Desired (44 page)

Brianna came to a clearing and spurred her palfrey across it toward the trees, glancing back quickly to see if she had lost him. She had not! There was something about the horse and rider behind her that evoked a flicker of fear. She was swept with the urge to flee from her pursuer. To avoid him, she galloped faster at a speed that was reckless.

Her hunter was relentless. She received the distinct impression that he was riding her down. He was a raptor, and she, his prey! She felt a bubble of terror in her chest as she heard the pounding of the massive destrier’s hooves behind her. She half-turned to see the dark rider loom up, larger
than life, then swoop down upon his captive, taking her in his talons. She struck out against him, but it was hopeless to escape someone who was all-powerful.

H
awksblood lifted Brianna, legs kicking, arms flailing, tongue protesting, until she sat before him on the blooded stallion. His eyes blazed like chips of ice. She closed her eyelids fast so he could not mesmerize her and steal her will. She clawed at his dark face, realizing the danger she was in.

Christian Hawksblood was not in the least surprised that she fought him like a wildcat. He had always known Brianna had keen instincts and they were telling her she was in imminent danger. Her instincts did not lie, he thought grimly. He pinned her arms down, not escaping her fingernails entirely. When he held her hands captive, she used her tongue to lash him, calling him every foul thing, among which
bastard
was the least offensive.

By dint of superior physical strength he subdued her. He could not do it gently; she made that impossible. The moment he loosened his cruel grip on her wrists, she attacked him again. She intended to do him an injury if she could and rather than injure her in return, he decided to maul her pride instead.

Brianna stared at him, horror and loathing mingled together as she realized he would master her, no matter how fiercely or how long she struggled. His muscled arms held her immobile, while his knees urged his horse forward. Her own mare trotted after the stallion in a sweetly docile way that made Brianna want to scream. She decided she
would
scream! Perhaps someone would come to her rescue.

He saw her intent, and as the scream gathered in her throat, his mouth swooped down to cover hers. His mouth was as cruel as his hands had been and she knew it was capable of its own violence. When he released her mouth, she blazed, “Why are you doing this?”

His gaze was steady, his voice implacable. “For your own good.” As they emerged from the trees, he held his hand out to her palfrey.

She cried, “Papillon, go back, go back,” but the perverse creature trotted to him trustingly and allowed him to catch hold of the long rein. He attached it to his saddle, then placed Brianna’s hands over the pommel and murmured, “Hold fast.”

Christian Hawksblood spurred his destrier then and it surged forward with an excess of strength and energy usually reserved for the battlefield. Brianna decided she would never speak to him again. She imagined he was abducting her to some private trysting place where he would seduce her into letting him make love to her. Christian Hawksblood de Beauchamp had a lot to learn! If he thought subjugating her to his will would make her receptive to his amorous overtures, he was dead wrong! That might be the way men treated women in Arabia, but this was England where freedom meant everything.

Brianna thought he was heading northward and when he didn’t slow the pace, she wondered wildly just how far he was taking her. Questions almost dropped from her lips, but she bit them back, remembering that she had vowed not to speak to him. After an hour or so had passed, she stole a surreptitious glance at him. His face was dark, closed, set in determined lines. His silence was as complete as hers.

Brianna’s mind darted here and there to seek her own answers. Her imagination flashed about like quicksilver. She feared that silently, with some dark power, he was overwhelming her. The hair on the nape of her neck rose up. She became aware of the material of her undergarment whispering against her skin. A subtle fragrance wafted to her nostrils in the chill air and she realized it was his male scent that teased her senses.

She stopped railing against him and allowed calmness to possess her. He could not make her do anything against her will, if she remained in control of herself. Her eyes were drawn to him. She studied his hawklike visage and could not deny his noble beauty. Every line spoke of power, as did his body. In such proximity she imagined she felt his
male beauty burning into her soul. She had been one with him once, and the memories evoked the faint stirring of desire to be one with him again.

Brianna fought against the sensations, but she could feel her resistance slowly ebbing. The Castle of Berkhamsted loomed into view and Brianna wondered why on earth he had brought her to Prince Edward’s castle. Had it something to do with Joan? But he did not slow his pace, he rode on past Berkhamsted without a glance. Things were vaguely familiar and Brianna felt she had passed this way before. After her long hours in the saddle she became weary and longed to stop and rest. Then suddenly it came to her. He was taking her to Bedford. He was taking her home!

She looked at him in disbelief. “We depart for France tomorrow. You cannot take me to Bedford!”

He looked down at her lovely face with its dimpled chin and hazel eyes. “The
Court
departs for France,” he corrected.

Then she understood. This abduction was to keep her from going to France … from going to Robert!

“You cannot do this!” she cried in alarm.

“I have done it,” he replied calmly.

She lifted her hands and beat them against his chest in anguish. She might have beat against Bedford stone for all the impression she made. When she had expended all her energy and sat quietly, he stopped at a stream to water the horses. He took bread and cheese and meat, carefully wrapped in a white cloth, from his saddlebag, then lifted her down.

The moment her feet touched the ground Brianna began to run. He loped after her and carried her back. His dark face searched hers. “Where were you running to?”

“Running
from
,” she spat.

“You cannot run from your fate.”

“A fate worse than death!” she cried.

Her words amused him. “I thought a fate worse than death was supposed to be rape. I shan’t rape you, Brianna.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” she sneered.

“Gratitude is the last thing I want from you,” he said quietly.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded.

Everything! Heart, soul, love eternal
.

“I want you to eat something,” he said.

She closed her lips firmly. If he thought she would eat with him he was mistaken.

“I am a prisoner. It is my duty to try to escape,” she vowed, eyes blazing. “What a poor creature I should be if I were craven!”

He wanted her just as she was, proud and high-handed as a queen.

Though Brianna was only slightly hungry, she was extremely thirsty. She reasoned that if he offered her a drink, she would be honor-bound to refuse it, but if she demanded one, he would have to do her bidding. “I want you to get me water from the stream. Do it in full view of me so you cannot put one of your evil potions in it.”

Hawksblood couldn’t help himself. He grinned at her fancies. “Is that the potion that compels you to fall in love or the one that makes you indulge in sinful deeds?”

“Stop laughing at me, Arabian. This is my life you are ruining!”

He pressed his lips together. He must not taunt her further. It was cruel to do so. He bent and filled the cup with water, then he placed it in her hands.

As they rode on mile after mile, he wondered if she would ever forgive him for what he did this day. Though he was optimistic, he knew it would take a long, long time.

When darkness fell, he felt the tension go out of her and knew she dozed. He realized how weary she must be to let down her guard enough to sleep. His face softened in the darkness. She was so precious to him.

About an hour’s ride from Bedford, the rain began. The first big drops upon her face roused her from slumber, and then it began to pelt down. It was an extremely cold rain, so he wrapped his cloak about her, but it was so relentless it drenched them to the bone.

When they finally arrived at Bedford Castle, Hawksblood lifted her from the saddle and carried her inside. To a startled Mr. Burke he said, “She’s exhausted. I’ll take her to her chamber.”

The plea in her eyes and her voice told her steward there was something wrong. “Come with me, Mr. Burke.”

He followed the couple up the staircase, ignoring the puddle of water they left on every step. Inside her mother’s chamber, which was now Brianna’s, Hawksblood set her down in a chair and bent to kindle the logs in the fireplace.

“Mr. Burke, this man has abducted me. I was allowed to bring nothing. I haven’t a stitch to my back. No one knows where I am, not even Adele!”

Hawksblood said over his shoulder to Burke, “Adele is on her way here with all her trunks. The Court is on its way to France. I brought Lady Bedford home, where she will be safe.”

The explanation was good enough for Mr. Burke.

Brianna’s anger flared. “He is a dangerous man!”

Hawksblood stood up from the fire and held Mr. Burke’s gray eyes. “She is in more danger from her wet clothing than she will ever be from me.”

Burke nodded and the pair departed so that she could undress. She ran across the chamber and threw the bolt home. She dragged a heavy trunk across the door for further protection. She had to sit down to catch her breath, then she peeled Hawksblood’s cloak along with her own from her soaking back. Her shoes were ruined and she knew they could never be worn again. Her velvet tunic was in like case, its deep pile matted, flattened, and shabby in the extreme. Her underdress and stockings clung to her body wetly. They joined the soggy heap upon the rug and she took up a towel to dry her clammy-cold skin and rub her dripping hair.

Brianna sat naked before the welcome fire, holding the towel to her breasts. She was as much emotionally exhausted as physically, and the warmth made her drowsy. Her problem was too great to solve at this moment, so she pushed it aside until she could cope with it. Her eyelids closed, her shoulders drooped, and she tumbled into the dark abyss.

She slept until the fire burned low. When she awoke to find herself naked, she opened the wardrobe and took out a scarlet bedrobe. The sleeves and hem were embroidered with gold thread in Grecian key design. All Rhianna’
clothes were vivid. Brianna slipped her arms into the sleeves and tied the golden tassels. She picked up one of her mother’s brushes. Her hair had dried in hundreds of spiraling curls and looked wildly disheveled. As she caught her reflection in the polished silver mirror, she saw what a deliciously tempting picture she made: like a golden witch!

The corners of her mouth went up in a secret smile as she thought of Christian Hawksblood … Prince Drakkar.
He is an invading force!
The thought in no way displeased her. She walked slowly toward the curtained bed. What splendid things had been done to her in its soft depths. She stroked the coverlet … remembering, remembering.

Why wasn’t he at her chamber door, breaking it down? She knew there was a power of the mind. Her mind as well as his. She would exercise that power! She began by creating his image in her imagination. She focused on every detail of his dark beauty. And then she called to him, whispering his name.

Desire and longing gathered inside her, overflowing her heart and running along her veins in rivulets of molten gold. Her pulses quickened, her breasts ached, her woman’s center was liquid fire. Hawksblood was a mate like no other. He was a man like no other, and he was hers for the taking. What a waste it would be not to take him!

She unlocked the door, then dragged the heavy trunk to one side. No locks would ever keep him out, thank heaven, from her door or from her heart. As she sat down to await him, her longing grew deeper. She wanted him to make love to her, she wanted him to marry her, she wanted him to fill her with a babe. Together they would make Bedford their haven and it would prosper.

She could sit no longer. She stood up and began to pace the chamber, cursing him for the time they were wasting. Brianna finally decided she would go to him. She lifted the door latch, knowing where there was such passionate love, there could be no such thing as pride.

The chamber he had occupied on his previous visit was empty. In the hallway she encountered Mr. Burke. “Where is Christian?” she asked boldly.

“You said he abducted you, my lady,” Mr. Burke said tentatively.

She laughed. “He wanted me so badly, he stole me. Wasn’t that a bold, romantic thing to do? Ah, James, I believe I’ve met my match.”

Mr. Burke stared at her. Rhianna had always called him James, and in the scarlet bed-gown her daughter looked like an apparition from the past. “He has gone, my lady,” Mr. Burke informed her.

“Gone? Gone where?” she demanded.