“And I’ll make her a comfortable litter while we wait,” Cedric offered.
“Let those villains ride in the bumpy cart,” Nedda said, with a faint show of determination. “I have enough bruises from that.”
“Are you certain?” Abrielle said, looking between her maidservant and the two men.
“’Tis the best way, m’lady,” Nedda said kindly.
“We’d best be getting these brigands inta the cart, lad,” Cedric suggested. “Otherwise, there’ll be the devil ta pay should we be caught by those yet ta come.”
After binding and gagging all three men, Cedric lifted one over his shoulder as his son hefted another in the same manner. Leading the way into the adjoining room, he was wont to chortle. “Raven, me lad, should I ever forget what I’ve seen here today, kindly remind your ol’ da na ta get inta a row with these here lasses. I’m thinking me poor pate wouldna be able ta stand the abuse.”
Nedda cast a glance toward the elder and spoke stiffly. “Ye needn’t worry, m’lord. ’Tis only brutish culprits I’m inclined ta lay low.”
“Then I’ll be thanking me good fortune ye didna mistake us as part of that vermin,” the laird said with amusement as Abrielle ran ahead to open the front portal for the men. Over his shoulder, Cedric advised, “Take this as a warning, lad. Treat the women kindly or they’ll be of a mind ta raise a crop of lumps on your pate.”
Abrielle wrung her hands in agitation, knowing the men were only trying to ease her spirits. But all she could think of was her maid’s safety, for after all, the woman wouldn’t be in such grave peril if not for her mistress.
Once all three villains were in the cart, Raven hid the conveyance behind a tumbledown shed where it would be easily accessible to Vachel and his knights. After erasing the tracks with a branch, he joined his father in improvising a litter with the quilts and a bed frame. Having often traveled with his father in service to their king, Raven was reluctant to leave Cedric behind. His parent had always been a noble warrior, but since the death three summers past of the beauty he had taken to wife more than twoscore years ago, he had seemed inclined to take unnecessary chances with his life. Raven decided his da would likely be heartened by the premise that he hadn’t yet lost his appeal when it came to the fairer gender, and be more careful for his own life.
Seeing that Abrielle was feeding her maidservant a bit of cheese, Raven said to his father, “I overheard the Lady Cordelia saying some fine things about ye ta a cousin of hers at the squire’s funeral.”
Cedric elevated a hoary brow as he peered at him in wonder. “About me?”
“I’m thinking the lady has set her heart on having ye, Da.”
The elder scrubbed a hand across his mustached mouth, as if making an earnest attempt to wipe away a widening grin. “’Tis true what ye say? Ye wouldna be up ta some mischief?”
“Were ye ta take yourself so young a bride, ’tis sure I’d be finding myself with a whole new brood of brothers and sisters. Why, I can just see them now, swarming ’round my knees, wanting me ta mend their broken dolls or horses.”
Cedric harrumphed as he cocked a quizzical brow at his son. “Ye wouldna resent them?”
“Mayhap a few…at the very beginning,” his son teased, “but they’re sure ta grow on me after a time.”
The elder laughed. “Aye, they could grow on me, too. Your mother, she never was able ta have more’n ye, lad, but ye can be sure I was always true ta her. She was me only love.”
“Take care, Da,” Raven urged in a moment of sincerity. “I want ta see ye at the keep after this is over. Should I be blessed with bairns of my own, they’ll be wanting a grandfather ta read ta them.”
Cedric cocked a brow toward Abrielle. “Dinna be counting your chicks before they’re hatched, lad. That one dinna seem too partial ta ye.”
Raven smiled. “Give her time.”
At last the litter was done and Nedda was settled into it. Cedric swept an arm about, urging them to leave. “Now mount up and be gone from here afore those miscreants catch us unawares. If I’m going ta fight, I’d rather be assured ye’re safely away afore I start bloodying those devils.” He grinned. “Otherwise, Lady Abrielle be inclined ta think me a ruthless savage.”
Abrielle smiled at him after she tucked the quilt up around Nedda’s chin. “I think you my heroic rescuer.”
Raven straightened with pride. “And me, my lady?”
She shrugged. “I’m grateful you came to keep your father company.”
He winced and staggered as if she’d wounded him, but Abrielle did not relax into a smile. Sighing, he mounted his black stallion and patted the animal’s neck fondly to keep him from shying away as his father lifted Abrielle up behind him. Settling astride the steed, she adjusted the skirts of her robe and nightgown for a moment before she lifted her gaze and found Raven peering over his shoulder.
“Are ye ready, lass?”
Though she nodded, it only just dawned on her that she and Raven would be traveling alone. She would have no choice but to depend upon him for her survival.
CHAPTER 16
As the horse began walking down a lane into the forest, Abrielle looked back at Cedric, who pulled Nedda’s litter down a different path near the cottage and disappeared. She found herself wishing she could have stayed behind. Instead she was sharing a too-small saddle with Raven Seabern. Straddling his body with her legs, she felt indecently close to him. To keep their touching as minimal as possible, she was trying not to hold on to him, but she found herself swaying with the movement of the horse, and the awkwardness of the two of them together.
Raven looked over his shoulder at her. “If ye dinna hold on, ye’ll find yourself on your backside in the dirt.”
Gritting her teeth, she clutched the folds of his cloak in her fists.
“That’s better, lass.”
She could still hear the amusement in his voice, and she hated being the source of his humor. She needed a distraction from this strange tension. “How did you find us so quickly?”
“A serf named Siward alerted Sir Vachel after he saw a cart being loaded with quilts and pillows near the back entrance of the keep. He watched ta see what they were putting in it, thinking mayhap Mordea was stealing from ye again. Then he saw your maid come out afore being tied up and thrown inta the cart. He began ta suspect what was in the quilt they’d loaded earlier, and told Sir Vachel what he’d just seen.”
“I shall personally offer my gratitude and a suitable reward to him for raising up a hue and cry,” Abrielle avouched. “Nedda and I were afraid no one would even notice we were gone until the morning.”
“Siward claimed ye’d likely saved his son’s life by providing better vittles for the children. The lad was barely surviving, but when ye started sending over food, he took ta eating again. Siward said even if the brigands killed him, he couldna keep quiet on the chance that ye’d been taken.”
“But what about my stepfather and his knights?” Abrielle asked.
“After Siward’s news, Sir Vachel found traces of blood on the floor outside your chambers and within. He sent out riders ta bid the knights who were living fairly close ta come in haste ta the keep. Since it promised ta be a goodly wait afore they arrived, my da and I decided ta ride out ta find the brigands’ trail and mark it for Sir Vachel. ’Twould seem ye did that well enough with the scraps ye left. They gave us hope we’d find ye alive.”
“I am glad,” she said softly, trying to think of Nedda’s safety, rather than Raven’s broad back and warm thighs.
“So how were ye able ta subdue three large men? Surely ye had help.”
“Just Nedda and I and our clever minds,” she said with faint sarcasm.
Over his shoulder, his blue eyes touched her. “I never said ye weren’t clever, lass.”
She frowned, tempted to say that he seemed concerned only with having a wealthy, beautiful bride until she remembered he was escorting her safely home and she was grateful. Instead she told him of their succes
sful overthrow of their captors.
“I am quite impressed,” he said afterward. “Ye certainly made things easier on us poor men who thought we were facing danger to rescue ye.”
She could not suppress the small smile that turned up a corner of her mouth. For a while they rode in silence, the forest masking the setting sun and a chill beginning to seep upward from the ground. Suddenly she noticed the path they were taking. “We are not traveling the same way that our captors took us.”
“Nay,” he replied. “In case their leader—”
She could not help but interrupt, eager to know who had done this terrible thing to her, to Nedda, to her family. “Thurstan?” she asked.
He took a moment to reply. “Perhaps. But in case he knew to follow the same roads as his henchmen, ye and I should travel another way.”
She nodded with comprehension, and found that simply closing her eyes gave her a start, as if she’d fall off the horse. Raven’s voice spoke softly in her ear. “Ye didna sleep much,” he said. “Hardly a surprise, considering the circumstances.” His voice became even softer. “Sleep now.”
She gave a little snort. “And how should I be doing that?”
“I willna let ye fall, lass. Rest yourself against me and sleep.” It was so tempting, as the rocking of the horse’s gait lulled her, and although she resisted, at last she found her body easing against his, her arms creeping around his waist. What harm could it do to trust him just this once? He was large and warm and so very soothing.
He put a hand on her forearm. “See? I’ll keep ye upright.”
Her eyes closed for the last time and she drifted off.
Raven knew he would have no such problem, although he had not slept the previous night in his search for her. How could he even grow drowsy when Abrielle was resting warm against his back, her soft breasts encouraging the agony of denying his passion? He was between her thighs, where he longed to be—although he’d prefer them both naked and in a bed, he thought with wry humor.
Several hours after sunset, rain began to fall, awakening Abrielle and slowing their journey with the hiding of the moon. Raven had her snuggle beneath his cloak, yet still they both grew wet. She shivered against him, and at last he gave up the idea of continuing on. He found a sheltering copse of trees, and he lit a small fire to warm them both. She had little to say to him and kept a careful distance, although she did gratefully share his meal of cheese and twice-baked bread. Her wariness of him stung all the more after the sweetness of riding with her head on his shoulder and her body pressed to his. The rain finally eased, so he spread a dry blanket near the fire and bade her sleep.
He kept the fire going and watched over her, wondering how long it was going to take to break through her mistrust of him. If it took forever—and after spending the day dampening his body’s eager response to hers, he prayed to God it did not—he would make her see she had naught to fear, that he would rip off his own arms and chain himself to the gates of hell before he would do her harm in any way. The sheer pleasure of watching her sleep was marred by her shivering, sometimes so fiercely he’d swear he heard her teeth chatter.
Finally he had all he could take of seeing her suffer so. He had no other blanket, and he would not let illness overtake her in this weakened state. Before he could think better of it, he carefully lifted her blanket and slid in behind her, chest to her back, his thighs hugging hers, giving of his warmth. It was just for a while, he told himself. Just until his body heat seeped into her and let her go into the deep sleep she needed. If he was lucky he could slip away before she opened her eyes in the morn and she’d never need know. He would not allow himself to think of his desire or dwell on the feel of her breasts against his back or her delicate hands curled around his arms. The last thing he wanted was to give her more reason to be suspicious of him. For this night he wanted only to see to her comfort. There would be other days to press his suit. With a grateful sigh, Abrielle relaxed deeper into sleep, and he did the same.
ABRIELLE CAME AWAKE with a start, wondering what had awoken her from the delicious warmth that eased all along her back. In confusion, she blinked her eyes open to see several dozen men on horseback grouped before her. Her first thought was that Thurstan’s men had tracked them there and now had them surrounded. Raven. She raised up on her elbow to see where he was.
When her gaze fell on the lead rider, the visage of her stepfather sent a wave of relief through her. She sagged forward, thanking God in the silence of her prayers, and noticed Vachel was not smiling. Something moved behind her and it was then she realized it was not, as she’d assumed, the sound of hoofbeats that woke her, but the sudden movement of Raven Seabern, who, for reasons she could not begin to fathom, was lying at her back. He stood, and as he did, her sleep-fogged brain slowly began to clear. She had spent the night alone with him, aye, because he’d rescued her. But what was he doing sleeping so close and with his arms wrapped all around her? She had not given him permission for anything of the sort, nor had he sought it, but evidently…
A cold shiver of understanding and dread settled into her chest. She came stiffly to her feet, ignoring Raven’s outstretched hand and its offer of help—too late, all too late. Oh, why had she ever let her guard down around this man? She noticed that Vachel was watching her with somber eyes, and she saw behind him several of his knights whispering together. They were loyal to him and would not dare to smirk openly at his stepdaughter, but their silent, sordid suspicions were as clear to Abrielle as if they had.
And what else should she expect? After all, they’d found her in Raven’s arms, squashed together under a single blanket as if…as if…A thought began to dawn on her as she pondered how this had come to pass. Her thoughts a jumble of confusion and betrayal and sadness, she turned to Raven and met a steadfast gaze. In a forthright manner he told her, “Ye were so cold in your sleep, lass. I couldna just let ye catch your death.”
Her stepfather looked between them. “What has become of Cedric and Nedda?” he asked.
Raven responded, “My father remained behind ta learn the identity of the man who paid the brigands ta kidnap Lady Abrielle. Nedda is injured, so she stayed with him so that I could return Lady Abrielle more quickly ta the safety of the keep.” His words echoed hollowly now, for of course he had not kept her safe. “When my father and I first arrived, Lady Abrielle and her maidservant had already knocked their three captors unconscious.”
Although Vachel’s lips quirked slightly with amusement, he straightened in the saddle and spoke coolly. “And whose idea was it for him to remain behind, leaving my stepdaughter unchaperoned?”
“’Twas Cedric’s idea,” Abrielle whispered in surprise.
Raven stood so close beside her that she felt him stiffening, heard the affront in his voice as he said, “My father knew you would need to know the identity of the man threatening Abrielle.”
“Yet it was his idea to leave the two of you alone,” Vachel pointed out.
Into the silence, they heard someone whisper, “The Scots planned it.”
Abrielle wished she were anywhere but in this gloomy forest just after dawn. But she found her gaze drawn to Raven, and she saw his anger and bitter pride.
“Someone dares to slight my own father before me?” he demanded.
Uneasy rumbles were heard among the knights, but no one spoke up.
Abrielle found it interesting that Raven seemed angrier that people would accuse his father than himself alone. She knew father and son were close. Was it possible, she had to wonder bitterly, they had planned this entire escapade? Certainly others would be quick to suspect the Scotsmen of hiring the brigands in the first place. She pondered the notion briefly and dismissed it, believing they had too much honor for such a dastardly deed. She was less quick to discount the possibility they had deliberately taken advantage of the situation once it fell into their laps. She had been so overwhelmed it had not occurred to her how Raven’s rescue of her would look to others. Perhaps Raven’s tr
ue anger was due to the discovery of his own part in the ruse. She felt sick thinking such a thing, and could not even look toward the uncertainty of her future.
“Come, Abrielle,” Vachel said heavily. “This is not the place for a discussion of such import. And your mother needs to know you’re safe. We will talk later.”
A discussion of such import. The ominous words echoed inside Abrielle’s head. Of course, what could be of greater import than the rest of her life and the decision as to whom she would spend it with. Was that still a decision for her to make? Or had fate and Raven Seabern conspired to at last land her in a mess she could not get herself out of?
Vachel dealt quickly with his men, sending a half-dozen knights back the way Raven indicated, in support of Cedric and Nedda, and then he reached down to his stepdaughter.
Abrielle gratefully let her stepfather pull her up behind him, and she didn’t look at Raven as the troop of knights rode off, leaving him behind.