The Chase (29 page)

“Mayhap because she loves Blake,” Little George said, and Blake found himself turning to
him sharply. “The way she reacted when you were injured was pretty telling. She would not
leave your side, but sat up staring at you day and night as if willing you to live. She
cares for you.”

“And you think her loving Blake would make her change?” the earl asked.

Little George shrugged. “Amaury tried to be more like Blake to please Emmalene when they
first married. Mayhap Seonaid thought being more like Emmalene would please Blake.”

“Aye.” Angus Dunbar nodded. “That may be the way o' it. In fact, 'tis the only explanation
that seems likely so far.”

“Well, there you are, then.” The earl took Blake's arm and turned him toward the stairs.
“All you need do is talk to her and sort the matter out. Tell her you love her just the
way she is and she need not change. All will be well.”

Blake helped his father up the stairs, his mind whirling with what he should say to his
wife. By the time they reached the keep doors, the matter was settled in his mind. He knew
exactly what he would say; he just had to find the chance to talk to her.

It was a task easier said than done. It seemed a number of their relatives had descended
on Sherwell on hearing of his father's illness. With several aunts and uncles and cousins
under the roof, as well as the bishop, and Lord Dunbar and his new wife, Blake found he
did not even have his room at the moment. He and Seonaid had been relegated to sleeping in
the hall along with the lesser guests and the servants.

“You are becoming very good at sewing, Seonaid. But would you not prefer to go practice in
the bailey with Aeldra?” Lady Margaret asked gently.

Seonaid forced a smile for her new stepmother. “Nay. I am content to sit here with the
ladies and sew,” she lied. In truth, Seonaid was so sick of sitting around with the women
sewing that she felt sure she would scream. Unfortunately, she found it hampering to
practice with swords in a skirt. The stupid thing tripped her up at every turn.

“Seonaid,” Lady Margaret said quietly, “your father is very worried about you. He thinks
you are not happy.”

Seonaid stared at the cloth she was practicing stitches on and grimaced. Her father was
not wrong; she was miserable. But every time she considered giving up this ladylike
business, she recalled Blake's yelling “My wife is perfect just the way she is,” and her
determination to be what he wanted was renewed. She had been behaving this way for two
days when he made that claim and was obviously well pleased with the change. It gave her
hope that he might come to love her.

“Wife?” Seonaid gave a start as Blake suddenly appeared at her elbow, then managed a smile
for his benefit.

“Aye, husband?” “Come.” Catching her arm, he urged her to her feet and began to lead her
out of the great hall. “Is somethin' amiss?” Seonaid asked, eyeing his determined
expression warily.

“Nay, but I wish to talk with you,” Blake answered. “I have wished to talk with you since
arriving at Sherwell. Howbeit, we have not had a moment alone since we arrived here, and
as it does not appear that any of the guests intend to leave any time soon...” He
shrugged. “I have decided we shall have to find someplace we can talk.”

By this time he had led her out of the keep. Seonaid spied the saddled horses waiting for
them and frowned. “Where are we going?”

“To a secret spot I know where we can be alone.”

“Outside the walls?” Seonaid asked the obvious. They would hardly need the horses if this
spot were within Sherwell's walls. “Do you think that's wise? What if Greenweld's men
attack again?”

“There is little chance of that. Surely they have heard that Greenweld is dead and will
have moved on by now.” He didn't sound the least concerned, so Seonaid let the subject
drop and concentrated on mounting and keeping her seat on the sidesaddle as he led her out
of the bailey.

The secret spot was a little glen awash with buttercups. Seonaid smiled at the sight of
the lovely yellow wildflowers carpeting the ground as she slid off her mount and into
Blake's arms.

She almost protested that he shouldn't strain himself as he caught her and lowered her to
the ground, but his strength had much improved in the days they had been at Sherwell. His
color was completely back to normal, and Seonaid knew that he had been practicing with the
men in the bailey, rebuilding his strength.

“Nice, is it not?” Blake asked as he retrieved a blanket and a small sack that hung from
his saddle.

“Aye,” Seonaid agreed as he took her hand and led her to the center of the small clearing.
He released her then and spread out the blanket, then gestured for her to sit. Settling
next to her, he opened the sack and pulled out some cheese, bread, fruit, and a skin of
wine. He obviously intended on putting the talk off until after they had eaten, and
Seonaid found herself growing nervous at the idea. He had sounded so grim and determined
on approaching her in the great hall...

“I thought ye wanted to talk to me,” she prompted.

Blake lifted his gaze to Seonaid and noted the anxiety tightening her face. She looked
much as she had on their wedding night, as if expecting something unpleasant was coming
and wishing to get it over with. He hesitated only a moment, then nodded and set the food
and wine aside. They might as well get the hard part over with first.

After briefly considering how to start, he asked, “Seonaid, why do you not wear braies any
more?” She looked startled, then opened her mouth, closed it again, and asked, “Do ye no
prefer me in gowns?” “In truth?”

She nodded.

“Nay,” he answered firmly. “I prefer you naked.”

Seonaid's eyes widened, then she grinned, and he continued. “Second to naked, I prefer you
in those tight old braies that show every curve of your body.”

She chuckled at his frank admission.

“I also prefer you happy,” he said. “And while you may think you have a smile pasted on
your face the day through, in truth it looks more like a determined grimace. You are not
happy. I want you happy.”

“I am happy,” she said, but she was a poor liar.

Blake took her hands. “Seonaid”

“And ye're happy too. I heard ye tell Amaury that ye thought I was perfect like this. So,
we are both happy.” She shrugged.

Blake was at a complete loss. He had no idea what she was talking about, when had heMy
wife is perfect just the way she is. The words echoed through his head and he closed his
eyes. That had been the last thing he'd said in his argument with Amaury, the one Seonaid
had interrupted. And shenot having heard the rest of the discussion and having been
rushing about in a dress for two days, doing her best to imitate a ladyhad thought he'd
meant he thought she was perfect as she was now.

“Seonaid, I meant I thought you were perfect the way you were prior to my waking up. As
you were when I met you. As you really are underneath the silly wimple you are wearing and
under all those skirts.”

Her eyebrows flew up incredulously. “Ye did?” “Aye.” “But I made ye chase me all over
Scotland, Blake. I put my foot to yer groin. I”

“Well, that part was not precisely what I meant, although it certainly made for an
interesting courtship,” he confessed. “Seonaid, I meant I liked the way things were
between the wedding and the attack on the way to Sherwell. I admired and respected your
strength and skill and intelligence 'ere that, and I appreciated your beauty. But once the
wedding was done and you stopped running, we matched beautifully. We got along well in
bed, we lay in each other's arms of a night talking, we could play and wrestle and tease
and tickle...” He shrugged. “I miss that. I miss the laughter and fun. You had relaxed
with me and I miss that too.”

He raised a hand to tug the wimple off her head, leaned forward, and kissed her gently on
the lips, then whispered, “I like and missyou . ”

“IBloody hell!” She interrupted herself to roar.

Blake was just pulling back in surprise when she shoved him to the side and pulled
hersgian dubh from the belt at her waist. It only took him a moment to see the problem. It
seemed Greenweld's men had not given up after all. They were presently spilling into the
glen.

“Bloody hell!” he echoed, leaping to his feet.

Seonaid moved instinctively to put her back to Blake's as the men moved to surround them,
all the while wishing fervently that she'd brought her sword. Unfortunately, she hadn't
worn one since donning a dress. That left her only with hersgian dubh . It wasn't much,
but she assured herself it would be enough to at least guard Blake's back while he battled
the men on his side.. Besides, she reminded herself, these men were not likely to harm
her; their orders had been to kill Blake. As long as she guarded his back, he only had to
slay his way through nine men.

Brilliant!She had just had that thought when laughter drew her eye to the far side of the
clearing as her father and his new wife came riding into the glen. Their merriment died
the moment they spotted the trouble they had intruded on. But before either of them could
react to what was taking place, Little George came riding into the clearing from another
direction, Aeldra seated on the mount before him. Aeldra was sitting sideways in front of
the man, pressing little kisses to his neck, but she stopped abruptly when the giant
cursed and reined in his mount. Turning her head, she spied what was going on and stilled
as well.

Seonaid's father and Aeldra acted at the same moment, Aeldra slipping from her seat in
front of Little George even as Angus Dunbar dismounted. They both started to charge
forward with Little George hard on their heels, but before chaos could erupt, Lady
Margaret shouted, “Greenweld is dead!”

Seonaid's father, Aeldra, and Little George slowed in their approach but did not stop.
Greenweld's men, who had noted their presence now and turned to face the threat they
represented, stood hesitating. It seemed they didn't know whether to focus on Blake and
Seonaid, the threesome now slowly approaching, or the woman still proudly sitting her
mount.

“Greenweld is dead!” Lady Margaret repeated firmly. “He was trapped in the Dunbar passage
while trying to invade the castle and fought to the death rather than surrender.” She
allowed a moment for that to sink in, then added, “On his death I became the soul mistress
of Greenweld. You now owe your fealty to me.”

Seonaid's father, Aeldra, and Little George had reached them but simply stood waiting, at
the ready if necessary.

“I am aware you were only obeying Greenweld's orders in attacking Seonaid and Blake,” she
went on. And I will not punish you if you lower your weapons and ride out now."

When the men hesitated, their gazes searching each other out, Lady Margaret snapped
impatiently, “You have lost three of your men already. Would you really all rather die
here this day than serve me?”

Greenweld's men finally lowered their weapons and stood as if uncertain what to do.

“You are free to ride back to Greenweld and join the rest of the men there. And so long as
you serve me well and loyally, we will never mention this again.”

The men hesitated one more moment, then moved as one into the woods. Blake waited a
heartbeat, then followed, with Little George and her father on his heels. The trio was
back within moments, looking more

calm.

“Their horses were not far away. They have ridden out.”

Seonaid felt herself relax.

“Well,” her father muttered, glancing down at Seonaid's feet.

Following his gaze, she saw that she had stood on one end of the bread when she had taken
her position at Blake's back. Other than that, nothing else was disturbed.

“How did ye come to be here?” Seonaid asked, moving her foot off the bread as she put away
hersgian dubh .

The Dunbar shrugged. “I found this spot some years ago while your mother and I were
visiting. I recalled it today and thought to show it to Lady Margaret.”

Seonaid nodded slowly, then glanced to Aeldra and Little George. “And you? How did ye two
come to be here?”

“One of the men on guard told me about this spot when I mentioned wanting a bit of time
alone with Aeldra,” Little George answered.

Seonaid turned and arched an eyebrow at her husband. “A secret spot, is it? I think your
secret is out, my lord.”

Grimacing, Blake faced the other two couples. “While I appreciate the help you have been
in ridding me of Greenweld's men, I would appreciate it if you would leave us to our
picnic.”

“Oh, now, doona be so inhospitable there, lad.” Angus Dunbar sheathed his sword and moved
toward the picnic. “What have ye got there? Wine, strawberries, cheese, and”

“Seonaid and I were discussing her sudden desire to wear gowns and shun her sword,” Blake
said meaningfully.

Much to her amusement, her father stopped his forward momentum. Nodding, he turned on his
heel to head back to his mount. He called out to Aeldra and Little George as he went,
“Come along, ye two. Ye'll have to find another spot fer yer shenanigans. Me daughter and
son-in-law have some matters to sort.”

Aeldra did not have to be told twice. Grabbing Little George's hand, she tugged him back
toward their own mounts. Seonaid caught the relief on her cousin's face and knew she would
be pleased did she return to her old self. While Aeldra had returned from visiting her new
in-laws in a dress, it had only been a temporary change in behavior. She had apparently
donned the more traditional clothing for the meeting with his family but had shed it again
once comfortable at Sherwell. Seonaid knew she had been waiting for her to do the same
thing, and would be happy for her old sparring partner's return.

The two couples left the clearing as quickly as they had entered it, and without so much
as a by your leave.

Seonaid glanced toward her husband once they were gone, but he stood still for several
moments, head

cocked as he listened to the fading hoofbeats. Once assured they were definitely alone
again, he relaxed, then seemed to become aware that he still held his sword. He tossed it
on the ground next to the blanket she stood on, still within easy reach.

“Now,” he said, turning to face her, “as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted”

Blake moved to stand in front of Seonaid and clasped her face gently between his hands.
“Seonaid, I like you just the way you are. There will be no changes. I want no simpering,
sewing wife, for I will not wear lopsided tunics the rest of my life.”

“Ye doona want me to sew and such for ye either?” She looked horrified. “But other wives
do these things for their husbands and”

“Then let them,” Blake interrupted, “and they are welcome to it, but I have servants to
tend to all of those things. I want you as my wife, not as a servant.”

“But if I doona do those things, what can I do?”

“You can be yourself: strong, feisty, sleek as a cat, plain-speaking, smart, beautiful”
Blake stopped abruptly when he saw the tears welling in her eyes. “Are you crying?” he
asked with alarm.

“Nay,” Seonaid denied, even as she brushed the tears away, then she said helplessly, “yer
complimenting me. And you have never complimented me before. I thought...”

Blake smiled wryly and brushed the tears away. For a man who was supposed to have such a
way with women, he had certainly botched this up from the beginning. Sighing, he shook his
head. “Seonaid, what I just said, those were not compliments. They are the truth. I vow to
you I will only ever tell you the truth.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And compliments are not truth?”

“Nay. Not the way I have always used them,” he admitted. “They are an exaggeration,
deliberate flattery aimed at gaining some end. I often have to think them up, or create
them, if you see what I mean. But with you, what I say comes naturally because it is true.
I respect and love you too much to sit about plotting ways to get under your skirt orin
futureinto your braies.”

Seonaid stared at him in silence for so long he began to worry and asked, “What is it?”

“Ye said ye love me.”

Blake blinked. He had. He did, but he hadn't meant to say so. Now that it was out,
however, and she wasn't laughing her head off at him, he decided to let it be. “Aye.”

“I love ye too,” she admitted, and Blake felt himself begin to grin, until she added, “But
I doona think I like it.”

That killed his smile. “What do you mean, you do not think you like it?”

“It hurts. Here.” Seonaid pointed at her chest, then blurted, “And 'tis scary, Blake. I
doona like being scared. Nothing before has ever scared me like ye do. Should I lose ye,
or should ye turn from me, I...”

“That is a part of love, Seonaid,” he said gently. "You only fear losing something when
you have

something of value to lose. And that fear shows that you know what we have has value. We
love each other. We just have to work hard to be sure we never forget it and always act
accordingly.“ He ran one finger along the side of her face. ”I do love you. You are safe
with me. You do not have to keep your defenses up, or be strong all the time while with
me. And you do not have to change. I am pleased with you as you are."

Seonaid felt tears fill her eyes and glanced away with embarrassment, but Blake caught her
by the chin and turned her face back. “I do not want you to fear being who you are with
me. If you are afraid, or if you feel hurt by something, I want you to tell me, and
between the two of us we shall do whatever it takes to see you are happy.”

And between the two of us, we shall do whatever it takes to see you are happy.

Seonaid stared at him as those words echoed in her head. Between the two of them. Together
they would see she was happy. As a couple, as husband and wife, as a team. They were two
parts of one whole now, everything they did affecting the other. She had found her place,
she realized. It seemed to Seonaid that she had spent the whole of her life trying to find
a place for herself, trying to fit in, trying to earn the love of those around her. But
Blake was saying that he wanted her as she was, softness and hardness. She did not have to
change for him.

“Seonaid?” he asked with concern. “Are you well?”

Well? The question rattled in her brain and she almost laughed. Well? Aye, she was well.
She was so full of joy it was almost bursting from her. Beaming a smile at him, Seonaid
threw herself at his chest, hugging him so tightly she surprised a grunt from him. She
then pressed a quick, hard kiss to his lips before pulling back and saying, “Aye, husband.
I am verra well.” She kissed him again, more gently this time, then pulled back solemnly.
“I wish ye to ken, it goes for me too. If someone hurts ye, or ye feel afraid, or ye want
somethin', ye must tell me, and together we two shall make sure yer also happy.”

Blake grinned and hugged her to his chest, rocking her gently back and forth as he cupped
the back of her head with one hand. After a moment the rocking slowed, and he pulled back
to announce, “I want something.”

“Already?” Seonaid exclaimed in surprise, then she nodded. “Tell me.” “I want to make love
to you till neither of us can stand any more.” Seonaid blinked. “Ye... ?” “I want to make
love to you till neither of us can stand any more.”

“Ah.” Seonaid bit her lip to keep from grinning; then she hooked one foot behind his ankle
and gave him a push that sent him tumbling backward to the blanket. In the next moment,
she had swung one leg over him and sunk to straddle him. “I think between the two o' us we
can manage that.”

“Do you?” Blake asked with amusement, catching several strands of her long hair and
winding them around his hand to draw her down toward him.

“Aye,” she answered, then she smiled and said, “Husband?” “Aye?” he asked, his gaze
focused on her lips.

“I think I am going to like this marriage business after all.”

Blake's gaze shifted to her eyes with surprise; then he gave her a slow smile and said
equally solemnly, “I think I will too, my love,” before finally kissing her.

If you liked this book, then you might need to know... What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?

by Cheryl Sterling

Coming in January 2005!

Jane woke in an uncomfortable position. It took a moment for her to realize that the
pressure on her stomach, the ground rushing at her and her body bouncing up and down meant
that she lay across someone's shoulders. Charlie. She thumped his back, hard.

He dropped her. She fell in an ungraceful tangle of legs and arms into a bush, which
practically devoured her.

“Hey,” she yelled, trying to clamber from the foliage that was scraping her all over.
What'd you do that for?"

Charlie bent forward, his hands on his knees, wincing in pain. “Why did you hit me?”

“You?” she exclaimed. “I'm the injured party here. I banged up my car, then it caught on
fire, and then I was kidnapped by white slavers with drug addictions. On top of everything
else, I killed a bunny tonight.”

Charlie straightened, wincing as if he'd pulled a muscle. “It was not a bunny.”

She extracted herself from the woman-eating plant. “I ought to know one when I see one. He
was definitely a Looney-Tunes-union-card-carrying bunny. I creamed him.”

“It was not a bunny.” “Oh, yeah? What, then?” He looked her in the eye, as serious as an
executioner. “An elf.” Jane burst out laughing. “I'm going nuts.” She felt her forehead.
No fever, but a low throb. “You're quite sane.” “Then you're the one who's Looney Tunes. I
thought you said I hit an elf.” “You did. His name was Tivat.”

“Tivat the Elf, hmmm? What was his last name, Keebler?”

Charlie shook his head. “I'm not familiar with that name.”

“Of course not. Are you familiar with the term 'psychiatric treatment'? Because I think
you've missed a few sessions, buddy.”

“My name is not Buddy. It's”

“Charlie. I know. Mine's Jane Drysdale. Get used to it. You'll be seeing it on quite a few
legal documents after I figure out where I am and get to the nearest lawyer.”

“I am the nearest lawyer,” he said with a slight bow. “And you are in Lowth.”

“Lowth? Your home planet? Go to Mapquest.com, buddy, because we're in Walker, Michigan.
That road”she pointed in the general vicinity of the way they'd come“is I-96. There should
be house around here I can call from and get help.”