agreed. Then once again his gaze strayed to the lady in the bow.

No, he was not like Ingar, or he would have done more than kiss her last night. He would have taken her there in the trees, sating the desire she roused with no thought beyond that. He would have teased and caressed and stroked with all the skill he possessed until she whimpered with need, anxious and desperate for him.

He would have been long in the loving, savoring every moment she was in his arms, lingering over every part of her. He would have made her moan with yearning and cry out for him to love her. When he finally entered her, he would have listened to her every word and sigh and breath, seeking to pleasure her to the utmost so that his would be all the finer. Only when he was sure she could wait no longer would he release the full power of his desire. Only then would he have given free rein to the ardor she inspired and thrust hard and deep, until he reached the pinnacle of excited bliss and release.

After, he would kiss her lightly, sweetly, like a lover should. He would whisper tender endearments, yet all the while he would touch and brush and fondle, until she was ready for him once more. Then he would love her again, fast or slow as the mood took him.

If he were like Ingar and thought only of himself.

L
ater that day, after Ingar had successfully guided his ship around several tall, jagged rocks, Isabelle wrapped the blanket more tightly about her body as she stared at the bluffs surrounding a small bay. Perched on an outcropping, dark against a slate gray sky, were the remains of towers and crumbling walls. It was obvious that there was no village nearby, or there would be vessels in the bay.

Two roofless towers stood at the corners of the outer wall. She could make out two more beyond that, probably at the other corners, indicating that this castle had not been a large one. There was likely only the one outer wall, and perhaps a dry moat on the landward side. All the buildings would be inside that single barricade. Unfortunately, a small courtyard would be easy to watch from the surrounding wall walks.

She did not have to be told this was where they intended to imprison her. A more lonely, desolate and isolated place she could scarcely imagine. Gulls wheeled above the bluffs and the ruins, their mournful cries adding to her feeling that she would never be able to escape this place.

She might as well be a million miles away from home. She could not swim back, and a journey overland, even supposing she could escape and had any idea of the route back to Bellevoire, would surely take days.

How could Connor and his men ever find her here, even if they surmised she had been abducted? They would have no idea what had happened to her, and the thought of her sister’s fear and misery added to her own.

And what if Allis was so upset and worried that she lost the baby?