To his surprise, she laughed. It was a wondrous, musical sound that came from deep within her. Sin stared at her, entranced by the way her face softened.
By the saints, she was a beauty. And right then he wanted desperately to taste those lips. To feel her breath mingling with his own as he claimed her. To allow Henry to see them wed so that he could enjoy her for the rest of his life.
He froze at the thought.
Nay, he would never allow himself such comfort. Even though she touched him gently now, she would curse and fear him as all others did if she knew the truth of him and what lay in his past.
It was not for him to feel comfort or solace. He had crushed and banished that delusion long ago.
She opened up his other bandage, and gasped as she saw the blood that had already soaked the cloth.
"I am sorry for this," she said. "I never meant for you to be hurt."
He cocked a chiding brow at her. "Might I point out, milady, that when one picks up a sword in offense or defense, it can pretty much be determined that someone will get hurt."
That rose blush returned to her cheeks as she reached for her needle. "This needs to be stitched."
"It will heal on its own."
"It will leave a scar."
Sin looked down at the multitude of scars marring his bare chest and arms. "Think you it matters?"
Callie looked up at his words. Even now she couldn't read the emotions buried in those deep, dark eyes. What agony he must have suffered, to be able to shield himself so completely.
Normally she could read even the most careful of souls. But this man was a complete enigma to her.
"It matters to me," she said, wondering why it was so. Yet it was.
As gently as she could, she made four short, tiny stitches in his arm. It amazed her that he didn't cry out or tense. It was almost as if he didn't even feel what she was doing; but then, given the severity of some of his larger scars, she could deduce he had been hurt so much that this tiny wound meant nothing to him.
But it meant a lot to her conscience, for she had never been one to cause pain in others. Though her father had been a mighty warrior, her mother had been a healer, and it was her mother's love of life to which she subscribed.
She cut a fresh bandage from the linen and wrapped it over her stitchery.
Lord Sin remained silent as she worked, and yet she could feel his eyes on her. Searching.
There was something different about this man, though she couldn't say what. And it wasn't just the fact that he seemed to delight in making people fear him.
He's the devil's own, Aelfa's voice whispered in her ear. They say he has murdered over one hundred people just for the pleasure of it, and killed thousands more in battle. When he was first brought to court, he was wearing the robes of a heathen and spoke in tongues no one knew.
They say he sold his soul to the devil to make him invincible.
Callie didn't know how much of that was true, but from the looks of his body, she would say he was far from invincible.
Even so, he possessed a strength and power that was undeniable. Never had she seen his equal.
For the first time in her life, she felt herself drawn toward an Englishman.
What are you thinking?
She blinked. Indeed, what was she thinking? She was the daughter of a laird who had spent his entire life trying to rid their precious lands of the English! Her father had died while fighting them, and she would never betray his memory.
Looking at Lord Sin's chest, Callie wondered how many of the scars on his body he had received while fighting her own race. And how many of those thousands killed in battle had been Scots?
"There," she said as she finished wrapping his arm.
Sin frowned at the sudden veil that came over her face. He didn't know what thought had descended, but he grieved the way it had robbed her of her serenity.
She gathered her supplies, mumbled a good-bye and quickly left the room.
His frown deepened. He should be thrilled she had finally gone, and yet…
Why, all of a sudden, did the room seem colder?
Shaking his head, he banned the thought. He had more important things to do than to dwell on a woman who wasn't his concern.
Henry would just have to find another of his men to marry her.
The next morning, Sin had finally succeeded in pushing the wench from his thoughts.
Of course, it had taken a cold bath to help and he had spent an agonizing night tormented by dreams of rose-red lips and sweet green eyes.
After he broke his fast, he stubbed his toe so severely he feared the digit broken. The pain of it had driven the woman right out of his mind.
Now he was heading toward the stable, where he intended to take a brisk ride to further keep his mind and body under heel.
"Sin?"
He paused midstride. The voice sounded strangely familiar, and yet he couldn't place it.
Looking over his shoulder, he spied a man with dark auburn hair who stood a few inches shorter than him. Again, there was something familiar about the face, but it wasn't until the stranger smiled that Sin knew his name.
"Little Simon of Ravenswood," Sin said, extending his arm to Simon as he stopped by his side. "How long has it been?"
Simon shook his arm and patted his sore forearm with brotherly affection. "Nearly a score of years, I think."
Aye, it had been. The last time Sin had seen Simon was on the day Simon's father had ridden to Ravenswood to claim his son from Harold, the former Earl of Ravenswood.
"Your brother?" Sin asked, thinking of Draven of Ravenswood. The two of them had often been partners in their protection of Simon from the old earl's malice. "I trust he is well?"
Simon nodded. "Aye, he married Emily of Warwick two years past."
Sin almost smiled at the news. "Old Hugh finally allowed one of his daughters to marry?"
"Aye, can you believe it?"
Sin shook his head. "Nay, I can't. I'm sure there's quite a story to that."
"Join me in a drink and I'll tell you of it. But what of you? Are you marri—"
"Shh," Sin said, interrupting him. "Don't even breathe that word, lest you jinx me."
Simon frowned. "Jinx you? How so?"
"Henry has been making matrimonial threats. As yet, I've avoided it. My hope is to stay the execution."
Simon laughed at his words. "Then may you continue to elude the noose."
"So tell me, Simon, what has you here in Henry's court?"
Simon smiled devilishly. "I came seeking adventure, but what I've found is nothing more than a few kegs of ale, some wenches needing comfort and many a boastful knight reliving glorious events that never happened." He sighed wistfully. "Who knew court could be so boring?"
"Give it time, little brother. Court intrigue abounds."
"Aye, for you I imagine so. I've already encountered several of your enemies."
Sin nodded. "Just make sure you don't encounter them in darkened corners, especially if they see us speaking together."
Simon's look turned hopeful. "Now, that would give me something interesting to do."
Before Sin could respond, something flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he tried to see what it was that had attracted his notice.
Courtiers and servants moved freely about the yard, attending their pleasure and duties. There was nothing unusual.
Nothing, that is, except for a strangely shaped man who was hobbling near the far wall of the inner bailey. No one seemed to pay any heed to the fellow, but something about him didn't seem quite right.
Sin held his hand up to Simon in signal that he'd be right back, then took a step forward to catch a better look at the man, whose cloak was just a bit too thick for the unusually warm day.
And as he closed the distance, Sin noticed the strangest thing of all.
The old man had four legs.
Arching a brow in disbelief, he watched as the four-legged man made his way, un
challenged, toward the stable.
"Tell me, Simon," Sin said as his friend drew near. "Have you ever seen a four-legged beggar?"
"Is this a riddle?"
"Not a riddle, but a puzzle. A puzzle to see just how far she can get before someone stops her."
"She?"
Sin pointed toward the dark figure entering the stable, then quickened his steps to catch up.
He told Simon to wait outside an instant before he slipped into the darkness of the stable to see the figure separate into two halves.
In spite of himself, he smiled as he snuck along the stalls to watch the Scotswoman lead the boy to a cart and cover him with hay.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" the boy asked.
"Aye," she assured him. "I overheard the lad saying he'll ready the cart for the carter to get extra supplies in town. We'll just lie quietly until he stops and then we'll disappear into the city."
She climbed up and covered herself.
A few minutes later, an older boy entered and started hitching a team to the cart.
The woman had ingenuity, Sin would certainly give her that. And if not for the fact that he had assumed responsibility for the boy and woman, he would allow her to flee.
But he couldn't do that.
The only question was, should he thwart her now or wait?
He decided to wait. He wanted to see how far she could get on her own.
Leaving the shadows, he quickly saddled two horses, then led them to where Simon waited outside.
"Feel up to a bit of adventure now?" he asked Simon.
"Always."
They mounted their horses, then waited until the carter entered the stable. A few minutes later, he took the cart out.
"What are we doing?" Simon asked as they followed the cart across the castle's bailey and into London.
"We're following yon wagon," Sin answered.
"Why?"
"Because it is in front of us."
"Well, that certainly answers that. 'Twould be difficult to follow the cart if it were behind us."
Sin smiled. "Be patient, Simon, and you will see why we follow it."
The carter headed into the merchant district, which was thick with activity and people. When the carter stopped outside a small cluster of shops, Sin spied a straw-covered head peeping over the side of the wagon. Once the man disappeared from sight, the woman scrambled from the cart, with the boy one step behind.
No one seemed to notice her peculiar activity, or if they did, they ignored it.
She took a moment to dust the straw off them, but somehow she missed a piece that hung in the midst of one coppery curl. It bobbed as she moved.
Simon laughed as she took the boy's hand and led him through the crowd. "Why was she hiding?"
"She seeks to escape royal custody."
The mirth faded from Simon's eyes. "Should we notify the guards?"
"Nay, I think we can manage to retake her."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"I have no idea. I simply like watching her maneuver."
From his horse, Sin could follow her easily through the crowded streets as she wended her way through the town. She kept her head lowered, with one hand on her brother the entire way. Every few steps, the boy would pause and get distracted, slowing her down, and all the while he chattered away about everything and everyone they passed.
No doubt she would be free if not for him.
"Halt!"
Sin jerked his head to see Roger of Warrington in the crowd. The knight was staring straight at the Scotswoman.
She met Roger's gaze over the heads of those surrounding her, then grabbed her brother's hand and started running through the crowd in the opposite direction.
"Halt, I say!" Roger shouted louder.
"Oh, that's effective," Sin said sarcastically. "Halt or I shall say halt again."
Roger's orders didn't even slow her down, so Roger attempted to run after her, but the crowd prevented him. Sin saw the frustration on Roger's face a moment before he shouted, "Twenty silver marks to the person who stops that woman and child!"
Sin cursed Roger's stupidity as every person on the street stopped what they were doing and started after the woman and boy.
"That was unwise." Simon voiced Sin's thoughts with a much more polite choice of words than those in Sin's mind.
Sin reined in his horse as Shitan grew nervous from all the sudden activity. His warhorse had been trained to kill and the last thing he wanted was innocent blood spilled because Roger was an idiot.
"We'll never catch her now," Simon said.
"Aye, but we will."
Turning his horse about, Sin headed away from the crowd and into a side street. When it came to the streets of London, he knew them well.
Not to mention he could follow the woman's path by the screams and shouts of the mob. He spurred his horse forward. He would have to catch her before the raging mob tore her apart.
Callie trembled as she ran pell-mell through the streets. Her sides ached as she struggled to breathe.
"I can't keep up," Jamie wailed.
"You have to, sweeting. If we stop now, they'll have us for sure."
She didn't dare tell him that the mob would most likely tear them apart in an effort to claim the twenty silver marks. 'Twas a fortune the knight had offered.
Jamie stumbled.
Callie turned around to help him up, but it was too late. The frenzied mob surrounded them instantly.
"I have them, milord!" a grimy man shouted as he grabbed her arm.
"Nay, ye don't, ye ugly bugger, I have her."
The cry went up from every direction as a thousand hands pulled at her, ripped her clothes and hair. Callie cried out in pain, but no one seemed to care.
"Jamie!"
She could neither see nor hear her brother through the crowd.
Then, out of nowhere, a huge black stallion appeared. The crowd scattered as the horse reared, flashing hooves and driving them away from her.
Her heart pounding, Callie looked up to see Lord Sin.
He brought his horse under control with the ease of a seasoned warrior. And when he extended his hand to her, she didn't hesitate to accept it.
He pulled her up to sit before him and she quickly looked to see Jamie being rescued by an auburn-haired knight on a light gray horse. Breathing in relief, she crossed herself and whispered a quick thank-you to the Lord and His saints.
But her relief didn't last long, as she became acutely aware of the man holding her. The strength of him surrounded her, making her strangely hot. English though he might be, there was something about Lord Sin that she found greatly appealing. Something about him that made her body burn with a lustful throb that stunned her.
At a score-and-six in age, Callie was a far cry from an uninformed maid who knew nothing of the relationships between men and women. Even though she had never been touched by a man, her married friends had seen her well schooled in the mechanics of wifely duties. She'd always found the idea of what they described a bit messy and undignified. At least until she had seen Lord Sin's bare chest.
In that moment, her thoughts had taken a sharp turnaround.
For some reason, the thought of being so intimate with him seemed anything but disgusting or crude. Indeed, she'd been much occupied with the sudden question of how his lips would taste. Of how his large, tanned hands would feel on her body while she ran her fingers through his silken hair.
"It appears, milady, that you are ever out of the clutches of Scylla and into the hands of Charybdis."
She blinked at his deep baritone as she dragged her thoughts away from their course and focused them on what was happening to her. "My uncle claims 'tis a special talent I possess."
Lord Sin smiled at that, causing a strange weakness to sweep through her. He was simply breathtaking when he smiled.
He wheeled his horse about and started for the castle.
"I don't suppose I could bribe you into setting
us free?" she asked hopefully.
"You know better."
Her throat tightened as she blinked back tears at the harsh insistence in his voice. "All I want is to go home. Can you not understand that?"
A strange emotion darkened his eyes as if her words had pricked at some sad memory. "Aye, milady," he said quietly. "I can well understand your feelings."
"Then why can't you let me go?"
"Because Henry needs you here to see to it that your people leave his alone."
"You mean leave your people alone."
His gaze turned dull at that. "I have no people," he said solemnly.
She paused, and her gaze dipped to his chest, where English knights wore their family or lord's arms. His was bare and suddenly she understood why. "If you don't owe your allegiance to the English, then let—"
"I owe my allegiance to Henry, and Henry wants you to stay."
She went rigid in frustration. "Fine," she breathed. "But I won't stop trying."
"And I won't stop catching you."
Callie crossed her arms over her chest as she tried her best not to touch any part of him. But it was difficult. Especially since his arms surrounded her like bands of steel, keeping her locked onto his saddle.
The scent of elderberries and sandalwood clung to him. It was a warm, intoxicating smell. She could feel his strong heart thumping against her shoulder blade as they made their way back into the inner bailey of the castle.
He was so handsome, this stranger, and though he denied it repeatedly and the courtiers constantly assured her otherwise, she suspected he was not the devil he pretended to be. If he were the monster of legend, he wouldn't be capable of such kindness. Nor would he have cared what happened to her or her brother.
As they drew near the stable, she saw the English king waiting with two of his guards standing behind him. There was also a small group of noblemen and -women who eyed them and the king curiously. No doubt they were seeking gossip fodder.
The look on King Henry's face was not a happy one.
"What happened?" the king demanded as they stopped before him. "I was just told of her disappearance and was preparing a search party."
Lord Sin helped her down, then slung one long leg over his horse and dismounted.
"Nothing," he said, then added belatedly, "Sire. The lady merely felt the need to get a breath of fresh air. I had my eye on her the entire time."