The Hellion (The Lady Knights of Barony Book One ) (7 page)

“That and a bath,” she answered imperiously. For some reason, their verbal sparring was beginning to amuse her. While Julian was definitely a kidnapper and a
fiend, he did not seem cruel. Ava could see that he was just as amused as she.

“Well then,” he stood and stretched, “let us get on our way. We wouldn’t want Her Highness to go on smelling like a chamber pot, now would we?”

Over an hour had passed since they’d made camp for the night and Julian hadn’t caught a single hare. Ava’s stomach rumbled hungrily, but rebelled at the thought of eating one
more dry, mealy oatcake. She sat on her pallet, her ankles free but her wrists still bound with Simon standing guard.

“Does he always take this long to hunt?” she asked Simon.

The titian-haired man seemed the quiet sort, especially when Julian wasn’t around to talk to. Ava wasn’t sure if it was because she had attacked him or because he preferred to keep his victims at a distance.

Without answering, he turned toward the fire and threw some more kindling onto it. It roared beneath the makeshift spit he’d created over the fire. It, along with the fire, was all ready for a nice juicy rabbit. Unfortunately, there was none.

“Did you know that there are many edible plants in these woods?” she asked his turned back.

Simon stiffened, the back of his neck turning almost as red as his hair. Ava shrugged at his silence, but continued, determined to draw Julian’s accomplice into conversation. She wanted to know more about these men and their connection to Blake.

“How long have you and Julian been accomplices in the kidnapping of women? For that matter, how does one get into the business of kidnapping?”

Silence.
The fire crackled.

“Do you always do what Julian tells you to?”

“Enough!” Simon finally bellowed. He whirled around to face her, his expression a twisted mask of annoyance. “You do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” One of her eyebrows shot up. “Explain it to me then. What kinds of men kidnap a defenseless woman and hands her over to fiend like Dorian Blake? Oh yes,” she said when Simon’s eyes widened in surprise, “I heard your conversation last night and I know who Dorian Blake is.”

Simon released a sigh that was heavy with both weariness and defeat. “It’s not what you think. Julian Vincent is an honorable man. Besides, you aren’t exactly defenseless,” he added, pointing to the fresh bandage on his arm.

“Don’t expect an apology from me,” Ava scoffed. “There is no honor in what you are doing.”

“We have our reasons, none of which need to be explained to you. When we turn you over to Blake, turn your dagger on him. I’m sure you’ll have no problem escaping once you get your hands on a weapon.”

Ava grinned at that. “You’d better believe it.”

Simon fell silent again, his dark brown eyes growing pensive as he stared into the fire. Ava could see the goodness in this man. Unlike Julian, whose eyes held that cold, dark glitter that sent chills up and down her spine, Simon’s gaze held a vulnerability that Ava knew ran deep. Her voice was soft when she spoke again.

“You’re not so bad you know,” she said. “I can tell. I heard the doubt you expressed to Julian over my abduction. Why don’t you—“

“Are you always this annoying?” he snapped impatiently. “Christ above, woman!”

“You call it annoying, I call it persistent. When I want something—“

“For the love of God tell me what you want,” he muttered, “and put me out of my misery.”

Ava’s smile was smug. “I want to know how one goes about becoming a hired kidnapper. Is one born with a talent for it? Does Julian only kidnap people, or is he also a common thief?”

“If his father had done right by him, none of this would be necessary.”

Ava could tell by Simon’s expression that he’d said something he shouldn’t have. His eyes were suddenly clouded and he looked away as if refusing to say anything more. Ava wasn’t letting him off that easily.

“His father, eh? A nobleman?”

Simon refused to meet her gaze, but his face and neck
were beet red, a characteristic of embarrassment that she’d noticed in him.

“What about you? Are you an illegitimate son as well?”

“We prefer the term bastard,” Julian’s voice interrupted.

Ava’s back stiffened and her eyes widened. She heard the crunch of his boots over dry brush and leaves as he approached from behind her. When he appeared in her line of vision, holding two dead hares by the neck, her stomach quivered with relief. As she noticed the anger flaring in his eyes, though, the relief quickly turned to dread.

“Well,” she said, raising her chin imperiously, “it certainly is fitting; at least in your case, Julian.”

If at all possible his eyes grew even darker. The obsidian shimmer was both mesmerizing and unnerving.

“You will remember to keep your beak of a nose out of my affairs unless you want to find yourself gagged again.”

He moved toward the fire where Simon sat, his back to them both, his head lowered.

“I think she’s heard enough, don’t you?” he asked Simon accusingly. “Help me skin and clean these?”

Simon silently accepted one of the hares and the two set to work. Ava began to feel the stirrings of guilt in her chest. She hadn’t meant to stir up Julian’s ire toward Simon. Her inquisitiveness had simply gotten the best of her. If she were being honest with herself, at this point her curiosity was at its peak.

When dinner was done, Ava began to wonder if Julian would come through on his promise to allow her a bath. After a full day of travel, she was feeling even grimier than she had at the start of the day. As she watched the two men clean up after their meal, she hoped she hadn’t crushed all possibility of a bath with her big mouth.

When Julian came and released her bonds, she sighed with relief. He’d disappeared into the woods at least half an hour ago. Judging by the water droplets still clinging to his wavy dark hair and neck, he’d just come from the small pond that lay just beyond the line of trees circling camp. A fresh shirt clung to his chest, still slightly damp from being thrown on over his un-dried
body. Ava tried not to stare, but that was nearly impossible when his pectoral muscles were pressed so prominently against the white linen.

After releasing her ankles and leaving her wrists still bound, he grabbed her by the arm and silently led her back the way he’d come. He held what looked like a bundle of clothing in his other hand.

Shock rippled through her as they neared the cool, inviting water.

“Surely you don’t mean to stay and watch me bathe.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to leave my captive alone for even one moment,” he answered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“I can’t very well run away from you naked, now can I?”

Julian snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

In any other circumstance, he’d be right. Ava would do whatever it took to free herself from her kidnapper, even run naked through the woods until she found a weapon, clothes, or help; whichever came first. She couldn’t very well tell Julian that his taking her to Blake was exactly what she wanted. Ava must continue to play the role of helpless prisoner if she wanted to find him. No one knew where Blake was hiding besides Julian; no one that she knew of, anyway.

“It’s indecent,” she argued as they neared the lake. Julian released her arm and turned to her, unfolding the bundle in his other hand.

“These are Simon’s,” he said as he laid out a pair of breeches, a man’s shirt and a belt on a nearby rock. “They might be a bit big but they’d fit you better than mine. It’ll do, at least for you to sleep in, while you wash that sack you’re wearing and lay it out to dry.”

While she knew she didn’t resemble a lady of Barony in her work clothes, his candor stung. She huffed angrily and stomped her foot.

“Well you didn’t exactly give me a chance to change into my best ball gown when you snatched me from in front of my shop, did you?”

“Not that it would make much of a difference,” he muttered as he circled behind her to untie her wrists. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the word ‘hag’ in the midst of his mumbled tirade. Her hands curled into fists at her side and for a moment she wondered what the consequences would be if she were to hit him. Just once would be enough to soothe her ire and restore her pride. His constant jabs at her looks and integrity had long since begun to grate on her nerves.

As she pondered the advantages and disadvantages of such an action, he shoved a small cake of soap in her hand and pointed toward the pond.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’d hurry up if I were you. You’re going to need every single second. You smell like a chimney.”

“No,” she said to him for the second time that day. “You’ve put me through enough.”

“As you so eloquently expressed this morning—”

“And,” she continued, punctuating the word to indicate that she would tolerate no further interruption, “I refuse to suffer the indignity of your leering at me as I wash.”

Julian’s chuckles were loud, a chest vibrating roar that echoed out over the water. Ava wondered if Simon could hear them. Was he having a little laugh himself at her misery and embarrassment? Her cheeks burned at the thought.

“Trust me,
my lady
, there is nothing beneath that bag of yours to tempt me. You need not worry about my pawing you.”

Ava quirked a brow and delivered her most scathing verbal blow.
“Oh no? Was that not your raging prick rising up so rampantly against my bottom this afternoon? Why, I must have imagined it!”

He choked on his laughter and Ava felt a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of her mouth at his discomfort. His jaw was working furiously and his eyes were narrow slits as he closed the distance between them. For a moment, Ava wondered if he would strike her and prepared herself to fight back. His meaty fists remained at his sides, but he leaned down until they were almost nose to nose.

“I’ll turn my back,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “Fifteen minutes. If you’re not out by then, I’m coming in after you.”

By the time Ava had disrobed and splashed into the pond, Julian was still seething. He couldn’t see her, of course, but he could hear her sighing with satisfaction and splashing around as she washed the grime from her body, her very lean, muscular-yet-soft body. He felt his own body reacting at the image he’d created of her in his mind.

Damn it!
He inwardly roared his frustration. What was it about the little harridan that caused such a strong reaction in him? She was combative and stubborn and altogether the most frustrating person he’d ever met. By God, the little wench intrigued him.

No lady he knew would ever mention a man’s physical arousal,
certainly not out loud and definitely not to his face. No lady he ever knew would stand up to him so boldly.

Perhaps that’s what it was. Wherever he went, most women threw themselves at him. There were even a few well-bred women that liked the idea of bedding him. He had all the dangerous appeal of a sword for hire, but because his father was a noble, they considered him safe. They always quivered in equal parts anticipation and fear when he was around.

But this woman neither wanted nor feared him, a fact that puzzled him tremendously.

A means to an end,
he reminded himself sharply as he heard his prisoner leaving the water. He heard the telltale splashing of her dress—if one wanted to call that thing a dress—being washed a few minutes later. Was she still naked, he wondered? He found himself calling on every ounce of his will to keep from turning around to see. Nothing would please him more than to catch a glimpse of her bent over at the waist, her long, shapely legs parted to reveal her… Lord help him, he was losing his mind.

“Are you finished yet?” he asked a bit sharply. Julian had to maintain the distance of captor and captive between them, he reminded himself.

“In a moment,” she answered just as testily as he heard the rustle of fabric. Within a few seconds, he heard her footsteps crunching across the ground as she neared. He turned, a scathing remark on the tip of his tongue, one that never quite made it past his lips.

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. His voice came out as a strangled sound, a moan, as Ava appeared before him, washed and scrubbed.

What the soot and grime had hidden from him was a curiously attractive face. If Julian wasn’t so dead set on hating her, he might have even admitted that she was as beautiful as Blake had said.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered as he stared at her, unable to form coherent thought or speech.

A triangular face with defined, sloping cheekbones held surprisingly delicate features. Smoldering gray eyes flashed silver in the moonlight, no longer dulled by the layer of ash that had previously covered her face. Those molten silver eyes were framed by a fan of dark, straight lashes; over them arched eyebrows the color of a raven’s wings.

His eyes lowered and locked onto her mouth and lips stained an alluring shade of pink. The tangled thatch of black hair was now a shimmering, wavy curtain that framed her face and stopped just below her chin. Typically he preferred his women with long hair, the better to wrap his large hands around, but on Ava the short locks were perfection.