Ravished (20 page)

          Alex scowled at
him, clutching her stomach to muffle its noise.  He ducked out, leaving her
alone with her thoughts.  She would find it hard to maintain her guise of young
lord before the others.  Bronson had not spoken a word of it, but for her own
comfort, she must try.

          Alex washed her
face in the basin and wiped the residue from her thighs and folds with a damp
cloth before donning her wig and mustache once more.  Her hair seemed to have
grown exponentially during the night, and she struggled to wind it tight enough
to fit ‘neath the wig.

          Bronson had
destroyed her binding, so she wore her long tunic and a thick, padded jerkin,
hoping the decorative slashing and padding would disguise her chest.  Truth be
told, she did not have much to hide, and with her cape on, hooked under one arm
and across her chest, there was no telling she was any different from before.

          Save for inside.

          Alex shook it off,
determined to go on as she had before and ignore soft feelings for Bronson. 
Frowning, she left and wandered down the stairs to the dining hall.  Only the
family remained inside at the late hour, obviously eager to begin their hunt,
but lingering until the hunting party had gathered.

          Lord Derwin laughed
and clapped Bronson on the back, giving Alex a glance as she came inside and
sat to eat.

          “Glad to see you
yet live, boy.  I’d worried, it’s been so many hours since last I saw you,”
Lord Derwin said, grinning as he turned back to Bronson.  “I thought mayhap
we’d travel the Northern wood.  The bucks will be traveling with the weather,
and I thought perhaps we’d bag one as a prize for your betrothed this day. 
Mayhap some ermine—their coats should soon be turned for winter.”

          Alex sucked in a
sharp breath.  Blood roared in her ears, drowning out the voices around her. 
She felt dizzy, as though she would faint.  She gripped the arms of her chair,
willing Bronson to lift his head and meet her eyes, to tell her it was a lie, a
farce.

          Bronson looked up
at her sound of surprise, his face hard, angry.  His jaw clenched, his eyes
darkened.  She saw the truth there, in his rigid pose and silence.

          Something tore
inside her, bled, leaving her cold and lifeless, yet still she lived.  Somehow,
in the back of her mind, she’d hoped for a future with him—she realized that
now, knew she’d denied her tender feelings almost to the point of blindness. 
All for naught!  He was to marry another.  He’d taken her innocence, claimed
her as his own, possessed her soul with the fire of madness, the fury of
passion.  Never would he truly be hers.

          He’d betrayed her.

          He cast his eyes
down, unable to face her.  He stood up from the table suddenly, shoving his
chair back, angrily striding away and slamming out of the hall.

          “I see Bronson is
in one of his terrors today,” Gray said as he came in, rubbing his arm as if
he’d struck something and injured it.  No doubt Bronson had plowed through him
on his way out.  “Are we ready to ride, then?”

          “Aye,” Alex said,
standing on weakened knees.  “I’m ready to be gone.”  She’d lost her appetite. 
Her tongue felt wooden in her mouth.  Her belly clenched in a miserable knot.

          It had come to
this, as she’d known it would.  She was sick with it.  She wanted free of this
household, and she meant to escape this day.  There would be no stopping her,
even if she had to kill someone.

          The horses were
saddled and ready for their departure.  Bronson took the lead with his father,
leaving Alex to ride alongside Gray as Rafael took up the rear.  Her rapier had
been returned to her, and she’d been given a short bow and quiver.

          Lord Derwin enjoyed
the challenge of finding his quarry and giving chase without aid of hounds, nor
did he make use of the common practice of frightening the wild creatures out of
their burrows and homes with use of bells and men clacking sticks.  The effect
was pure adventure.  She was against killing for sport, but she could not help
the thrill of excitement that infected her as they urged their horses through
the woods and caught sight of their first buck.

          She enjoyed the
freedom of the run, and for once, Firedancer was behaving himself, no doubt
chagrined from spending over a week confined to the stables and little else.

          Lord Derwin took
aim but missed, laughing as he kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and
gave chase.  Alex thought him a madman for his strangeness, and wondered how
any Blackmore had ever caught any living creature.

          Gray and Rafael
moved to the sides, intent on cornering it, and Bronson moved ahead.

          Alex’s heart
stilled, realizing she’d been forgotten.  She dwindled behind them, watching as
they drew further and further ahead, racing through the forest of falling
leaves and dead brush.

          Knowing it was her
one chance, Alex turned Firedancer, crashing through the tangling underbrush,
heading North to Scotland as they went Westward deeper into the wood.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

          Bronson couldn’t
see Alex.  Alarm knocked the breath from his lungs.  He pulled hard on Ebony’s
reigns, turning around, letting his father and brothers outrun them as they
vaulted after the buck.

          She was gone. 
There was no trace of her in the forest.  He saw nothing of her retreat, nor
could he hear the sound of movement other than his own heart in his ears.

          He knew where she’d
gone.

          His vision turned
red.  A murderous haze overtook him.  She had left him.  He didn’t care if it
was right, that he had no reason to expect her to stay.  He still would not
allow it—he
could
not allow it.  Bronson kicked his horse into action,
racing through the woods North.

          He would find her. 
He refused to believe he would not.

          The sounds of the
hunt receded as he gained distance, ignoring the branches that slashed at him,
the brambles that tore his hose at his passing.  Ebony snorted, huffing as she
ran, steadfast to his course.

          The edge of the
wood neared, until he could see green pasture beyond.

          A cape fluttering
caught his eye, red as a banner.  He nudged Ebony forward, bursting from the
wood, urging her faster, patting her neck, whispering words of encouragement as
he lay low against her neck.

          Alex heard him,
kicked her heels against her horse, spurring him on.  The heavy beast was no
match for Ebony’s grace and speed.  She lunged forward, nearing his rearing,
pulling forward, running neck and neck.

          Bronson reached
across the short distance, catching Alex’s reigns.  She slapped at his hand,
but was too unsure of her seat to try more to ward him off, and their pace was
too dangerous to take chances.  Her horse tossed his head, snorting as Bronson
eased them down, slowing their speed by finite degrees.  He pulled hard on the
reigns, halting them, lunging for Alex’s wrist before she could twist away.  He
caught her arm, dragging her, kicking and screaming, off her horse and onto his
lap.

          She arched her
back, trying to drop off his lap, losing her wig in her struggles until her
hair fell down and tangled around them.  She screamed in frustration as he held
her arms tight, locking his knees against Ebony to keep from sliding off at her
struggles.

          She was breathing
heavily from exertion, her face pink with her fury, her eyes wild and hair
untamed.  “Release me!” she screamed in impotent fury, squirming in his hold.

          “Damn you,” he
growled, crushing her to his chest as he kissed her.  She bit his lip, drawing
blood.  He grunted in pain, pulling back immediately, glaring at her.

          “Do not touch me!”
she railed in a furious whisper, as if suddenly fearful of alerting the others
to his aid.

          Bronson wiped the
trickle of blood from his mouth, surprised to find she’d only scratched him
with her canines.  Already it stopped.

          She gnashed her
teeth at him, every inch the wildcat.  No matter his fury, her anger, he wanted
her still.  His cock swelled with his rage, burned with the need to conquer. 
He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working.

          “No, you are mine,
damn you!” he said with quiet anger, giving her a shake to make her meet his
eyes.

          She met his gaze,
letting him feel the wrath in her eyes.  “You have no right!  Go to your
betrothed, find warmth and comfort in her arms,” she said, choking, her voice
breaking with emotion.

          He was stunned to
see tears in the corners of her eyes.  His anger diminished to a low roar, and
he bent to kiss her.  “There is no other to satisfy as you do,” he murmured.

          “I hate you,” she
whispered, closing her eyes in pain.

          He covered her
mouth, and her lips opened to him unwillingly.  He felt the grooves of her
teeth, asking for passage.  Her tongue eased out, touched him, tremulously
seeking.

          He groaned and
thrust his tongue inside, drinking the sweet wine of her mouth, enjoyed her
small moans of pleasure.  She shuddered against him, and he tightened an arm
around her, resting one hand on her lap, guiding it under her tunic.

          He cupped her sex,
felt her moisture there, the wetness soaking his fingers.  Her perfume released
with the movement, tantalizing his nostrils with her faint fragrance.  Groaning
with desire, he mated with her tongue, thrusting his fingers against her sex,
gratified to hear her moan in pleasure, move against his hand.

          Distantly, through
the fog of lust in his brain, he recognized the sound of riders approaching. 
He paid them no heed, not caring if they saw him kissing Alex or fondling her. 
Damn them if they tried to stop him.

          His cock swelled
against her bottom as she wiggled closer, kissing him harder, her soft lips
pliant beneath his own.  She placed a hand on his biceps, kneading the muscle
as he curled his fingers into her sex.

          “Unhand my niece
before I strike you dead ‘pon your horse.”

* * * *

          Chills raced up her
spine at the threat.  Alex broke from Bronson’s mouth and saw, to her horror,
that they were surrounded.  Bronson tightened his hold on her, turning his
horse so that he could face the threat.

          “I’ll not give her
up without a fight,” he growled, easing her to the ground as he reached for his
sword.

          One of the men had
his blade out in an instant, the tip pressed against Bronson’s throat.  Bronson
froze, glaring at the elder man he faced.

          “My brothers will
be here soon enough.  You’ll not get far, Hugh.”

          Hugh laughed,
stroking his beard, chancing a glance at Alex.  “I should run you through for
the trouble you’ve caused.”

          “Nay,” Alex
screamed, standing before him.  She could not stand by and watch as he was butchered. 
Surely these men, her cousins, could not be so heartless.

          Hugh gave her a
pitying look, returning his attention to Bronson..  His voice dropped and his
look grew stormy.  “No doubt you’ve stolen her maidenhead.”

          “It is no concern
of yours,” Bronson grit out, clenching and unclenching his hands.

          “It is every
McPherson’s concern.  Were you another man, I’d take you before the priest and
force you to marry the gel.  As it is, I’m afraid it’s out of my hands.  Come
now, gel, get in yer saddle.  We’re off to home.”

          Alex looked at him,
wanting to trust him.  This was what she’d fought to do for so long.  Now that
it was upon her, she was reluctant to go.  Not until she made certain no harm
befell Bronson.  “You will not hurt him if I come willingly?” she asked, not
daring to look at Bronson for fear she would break down and cry.

          Hugh frowned. 
“Nay, lovely.  He will come to no harm, were you willing or no.  I give you my
word,” he said, crossing himself--, “on the lives of my children.”

          Satisfied of his
word, she smiled and climbed atop Firedancer.  Hugh led her away while the
others took care of Bronson.  She glanced back, only to assure herself, and
found they’d hauled him off his horse and were binding him.

          She turned back to
Hugh, determined to ignore the scene behind her.  Hugh smiled at her kindly,
reminding her of her grandfather.  She felt tears bleed into her eyes.

          “Come, Alex, is the
hurt so severe?” he asked, urging them to a trot.

          “Nay.  I weep for
things that can never be … and for those I can never have again.”  She was
silent for a time, noticing the others had joined them but hung back in a
protective gesture, wary but allowing a measure of privacy.