Read The Highlander's Conquest Online

Authors: Eliza Knight

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Fiction

The Highlander's Conquest (3 page)

Her gasp as his hands clasped her curves struck him, sending his blood pounding and straight to his groin. If they were alone… Well, if they were alone and she weren’t a maiden, and he didn’t fear the wrath of his laird and sister-by-marriage, he might… Nay, he could do nothing.
No distractions.

Blane set her on the ground a little rougher than he intended, nearly shoving her away from him. He scowled at her, and she took a step back.

“Apologies, my lady,” he said gruffly. “I…uh, lost my footing.

Lady Aliah’s cheeks flamed all the more, and he resisted the urge to stroke her soft-looking flesh to find out if it
truly
was as silky as it appeared.

“’Tis nothing. I get tripped up myself sometimes.” She whirled away from him, her cloak swirling around his ankles as she walked toward a clump of rather sad looking bushes.

Frowning, he realized he should have found a better place to stop, a place that would afford her more privacy. Glancing at his men, he noted that they were tending their horses and talking with one another in hushed tones. He nodded at them, then headed after Lady Aliah. The last thing he needed was for her to be accosted behind the scraggly brush. He remembered well the horror his brother Magnus
went
through when his wife had been attacked while they stopped to rest.
Luckily, she’d come out relatively unscathed. But that wasn’t always the case.

Little time could be afforded as it was. He felt unsafe in England. In fact, he would not feel at ease until they reached the Highlands. Once they crossed northern England and into Scotland, he had friends who would help shelter them should they need it. But there was no one here he could trust, and they wouldn’t be within reach of help for a few days. Although he was a master of disguise, he could not afford for anyone to ask questions—no one, including Lady Aliah could ever find out that Sir Blane of Yorkshire did not exist.

As he approached the bushes, Lady Aliah’s faint voice called out, “Do not come any closer.”

Blane had to keep himself from laughing. She was such a tough lass. And yet, he’d seen her vulnerabilities too.

“’Tis only, I, Sir Blane, my lady.” He sought to reassure her, and stopped his steps within a few feet of the bushes.
The shadow of her black cloak was visible through the bramble and so out of respect he turned his back.

“Stay where you are, Sir Blane.”

“I dare not come any closer
.
I
only
wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I assure you, I am perfectly safe. Now, if you please, go back to the horses.” Her voice sounded strained, as if she were in pain.

“Are you all right, my lady.”

“Go away!” she shouted.

Blane was taken aback by her shout, and did indeed back away a few feet. What had gotten into the lass? Then he heard her retching.

“My lady, please, allow me to—” He stopped himself. What could he do for her? Water. She would want water he was sure. And a rag to wipe her mouth.

He rushed back to his horse, grabbed his wineskin, whipped open his bag, and sifted through in search of a cloth. But he had none, so he tore a strip from the closest thing he
found. Damn, he’d have to figure out what it was, later. His men looked at him oddly.

“The lady is unwell.”

A
few of them grumble
d
their concern and others
with
their
annoyance. Traveling with a female was cumbersome enough, but someone who was ill? Blane hoped it was only nerves.

Approaching the bushes again, he heard a rustling
as
she stepped
out of
her hiding place, face pale, and her eyes bloodshot from the exertion of purging.

“My lady, I thought you might like these.” He thrust the wineskin and strip of white cloth toward her.

“I thank you.” She grasped them, but used neither. Her gaze met his wearily. “I should like to wash my face in the stream.”

He nodded. “Of course. This way.”

“I can see it,” she said rather haughtily
. S
he was most likely embarrassed from her predicament and so he didn’t mind her tone.

Blane was momentarily thankful for having grown up with sister
s
. They had certainly taught him many things about females and thus made him more patient—and it appeared patience would be what he needed
in dealing
with Aliah.

Keeping his distance, he followed her to the stream. His men kept to themselves, passing curious glances her way. She knelt before the water, scooping a healthy amount into her hands and splashing it onto her face. Aliah repeated the act several times before finally sitting back on her heels and using the cloth to wipe her face. Closing her eyes, she took a swig of his water, and then another. Then she sat there, unmoving, eyes still closed for the span of several heartbeats. He was compelled to ask her again if she was all right, but thought better of it.

Finally, she opened her eyes and glanced his way. Her lips were pressed firmly together in a frown, and her eyes
looked weak. It was odd how much that weakness bothered him. Up until now

though he’d only met her that morning

she’d appeared quite strong. Stronger than he would have ever expected an English lass to be.

“I suppose you will want an explanation.”

“Aye,” he said before thinking, then cursed himself for being so candid.

She pushed to her knees and he offered his hand to help her rise to her feet. Aliah took it, her small ha
nd dwarfed by his own. Calluses marred the surface of her palms, just below her fingers. Probably from practicing with her bow. He found he rather liked the feel of a woman who did something with her hands. And then his mind traveled to what other things she could do with those slim fingers… Her calluses brushing over his shaft… Blane his
sed
and yanked his hand away as though burned, which once again had her nearly falling from his sudden disconnect.

“Apologies, my lady.”

“I do not have the plague, Sir Blane. Seems each time you touch me, you think I might pass along some illness. I assure you, my being ill now has naught to do with something so perilous.”

Blane wasn’t sure how to respond. He admitted his actions certainly could be seen as such, but ’twas simply not the case.


Apolo
—”

She held up her hand, cutting him off. “I know, I know. ‘Apologies, my lady,’” she mocked. “Listen, Sir Blane, ’tis simply a touch of sickness from riding.”

Blane kept himself from blanching at her admission, and only uttered, “What?”

“The horse you procured for me is rather bouncy, and with trying to keep up with your rapid pace, it appears, I have a touch of motion sickness.”

He’d never experienced motion sickness nor had he ever met anyone else who’d been sick from it, and he found the idea rather appalling.
If he were to become afflicted with such an illness, his clan would suffer miserably from lack of funds. “That is awful, my lady. Is there anything I can do? Shall we trade mounts
?
Gunnar has a rather subtle gait.

She nodded. “That might work. Could we try?”


A
ye. I would not want you to be ill the entire journey.” Already he
imagined
ways in which this would impede their return.
It c
ould be a month before they reached Dunrobin if she was ill every few hours.

Her eyes locked with his. “How long is the journey?”

“About two weeks.”

Her face paled another shade, which could not be healthy considering her already vapid pallor. “I didn’t realize ’twas so long.”

“Do not fret, my lady. We shall trade mounts.”

With that said, they returned to the horses and he introduced her to Gunnar,
t
he latter acting like a besotted fool. Cursing his mount, he climbed atop her bouncy mare, and ordered his men to depart.

Satan’s ball
o
cks, the lass wasn’t exaggerating. The mare had the ga
it
of… Well, he didn’t know what, but he jostled all around, and couldn’t seem to get her to move correctly. ’Twas as if she walked with four left feet.

The journey to Dunrobin just grew unpleasant tenfold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

A
liah bit her lips so hard she feared she’d break the skin. From the corner of her eye, she watched Sir Blane continuously try and fail to get Mad Maiden to correct her ga
it
. The horse was a complete sweetheart, but also completely unrideable. Her sweetness was the only reason they kept her around. Distracted with thoughts of her journey
while they were at Mowbray Manor
, Aliah had not noticed the horse Sir Blane
had chosen
for her.
It wasn’t until they were through the gate and she was jostling about that recognition hit. By then, she was too embarrassed to say anything, and prayed the journey would be swift.
She
was
also
mildly surprised her groomsman allowed the horse to be taken. She was actually a little put out by that thought.

But
,
in any case, it was rather humorous to watch him jostling about. She’d never been sick riding, un
less she was on Mad Maiden.

Mortification swept through her once more, making her cheeks burn despite the chill air. Had she really gotten sick in
front of
Sir Blane and all of his men? That might be the most embarrassing moment of her life. Well, that wasn’t exactly
true;
she’d had many embarrassing moments. Perhaps this one could be classified as the most embarrassing moment in front of a man. A man she found
she had
particular interest in.

A man she should try to ignore for the remainder of her trip. He was no good for her, especially the feelings he stirred inside. Which was a major problem. She would have to seek a priest and confess her thoughts.
She should be ashamed of how he made her feel, but instead intense curiosity filled her.

“My lady,” Sir Blane interrupted her thoughts. “I see now why you were not feeling well. This mount is positively ridiculous.”

Aliah tried not to smile. “You look as though you have her tamed somewhat.”

The knight bounced to the left and then the right. “I do not think so.”

“Will you be sick?” she asked, concerned. While it was funny to watch him on the horse, she didn’t wish nausea on anyone, and certainly not a man she hardly knew and whom she hoped would bring her safely to her
family
.

“Nay. I have an iron stomach.”

Judging by his pallor that was slowly turning a shade of green, Aliah though
t
otherwise.


W
ould you like your mount back?”

Hope flashed in Sir Blane’s eyes, but he shook his head. “Gunnar is pleased to have a lady ride him, I’m sure.”

“Aye, he is a docile animal, isn’t he?” Aliah leaned forward and stroked her hands over the horse’s
soft
mane and patted his neck. His skin rippled ben
eath her fingers, warming them with
h
is heat.

“He is only docile with you, my lady. With me, he is every bit the warhorse.”

She flashed Blane a teasing smile and nodded toward Mad Maiden. “Whatever you say. You are quite the master of any horse
,
I see. Mad Maiden is clearly taken by you.” As if to confirm just that, the horse nickered.

Before they could continue on with their banter, Frosty let out a wicked howl and darted forward.

“What’
s gotten into him?” Aliah asked
,
leaning forward to watch him dash off.

“Must be something ahead. ’Twould appear your dear wolfhoun
d is a good guard dog after all,” Sir Blane muttered and spurred Mad Maiden jauntily forward.

Aliah tried to peer ahead, but saw nothing out of the ordinarily besides Frosty barreling into the woods.

“Frosty, wait!” she shouted, urging Gunnar forward.

“No, Aliah!” Blane called out
. V
eering toward her
,
he grasped
her reins as she passed him. He pulled both their horses to a halt.
His men fanned out, half staying behind with them and the others circling into the woods.

Panic seized her. Within the woods she could hear Frosty snarling madly. “We cannot let him go like that. He will be hurt!”

Using all the strength she possessed she wrenched the reins from
Blane’s
hands and squeezed Gunnar’ sides with her thighs. The horse
flew
forward, breaking through the trees
. The force
jolted
her
to the side, but
she
quickly righted herself, lowering close to the horse
’s neck
so she wouldn’t fall
. Ignoring Blane’s curse and subsequent shouts behind he
r
, she blindly followed the sound of Frosty’s growls.
Pulling out her bow and nocking an arrow, she prepared to save
him
.
When she came upon him, the animal was alone in
a
small clearing, surrounded by
nothing but
shadows. His silver coat was slick from his exertion and blood stained his snout.

Aliah hopped down from Gunnar and approached the dog. “’Tis me, sweet Frosty,” she cooed.

Frosty turned wild eyes on her, his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he panted.

“What happened, boy?” she asked in a soothing tone.

Scanning the area, she saw no movement. The only thing out of place was the blood on her dog’s face. He didn’t appear to be injured, so the blood was not his.
She returned her arrow to her quiver and her bow to her back.

At that moment
, Sir Blane broke through the trees with his men
, glaring
daggers at her.


Just what the bloody hell did you think you were doing? You’re lucky we didn’t find your body upon the forest floor.” His voice was loud, threatening.

“I but wanted to make sure my dog was all right. You didn’t seem inclined to fetch him.”

Blane snarled. “That dog is trained to protect you. Did you not think he ran after a foe? Someone who intended you harm?”

She’d never been on a journey before, and since she didn’t believe the things Glenda said, it’d never occurred to her that the dangers her maid preached about could be true.

“There was nothing
.”
She twirled around indicating nothing but air. “There’s no one here.
What danger could there have been?”

“My lady,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Surely you se
e
the blood upon the hound’
s
snout?”

“Aye.”
She’d thought Frosty simply banged it on a branch.

“There was someone here.” He pointed to the ground. “See there? The ground is all disrupted.
Looks like multiple people judging from the boot tracks.

Aliah glanced toward where he pointed. Sure enough the leaves and dirt were scattered, and deep impressions marred the earth as though a fight had occurred. Footprints and paw prints were pressed into the forest floor.
And a piece of fabric.
She bent down to retrieve it. ’Twas dirty and stiff, with a few drops of blood.

“May I?” Blane asked, holding out his hand.

She nodded and stepped forward, handing him the scrap. Chills swept over her. Frosty had been trying to protect her, but from who?

Sir Blane frowned deeply, the scowl cutting creases into his forehead. “’Tis part of someone’s tunic, is my guess. English.”

“An outlaw?” she asked.

“Aye, most likely. ’Tis not safe for us to travel so openly it would appear. They may follow us.”

The rest of his men melted from the shadows, shaking their heads.

“Damn,” Blane muttered, his jaw muscles tightening.
“They’ve found no one.”

Aliah swallowed. “Are there many outlaws in these parts?”

Blane stared hard at her, a bit of surprise showing on his face. “Are you not aware of that already?”

“I’d been told but…”

“You did not listen.”

She nodded, biting her lip and feeling as though she were a petulant child receiving a scolding.

“You are impulsive, Lady Aliah. ’Tis a flaw that could have gotten you killed this afternoon.”

Mortification
wh
irl
ed through her. His words hurt. How many times had her father sa
id
those very same words? She could not argue, for she knew them to be true. Far too often she acted before thinking. And far too often she or someone else suffered from it.

Lowering her gaze to her dog, she patted him on top of his head. “Good boy,” she whispered.

She refused to look at Sir Blane. So far, she had not made a very good go of this trip. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure the
rest of their journey would be so uneventful either. Bad luck seemed to follow her in spades.

“My lady, if you will remount Gunnar, we must be on our way. I do not know how many were with the man your dog attacked and I don’t want to wait around for an ambush.”

Aliah shook her head. “You should be on Gunnar. Mad Maiden is no horse for a knight.” Guilt riddled her for allowing him to ride the
afflicted
horse. Perhaps if he’d been upon his own mount he could have caught the outlaw
s
who’d been stalking them in the first place.

Fire burned in his eyes as he stared at her. “Your horse’s name is Mad Maiden?”

A flush crept over her neck and cheeks. “Aye.”

Sir Blane just shook his head, then chuckled softly. “Fitting.
” He blew out a breath.

Mount up, we must depart.”

“But your horse, surely he will be of more use to you.”

“I shan’t have you riding Mad Maiden, my lady. If we pass by an inn, I shall pay them for a new mount and have them return your mare to Mowbray Manor.”

A thought occurred to her. “We could ride together. I did so many times with my brother Samuel. I wouldn’t want Mad Maiden to slow us down.”

“Eager to reach your father and sister?” He raised a brow.

“And keen to be away from danger.” With Glenda telling her some things that were true and other things that weren’t, Aliah suddenly felt a little lost. She appeared to know so little about the world. Certainly, she wasn’t naïve enough to think that outlaws did not exist, but she also did not think they attacked just anyone.
L
ooking around her party, she would have thought they were ordinary folks. None of them looked to
o
rich, and what would an outlaw have to gain from robbing them?

Perhaps she should have spent more time exploring with Arbella and Samuel
instead of
staying behind to read the scriptures and volunteering her time at the abbey. At least
she’d paid attention when Samuel snuck her outside with his bow and arrow. That was a skill she was glad to have, and one that she’d excelled at. Her father had even encouraged it, liking the fact that it took her out of doors when she would have rather stayed in. She missed her brother, but understood his duty to their country. Hopefully, he would be able to come home from France where he was currently
serving
King Edward
in his royal quest
to regain his lands.

So lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Sir Blane dismounted Mad Maiden until his hand brushed her elbow.

“My lady?”

She jerked her gaze toward his and nearly drowned in the depth
s
of his green eyes. They reminded her of a vast and fruitful meadow. Aliah licked her lips, her eyes traveling over his face until she settled on his mouth. What would it be like to feel his lips pressed to hers?

Other books

Extinction Machine by Jonathan Maberry
(15/30) The Deadly Dance by Beaton, M. C.
To Catch a Treat by Linda O. Johnston
Posh and Prejudice by Grace Dent
The Blizzard by Vladimir Sorokin
The Terrorist Next Door by Sheldon Siegel
The Modeliser by Adams, Havana


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024