Authors: Diana J. Cosby
His Captive (6 page)
In a normal setting, she would have pushed him away. But lost within the tragic thoughts of her parents’ death, Alexander’s unexpected compassion had lured her to accept his comfort. He’d held her so close, his heart beating so strong.
For the first time in many years, she’d felt safe. Protected. And when he’d looked into her eyes, desired. She’d wanted him as well.
How easily she recalled touching his muscled body as she’d treated him back at the inn. The power he kept leashed, that of a warrior, a man confident in his abilities. A shudder swept through her.
“You are cold?” Alexander’s deep burr whispered across her neck.
Nichola closed her eyes against the pleasant sensation. “No.” Not cold, but so lonely that she ached. He could never know that. Or the fact his presence brought the promise of contentment to her life, which she’d not experienced before.
A promise that was never to be.
The rich fragrance of damp earth and dew-laden grass filled each breath as she glanced toward the clearing sky. Early-morning sun slipped through the thick canopy of leaves slick with rain, the rays warm upon her face. Within the dense forest, the fog clinging near the earth since dawn was beginning to fade.
At any other time, she would have appreciated the serene setting. But the beauty of the land unfolding before her served a potent reminder that they traveled deeper into Scotland. With a man who stirred emotions in her heart.
A man who was her enemy.
Overhead, a raven cried a sad, mournful sound. Nichola scanned the boggy land, cradled by the forest. They were alone. Even if they came upon someone, now within Scotland, she doubted they’d help her escape. So what could she do to gain her freedom?
If she slipped his dagger free, she could hold Alexander at bay until she rode away on his horse. She frowned. After watching him fend off the drunk, he’d easily recover his blade. When he slept she could steal his horse. No, with his warrior instincts, she would never be able to slip past him without alerting him.
Short of being dead or ill, ’twould seem she’d never find a way . . . wait. That was it! If he believed her unwell, he would lower his guard.
Guilt rose at her deception, especially considering his compassion toward her yesterday. Nichola refused to allow those emotions to fester. If he hadn’t abducted her, she wouldn’t be forced to take such a drastic step.
Slumping against his chest, Nichola moaned.
“Go to sleep. We will be traveling for a good while yet.”
She moaned again from deep in her chest, putting more emphasis into it.
He caught her chin in a gentle hold and turned her face toward him. “You are ill?”
“Yes.” The truth. Her deception was making her sick.
His fingers skimmed her brow. He frowned. “It is cool.”
“I—I feel as if I will”—Nichola gave a rough cough—“retch.”
“Mayhap the food from the inn was spoiled.”
At the thought of the greasy, poorly herbed meat he’d taken with them when they’d left the inn, fare they’d eaten during a brief rest earlier this day, her stomach indeed grew queasy.
“I do not know what . . . oh—” On another groan she bent over, hoping to erase him of any suspicions.
“Whoa.” Alexander halted his mount. “You are very pale.”
Beneath his intense gaze, she tried to appear even more grim.
The cleft in his chin deepened with concern. “There is a burn but a short distance ahead. We will rest beside it until you can travel.”
He’d believed her! She tampered her joy. Once they’d stopped, she still must figure out how to slip away.
Leaves rustled overhead as they rode down the shallow incline toward where a narrow ribbon of water gurgled over rock, then disappeared from view.
The sun’s rays sparked over the rush of water like the sprinkle of diamonds, reminding Nichola of his story of fairies. She couldn’t think of that. He’d abducted her, she owed him no loyalty. But with his saving her from the thieves at the inn, she couldn’t help another twinge of remorse.
They neared the stream’s edge, a rich bank laden with moss and grass. Alexander halted his horse and dismounted. He turned and carefully helped her down.
“My thanks.” Without meeting his gaze, she laid her hand over her right temple as if it throbbed, the other cradled low over her belly. “If I could sit for a short while and rest,” she whispered.
“Aye.” He guided her to where several large boulders lay nestled along the water’s bank.
She sat, careful to keep her movements slow.
“I will bring you some fresh water.”
Nichola nodded.
Alexander retrieved his water pouch. He emptied the contents into the grass, then knelt at the stream’s edge to refill it.
With his attention diverted, she searched their surroundings. To her left, she spied the broken length of a fallen limb.
Inspiration bloomed.
Nichola checked on Alexander, relieved to find him hunkered down at the water’s edge, still refilling the water pouch.
Do it.
She hesitated at the thought of causing him harm.
He abducted you!
Taking a deep breath she rose. Her heart slammed against her chest. Nichola waited for him to turn, to catch her moving.
He continued filling his water pouch.
With care, she lifted the branch in her hand, thankful to find it firm and not rotting as she’d feared. She stepped forward. The moss absorbed the sound of her steps; Alexander hadn’t looked in her direction.
Her hands began to tremble.
Do not weaken. He only wants the coin your ransom will provide
.
.
She inched closer. Two more steps and Nichola stood an arm’s length behind him. With a prayer for forgiveness, she raised the limb and took aim.
He pulled the leather pouch out of the water and started to turn toward her. “That should do—”
Closing her eyes, she swung with all her might.
Wood thunked as it slammed against his skull.
Nauseated, she peered out, desperate to know if she’d succeeded in rendering him unconscious.
Eyes wide with disbelief, he wove and tried to stand. On a curse Alexander tried to step toward her, but his legs buckled. He crumbled to the ground.
Horrified, Nichola stared at his unmoving body. What had she done?
Run!
She made to take a step away, but her conscience had her watching him to ensure she’d not severely injured him. Seconds passed.
He didn’t move.
Nichola dropped the limb and crept closer. Blood oozed down the back of his neck. She clamped her hands over her mouth and staggered back.
Oh, God, she’d killed him!
Chapter Five
Nichola sagged to the ground on her knees. “What have I done?” She’d not meant to kill him, only to knock him out. Her heart ached as she lifted her head and stared at him.
Alexander’s body lay sprawled on the moss, one arm slung carelessly over his head. His other hand curled peacefully on his chest. If not for the blood matting his hair and seeping down his neck, one would think him asleep.
Move. Stand up, damn you! Curse me. Anything.
Please.
Water churned along the moss-edged banks. Leaves rustled overhead in a delicate ripple. A rabbit darted into the clearing, then sprinted into the cover of the woods.
Alexander remained still.
Nichola scanned the woods. She couldn’t leave him here, but with his well-muscled frame, she wasn’t strong enough to drag him away from the bank. Even if she could, how would she bury him?
She pressed her brow against her knees. The ache in her chest exploded into great, heaving sobs. Dark splotches stained her gown—the wanton dress yet another reminder of Alexander.
She wished the moment back, that she’d never picked up the broken limb. Other opportunities to escape would have presented themselves. Fear had provoked her to make an ill-conceived choice.
Is that what had happened to her brother, Griffin? Had his confrontation with Lord James tragically stumbled into murder? The forest blurred through the tears. Before, she would have dismissed such an explanation. Now, she understood all too well how an act of innocence could decay into a lethal misstep.
The freedom she’d sought lay before her, except now, her path was laden with naught but regret.
With the back of her hand, she swiped away the tears and pushed herself to her feet. However much it went against her every belief, she must leave him here.
A large tear wobbled on her chin. He may not receive a burial fitting of his status, but she’d not leave him without his dignity. She would cover his body.
At least he’d have that.
On shaky legs, she retrieved one of the two blankets from the saddle roll and knelt by Alexander’s side. Instead of covering him, she pressed her hand upon his cheek, needing to touch him one more time.
“I—I am so sorry.”
Her hand shook as she traced the cool lines of his warrior’s face, seeing only compassion in the hard angles; wanting to remember him as a man who could touch her heart.
What was it about him that’d made her care? He’d abducted her. Thrown her entire life in chaos. Yet, his passing incited grief; a depth the like of which she’d not experienced since her parents’ death.
Nichola leaned over and gently kissed his brow. “Good-bye, Alexander.” Her hands shook as she draped the blanket over his battle-honed body.
She pushed to her feet, ran to his horse and picked up the reins. And looked back toward him.
Please God, let a kind soul find and properly tend to Alexander’s body.
Please God, let a kind soul find and properly tend to Alexander’s body.
Nichola set her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up onto the saddle, the worn leather empty without Alexander’s formidable presence.
Wood snapped nearby.
Her pulse rammed in her throat. She scanned the dense thicket, expecting an enraged Scot to emerge and accuse her of murder.
A roebuck’s flag flashed in the distance, then disappeared.
Look at her falling apart at the breaking of a stick. Her fingers tightened on the reins. And why wouldn’t she? She’d just killed a man. Now, she was stealing his horse. If anyone spotted her with Alexander’s body nearby, however unintentional her act, she would be hung.
A cold shudder swept through her. Her breath hitched as she stole one final glance toward Alexander. “Good-bye,” she whispered. On a sob, she urged his steed south.
The horse didn’t move.
On a shaky breath, Nichola nudged her knees against his sides. “On with you.”
The horse swung its massive head toward her with an indignant snort. A wide brown eye stared at her with interest. Then he flattened his ears back, his expression as stubborn as his master’s.
The reason why he refused to move dawned on her with dismay. Often knights trained their horses to remain by their side. The bay recognized her as a stranger and was waiting for Alexander. He refused to leave him.
Nichola nudged the horse’s sides harder.
He sidestepped.
She yanked at the reins.
He whinnied and tossed his head, nearly jerking her from the saddle.
Would this nightmare never end? Without the use of Alexander’s horse, she would have to travel on foot. Without another option, Nichola tossed the reins to the ground and dismounted; the task difficult as her gown caught on the saddle several times before she was able to dismount.
On the ground, she loosened the second blanket and food stores Alexander had secured from the tavern. She paused. Where was the water pouch? Then she remembered. Alexander had it in his hands when she’d hit him.
As much as she wanted to avoid going near Alexander’s body, she would need water as she traveled. Her breath hitched as she ran back. At the stream, she stared for a long moment at Alexander’s prone, blanket covered form. Grief swelled in her throat until she struggled for each breath. On a cry, she snatched the full water pouch, turned and started walking south.
Away from Alexander.
Forever.
As she traveled throughout the morning, Nichola scanned the dense forest, broken only by swaths of heather strewn fields. Until she reached English soil, she needed to stay as hidden as possible. She dared not trust anyone.
She had no experience in the woods much less knowledge of how to survive on her own. The few forays into the forest as a child to pick herbs with her mother hardly gave her the experience she needed now. The upkeep of Rothfield Castle allowed little time for such details as well.
And what if the need arose to protect herself?
Alexander’s dagger.
She groaned. In her haste, she hadn’t even thought of taking that. She dismissed the idea of returning for the weapon. What good would it do? She didn’t know how to use the knife for defense, much less to catch game.
Her only hope was to keep her bearing straight and press on. She would make it home.
She had to.
But with each foreign sound that echoed through the dense stand of the woods, doubts of her success increased.
Alexander shifted. Pain hammered through his skull with a smithy’s accuracy. He opened his eyes. The piercing rays of the sun sent a fresh burst of pain through his head. He snapped his eyelids shut, refusing to risk opening them and invite further misery. His thoughts stumbled and slid around in his mind. Had a mace bashed his head? Was he amidst a battle?
He gripped his dagger and listened, braced to move out of the way of danger. No grunts of horses colliding reached him. No scrape of blades. No screams of men as they died. If he hadn’t been felled in battle, what then? Where was he?
Water gurgled a short distance away. Birds chirped in the trees. A gust of wind sent the leaves into a chaotic dance.
A slight shuffle sounded nearby. Then a warm breath feathered across his cheek. A velvet caress brushed his forehead, then nudged his shoulder.
At the gentle touch, memories flooded his mind. Nichola being sick. Him tending to her by the stream. Refilling the water pouch. Then . . . darkness.
The soft, cool dampness of moss against his back registered in his mind. Then the weight of a blanket became apparent. Nichola had covered him. Whatever had happened to him, she’d not run, but had remained to tend to him.
“I am awake.” Whispering didn’t prevent another bolt of agony from skewering his brain. “A moment, lass.” After a slow deep breath and preparing himself for the intensity of the sunlight, Alexander opened his eyes.
And stared straight into the hairy muzzle of his horse.
“Nichola?”
The bay nickered softly. With a soft snort, his horse dropped his massive head and nudged his shoulder.
What the devil? Alexander gritted his teeth and shoved to a sitting position. The blanket that was draped across his chest rolled onto his lap. The woods came into dizzying focus. A frown settled on his brow as he scanned his surroundings. He didn’t see her.
“Nichola?”
Alexander tensed. Had someone attacked him and stolen her? Maybe one of the men from the tavern had followed them and while he was busy fetching water, they’d clouted him. His pulse raced as he searched for any sign of a struggle.
Nothing.
Why did his head ache? Tenderly, he probed the back of his head where the throbbing was most intense. His fingers skimmed over a large bump covered with a sticky ooze. No, not ooze. He drew his hand away and stared down at his fingers.
Blood coated his fingers.
He noticed a curved limb lying inches away.
Had Nichola . . . no. She wouldn’t hit him. Aye, he’d abducted her, but he’d reassured her many times over during this journey that she was safe. A fact proven yesterday at the church ruins when she’d turned to him for comfort. Until he’d mentioned her brother’s name. Then the warmth in her eyes had faded and she’d stared at him as if the enemy.
He wanted to believe she hadn’t ambushed him. Sadly, no other explanation fit. It accounted for why he’d not heard anyone’s approach. And why, he, a seasoned knight with many a battle behind him, had been caught off guard.
Anger churned inside him like bubbles inside a boiling cauldron. So this was her repayment of his trust? So be it. When he caught her—and he would—he’d not let down his guard toward her again.
Nichola shoved a low-hanging limb from her path, ducked beneath it. Leaves shook angrily as the branch whipped back into place. She trudged on. Every muscle in her body protested, but at least exhaustion was dimming the pain.
How long had it been since she’d left Alexander? From the sun sitting high in the sky, a handful of hours had passed, but it felt like days.
In more ways than one.
No, she wouldn’t think about his death. She was free and headed toward England. Toward home. That’s all that mattered. All that could matter.
The distant rush of water rumbled ahead.
Good. She’d refill her water pouch and rest awhile. Not too long. Just enough to catch her breath. But how she yearned to lie down by the bank and sleep.
The leaf-strewn ground ahead of her fell away to a steep hill. Tiredness blurred her vision as she started her descent. On her next step, her slipper caught on the root of an oak.
Nichola screamed and tumbled downward. Rocks bit into her legs. Thin branches whipped her face. Shrubs scraped her body. She clawed in vain at the mass of leaves and rich earth, anything to halt her rapid descent. She was moving too fast.
A large boulder loomed before her.
She was going to hit it! Nichola crossed her hands over her face. The breath was knocked out of her as she slammed to a halt.
Mary’s will. Everything hurt. But as long as she felt pain, she was alive. She tentatively moved her limbs. And by God’s hand, she didn’t believe anything was broken.
Slowly, her vision cleared. She stared up at the large bounder. Moss draped down the sides, which had saved her from a much worse fate and possibly death.
Another wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes. The cool, fresh scent of the forest filled her lungs with each breath she took. The churn of the river surged nearby.
She was so tired. What would it hurt if she took a short nap? Her eyes drifted shut. No. The price of her freedom was too dear. She had to keep moving.
Wiping the dirt from her eyes, she crawled to her knees. A twig slipped from her hair and landed on the ground. Exhausted, she rested against the padded stone.
How was she going to make it to England when she could barely move her legs? If only she’d been able to ride, this would have been so much easier.
Thoughts of the stubborn horse made her think of Alexander, in spite of her vow not to. Grief swelled in her chest. He had treated her with naught but respect. ’Twas her attempts to flee that had brought on her troubles.
A contrast from her original impression of him. When he’d stood in her solar, all she’d seen was a formidable man carved in ice. A man bred to kill. Now, she saw him as a steadfast man of compassion. Though he was her enemy, his intent for his cause was honorable.
And now he was dead.
Leaves clattered overhead drawing her attention. She glanced up at the slivers of sunlight. They slipped through the flutter of leaves, illuminating the forest with random sprinkles of light.
Entranced by the dance between sunlight and leaf, she basked in their almost magical interaction. The shimmers of light flitted like fairies upon the leaves.
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