Jacq's Warlord (15 page)

“Is that all?” she whispered.

Her eyes searched his face, and he frowned at her persistence. “I sent a few of my own men ahead of our party to ascertain the safety of this route. None of them have returned. I also sent a man to contact Percy. He was to meet us at a point we have already passed.”

“I take it he wasn’t there either?”

“No.”

“Very well. I understand now. Was that truly so hard?” she asked sweetly.

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He took a deep breath and focused on the backside of the horse drawing the wagon.

Talking with her was maddening. He changed the subject. “How fare you today, madam?”

“Fine, just fine. My backside went numb after the first mile.”

Startled by her blunt statement, his gaze returned to her and followed a trail down her body to her hips.
Damn!
He felt like hauling her over the front of his horse and riding into the forest. A few more hours lost in the pleasure of her body would cure him. “Ahem…what I meant, was whether you are feeling any discomfort after our—”

“No,” she said too quickly. “I’m fine.” This time she blushed and looked away.

Pleased by her embarrassment, he was assured that while she was bold in manner, she wasn’t truly all that experienced at bed sport. He couldn’t resist tempting another blush. “If you are overly sore, you will let me know. Cook has salves that can ease—”

“No! I’m not sore,” she hissed, a frown settling between her fine brows. “Not much anyway.” Her cheeks were crimson now.

He smiled, satisfied he had made her every bit as uncomfortable as he had been earlier.

“Rufus.”

He looked up again, and his eyes narrowed at her familiarity.

“What?” She tilted her head her eyes widening. “I sleep with you, but I can’t call you by your name? Give me a break.”

“You’re being insolent—again. While we are in the company of others you will address me as ‘My lord’.”

“And when we are alone?”

A grin he could not contain spread across his face and he drew closer still, speaking only loud enough for her to hear his words. “When we are alone you may call me…‘majesty’.”

She sputtered something that sounded very like a curse.

Rufus laughed.

A shout pierced the air, followed by the loud clanking of metal against metal.

“Halt the wagons,” he cried, and then glanced at the woman.

Her face paled, but she didn’t panic.

He held her gaze for a moment, then cupped her chin with his hand. “Run! Hide in the woods.” His grip slid up her jawline to grab the hair at the back of her neck. He leaned forward and crushed his lips to hers. “Do not argue with me on this matter. I’ll find you later.” Even as he unsheathed his sword, he yanked his reins and raced toward the sound of the battle.

Her heart in her throat, Jacq struggled to her feet, gathered her skirts, and hopped from the wagon. Once on the uneven ground, she hesitated.

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“Hurry, m’lady,” the cart driver cried from the edge of the road. He waved her toward the underbrush. “Hide!”

Jacq wasn’t going anywhere without some means to protect herself. She rushed for the wagon she knew held spare weaponry and crawled into the back. Climbing onto the bench, she pulled back the tarp and searched frantically for a something substantial she could use to defend herself.

With the sounds of the battle drawing nearer, her hands closed around a long dagger. As she turned to leap down and run as instructed by his “majesty”, she heard the clattering of hooves and looked up to see several horsemen ride into the clearing.

At their head rode Lord Percival of Sedgwick. His face was flushed and a smirk twisted his lips.

Unease settled like a lump of clay in the pit of Jacq’s stomach. She knew instinctively Percy wasn’t there to rescue her.

“Hello, milord,” she said calmly, despite the rush of blood pounding in her ears.

With a magician’s stealth, she slid the dagger up the sleeve of her dress.

When Percy kicked his horse forward, Jacq knew she was in a heap of trouble. Why the hell hadn’t she listened to Rufus?

* * * * *

Rufus fought like a madman. The area proved too confining to be effective on horseback, so he had abandoned his mount to fight afoot.

The enemy soldiers fought poorly, and despite their greater numbers, Rufus knew his warriors ultimately would gain the upper hand.

As he continued to fight, worry niggled at the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right.

A soldier slashed at him with his broadsword.

Rufus met his blade with greater force, his arms straining with the impact. Metal clashed against metal in deafening ferocity.

Had Jacq made it to safety?

Rufus feinted to the left and raised his shield to deflect a blow.

Did she obey him and hide in the woods?

“Rufus, look to your right,” Donald called out to him.

Another soldier cleared the line of men and headed straight for Rufus.

“I see him,” Rufus shouted. “And I have had enough of you!” He slammed his shield into his opponent’s forehead with enough force to throw the man off balance.

Then he sliced through the man’s sword arm. In the beat of an eyelash, he turned to face his new attacker’s challenge.

As he looked into his antagonist’s face…the something that had bothered him became clear.

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He’d been betrayed. This was Percy’s man.

“Bastard!”

His opponent had the gall to laugh. “You just figured it out.” He swung his sword round to slice at Rufus’ neck.

Rufus checked the blow. Their faces came close together as both warriors strained the hilts of their swords against each other. Rufus smelled the knight’s fetid breath.

“You are a dead man, Rathburn.”

His anger harnessed, Rufus shoved hard against the other man, forcing distance between them. If he could channel the power of his rage rather then let it rule him, Rufus would best the traitor.

They traded nicks from each other’s blades and soon both were slick with warm, red blood, although none of their wounds were debilitating.

This one is good and likely a mercenary, Rufus thought. Certainly an assassin, since his intent was to murder him. His opponent’s arm was strong. Each time their swords met Rufus felt the jolt clear to his toes. He sought an opening, waiting for any mistake.

The warrior opened with a series of slashes intended to keep Rufus’ shield high.

Rufus recognized the ploy and kept his sword ready. When his opponent’s blade jabbed beneath his shield, Rufus repelled the thrust with a smooth parry.

Thwarted, his opponent howled in rage, and delivered another blistering series of blows pushing Rufus back.

Pretending to lose his footing, Rufus fell to his back on the ground.

The man smiled, his lips curling in evil triumph. He raised his sword high to deliver the deathblow.

As the blade plunged downward, Rufus rolled to the side, narrowly evading deadly steel and drove his own sword deep into the warrior’s side.

His eyes wide, the man stared down to where Rufus’ blade was buried between his ribs. Then he slumped silently to the ground.

With a boot braced against the fallen mercenary’s side, Rufus shoved him away, pulling free his blade. He whipped around to scan the battle scene raging around him.

Percy’s men were being beaten back, and even as he thought this, several turned to retreat. Donald finished off another traitor and ran to him. “This was an ambush—they knew our plans.”

Rufus nodded, his blood burning in his veins.

“These are Percy’s men.” Donald spat on the ground. “I recognized one of them.”

“I know.” His neighbor, a man he had trusted. Rufus stared around him at the men lying on the ground. “The bloody bastard.”

“Percy has the advantage of knowing our destination. He couldn’t win this battle on his own, but I would hazard a bet he’ll return with Braxton’s men to finish the job.”

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“And where is Lord Sedgwick in all this.” Rufus had a blade to bury in his black soul.

“Likely hiding.”

Hiding. Like the coward he was. A sudden thought pierced Rufus’ brain.

“Damnation!”

“What is it?”

“The woman. Percy took a fancy to Jacq.” He whistled for his mount and heard an answering whinny as his warhorse burst into the clearing. Rufus hauled himself atop his horse despite the great weight of his armor.

“I’m going back to the wagons. Donald, gather the men and horses and follow me.”

“Dammit, Rufus, wait for us. Don’t ride off alone.”

Rufus ignored his friend and spurred his horse toward the place he had last seen the woman.

The clearing where the wagons stood was empty of people. He called out to the surrounding woods and a few voices shouted back before several of his retainers, including the cart driver, stumbled into the clearing unharmed. He didn’t see the woman among them.

“What became of the woman, Jacq?”

“The big one?” asked a young boy, one of the cook’s helpers. “I saw it all. Lord Percival rode in with a dozen men. He come right up to the lady.” When he realized all eyes were on him, the child’s eyes widened and he gulped.

“Continue,” Rufus commanded.

“Lord Percival told the lady she had a choice of accepting a ride on his horse or of dying where she stood. The lady, cool as ice, took his hand and let him pull her up in front of him. They rode off in that direction.” He indicated with a sweep of his hand.

A leaden weight settled in his chest. Images of the prideful woman at the mercy of Lord Sedgwick and his band of traitors sickened him.

Donald, accompanied by a contingent of soldiers, reined his horse alongside Rufus.

“Donald, have the men gather stragglers and assess the damage to our stores.” He glanced around without seeing, his mind already miles away. “You know the alternate route we planned. Prepare for movement. I’ll take several of our more seasoned men with me.”

“Rufus, you cannot go after her.”

Rufus’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“Think, man. You do not even know who she is. She could be one of them. You heard what the boy said. She went with Percy without so much as a complaint. This could be another trap.”

Logically, Rufus conceded all Donald said could be true. But he remembered Jacq’s steady, honest gaze. He couldn’t leave her in Percy’s hands.

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Moments later he departed, following the trail Percy and his men had left.

* * * * *

Jacq suppressed her growing panic. Every mile covered took her farther away from Rufus.

At first, Percy and his men had ridden hard to distance themselves from the battle.

But when they slowed to rest the horses, Percy began his campaign of humiliation against her.

She sat stiffly before him on the horse, careful to keep him from running his hands over her sleeve where the dagger was hidden. Nausea and rage warred inside her. Fear also threatened to break through her control—fear for Rufus and his fate. She rode astride Percy’s horse, her legs spread wide over its back, and Percy took full advantage of her vulnerability.

With one arm around her waist to pull her closer, he licked the curve of her ear, pursuing as she turned her head aside to evade his slimy tongue. He whispered,

“Madam, you don’t seem to understand your situation.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and fought her need to lash out at him.

She had to wait for the right moment.

His hand moved to her side and loosened the laces holding her gown together. The fabric tore as he poked a hole along the seam of her undergarment.

Jacq bit her lip to keep from crying out, thankful her overgown hid some of his actions from the rest of his men.

His fingers slid beneath all layers of her clothing, splaying over the bare skin of her belly. She fought to remain detached. But his hand, clammy and cold, reached up to squeeze her breast painfully.

“Please stop,” she said.

“You are mine to do with as I please and when I please. I choose now.” With his fingers cupping the full globe of her breast, he bit her neck, then sucked at the tender skin there. “I’ve left my brand upon your flesh, milady.”

“Pig!” she whispered. Fear burned like acid at the back of her throat. She could defend herself against one man, but could she take on all of Percy’s men?

He laughed, then ground his groin against her backside. His men echoed his laughter and shouted crude suggestions.

Jacq couldn’t hide her growing distress as her breath grew more ragged. She trembled.

“Are my attentions exciting you, my giantess?” His hand dove to the juncture of her thighs.

Jacq gasped. “Stop!”

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His fingers raked through the hair covering her mons, then he inserted a single digit inside. “Not quite ready are you, my dear? Perhaps a little more encouragement?”

His hand skimmed upward to pinch her nipple cruelly.

She stifled a sob, but tears of humiliation escaped, trickling down her face.
The
fucking bastard!

Percy forced her head to the side and slid his tongue across her cheek, lapping the salty liquid spilling from her eyes. “I will take your tears and your lovely flesh. Then, you will concede you’re mine.”

“Milord, she looks eager for it,” one of the men goaded. “Why don’t you take her right there on the horse?”

Percy laughed and shoved Jacq’s face toward the neck of the horse while at the same time pulling at her skirts.

She kicked her heels against his shins and tried to wriggle away.

Laughter met her efforts, from Percy and his men.

With difficulty, she swallowed her sobs knowing herself to be totally at this lecher’s mercy. She had to think, had to corral her panic and come up with a plan. If only she could get him alone… It was her only chance. She couldn’t fight them all.

Jacq hid her face against the horse’s neck. “Mmmm…” she moaned and pressed back against him.