Forbidden Love (2 page)

"Then what's left? Unless she's some forest creature sent to enchant us. . . ." Alaric broke off. Like most of his kind, he was deeply superstitious. It was not at all unbelievable that a beautiful spirit might appear to lead them astray.

Colin shook his head. Whoever the girl might be, he was quite sure she was mortal. Slowly, he said, "I've heard talk of a sister . . ."

"D'Arcy's sister?"

"The same. If she is, we may have found the answer to our problem." For the first time since spying the giri, a blatant male grin of anticipation curved his mouth. "Yes . . . she might do very well indeed. . . ."

Before the older man could ask what he meant, Colin rose cautiously from the underbrush. Motioning his thegns to stay where they were, he moved forward stealthily.

No sound warned of his coming. With agility unusual in so large a man, he crossed the small distance between them until he stood close enough to see the slight flush of her high-boned cheeks and the steady rise and fall of her ripe breasts.

His own breath tightened in his chest as he knelt beside her. For a moment he was content to observe beauty greater than any he had ever encountered. But mindful that she might wake at any instant, and that her scream would alert the guardsmen well within sight of the river, he forced his errant thoughts back to business.

The leather jerkin he wore left his powerful arms bare. Bronzed by the sun and heavily muscled, they were a formidable weapon in themselves. He was careful to use only a fraction of the strength he would have brought against a man as he simultaneously covered the girl's mouth and lifted her against him.

Roanna woke to a nightmare. Amber eyes darkened with shock as they focused on the barbaric giant holding her. The uptilted slant of his silvery eyes, his high-boned cheeks, and the sharp angles and planes of his rugged face gave him all the fearful menace of a marauding Viking.

Vividly aware of the warmth of his huge body and the sun-warmed scent of his skin, Roanna lay frozen in his arms. But only briefly. The mocking smile curving his hard mouth turned her fear to anger.

Instinctively, she began to struggle. Her small fists pounded against his steely chest as she tried vainly to twist free of a grip that tightened remorselessly with her every movement

"Stop that!" Colin hissed. "You'll only hurt yourself."

The struggling hellion in his arms amazed him. Everyone knew Norman women were supposed to be insipid, spineless weaklings useful only as ornaments. Where then did this one get the nerve to fight him?

Roanna ignored the warning. She redoubled her efforts to get free, kicking out with long, slender legs honed since childhood by riding and vigorous work around her brother's household. If this English dolt thought he could hold her, he was very much mistaken. A D'Arcy to the core of her being, she possessed the fierce pride and determination that would never let her admit defeat

Heedless of the bruises she was inflicting on her delicate skin, Roanna managed to turn just enough to get her knee in the most useful possible position. Only Colin's rigorous training and superb reflexes saved him from an injury as painful as it would have been embarrassing.

"God's blood!" he snarled, barely evading the blow, "Alaric may have been right Perhaps you are the devil's spawn!"

Relentlessly, he dragged her back through the underbrush to where his men waited. They could not quite hide their astonishment at the sight of their lord struggling with a wisp of a girl.

Since reaching manhood, Colin had never been overcome by any opponent either on the training field or in battle. His immense size and strength coupled with superb fighting skills and keen intelligence made him unbeatable. Yet the instincts that demanded he treat her as gently as possible left him hard pressed to hold on to his outraged captive.

Biting down savagely on the hand over her mouth, Roanna tasted blood. She knew a moment's satisfaction as Colin grimaced. Certain that he would pull back from the pain, she took breath to scream. But despite his injury, the pressure of his grip only increased.

"Give me a gag," he grated, "and two lengths of rope."

The men hastened to obey. Within moments, Roanna's arms and legs were secured and a soft, but nonetheless effective strip of material was tied firmly over her mouth. She could breathe easily enough, but no sound other than a small snarl escaped her.

Colin looked down at her with grim satisfaction. In their struggle, her clothes had been pushed up, baring her long, slim legs to mid-thigh. With the thin fabric twisted around her, the ripe swell of her breasts and

the narrow span of her waist were all the more evident Her veil had come off, lost somewhere back where he had caught her, and her glorious hair tumbled free in the sunlight

Towering over her, he laughed softly as he took in the enraged glare of her golden eyes. She reminded him of a magnificent high-spirited falcon ready to leap back into the sky at the slightest opportunity. But there would be no such chance for freedom. He had already made up his mind what he meant to do with her, and he was not about to let a mere woman interfere with his plans.

Gesturing to his men to bring the horses, he lifted her easily. Roanna's further efforts at resistance were futile. The slight strength she had recovered since her illness was almost exhausted, and her bonds made it impossible to move. Helplessly, she had to suffer Colin's touch as he carried her to his stallion.

Alaric held her as he mounted, but all too quickly she was laid across the saddle in front of her captor, her body pulled tight against his massive chest One corded arm wrapped round her back while the other lay insolently across her abdomen near the cleft of her thighs. Lean, brown hands grasped the reins as he gave the signal to move out.

As stealthily as they had come, the band of raiders vanished back into the thick forest Following paths only the most experienced woodsmen could make out they put swift distance between themselves and the D'Arcy lands.

It was anyone's guess when Roanna's disappearance would be realized. But once the alarm was given, there was no doubt her brother would act swiftly. Colin intended to be well within the walls of his own fortress before that happened.

Roanna remembered very little of the ride. She was too conscious of the man holding her to notice more than the slightest details of their journey. Her heart beat painfully against her ribs as she grappled with fear surpassed only by rage.

Too late she realized how foolish she had been to leave the safety of the compound. The nearness of the guards had not helped her when confronted by an enemy who moved so swiftly and silently as to be all but invisible. Blinking back tears, she thought of her brother and sister-in-law remorsefully. It was all too easy to imagine how anxious they would be. Her impulsiveness would harm far more than just herself.

As to her own fate, she had little doubt that it would be grim. The dress and manner of the man who held her proclaimed him an Anglo-Saxon lord, one of the few to survive the debacle at Hastings. Dimly she remembered something about an ancient English family still holding lands to the north of Guyon's near the Welsh border. If her captor was of that clan, the chances of getting her back unharmed were dim indeed.

Sorrow filled her as she considered that her lack of prudence would be the cause of yet more violence in this blood-soaked country. Though she would most likely not live to see it Guyon would not rest until he had exacted the full measure of vengeance from those who harmed her. His hopes of being able to rude peacefully would be shattered as he and his men plunged yet again into war.

A low murmur of contrition broke from Roanna, inadvertently catching Colin's attention. He glanced down in time to see the sheen of tears in the amber eyes that were quickly averted from him.

Unable to guess the train of her self-condemnatory thoughts, he presumed she was simply afraid. But the satisfaction he would have expected to find in her dread eluded him. Almost without his being aware of it, his arm tightened around her in a gesture that was oddly comforting.

Long before they reached the Algerson stronghold, Roanna's bound limbs were numb and her back ached mercilessly. What color had been in her cheeks was gone. Despite the balmy summer day, she shivered. But not for the world would she let Colin see her discomfort. When he lifted her from the horse, her eyes were as flat and hard as any determined warrior. Curious onlookers kept a respectful distance as she was carried into the great hall

Placed at the center of the stronghold where it was surrounded by open fields and a double protective wall, the timber-frame structure was at least two stories high and large enough to hold several hundred people comfortably. Above wood plank walls covered with daub and wattle plaster, the slanted roof was finished with carefully fitted slate tiles and bracketed on either side with stone chimneys.

Around the hall, smaller, separate buildings of similar design housed the kitchens, laundry, latrines, bakery, and brew house. Close to a nearby stream stood a mill, drying kiln, and a large granary. The vegetable and herb gardens and the orchards lent fragrant scents to the soft summer air. From the stables the whinnying of horses, the lowing of oxen and cows, and the baaing of sheep and goats could be heard mingling with the raucous cluck of ducks, geese, and chickens housed in adjacent coops.

All the many functions essential to a large, prosperous community that was almost completely self-sufficient were well represented. Ample room was set aside for the workshops of blacksmiths, armorers, tanners, fullers, wheelwrights, weavers, and seamstresses. A little distance away stood private sleeping quarters for the family and high-ranking guests. Everyone else slept outside under the stars or, during a good part of the year, within the hall itself.

Inside the massive structure Roanna blinked to adjust to the dimmer light The air was fragrant with the scents of drying herbs hung from the rafters. She could make out a vast expanse of packed-down dirt strewn with clean rushes. Tables and benches were set up in preparation for the evening meal. Against the walls, sleeping pallets and personal belongings were rolled out of the way.

Unlike most of me victorious Normans, Roanna had no contempt for the conquered English. Even without her deep affection for her Anglo-Saxon sister-in-law, she was far too intelligent to nurture prejudice against any people. But she was nevertheless surprised by the ordered luxury of her surroundings.

More than ever she was convinced she must be in the stronghold of the Algersons, since they were the only surviving family in the area wealthy and powerful enough to maintain such standards despite the new regime.

Several men-at-arms had followed her captor into the hall. Set on her feet in their midst, her bonds at last released, Roanna glanced round warily. The warriors eyed her avidly, making no effort to hide either their appreciation or their curiosity. Only the copper-haired giant frowned as he surveyed her expressionlessly.

Under his scrutiny, Roanna had to fight down the urge to smooth her clothes and hair. Her dishev-element would have troubled her more had she realized the wanton edge it gave to her beauty. Colin found it difficult to hide his response to her, a fact which only worsened his mood.

Scowling, he demanded, "Am I correct in presuming that you are D'Arcy's sister?"

Roanna hesitated. Sheer cussedness made her want to refuse to tell him anything, but she realized her identity might offer the only protection she could find. Surely not even the formidable man before her would be anxious to incur her brother's wrath.

"I am Lady Roanna D'Arcy," she admitted reluctantly. "Who are you?"

Instead of answering at once, the battle-hardened warrior poured himself a mug of ale and drank most of it before looking at her again.

Roanna's brow furled at what she regarded as discourtesy. After the long ride on the warm summer day, she was easily as thirsty. A Norman, she thought stiffly, would have offered a lady refreshment before partaking of anything himself. But not, honesty forced her to admit, if he regarded that woman as an enemy.

In fact, the ale was being drunk more for the pause it offered than for itself. Colin needed a moment to get his contrary thoughts back under control. He had felt a definite twinge of disappointment when the girl confirmed his guess about her identity.

If she had been anyone else, he would not have hesitated to satisfy the urges she provoked. Always presuming, of course, that she could be coaxed into sharing his desire. Colin had no taste for unwilling women, but his considerable expertise had long ago convinced him that there were very few such creatures.

D'Arcy's sister, however, required frustratingly different treatment Scowling, he turned back to her.

"I am Colin Algerson, Lord of Hereford." A slight, mirthless smile curved his mouth. "And you, my lady, are hostage for the safe return of my cousin, who languishes in your brother's prison."

Long years of self-discipline enabled Roanna to hide her surprise, and her relief. Hostage. That was far better than what she had feared. To be seized for revenge would have subjected her to all manner of horrors. But the taking of hostages by both Anglo-Saxons and Normans was a time-honored ploy well regulated by secular and religious law. The details of her treatment were clearly understood by both sides. Instinct told her that Colin was not a man to ignore the proprieties. For the moment, at least, she was safe.