Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (13 page)

Every time her eyes drifted shut she felt the press of Raeb MacKai’s lips on hers. The bedclothes transformed into the tunic that covered his hard torso. Her fingertips burned with the remembered heat of his skin, and every breath filled her mind and body with his scent.

Impatient with herself, she tossed and turned. How could she be so susceptible to the man? Yes, he cared for his sisters and his people. He even respected his siblings enough to ask their help. However, he rarely hesitated to order everyone about to suit his least whim. The woman who was foolish enough to wed Baron Raeb MacKai would find herself bound to a beguiling autocrat whose devious tactics could sap a woman’s dreams. That was not what Jessamyn wanted for herself. Or was it? If Raeb crept into her room, her bed, would she cry for help or would she welcome him with open arms?

Toward dawn, Jessamyn finally gave up her fight against wakefulness and rose to dress for riding. She would leave a note for Margery then visit the kitchen for bread and cheese to take with her. After last night’s adventures, she hoped the mare would be as glad as her rider for a spirit-lifting run.

Taking the long way around, Jessamyn found herself halting at the point where the path split down to the Selkie’s Grave or up toward the forest. She and Persia were both pleasantly tired. The mare munched on a bag of oats Jessamyn had brought while she nibbled on the food from the kitchens.

With the tide out, she considered exploring the cave below, but she’d brought no torch with her and the idea of wandering in the dark did not appeal. She could easily become lost and perhaps drown if the cave did not go far enough back for one to avoid the rising waters of a new tide.

The morning was well advanced; she could return to the keep. However, she did not wish to go back yet. Out here she felt free from all demands. Her confusion over Raeb was a distant matter, as was her ambition to join the convent. If she lingered, she would be missed at the keep. She had food enough for herself and Persia to avoid hunger until well into the afternoon. She would take what time she needed to secure contentment, so she could return prepared to do what she must to be aboard that ship when it left.

Hoofbeats approaching from behind drew her attention. She turned in the saddle, and her breath stopped. Raeb, mounted on the dappled courser, rode toward her. How could a man be so beautiful when he wasn’t even truly handsome? He was the most male animal she’d ever encountered, and to her regret she could not be indifferent to him. From the first, his presence caused her heart to race. She would not have to endure this much longer she told herself, as he came to a stop beside her and Persia.

“You left the keep very early this morning. I came to be sure of your safety and to tell you that a ship docked in Dungarob harbor on the morning tide.”

“I saw the ship as I left.”

“Why did you leave?” His voice was low and dark. His gaze captured her.

“I was restless,” she said, unable to look away. “I thought to spend the day exploring.”

“I understand the wish to see the MacKai holding, but you shouldna have ridden out alone. This close to the keep you need no fear raiders, but wolves and other creatures are no so discreet.”

Was he a predator she should fear? She knew him to be a dangerous man, but one who did not attack rashly unless angered beyond reason. She nodded. “You are right, but the day is so fine, I could not persuade myself to return to walls and people.”

He held out his hand. “Come, I will show you some of my favorite places.”

Though the gesture surprised her, she took his hand and they walked their mounts in tandem toward the forest. He led her toward the stream where they’d found Maeve and Dougal, and the terrain forced her to drop his hand.

Incredibly, her attitude toward Raeb MacKai was changing. Had she seen him as crude on their first meeting because she’d wanted to? To be honest, he could be mule-headed. But had he truly been the jackass, or had it all been pretense, just as she had intended false distain? No. One could not discount the neglect and ill manners he’d used toward his betrothed on her arrival, but that behavior did not match the man she’d seen over the last few days. Which was the true man, and how did she feel about him?

She tried and failed to find calm in the storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Neither Raeb’s true character nor her feelings mattered. She knew what she wanted—a peaceful life of charity breeding and training horses for the nuns. To get that, she would leave Dungarob keep and Raeb MacKai very soon. Once she arrived in St. Bartholomew’s and started her new life, the irritating, confusing Scot would be forgotten and no longer hers to worry about. She would not miss him when she left or wish for more than a future of good works.

As they rode upstream the forest thinned and the ground sloped. At the bottom of a low slope, they found themselves at one end of a broad glen bisected by the stream. Fortunately, the stallion was being well behaved—either that or Persia was no longer in season—so the ride was easy and relaxing.

“At the other end of this glen the ground falls away sharply, and beyond that a waterfall feeds a small pool. I would go there to swim when I was a boy. There is a shallow cave behind the fall, deep enough to offer shelter at night or in a storm. A pleasant place to rest after a swim as well. Perhaps you would like a dip in the pool?”

The idea was all too tempting. Her gurgling stomach saved her. “Mayhap we should eat before I decide. I don’t suppose you brought a midday repast with you? I have bread, cheese, and water but find myself wanting more that that.”

He grinned. “I always travel well supplied for any eventuality. Choose your spot, and I will feed you with fruit and wine.”

“Mmmm.” She licked her lips and temptation threatened when she saw him watching her mouth. “Ah, let us feast by the pool you mentioned. I’ll race you there. The last one to arrive prepares the meal.”

He put his hand over hers before she could gather the reins to give Persia the signal to run. Her soft skin, her lavender and mint scent, even the quiet gasp drawn between her glistening lips made his loins tighten and his head spin. He’d intended to tell her something, something important. But all he could think of was kissing her. He closed his eyes. Ah yes. Remembering, he opened his eyes again.

“The slope at the end of this glen is verra steep. His voice rasped as if he’d forgotten how to speak. ’Tis no wise to approach it at speed. Even the most experienced of Highland men have come to grief there. Let us eat and dally here a while. A swim will be all the more welcome afterward.” Yes, after. After they fed their bodies and their other hungers. After sweet mead, sweetmeats, sweeter kisses, and mayhap the sweetest pleasure of all. ’Twas impossible not to put thought to deed. He leaned across to her and took her lips with his. When he released her, he sat back, grinning.

Dazed, she stared at him for a moment. He was quite proud that his kiss could affect her so.

Then in a blink, her gaze hardened and her right palm cracked against his cheek. Pain erupted as her left fist boxed his ear. Instinctively he released her, covering his injuries with his hands.

She moved herself and Persia out of reach. “Oaf.”

“Wha … ?”

“Do you imagine I would allow you to kiss me in the same instant that you insult me? I’ll not dally with a boor.”

His brows crashed together. “I didna insult you.”

If she’d been standing, she would have stamped her foot. He’d seen that look often enough on his sisters’ faces when they got some harebrained notion.

“You did. You as much as said that simply because I am English I’m too paltry a horsewoman to handle riding in the Highlands.”

“Well, ye are English, so ’tis true, and therefore no insult.”

“Ooooo! You pig-headed Scot. I’ll prove to you that this paltry Englishwoman can outride any Scot—male, female, or boorish baron—on any day of the week.”

She gathered her reins in both hands.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“You said the pool is at the end of this valley.” Her chin rose. “I find myself overheated and want the refreshing swim you spoke of.”

His brow relaxed. “So you see the sense of proceeding slowly.”

“Not at all. I still intend to race you to the other end. So you’d best ready yourself. I’d like the race to be fair. I want no claims that I had a head start.”

He put a restraining hand on her near rein.

“Ye’ll no be racing anywhere.”

She frowned and fixed a gimlet gaze on him. “Try and stop me.”

“Be reasonable, Jessamyn.” Easing his grip on the leather strap he held, he tried to inject calm into the tension crackling between them. “You canna race over unfamiliar ground, no matter how good you believe your puny beast to be.” He jerked his head in Persia’s direction. “’Tis at least half a league to the slope. Your wee horsey will collapse before you are halfway across.”

“You’re an ignorant fool, Raeb MacKai. I can race Persia down this valley, and I will.” She jerked the reins from his hands. “Now take charge of your own mount. Or are you so afraid I’ll win that you refuse my challenge?”

“I’m no afraid,” he grumbled. Obviously she wasn’t going to listen to reason. The best he could do was to pick up the gauntlet she’d dropped and make sure she came to no harm. He settled himself in the saddle and gathered his horse’s reins. “You will just embarrass yourself.”

“Hmph.” She stuck her charming, noble nose in the air and faced into the valley. “Are you ready?”

“Aye.”

She was off at a near gallop before he finished speaking.

“Hyah.” Raeb lashed his horse into motion. He couldna allow any harm to come to Jessamyn. Married or no, Edward of England would wipe Dungarob from the earth if the least harm came to his goddaughter. Later, Raeb might chastise himself for mishandling an excellent opportunity to set the woman straight as to her purpose in life. For now, he had to keep her from killing herself over an imaginary insult.

• • •

The wind snatched Jessamyn’s laugh as she flew down the valley. For the first time in the weeks since learning she’d been sold to a wild Scot, she felt totally free.

She heard the thunder of pursuit behind her and urged Persia to greater speed. She’d teach the churl not to underestimate an Englishwoman.

Soon she heard nothing but the wind, the rush of the stream running parallel to her path, and the rapid hoofbeats of her mount. Persia was not even breathing hard, and Jessamyn knew that the mare was as glad as she of the chance to race.

The stream angled off to her right as they topped a small rise. As one, Jessamyn and Persia slowed while they descended to a short level space that ended in a wall of huge fir trees. Jessamyn cast a glance back, but the rise blocked her view and nothing could be seen of Raeb. She considered waiting for him, and shrugged. He’d catch up soon enough. Curiosity pushed her forward as she signaled Persia to walk into the shadowy wood.

Fine needle-like leaves carpeted the floor, and the dim light suppressed the undergrowth. All a rider needed to do was avoid the trees, none of which was closer than ten small paces to the next fir. She was beginning to feel easier about entering the forest when Persia halted.

She felt a flush rise along her neck. She checked her surroundings. No one was about. The forest was still and silent. She should be embarrassed to be as guilty of being unobservant as Raeb MacKai.

Trusting her mount, Jessamyn peered into the shadows ahead and saw the ground fall away to a grade so steep only a highly skilled rider would attempt it. Worse, she could not see the bottom. No wonder Persia halted. However, Jessamyn knew her skills as keenly as she knew the strength and heart of her horse. Persia would go where guided and never flinch. With gentle pressure, she told her mare to go slowly forward.

The first steps were easy. Then as the grade sharpened, Persia leaned back on her haunches to keep from tumbling down the hillside. To help the mare, Jessamyn leaned as far back in the saddle as she could. The high cantle dug into her back, but she forced herself to keep her muscles loose and endure the pain. Her thigh muscles stretched, screaming at the unusual strain and position. Her entire body jolted with Persia’s every careful stride.

The descent seemed to take forever. At the bottom, Jessamyn released the breath she hadn’t realized she held. The forest spread out before her, an endless march of darkness. Jessamyn just sat there, breathing, letting Persia steady herself and regain her breath as well.

How many moments passed before she noticed the rumbling off to her right, she could not say. Jessamyn dismounted. The ground squished beneath her boots as if a recent rain had fallen, but she was fairly certain there’d been no rain here. The soft earth meant there was water close at hand. Both she and Persia could use a drink. Taking a small water flask from a saddlebag, Jessamyn ground tethered the mare, who cast her mistress a grateful glance before nibbling at nearby vegetation.

Following her ears and staying close to the trees where footing was firmest, Jessamyn headed for the rumble and hopefully water. If Raeb MacKai was such an excellent rider, where was he?

• • •

Raeb shook grass from his hair and turned his gaze from the incline to his courser. Focusing too hard on following Jessamyn’s rapidly disappearing form, he’d failed to watch the ground as he should have. At full speed, his courser had hit a rock, stumbled, and unseated its rider. Raeb had the wind knocked from him and lay for stunned moments, staring at the blue afternoon sky, the scent of crushed wildflowers rising around him. He didn’t move until the horse’s whinny broke into his dazed brain.

He roused himself to examine his steed. Between the rock and the stumble his mount had strained a fetlock and bruised a hoof. Naught the horse couldna recover from, but the injury would slow their return to Dungarob. Had that woman nae gone haring off at a gallop, they might have made the keep just after dark. As it was … Raeb shook his head. The horse stood docilely, but obviously suffering, its left foreleg off the ground.