Samantha James (4 page)

There was an odd constriction in her chest. She told herself both were entitled to pursue their pleasures, but deep inside, she did not approve of such displays of wantonness before others.

She didn’t wait to hear Egan’s reply, but moved toward the stairs, her head held high. Her chamber was on the third floor, and that was her destination. She had just cleared the landing when there came the sound of footsteps behind her. Her own hastened, for the corridor was dark and shadowed, lit only by several meager candles. Their light wavered eerily against the stone walls.

“Glenda. Glenda, wait!”

Glenda halted. A hand at her throat, her heart pumping madly, she turned just as Robin of Chadwick emerged from the stairwell.

“Robin, thank heaven ’tis only you! Why, you very nearly scared the life out of me!”

“No need to be afeared, lady.” He gave an exaggerated bow. “Indeed,” he said upon straightening, “before long you may well think of me as your rescuer.”

A prickle went down Glenda’s spine. “I do not take your meaning, sir.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll take me quite well.”

The gleam in his eyes served as a warning. Oh, but she’d been right to be wary! Somehow she stopped her gaze from veering to the stairs and giving her away; she prayed it was not too late and that the wine he’d imbibed would slow his reactions.

Alas, before she could move, he snared her arm in an iron grip.

Glenda gasped and struggled to free herself. “Release me!”

His laugh sent another chill through her. “Nay, sweetings, not just yet.” He dragged her into a darkened chamber. His fingers digging like claws into her forearm, he slammed the door shut with his heel. Glenda sought to wrench away but he was too strong.

He seized her wrist and dragged her up against him. “Ah, but I knew it as soon as I saw you. A widow, eh? How long has it been, I wonder?” He gave an ugly laugh. “Too long, I vow. No doubt you are in need of a man. Well, I shall oblige, lady. I shall oblige.”

“Let me go!” She twisted anew, but she couldn’t avoid his moist, wet lips. An insistent tongue jammed between her lips. Glenda gagged and jerked her head back.

With a twist and a turn, he slammed her body hard against the wall, pinning her against it with his own. Hot breath struck her full in the face. “We can do this my way, or we can do it yours. Either way, I warn you I will have what I want.”

As he spoke, he seized her gown and dragged it toward her waist. Glenda filled her lungs with air. “Egan!” she screamed. “
Egan
!”

Black eyes glittered down at her. “Your Highlander will not help you now,” he sneered. “If I know the lady Elfrida—and I know her quite intimately, I might add—your hearty Highlander is even now seated to the hilt inside her.”

He thrust a leg between hers, seeking to pry hers apart. Glenda sought desperately to keep them together, but his bulk was more than she could handle. Damn, she thought. Damn! The drink had not dulled his senses after all—

All at once Robin’s body went bone-stiff.

“The next time you wish to be alone with a lady, you really should bolt the door.”

It was Egan, his tone ever so pleasant. Glenda’s heart rejoiced.

“Raise your hands and step slowly away from the lady.”

Robin’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, but he did as he was told.

Moonlight streamed through the window. It was then Glenda saw what had made Robin go still. Egan held the point of a dagger poised against the back of his neck.

“Excellent. You see the chair in the corner? Fetch it for me, if you please.”

“And if it does not please me?” Robin’s expression was as black as his tone.

Egan shrugged. “As you so recently pointed out, it matters little. I will have what I want…one way or another.”

His voice was still pleasant, but in the deadliest kind of way. Robin must have sensed it as well, for again he complied, though not without comment.

“You are a bastard.”

“The subject of my birth is not in question.” For an instant, Egan smiled tightly. Then, for the first time since he’d entered, Egan spoke to Glenda. “Glenda?”

“Aye?” To her embarrassment, her voice was naught but a hoarse croak.

“Are you all right?”

“Aye,” she said, this time more firmly.

“That’s a good lass. Now, there is a knife in my right boot. Can you get it for me?”

Glenda blinked, but knelt and quickly did as he asked. Slipping her fingers beneath the soft leather, she encountered a cool metal handle. She pulled it from its berth. Weighing it in her palm, she started to hand it to him, but he shook his head. “’Tis not for me, ’tis for you.”

Glenda blanched. What was this! Would he have
her
use it on Robin? Saints, but she could not! “Egan,” she said faintly. “Please! I cannot.”

Robin of Chadwick’s eyes had bulged.

One corner of Egan’s mouth turned up. Throughout, his gaze had yet to stray from Robin’s face. “Nay, not that, lass. I would have you fetch the sheet from the bed. Use the knife and cut it into strips for me.” With a nod he indicated the chair. “You, sir, may sit.”

Hurriedly Glenda gathered up the sheet and dropped it on the floor. Robin sat. Several times while she worked, Robin’s gaze darted toward the door, but Egan barred the way. Though he glowered, he made no attempt to escape.

At last she was done. She glanced uncertainly at Egan. “Will this do?”

“Aye. Now lay the strips before him.”

Glenda did as she was bidden, then stepped back.

Egan had already tied Robin’s hands behind his back. “If he dares to move,” came the grim order,
“gut him.” Only then did she realize she still clutched the knife.

A flick of the wrist and Robin’s tunic fell away. Glenda’s jaw dropped as well. What on earth…?

His chausses followed in short order. His boots were tossed out the window.

He was left completely naked.

Too astonished to avert her gaze, Glenda could only watch as Egan proceeded to truss a naked Robin with the strips of the sheet so that he could not move. His legs were bound snugly to the wooden legs of the chair, his arms behind his back, his torso to the high, straight back of the chair, as well as to the seat.

Robin cursed. “You will not get away with this! By all that is holy, I shall—”

Whatever threat he might have made was crammed back in his throat. Egan shoved a wad of cloth in his mouth, then tied it with another.

“Are you primed with ale or primed with lust, I wonder. Mayhap a little of both. Either way, you are lucky you yet live. Luckier still I’ve decided you may yet sire children”—Egan drew the tip of the dagger down his belly to his navel—“so let this be a lesson to you, Robin of Chadwick. The next time you would bed a lady, make certain you procure her consent as well.”

Robin’s eyes blazed. Garbled sounds came from deep in his chest. Glenda had no doubt that were he not so tidily trussed, he would have sprung straight for Egan’s throat.

Egan paid no heed, but drew Glenda from the chamber. Closing the door firmly behind them, he held a finger to his lips.

“We must hurry lest we run afoul of the men of the keep. I know now what they will do when he is discovered—with luck that will be well into tomorrow. If they decide to follow, I think it best that we are as far away as possible.”

There was a note of urgency that demanded both silence and compliance. Glenda nodded.

Mercifully, there was another entrance to the bailey that did not demand they pass through the great hall. They crept noiselessly past, keeping their heads ducked low—though from the sound of the revelry within, no one would have noticed their passage.

In front of the stable, Egan rose to his full height. “We’ve decided to journey through the night,” he told a sleepy stableboy when he asked that their horses be readied.

Glenda marveled at his calm. Her heart seemed to crash against the walls of her chest; her stomach churned so that she feared she would lose the contents of her earlier meal.

He repeated the very same to the guard at the gate.

Once the tower was out of sight, they took flight, giving the horses free rein. The light from the full moon shimmered down from above, as if to light their way.

Throughout the night, they pressed ever onward to the south. The morning came and went. The afternoon sun beat down on their heads. They stopped only to water the horses. When the moon once again cast a flowing circlet in the sky, the night without sleep and the rigors of the day began to take their toll. Her lashes grew heavier and heavier. Her head drooped. A strong hand on her arm prodded her
awake—and it was all that stopped her headlong tumble from the saddle.

She raised her head. “Egan, please. May we rest a while?” The plea emerged before she thought better of it.

His expression was grim. For a heartbeat, it seemed he would refuse. Then the taut line of his mouth softened slightly. He gave a brief nod. “Aye,” was all he said. He pulled his stallion to a halt. Glenda followed suit.

Glenda was numb and exhausted. When her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled and her legs refused to hold her weight. Egan caught her beneath the arms and steadied her. Glenda murmured her thanks and made her way toward a tall stand of aspen. Beneath one of the trees, she lay down, curling her knees against her chest and pulling her mantle over her shoulders. Though hunger gnawed at her belly, she was too tired to care.

Exactly when Egan stretched out beside her, she never knew.

When next awareness struck, sunlight had vanquished the night’s darkness. She knew it, for there was brightness against her closed eyelids.

She stirred, but it was so warm and cozy here, she had no desire to waken. Caught between the fringes of sleep and wakefulness, she cringed at the thought of riding yet another day. With a sigh she inched closer and burrowed against that cozy warmth, rubbing her cheek against the solid strength of a man’s shoulder. She knew it instinctively, for the sheer bulk of the form beside her could only have been a man’s, she decided hazily. Yet as the knowledge penetrated
her tardy mind, she felt herself pause. A man’s shoulder…?

Ah, she realized sleepily, it was only Egan against whom she nestled.

Only Egan
…

The realization tumbled through her mind.

Her eyes flew open. In but a heartbeat, Glenda was fully awake. Yet somehow her body seemed frozen. She couldn’t move. Could not even
think
.

Egan had turned his head ever so slightly.

Their eyes locked inevitably. Stunned, she couldn’t move as his gaze roamed slowly over her face. Glenda felt her throat go dry, for it was in a way that made her feel as if he touched her…

Ah, but they were close, so very close that had she but lifted her head, their lips would have brushed. And it was there his gaze now dwelled.

Heat seemed to sizzle and pulse between them. Yet ’twas not a feeling akin to the sharing of warmth between them.

This was a heat of a far different sort.

Time stretched unending. Glenda’s breath caught fast in her throat. She thought she would surely die of waiting, waiting for what might happen next…

In one swift move, Egan was up and on his feet.

“The hour is late. We can ill afford to dawdle.”

He extended a hand to assist her, and with that,
the moment vanished. Indeed, as she glanced at Egan again and again throughout the day, ’twas almost as if it had never happened. The cast of his profile was somber and remote, his manner almost formidable.

He had wanted to kiss her. She knew it, and she could think of little else. Ah, but she was no innocent maid who knew naught of the fire in men’s eyes. She had been married, and not unchastely. Oh, aye, she could almost taste it…her thoughts meandered and she could not stop them. Would his kiss have been like the rest of him? Hard and strong…and cold? Nay, she thought. Not cold. Never cold. Somehow she knew it with all that she possessed.

He had wanted to kiss her
.

Nay. The idea was preposterous. Impossible. She was mistaken. Why, that such a thing should ever cross his mind…for this was Egan—Egan, whom she’d known for many a year.

She could not forget. Her mind would not allow it. For he was the one who had pulled away. He…not she.

She churned inside just thinking of it. Dear God, what would she have done if he
had
? Would she have stopped him?

Near noonday, they stopped to water the horses. While they drank, Egan moved to the top of a small hillock. He stood for a moment, booted legs braced wide apart as he gazed back in the direction from whence they had come. Glenda knew he was looking for signs that they were being followed.

He returned a moment later. Glenda heard the crunch of gravel as he stepped beside her.

Wide golden eyes turned upon him. “Do you think we are safe yet?”

“There is no way of knowing for certain. They know not where we are headed, but I will not rest easy until you are behind the walls of Blackstone.” His statement was as succinct as ever.

Glenda shivered, all at once reminded of Robin’s mouth on hers, the way he’d jammed his leg between hers. If not for Egan, he might well have succeeded in his quest.

“I’m sorry, Egan. I truly did not wish to—to rob you of your pleasure with…with your lady.”

Glenda heard his sharp intake of breath and sensed she’d startled him. In truth, she’d startled herself, for the confession tumbled unbidden from her lips.

“My lady,” he repeated blankly. Then: “You mean Elfrida.”

“Aye, the very one.” She swallowed. “I must thank you,” she said, her voice very low. “If you had not heard me—”

“I had already left her.”

Her heart began to pound. The way he was looking at her…There was a smoldering in his eyes, something she had never seen before this morn. Something that made her tremble inside, something she was afraid to put a name to. Something that made her gaze slip away, only to return an instant later.

“What do you mean?”

“I had already left her in the hall.”

“But…why? Why did you leave her? Robin said she—she gives her favors quite freely.”

“That may well be true. But no matter, for I did not wish to partake.”

He made the admission so readily, Glenda was stunned. Her gaze lowered. “But she is quite the beauty.”

Egan neither agreed nor disagreed. Softly he said, “I had not the inclination. I am only sorry I was not there with you sooner. I can only assure you that it will never happen again.”

Her eyes flashed back to his. “It was not your fault, Egan.”

“And if I say it was?”

“You would be wrong. I am…beholden to you.”

With an effort, she held his eyes. His gaze sharpened. This time…nay, this time she did not imagine that his gaze dwelled long and hard on her mouth.

Glenda was confused as never before. She’d been near him, aye, of a certainty! But now it was different. Different and…disturbing.

But all he said was, “We’d best be off.”

Nay, she was not mistaken.

Over the next few days, Glenda was conscious of him in ways she’d never thought might happen. Their clothing had only to brush, and fire seemed to leap inside her. In their haste to leave Ragmoor, he’d forgotten the tent. Though he was always careful to put several yards between them at night, sleeping with him so near at hand, she was disturbingly aware of him as a man.

When it had happened, she knew not. She knew only that it was so, and there was naught she could do to stop it.

Early one morn, she tiptoed away from the place where they’d camped for the night. They were near the shore of a small loch, and Glenda found the lure
of a bath, however brief it might be, irresistibly appealing. Now, in the hour just after dawn, nary a ripple marred the surface, dappled with a gossamer sheen of gold cast by the rising sun. Shedding her clothes, she waded into the loch.

She soon discovered that if she stayed where it was shallow, the water was not so cold that it was unbearable. The water had just reached her waist when a sound reached her ears. Glenda ducked into the water and snapped her head around, but it was only the shifting of leafy branches in the breeze. It felt heavenly to cleanse the dust from her body, and she dunked her head beneath the surface to rinse her hair.

It was with a wistful reluctance that she finally left the loch, but she was anxious to be finished before Egan arose. Goosebumps rose as the chill morning air met her wet, naked flesh. Shivering, she ran from the water to the place where she’d left her clothes hanging on the outstretched branches of a tree.

She was wholly unaware of the blue-eyed scrutiny that tracked her progress as she scampered from the loch. White limbs flashed as she reached for her linen smock. She did not know that Egan stood next to a willowy tree that lined the path to the loch.

He groaned inside for the temptation aroused by the sight of her. When he awoke to find her gone, he’d leaped to his feet with a curse. ’Twas then he’d heard the splash from the loch. On silent feet he ventured near, for by now he’d guessed what she was about. He’d arrived just in time to see her duck her head beneath the glimmering waters of the loch. Not wishing to disturb her, he had eased down to the
soft, damp earth to wait while she finished her bath.

’Twas the fairest of mornings, with the sun turning shimmering pinwheels of light across a cloudless sky, and the loch sparkling like the brightest of sapphires, nestled between the shoulders of green-draped hill-sides.

But no more fair than the sight before him now.

She had no cloth to dry herself, and so her skin dampened the linen smock she’d just donned. With the sun at her back, the light of day rendered the material almost sheer; clearly visible were the round circlets of her nipples standing high and taut with cold, tinted the deepest rose, the color of the dawn. Her legs were long and graceful, her buttocks deliciously curved as she bent and provided him with a view so enticing he could almost taste it.

It was willpower, sheer and simple, that kept him rooted to the spot. Indeed, ’twas all he could do to stop from surging to his feet. From striding to her and pulling her entire sweet length against him, capturing those lips that would part in soft surprise, only to feel her melt against him. To make her forever his, as he longed to…

But never would.

He should have looked away. Merciful heaven, if only he could! He should have allowed her her privacy. Mayhap this was God’s way of punishing him, he acknowledged distantly, punishing him for wanting his friend’s wife. For though his insides were twisted into a hundred knots, he could not look away.

She turned, only to stop short before even taking a single step.

“Egan.” Her tone reflected a startled wariness. “What are you doing here?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he could not protect her if he could not see her. Instead he said, “I awoke and you were gone. You should have told me where you were going.” Somehow the admonishment held no sting.

With her fingertips, she smoothed the folds of her gown. Even from here he could see the faint distress in the depths of those golden eyes.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long,” he said smoothly. “Indeed, I have only just arrived.”

It was a lie.

The most blatant lie he’d ever told. For in truth he’d been there long enough to know that his dreams had not lied. Just before her smock had dropped into place, he’d seen her…every inch of her. She was slender, yet supple and curved, with the ripe fullness of a woman, not a young girl. To Egan, she was the most beautiful creature imaginable. Gazing at the flatness of her belly and hips, it didn’t seem possible that she’d once housed a child there.

Yet it was not as she thought. He’d never have forgiven himself if anything else happened to her. Though he’d not denied himself the vision of her loveliness, he hadn’t meant to spy on her, and so he stated.

He both saw and heard the deep breath she took. “You’ve only arrived…just now?”

“Aye.”

Her gaze faltered beneath the steadiness of his.
“Then why do you look at me so?” she asked, her tone very low.

His heart skipped a beat, for she refused to look at him. He knew then…she felt it, too…the pull between them.

It seemed she could control it no more than he.

Egan did not answer. Instead he tipped his head toward the horses. “Come,” he said. “We’ve not so very far to travel now.”

Glenda prayed that he was right, for in truth this journey was the longest of her life.

Not only had he wanted to kiss her, but she was very much afraid there was a goodly chance he had seen her naked…
naked
.

By noon the next day they had entered the low country, the Borders. Shafts of sunlight pierced the clouds, spotlighting an endless sea of grassy hills that swayed with the rhythm of the wind.

High atop a bluff, Glenda reined in Druscilla. “Wait,” she said. She raised a hand and pointed.

“There is Blackstone Tower. Do you see it, just beyond the bend in the river?”

For an instant Egan gazed down where the river seamed the width of the valley. A stone bridge stretched across its span, and he followed its course as far as the eye could see. He caught just a glimpse of a round stone tower.

“Tell me. Are these not the greenest hills you’ve ever seen?”

There was a keen note of excitement in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Egan glanced at her. “You’re glad to be back, aren’t you?”

“Aye. It seems I am. I hadn’t realized it until now.” She smiled, a smile she could not have withheld if she’d wanted to. Yet in the very next breath, a pang caught at her heart. It had been quite some years since she’d visited her father here—Niall had not been able to accompany her and she’d missed him dreadfully. With stark, vivid clarity, she recalled how she had vowed that the next time she returned to Blackstone, it would be with her husband.

Instead she was with Egan.

A trail wound down the hillside. Egan guided his stallion down. Glenda followed just behind. At the foot was a small wattle-and-daub cottage. But there was no door, and only the charred remnants of the thatched roof remained. A frown pleated Glenda’s brow, but she said nothing.

Within the hour, they came upon another charred cottage, and within the next, still another. It was here that Glenda stopped and dismounted. Egan followed her into the hut, where weeds now poked through the dirt.

Outside in the sunlight Glenda shook her head. “Something is wrong, Egan. A man named Peter lived here with his wife and family, and his sister. She could not walk, and she often sat there.” She pointed toward the door. “Papa and I would often bring honey.” Her worried gaze met his. “What happened to him? To his family? Where did they go?”

“Perhaps he died and they moved elsewhere.”

“Aye,” Glenda said slowly. “That must be it.” Yet her mind was buzzing with unanswered questions. He’d had four stout sons and a daughter several years younger than she; her name was Jeannine.
Where were they? Wouldn’t at least one of them have remained with the land?

Their pace quickened as they pressed on. Glenda fought down her alarm, for there was something dreadfully wrong. She could feel it in her bones. For this was not the land she remembered. Many a field lay fallow. Many a garden was overgrown; many cottages were empty or burned—or both. And there was nary a soul outside the donjon, and there was no one in the guardroom inside the gatehouse.

Egan said nothing, but his mouth compressed tautly as they trotted beneath the towering arch. Glenda glimpsed an empty cart with a broken wheel that had been abandoned in the center of the inner bailey. Her breath hitched in shock, for Blackstone Tower was not teeming with life as she remembered…as it should have been.

It was then they spotted a man hidden in the shadows. He sat on a stool with his head tilted back against the stone wall. Lank, greasy locks plastered his forehead. His mouth was open and noisy snores emitted from his throat.

Egan dismounted. “You there!” He planted himself squarely before the guard, then poked him in the chest with a finger.

The man snored on, unmindful of his audience. Glenda would have laughed were it not for the awful feeling wedged tight in her chest, nor did Egan appear amused.

It took two more prods before one eye opened sleepily, then the other. He appeared dazed, then with a snort he jerked awake. His bloodshot eyes
widened when he saw the dark giant towering above him.