Jacq's Warlord (10 page)

“Then tell me this,” he said his face cut in harsh angles, “do you belong to any man?”

Startled by the question, she answered honestly, “No.”

“So be it,” he pronounced, his eyes boring into hers. “You will remain my prisoner.

Understand me now. You will not leave this tent unless I command it. These measures 52

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are not only to restrain you, but also to protect you. You should have had better sense than leave the camp.”

“I didn’t realize how dangerous it could be. I’m not used to all this,” she protested.

Afraid the restrictions would hinder her search for a way back home, she reasoned, “All I wanted was a bath. I didn’t ask to be attacked. And, while we’re on that subject, why didn’t you do something about the man who tried to molest me?”

“You are the one who placed yourself at risk.”

“That’s not fair. Do you think I asked to be attacked?” She couldn’t believe this man placed all the blame on her.

“Any woman would know the dangers of leaving her protection. Your

disobedience almost caused me to fight my ally. This war is more important than your desire to be clean. You will obey my commands in the future.”

“I am not
yours
to command.” Fury finally lent her voice strength, and she faced him fully, hands on her hips, resolve tightening her jaw.

“You are mine to rule until you tell me the truth. You will go where I tell you. You will eat what I feed you and bathe when I tell you. And you will bathe me, if I so command it. You are mine until I decide otherwise.”

Jacq stood tall. “I belong to no man.”

“Madam, you are mistaken. You belong to me.”

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Rufus stormed out of the tent before he realized he had left his weapons in a tent with an angry woman. Despite his uneasiness about his oversight, he wasn’t about to step foot in there again to retrieve them.

His footsteps faltered.

Would the woman be foolish enough to try to use them?

With a shake of his head, Rufus moved on.

No. Jacq wasn’t
that
addlebrained.

He inhaled cool, moist air deep into his lungs. What he needed was a little physical action to rid himself of the tension cording his muscles. He was hard as stone.

Jacq.
He frowned. What sort of name was that for a full-bodied woman like her?

Long, silky legs and rosy-tipped breasts belied her masculine name.

He couldn’t help remembering the rage laced with panic that punched through his body when he’d heard her scream. He’d already been running toward the stream when Monty found him. The boy had appeared, nearly breathless, to say the lady was in trouble and a group of men had her surrounded. Then, to find her nude and fending off Percival of Sedgwick had been almost more than his tightly leashed fury could stand.

He needed to vent his wrath, break something, and work off the tension building within him since Jacq had mysteriously appeared on the battlefield.

The urge to inflict physical harm on Percy and all the men who had leered at Jacq as she bathed overwhelmed Rufus. But more than fury devoured him. Desire so strong it threatened to consume his mind permeated his every heartbeat. He wanted to sink himself deep inside the woman whose body and fierce temperament called to him as no other had before.

Rufus wasn’t normally a possessive man, having often shared the sexual services of a woman, but he knew instinctively what he felt for Jacq would be different…and more.

He recalled how she had melted against him for a moment, when she realized he was the one holding her, accepting his protection as her lush breasts pressed against his chest. The sight of her as she lifted her arms to slide into the dress had hardened him instantly. Water had glistened on her fair skin, running down in rivulets over her creamy mounds, and then continuing down her soft belly to disappear in the sable curls shielding her mons. The points of her rosy brown nipples had beckoned him to suckle like a babe.

And then, in the tent, lying on top of her had been a mistake. He had wanted to teach her a lesson, to let her know how vulnerable she truly was. However big and strong she thought herself to be, she was still no match for a trained warrior. He didn’t 54

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think she accepted the fact, even now. When he had lain over her and pressed against her, he had been tempted to lift away her skirt and drive endlessly inside her.

She would not have been able to stop him. Until she had challenged him to take her, his body had been set on teaching her the ultimate lesson. He, who had never taken a woman against her will…had never been so out of control. Although he had fought to remain still, he knew part of him could not be ruled by his will, and that part betrayed his intent, gouging into her toned belly.

The woman infuriated him, thus making his attraction to her more of a conundrum.

Jacq was a distraction he could ill afford. He needed his wits around him to accomplish his mission and join forces with Duke Henry. Together, they would smash King Stephen’s resistance and see the rightful heir to the throne, Duke Henry, ensconced as King of England.

With a deep breath filling his lungs with air, he tried to clear his mind and will his flesh to relax.

“My lord, if I might have a moment.”

Rufus turned to the sound of the voice.

Donald approached, nudging Rufus’ young squire before him with a hand at his shoulder. An eyebrow arched, his face fairly gleamed with curiosity. A quick glance down Rufus’ body appeared to provide the answer, and Donald grinned.

Rufus’ eyes narrowed in warning.

The oaf’s grin merely widened. Donald assumed their long friendship allowed him some latitude.

With a growl, Rufus ignored Donald and turned his attention to young Monty.

The boy’s brown eyes widened in his pale face.

“Monty, you disobeyed my orders, and in so doing our prisoner was nearly molested.”

Monty’s face screwed into a stubborn frown. He threw his shoulders back, drawing himself to his full height, about half again as tall as his lord. “Yes sir, your lordship, but she would not take no for an answer.”

Rufus admired the boy’s courage in attempting to argue with him, but this lesson was too important to encourage impudence. He stared hard at the young man for a long moment.

The longer the silence, the more the boy’s shoulders wilted.

When Rufus decided the boy had suffered enough, he nodded. “If she becomes obstinate, come to me immediately.”

Monty’s head bobbed. “Yes sir.” The boy perked up and made ready to run back to his post.

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For good measure, Rufus stayed Monty’s flight with a hand on his shoulder. “She is only a woman—granted an unusually strong-willed one—and, as men, it is our duty to protect her. She could have come to harm.”

His chin dropping to his chest, Monty stared at his feet. The boy had done his best given the situation and the will of his charge.

“But once you recognized the danger, you did the right thing.”

Monty’s gaze returned to his, relief apparent in his ready smile. Relief that was too hasty.

“I am placing a more seasoned guard on our prisoner. I want you to assist the camp’s cook for the time being.”

“Assist the cook?” Monty started to protest.

“Yes, for a full week, then we’ll see about letting you resume your duties as my squire. Now, off with you.”

Monty’s brow furrowed, but he wisely kept any protest to himself as he turned and, dragging his feet, departed in the direction of the cook’s tent.

Donald crossed his arms over his chest. “And who are you going to put as a guard on the lovely mistress? Now that most of the men have seen her in all her glory, it will be difficult to find one who can manage to keep his mind on his duty. Who would have known clothing hid the body of a goddess?”

Rufus quirked an eyebrow at his captain-at-arms’ dramatic statement, careful to retain hold on the sudden surge of anger firing his blood. Was Donald trying to incite some reaction in him? If so, he had succeeded. Rufus felt his manhood perk as the vision of Jacq’s full, lush curves, rounded buttocks, lean flanks and breasts which would overspill a man’s hands, filled his thoughts. Damn, and he had almost managed to bring himself back under control. Rufus glared at the grinning man.

He ought to give Donald the chore of guarding her to see him squirm. But the gleam in his friend’s eyes had him quickly tossing his name out as a possible candidate.

Finally, he settled on the perfect man for the job. “Put Beast on as guard.”

“Beast?” Donald’s brows rose to meet the hair drooping over his forehead.

“Yes, Beast will have the honor.”

“He won’t like it. Hellfire, you know he doesn’t even like women.”

“Exactly. Beast will do as he is told. You give him his orders.” He managed not to grin. Just.

Donald looked slightly sick at the prospect of telling the man what he must do.

“Make sure he understands no one is to enter the tent unless I order it, and she is not to come out except to visit the jakes. And he is never to allow her out of his sight.”

Properly chastened, Donald grumbled, “Yes, milord. Will there be anything else, before I go to meet my maker?”

“No.” Rufus laughed. “I think that is quite enough for now, don’t you?”

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As Donald walked away mumbling, he gave an unmistakably crude gesture with his arm in the air.

Rufus laughed harder and rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. “Now, for a little exercise.”

He left in the direction he had last seen Sedgwick’s contingent. Perhaps he could wipe the memory of Jacq from a few men’s minds, starting with Percival.

* * * * *

Jacq’s undergown and chemise were tossed into the tent by an unknown person.

Both garments showed muddy footprints. Her panties, she assumed, were lost somewhere in the underbrush. She sighed deeply. Her clothes were worse off now than before her trip to the stream. She debated calling one of her “guardians” for a bucket of water to rinse her clothing in, but changed her mind. Given the circumstances, she was wiser to keep a low profile.

A pitcher standing on the ground next to the chair where Rufus bathed the previous evening yielded water. She poured half of it into a copper basin and scrubbed her clothing. The soap cake was probably still lying on the ground next to the stream.

Without the benefit of soap, she worked the fabric against itself, rubbing vigorously.

Jacq felt like a fool. Rufus had been right. He’d warned her not to leave the security he offered here in his tent. She wasn’t in Georgia anymore and these people didn’t play by the same rules of society she had always taken for granted. Her arrogance had ruled her intellect again.

Never, in her entire life, had she felt vulnerable to a man. Yet twice in the space of an hour, two men had proved she wasn’t as invincible as she’d always believed.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered just how vulnerable she had been when Rufus rescued her. Twenty men gawking at her in her birthday suit had been bad enough. That Rufus had witnessed her predicament only managed to amplify her mortification. She wanted him to see her as strong—she wanted his respect.

Perversely, she wondered if he had liked what he saw, or if the pike in his pants would have been there for any woman running around buck-naked.

Why should she care? The man was an overbearing, self-righteous brute. But she couldn’t help herself. She cared what he thought. After traveling over eight hundred years to finally meet the man who made her aware of herself as a woman, she wondered if she had anywhere near the same effect on him. She wasn’t even sure she liked him—hell, she didn’t really know him. But she trusted him. Deep inside she’d known he wouldn’t force her, as Percival surely would have.

The fear she felt lying trapped beneath him on his cot, had been mixed with equal parts of excitement and desire. What was it about him that attracted her? He wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever seen—the perfidious Percival was the epitome of most women’s fantasies.

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However, Rufus was the most blatantly masculine man she had ever encountered.

From his heavily muscled body, to his hard-edged face and take-charge manner, he made her aware of his strength. Even subtle things, like the natural scent of his skin and breath…surprisingly fresh given the times and the lack of personal hygiene products…pleased her.

Blast and damn! She would have to guard her heart. Wouldn’t her life be just dandy if she managed to fall for the creep? She didn’t belong here, and she’d be leaving on the first train out of Dodge, as soon as she found her ticket.

In the meantime, she couldn’t just sit here and twiddle her thumbs all day. When she’d managed to get the mud out of the fabric, she wrung the garments out and hung them along a rope. Then she rifled among Rufus’ clothing for a shirt to slip on beneath her gown. Dry and clothed, she paced the inside of the tent. What was she expected to do with her time?

With the intent of finding her jailor to ask him just that, she flipped back the tent flap and strode out. Before she cleared the opening, a behemoth of a man stepped directly in her path. Startled, she drew back and crouched in a defensive position.

The man was the ugliest son-of-a-bitch she’d ever seen. He gave the term neckless a new meaning. The hair hanging to his shoulders looked as if it hadn’t known a comb since the day he was born, and he could have lived off the food in his beard for weeks—

and the smell! She held her breath and scooted backward before she disgraced herself by losing the meager contents of her stomach all over him. Not that he’d notice.

The man hadn’t even spoken a word, yet was able to evoke horror with just a scowl from his butt-ugly face.

Jacq straightened her shoulders. She was no fainthearted miss herself, and she wasn’t stupid. With a deep breath she stepped back out of the tent. “Excuse me, sir.