Betrayed (33 page)

Amber’s gut clenched and heaved, but she was more disgusted than afraid now. Krayne would not let anything happen to her, but if he hadn’t attacked yet, that meant he was alone and needed her help. She looked from the giant back to Maxwell. “In private? I promise it will be worth your time.”

He looked at her for a long while, then grunted to his man, “Leave us be.”

The giant cursed, but stomped back to the fire.

Amber glanced warily to the spot where Krayne was lurking and her mind unfolded. What was she doing? She’d thought to seduce Richard Maxwell into taking her away from the clearing where Krayne could get his chance, but her husband would only despise her more for once again using her body as a weapon.

Neither in defence or attack, he’d ordered her, shoving a sword into her hands instead.

Could she cut a man of Maxwell’s size down to bloody stumps?

“Ye’d best speak now, wench, fer my men willna have patience fer much longer.”

She squared her trembling shoulders and took a step forward, pushing her bosom out provocatively.

Taken unawares as he leered down the top of her bodice with feral intent, Amber managed to unsheathe the sword at Maxwell’s side and retreat that step before his hand could snap around her wrist.

“Ye bloody bitch,” he snarled, then chuckled his amusement. “And how does a wee thing like ye think ta use that sword against me an’ all my men?”

I have no idea,
Amber answered silently.

There was only one thing left to do, and it cast a black shadow over her heart.
Forgive me, Krayne, but I truly am no match for this man.

From his hiding place behind the tree, Krayne had never prayed so hard in his life.
Dinna do it, Amber.

His heart split open as he watched the pair with bated breath, the Maxwell bastard leering in amusement and Amber grasping with both hands the hilt of a broadsword almost as tall as herself. Between him and Jock, they could probably take down half the men, but that would still leave half to maul his wife. He had to maintain his control, and strike only when there was nothing more to lose. He’d almost come undone when Amber had boldly stepped up so close to the vermin, fury brimming to a boil at the thought of her twining herself around the bastard and seducing him with kisses.

But now, watching her struggle with the heavy sword, barely able to lift it off the ground, aware of how easily Maxwell could take it back and slice through her fragile body, all he’d ever known and believed in crumbled to a pile of rubbish at his feet.

Dinna do it, sweeting.

Woo the bloody vermin with seductive words and promises.

Bed the bastard if ye must, fer I’d rather share ye than have none of ye at all.

I swear I’ll cut his entrails out fer this, and then I’ll kiss his taste from yer tender lips. I am yers. Ye are mine. I will do anything, except live without ye.

Jock’s breathing quickened at his side. Krayne put a warning hand on his arm. They were too close, even hard breathing might be heard. His sword was drawn, ready to leap the moment Maxwell went for his sword.

His every sense pricked, time slowed down and silence filled the night, blocking out the rowdy musings from the fireside and shouts to get on with it, blocking out the shrilling insects and various calls of nightlife.

“’Tis not this sword I’m after.” Amber’s softly spoken words cut the silence.

Primed for action, Krayne watched her point the tip of the sword into the ground, then release the hilt with a flick that sent it to the ground.

“’Tis your other sword I want,” she continued in that husky voice, stepping up to Maxwell and putting one hand to his chest. “Take me somewhere private, and I’ll show you just how much I want it.”

Maxwell guffawed crudely. “An’ why would I be doin’ that? I’ll have ye anyhow, wench, right there by the warm fire and afore a verra appreciative audience.”

“Except, you would not have me first, would you?”

He shrugged a beefy shoulder. “That matters not.”

“Not even were I yet a maiden?”

Interest flickered in his eyes, but was quickly dismissed. “Dinna think ta fool me. I know ye’re married ta the Grey Wolf.”

“My husband prefers his whores,” Amber purred. “Our marriage has not been consummated.”

Maxwell folded his brows and glared at her, openly judging and disputing. “Why should I believe ye?”

Amber’s pulse raced away from her bleeding heart. “There’s one sure way to find out for yourself.”

“By God,” he exclaimed. “Then I’ll take ye here an’ now and damn the rest.”

“No,” she yelped, then said more calmly, “No, your men may not like you going out of turn. Explain that I wish to relieve myself in the bushes. ’Twill not take long for you to claim your right.”

Once more, suspicion crossed his brows. “What benefit ta ye?”

She dipped her head. “I ask only that you be gentle. That…giant, I cannot take him first. He’ll tear me apart and kill me instantly. You have a handsome face and a body that promises much pleasure.”

Maxwell’s liking for her proposal was etched in the leer he gave her. “I’m taking the wench ta relieve herself,” he called over his shoulder.

The giant jumped up, quickly followed by a few others.

“Let her do it here where we can watch.”

“Enough!” he bellowed. “We willna be long.”

William rushed forward. “There’s trickery afoot. Damn ye ta hell, Maxwell, ye dinna know this witch. She canna be trusted.”

“I can handle one wee lass,” Maxwell boasted.

William’s face turned red as rage boiled his blood. Lass? What had happened to
bitch
and
wench?
The witless fool was already under the witch’s spell. “I willna allow her from my sight. I’ve waited too bloody long fer this day.”

“Ye willna allow it?” sneered Maxwell. “Do ye forget that I’m in charge?”

“I planned this,” William blustered, drawing his sword and yanking Amber straight out of Maxwell’s arms.

“An’ I executed it,” Maxwell said with a quick glance to where his sword lay on the ground. “Ye forget my men outnumber yers two ta one.”

Maxwell lunged for his sword.

Cursing at this foul turn of events, William turned with Maxwell, grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands and driving the blade between the man’s shoulders. Maxwell’s face hit the ground with a grunt, then all was silent.

“Restrain Maxwell’s men,” William shouted hoarsely, well aware of the unfair odds. Then he saw Amber scrambling from the clearing and he forgot all else.

Krayne didn’t spare a glance for the fighting that broke out. He reached Amber in a heartbeat, wrapped her in his arms and carried her to safety in the thickness of the bushes. As he set her down gently, he wasted precious moments gazing upon his wife, pride filling his head, love bursting from his heart.

She looked up at him, saying nothing and he could not find the words to start to beg forgiveness.

He’d sworn to protect her and he had failed.

He’d almost lost her.

The swish of a branch pricked Krayne’s astute hearing. He whirled about to find Jardin lunging at his back.

With a thunderous howl, Krayne avoided the blade by diving low and left of the blade, grabbing Jardin around the knees and bringing him down with a dull thud. By the time Jardin rolled over, Krayne was on his feet, standing over the bastard with his sword drawn and pricking Jardin’s throat. He took no time to dwell on hate or regrets. He waited only for the flash of recognition to reach those baffled green eyes before ramming his sword clear through, all the way until his blade struck the ground beneath. Jardin died quickly, blood spurting from his jugular, his frozen stare fixed on his avenger’s face.

Krayne pulled his blade out and wiped it on the man’s jack, then kicked his body beneath a bush to hide the gore from Amber.

When he spun about, he saw she hadn’t moved.

“God’s blood, sweeting,” he said hoarsely, going down on his knees before her and gathering her to his chest. “Will ye ever forgive me?”

She didn’t reply. Her body trembled in his arms, and he could hear her teeth chattering. He released her only long enough to rip his shirt over his head and wrap it around her tightly, then he lifted her into his arms and rose to his feet. He was trembling as well, his heart still aching at what might have happened, all he might have lost.

“I love ye,” he said. At last the words poured out, and he marvelled at how simple it was. There was no hiding from his wife. All he was, inside and out, belonged to Amber. “I love ye, sweeting. As God is my witness, I’ll love and cherish ye until my dying day.”

He tipped her chin to him, and the tears he saw filling her eyes tore at his gut. He was doing it all wrong. “Ye are all I am, all I’ll ever be. Without ye, I am naught. Open yer heart ta me, wife, give me another chance ta be the man ye deserve.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she said, crying openly as she gazed into his eyes.

Krayne froze. His heart stopped beating.

“I love you, Krayne. I think I have since you first slung me over your shoulder and carried me across the Black Burn. Now, as pleased as I am to hear your love words, shut up and kiss that ape’s foul taste from my mouth.”

“What ape?” His jaw hardened into a grimace.

“Later,” she said, her arms fast around him. “Just hold me, love me, kiss me, take this day away.”

Krayne did as he was commanded. He kissed her thoroughly, deeply, claiming her all for a long moment, and then he pulled away with a ragged groan. “I’d do this forever, lass, but there’s still a fight ta be won and Jock will wonder what’s become of me.”

Amber released him reluctantly, a sudden fear flickering at her breast. “Take care, Krayne.”

He grinned. “Naught can defeat me now. Ye stay here and out of sight.” He set her down again and turned to go, then looked over his shoulder at the last moment. “And try not ta seduce anyone while I’m gone.”

She paled. “Krayne, I tried—”

“Hush, sweeting. That’s another thing we must talk about later.”

Amber sighed with relief. He was not angry. Not when his tone was so husky and his gaze a loving caress.

The battle was almost over before Jock and Krayne entered the fray. All but five Maxwell men were left standing, and all Jardin’s outlaws littered the ground like the fleas they were. Without too much effort, they made short work of the surviving bandits, receiving only minor cuts and grazes. They didn’t bury the bodies.

“This scum deserves ta be pecked by vultures,” Jock said, and Krayne could only agree.

“You’re bleeding,” Amber gasped when Krayne came to fetch her. Her fingers traced the slash on his lower cheek.

“’Tis naught but a scratch,” he said gruffly, unused to the affection.

“I’ll make some poultice as soon as we’re home,” she promised. “That will prevent the wound from festering and mayhap reduce scarring.”

“Ye’ll do no such thing, wife.” He mounted Cronus, then pulled her up onto his lap. “I think I’ll keep this scar as a reminder.”

She shivered in his arms. “What on earth would you want to remember from this day?”

“How precious ye are ta me,” he murmured, resting his chin on her hair. “How I almost lost ye. I’ll keep the reminder, if ye please, ta ensure I’m never that careless again.”

She tilted her chin up to him, and he could not help but drop a kiss on those inviting lips. “No one harmed ye, did they?” he asked when he released her from the kiss.

“No, not truly. ’Twas more the threat of what they meant to do. Oh, Krayne…” Her voice shook. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Hush now, lass. Ye’ll see enough of me ta wish fer some time apart, that I promise.” He pressed her cheek to his chest and kicked his stallion into a gallop, shouting for Jock to make for Wamphray. “We ride through the night.”

They took the Roman Road as far as Moffat, the well-worn track affording them greater speed. Amber slept on his lap, exhausted from the day as well as the overload of fear. She did not stir once, not even when he rode into Wamphray’s bailey and carried her inside amidst a household that woke around them with questions and exclamations.

Leaving instructions with Jock to send riders after Alexander and to the convent with word that all was well, Krayne swept through the great hall and up the stairs. Inside their chamber, he gently laid Amber upon the bed. He stripped her naked, spent a loving hour washing her entire body with a cloth, then covered her with a fur.

He should’ve been exhausted as well, but sleep eluded him. He built a fire, then spent the night stoking the flames and sitting at her side, watching over the love he’d almost lost. ’Twould take his lifetime and more to work at deserving this beautiful, brave, quick-witted, passionate, innocent seductress, and ’twas work he looked forward to.

He was grateful that he’d pushed to ride through the night when she opened her eyes to greet the morn in the comfort of their bed.

“Good morrow, darling wife,” he murmured, brushing her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Good morrow, my love,” Amber replied, basking in the warm grey eyes that fed joy into her heart and peace into her soul.

She blinked, then pushed up to glance about as memories of the night before came rushing to the forefront. As her gaze took in the cosy chamber and went back to her husband’s lopsided grin, she slumped down again, bringing his hand across her breast and holding it there. “’Twas no mere nightmare, was it?”

“Nay, but ye’re safe now.” His fingers stirred at her breast, touching a nipple. His gaze held hers, and his eyes crinkled down at the edges. “Why did ye run from me, lass?”

“I didn’t,” said Amber with a tiny frown. “I was confused, angry and scared. I needed to clear my head, although at some point I considered riding to Spedlin and confronting my uncle. I’m not even sure if I decided against it or not. ’Tis much a blur.”

“Scared?” Krayne picked up on the emotion he didn’t understand. Confused at all she’d heard, angry at her uncle…but scared?

“I saw the way you looked at me. You were furious and hurt. You believed I’d betrayed you again.”

“Nay, Amber. If there’s one thing I know fer certain, ’tis ye’ve never once betrayed me or mine.”

“You looked at me with murder in your eyes,” she insisted.

“Aye, but fer that Jardin scum, my love. Never fer ye.”

Her breast heaved beneath his fingers with a deep sigh, igniting his lust. He clamped it down. “I trust ye with my life, Amber. I pray that ye will trust me with yers.”

“My life…” She smiled, and it was far from sweet. “Only with my life?”

His eyes glinted. “What else?”

“Well, ’twould appear my body needs some reassurance at this point.” Her palm covered his hand and pressed his fingers flat against her taut nipple.

His shaft reared its head and throbbed.

“Nay, wife,” he growled. “What yer body needs is time ta recuperate.”

“Aye,” Amber agreed dreamily, tugging the ends of his shirt free from his britches and pushing her hands beneath to navigate the rippled muscles of his chest. “Would you care to nurse me back to health?”

Krayne stilled her roving hand and gave a stern look. “Ye’ll not seduce yer husband, wench. Ye’ll eat and rest, and then mayhap I’ll reward ye with a kiss ta send ye off ta sleep.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” she purred, grabbing the folds of his shirt to pull herself up and against him. Her lips found his and caressed lightly, then she dipped the tip of her tongue inside as he groaned.

She needed him.

She needed his body flush against hers, his touch caressing and stroking, she needed him inside her. The assurance that she belonged to her husband, and only him.

Krayne gripped her chin and turned her lips up to him. He looked into the emerald fire of his wife’s sultry gaze, and all resistance fled. He’d tried. Christ’s blood, he’d tried his best to make her rest. He pushed her down on the bed and wrapped his legs around her, hauling his body up and over hers.