The Border Hostage (43 page)

He was out of the saddle in a flash and tethered his pony and Dacre's horse to a tree. Then he knelt and, ignoring the bulging eyes and protruding tongue of his victim, slowly and thoroughly searched Chris Dacre's pockets. When he found three sovereigns, Sim began to chuckle. Three gold sovereigns and a blooded saddle horse—not bad for a night's work. But the very best part, the thing that warmed the cockles of his heart, was that Mangey would be blamed for the murder. Lord Thomas Dacre would hunt Mangey Armstrong and run him to earth like a cornered weasel. Sim removed the rope from the neck of the corpse and coiled it up with loving hands.

Raven fled into the forest as if Satan himself were pursuing her. She could not swear that the man she had seen was Christopher Dacre, but she had sensed his presence, and her fear had taken over. She imagined she could hear his horse pursuing her, yet when she glanced desperately over her shoulder, she saw nothing but the dark gloom of the forest. She left the path in a calculated attempt to escape pursuit and again looked back. Guiding the horse between the trees was slower, but she could not take the chance of continuing along the path. It was difficult to gauge the right direction, but she focused all her thoughts on finding her way back to Hawick. Eventually the trees started to thin out and she realized she was nearing the edge of the forest.

Before she rode out across the open dale, she stopped and listened, and when she heard only silence, she concluded that no one was pursuing her. She wondered if the danger had all been a flight of fancy, because of the darkness and her fear of the Dacres. Yet deep in her soul she believed she had been in the presence of evil tonight. Raven drew Heath's cloak tightly about her and rode like the wind back to the safety of Cavers Castle.

Raven opened her eyes when she heard her name spoken, and for a moment wondered where she was. She saw that she was in bed, in a strange chamber, and Heath Kennedy had just entered the room. Then everything that had happened came rushing back into her consciousness. She had not arrived back at Cavers until dawn, when she had sought out a bed and pulled the covers over her head. Obviously she had slept the day away. “What time is it?”

“I think it is time for an explanation,” Heath said quietly.

Raven drew up her knees beneath the covers, feeling guilty. “First tell me if the king is safe.”

“Yes, by the time we arrived at Newark, Ram Douglas
had all under control. Young Jamie is being returned to Edinburgh to his uncle John Stewart, the Duke of Albany, and Archibald is voluntarily handing the regency over to him.” Heath paused, waiting for her to speak, and when she did not, he said, “Raven, last night you pledged that you would stay put. I trusted you.”

She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Heath, I swear I had every intention to stay put. I helped to ease the queen's nausea, but when I suggested we put her to bed, she began to cry and pleaded with me to help her get to England. I kept saying no, but before she was done, her plight melted my heart. Heath, I didn't do it because she was English, I didn't do it because she was a queen, I did it because she was a woman. The thought of her losing her freedom, being held a prisoner and having her baby in captivity, was unendurable to me. … I led her to the Border Forest.”

“Blood of God, have you any idea of the peril you were in? The forest was crawling with Armstrongs and Dacre's men, who were to take the royal party to England.” He closed his eyes to blot out the thought of her being at the mercy of the venal Armstrongs as he had once been. “Do you fear nothing, Raven? Does danger excite you so much that you enjoy risking your life?”

She closed her eyes and shuddered, just remembering. “Last night I was more afraid than I have ever been in my life. Danger does not excite me, and I will never risk my life again!”

Heath's face went taut. “What happened?” he demanded, his eyes filled with apprehension.

She could not cause him more concern; she had brought him enough trouble and worry, and she could see the lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. “Nothing happened. I was terrified of the darkness, and consumed with guilt for aiding Margaret, and afraid of what you would think of me for betraying your trust.”

Heath sat down on the bed and took her hand. “I
cannot fault you for having the soft heart of a woman, Raven.” He shook his head remembering. “Archibald was blaming Margaret for everything last night to save his neck. It so sickened me that I too may have helped her escape to the safety of her own country.”

Shortly after she arose, Raven bade goodbye to the steward and the cook before she followed Heath down to the stables. Though he looked weary to the bone, he insisted that they return to Eskdale. She watched as he put a leading rein on the white horse. “This mare is mine.” He rubbed a comforting hand across her back and down her belly. “When Ram and I saw Margaret riding her at the wedding, it tipped us off that Archibald had been dealing with Dacre. Now that I have all my breeding mares back, my score with the Dacres is settled; I hope we never cross paths again.”

They arrived back at Eskdale, but before Heath climbed the stairs to his tower for some much-needed sleep, he cocked an eyebrow at Raven. “Will you stay put?”

She flashed him a smile. “This time I will,” she pledged.

Heath undressed and crawled into bed, but before sleep claimed him, her words echoed inside his head.
This time I will.
Would she say those words before the priest if he brought him again? Raven had come to Eskdale because of the plot she suspected, not because she could not live without him. Now that the plot was foiled, would she stay with him? He suspected that she would, yet she had never told him she loved him. If he told her that he was the heir to the Lordship of Galloway, it might well induce her to marry him. Hot pride rose up within him and he immediately resolved to keep it secret from her; and he would keep his other resolve too. If they were to wed, Raven would have to do the proposing! His decision made, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

*  *  *

It was the tantalizing aroma of food that roused Heath the next morning. When he opened his eyes and saw that Raven had brought him breakfast, his spirit soared. If only she could be the first thing he saw every morning when he awoke, he would ask for nothing more. He sat up against the pillows, and to his great delight she climbed on the bed and sat cross-legged with the tray between them.

“Let's do everything together today. I've been thinking of all the lovely things you did for me when I was hurt, and I have decided to repay you.” She poured a small jug of cream onto the porridge and stirred in a generous helping of golden syrup. Then she dipped her finger into the bowl and offered it to him.

Heath licked the tip of her finger, completely bemused with her tantalizing performance. If he was not mistaken, Raven was attempting to woo him, and he decided it would be most pleasurable to see how far she would go. She proceeded to offer him delicious samples of the food she had prepared for him, and in doing so managed to touch and tease him in a dozen wicked ways. She managed to turn breakfast into a sensual game, and Heath decided he was ready to play his own game.

Because he had taken a figurative step backward from his pursuit of her, Raven was overtly pursuing him. It was obvious that she wanted him to make love to her as she continued with her tempting seduction. Heath hid his amusement and concentrated on keeping an iron control over his desire for her.

“It is so warm in here.” Raven removed the bed robe she was wearing to reveal a short nightie that Ada had sewn. It had been cunningly designed so that flower petals cupped her breasts. The centers of the lavender flowers, however, were her nipples, bursting through tiny slits. She deftly lifted the tray from the bed and leaned across Heath to set it on the floor. When she stretched down, it hitched up the short nightgown, leaving her bare bottom temptingly
exposed. When he didn't rise to the bait, she sat back up and asked, “Do you like to play games?”

“I love to play games; I'm rather good at them.”

She leaned forward, providing him with a delicious display of breasts, and said intimately, “Tina says that between a man and a woman it is always a game.” Raven made a little moue with her lips. “Unfortunately, I don't know many games, but I would love it if you would teach me how to play.”

Heath's control slipped a notch as his fingers reached out to touch a tantalizing nipple. He caught himself and instead tucked a curl behind her ear and suggested, “Cards. In that drawer you will find tarot cards … we can play fortune-teller.”

Amazed at his control, yet filled with curiosity about the cards, Raven slid from the bed to seek the fascinating pasteboards.

His avid eyes followed every movement she made. The lovely curves of her body were visible through the transparent material, and he marveled that the garment revealed far more than it concealed. Beneath the covers, his own body responded; his shaft lengthened and thickened and he felt his balls tighten pleasurably.

She climbed back on the bed and held out the tarot cards.

“You have the Celtic power of mystic divination, Raven. Tell my future. Lay out the cards and let me hear your interpretation.”

She turned over the first card, which was the Knight of Wands, and the corners of her lips lifted in a mischievous smile. “This man looks very much like you. He is galloping at full speed. Is he aggressive, reckless, and brave enough to take what he wants?” She waited for him to snatch her up into his arms, but when he did not, she continued, “No, I see now that it is not you. It is Sir Galahad, filled with romantic chivalry rather than manliness.”

She turned over another card, which was the Two of
Cups. “Ah, here are a young man and woman, drinking a toast, pledging themselves to each other. He is asking her a question, and clearly her answer is yes,” Raven hinted outrageously. “Could this couple be us? Do you wish to ask me a question?”

Heath shook his head. “I can't think of one. Do you wish to ask me a question?”

The minute he said it, Raven knew what Heath was up to. And it dawned on her that they truly were deep in a game—a male-female game that lovers had played since the dawn of time. The next card was the Empress. “Ah, here is a beautiful woman with a heart-shaped shield, bearing the sign of Venus! This woman is very close to you.” She stroked his hard thigh through the cover. “Her gown is covered with symbols of fertility; she will give her husband many strong sons. She represents heaven on earth to the man bold enough to scale her walls and breach her defenses. She longs for a powerful male who will force her to yield all her earthly treasures and pleasures.” She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Poor lady, I can feel how she aches.”

Heath felt his cock buck beneath the sheet, and the muscle in his jaw looked like a lump of iron.

Raven pretended she did not notice, and turned over another card. It was the King of Swords. “Now, this dark-complexioned man truly resembles you. Clearly he has been a lone wolf all his life and has had to fight for everything he has ever achieved. But now he is lonely; now he is seeking a mate. I wonder if this is you?” she puzzled. “He has a huge, erect sword and wields his weapon like a warrior.” She pulled the covers down below his hips. “It
is
you! 'Twas the unsheathed, upraised sword that gave you away!”

Heath growled in his throat and reached for her, but she held up an imperious hand to stay him. “Wait, I must be sure! I shall investigate thoroughly, explore all the ins and outs, and see if it measures up to intense scrutiny.” She
closed her fingers around his shaft and drew down the foreskin to expose the head of his cock. “It certainly looks like the King of Swords.” Then, using both hands, she captured it and rolled it between her palms. “It certainly feels like the King of Swords.” She looked into his eyes and deliberately licked her lips. “I shall see if it tastes like the King of Swords; the proof of the pudding is in the eating.”

As Raven bent and dropped a kiss on the velvet head of his phallus, Heath almost came out of his skin. Enthralled, he watched the tip of her tongue delicately trace a circle around the heart-shaped head. She repeated the torture three times, then sucked the whole thing into her mouth like a ripe plum. Then she proceeded with all the ins and outs as she had promised, and her glorious hair cascaded in a black waterfall, pooling across his loins.

Heath's head went back until the cords in his neck stood out like cables, and he arched his hips as the scalding heat of her mouth made him writhe and gasp with savage need. The rough friction of her tongue made him quiver and groan, and he felt his blood pulsing through his veins and pounding in his temples and the soles of his feet. “Raven, stop,” he ordered. “I will spend!”

When she paid him not the slightest heed, he came up from the bed and cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands and gently lifted her mouth from him. Then his hands slipped down her body until they grasped her waist, and he slid her up until her lips touched his, and he tasted himself on her mouth. Reeling from the passion she had aroused, he rolled with her until he straddled her, then he plunged down until his weapon was seated to the hilt. The brush of her thighs felt like silk as he thrust between them, and her hot, wet core branded him as nothing else had. It was primal and shocking as heat leaped between them. The loving was rough and uninhibited and splendidly frenzied as they slaked their sexual hunger. When her liquid tremors
caused his white-hot seed to erupt, he was sheathed so deeply that they merged and became one.

Heath did not withdraw but stayed within her so he could feel every surging wave and pulsing tremor of the firestorm that their mating had unleashed. As he held her softening breasts and felt her lips against his throat, he heard her whisper, “You are indeed my King of Swords.”

R
aven took great delight in watching Heath shoe one of his mares. She focused on his hands, marveling at their strength and their gentleness. She had never known anyone before who was so attuned to the animals he cared for. It was evident that horses were Heath's passion, and that they loved him in return.