Ravished (5 page)

          Her drawers lay
like a white banner across the deep burgundy bedcovers.  They flagged his
attention now as he passed.  He stopped and seized them from the bed.

          “What ... are ...
these?”  He held them in one hand like a loathsome serpent, a look of horror
etched on his handsome face.

          She gulped. 
“N-nothing.  They are my drawers.”  They were a design of hers that she’d made
for wearing under her tunic, which hung mid-thigh on her rather than upper
thigh as most men wore.  She’d felt naked without something covering her
modesty and wearing a cod piece felt absurd.  Since no one would see them, she
hadn’t seen the harm in making them appealing to her eye.

          The answer failed
to satisfy him.  “There is
lace
on....”  Words failed him.  With a
visible shudder, he dropped them as though burned and stomped from the room,
mumbling something that sounded distinctly like ‘damned applesquire.’

          Alex sighed in
relief when he’d gone, quaking.  The worst was over.  She’d thought for sure
her ruse was finished.  She laughed at herself and then at Bronson until tears
came out of her eyes.  Oblivious man that he was, he’d never suspect a female
capable of deceiving him.  She collapsed back, weakened for some inexplicable
reason.

          It was a shame she
was not more womanly, that she possessed no feminine charms.  It angered her
suddenly that he
hadn’t
seen she wasn’t a boy.  How could he be so
blind?  She hit the water with a fist, splashing it everywhere, absentmindedly
scratching at her wig.

          Her scalp itched
abominably beneath the loathsome thing, but she daren’t remove it.  There was
no privacy guaranteed a’tall here.  She would take no more baths inside the
house.  ‘Twas far too dangerous when all and sundry pranced in and out without
a by your leave.

          Alex regained her
strength and stepped from the tub, preparing for bed.  She’d had enough
excitement for one night.  In the morning, she’d hie herself off to her
cousins.  They could not be any worse than the Blackmores, and she had no
interest in imposing herself on strangers ... nor her enemies.

          Glancing around,
cautious, she slipped off her shirt and tried to wring some of the water from
her bindings.  She groaned.  They were still soaked but she would stomach
them.  She slipped a new shirt on as well as her doublet, tunic, and hose,
feeling every bit as though she were strapping on armor.

          The heavy clothing
was uncomfortable, and she could already feel water seeping through the first
layer, but it was preferable to being found without protection.  She could
hardly contain herself at the thought of dressing as a woman.  She was
exhausted by her charade and, unreasonably, put out that she’d succeeded at it
so well that she was now considered a threat to a young maiden’s virtue. 
Damn
their hides!

          When she’d set out
on her journey, she’d had no idea the difficulties she’d encounter.  She was
looking forward to becoming the person she was meant to be instead of hiding. 
Once she was transformed by her cousins, she would come back and taunt the
odious Lord Blackmore.  He was in sore need of learning a lesson.

          Happier than she
had been in weeks, Alex blew out her candles and dropped into bed, determined
to meet her destiny on the morrow.  Her eyes drifted closed just as she heard
the alarm raised.

CHAPTER FIVE

          Alex bolted from
her bed in an instant and raced to the window.  The grounds below crawled with
activity, men scurried about like bees defending their hive from a bear.

         
What could have
happened?
  Indecision gripped her in agony, her curiosity strangling her
sensibility.  Should she venture out or stay?

          The door slammed
open and Lord Blackmore swept inside like a dark cloud.

          Alex began to
suspect he’d been raised in a barn.  “Do you always enter a room thusly?”

          He grinned then,
and her eyes widened at his transformation from dark warrior to ... to a
handsome man.  She felt a shiver course over her and cursed her damp garments.

          “There are games
afoot.  Come, I will see this
prowess
in battle you possess.  I see
you’ve already prepared.”

          Was that admiration
gleaming in his eyes?

          Reluctant, she
accompanied him.  He’d successfully dashed any enthusiasm she’d once held.  Her
choices were rather limited, after all.  A young buck would never turn down the
chance at ... battle?  “Where are we going?”  Suspicion tinged her voice.

          “The McPhersons are
raiding.  We are going to stop them.”

          “So ... ‘tis true
then?  They are
thieves
?”

          Blackmore spared
her a backward glance as they descended the stairs.  “I thought ‘twas obvious.”

          Doubtless their
enemies had compelled them to steal or die. 
Her
enemies--she must keep
that clear in her mind.  “Then they must surely be driven to thievery.”

          He laughed, a
mirthless bark of sound.  Alex suspected he thought her a fool.

          “A more odious
bunch could not have been created by the dark one himself.  Nay, they do not do
this out of need.  It is spite, pure and simple.  You’d do well to remember
that.”

          How dare he talk
that way of them.  If she’d thought it’d do any good, she’d skewer his arse
with her rapier.  She shot lancets into his offensive hide.

          They reached bottom
and threw open the door leading into the courtyard.

          Their horses had
been prepared, and she could see his two brothers awaiting their arrival.  They
wore no battle gear, save their swords, and looked eager to be about their
business.

          They were far too
darkly handsome for her comfort.  She was accustomed to grayhairs in her
grandfather’s house, not young, virile warriors too comely for anyone’s good.

          She noticed all
activity on the grounds had ceased and they were alone.  Her steps slowed, and
she lagged behind.  “Will it be four only going?”

          He turned to look
at her, his face smug.  She wanted to hit him.

          “Worried?” 
Blackmore taunted.  The jackass.

          “Nay.  I thought
perhaps ‘twas your inferior numbers which kept you from apprehending the
raiders.”

          The youngest
brother, Gray, recognizable by his leanness, laughed.  Doubtless in a few years
he would surpass his brothers’ monstrous size.

          A look from his
eldest brother quelled his laughter, somewhat.  Rafael frogged him in the arm
and he was silent.

          “That would defeat
the purpose,” Bronson said.

          “I’m sorry?”

          “‘Tis none of your
concern. This is the way it is done.  Now mount up.  We ride.”

          It
was
her
concern.  She didn’t want to end up spitted for  some nonsensical feud of men.

          Alex did not see
the point of this excursion a’tall.  Surely the McPhersons would be long gone
by now.

          She swung onto
Firedancer, who seemed agitated at the excitement.  The others took off through
the courtyard and Firedancer followed, needing no encouragement.

          Casting a
surreptitious look around, she could see the Blackmore men smiling.  Could they
possibly be enjoying this?  Was this how men got their jollies?

          They crossed into
the countryside, over smooth meadows.  The full moon cast ample light by which
to see, creating the illusion of a cloud covered day instead of the actuality
of night.

          Lord Bronson led
the brood, and she hung towards the back in safety, Lord Gray riding beside
her.  She wondered if she could slip away in the confusion.  ‘Twould likely not
be an opportune time to introduce herself to her cousins, but mayhap she could
follow them to their castle ... Certes!  ‘Twas ridiculous to believe they’d even
be there when they arrived.

          Perhaps she could
discover their motives by questioning the youngest son.

          “Lord Gray?”  He
didn’t answer.  “Lord Gray!”

          He turned and
looked at her.  “You need not be so formal.  You are a friend of the family
now.  Call me Gray.”

          She nodded.  “Is
this typical for thieves to await their potential captors?”

          He grinned, looking
wild and very much like Bronson, though his smile seemed not to strike her in
quite the same way.  “‘Tis what they do.  They attack, we attack them.”

          Alex was doubly
confused.  “You look as though you enjoy this.”

          “Aye, I do.  But
don’t let that fool you, we all do.”  He laughed and called to his brother. 
“Rafael, do we tell him of the time you and Bronson were drug through the
pasture?”

          Rafael dropped back
to more easily speak, his grin wolfish.  “Mayhap we should tell Alex when you
got hold of one of their she-cats.”

          Gray growled.  “I
bear that witch’s mark to this day.  Heed my words, I’ll get the wench for that
someday.”

          “‘Twould take a
more determined man than you to bring that wildcat to heel.”

          “And I suppose
you’d accept the challenge?”

          “Nay brother, I’ll
enjoy seeing you
earn
your marks yet again!  Mayhap we’ll see her once
more on this raid.”

          “I’d welcome the
chance.”  Gray scowled still.

          Alex wondered what
sort of mark the woman had given such a large man and if their women truly went
on raids as Rafael had stated.  “Do the women raid as well?” she asked Rafael.

          “Aye, if they have
the chance, though they dress as barbaric as the men.  Gray thought he’d had
hold of one of their men, didn’t you?”  Rafael laughed heartily.

          Alex was
horrified.  If the McPhersons bred women into wild things, how was she to be
schooled in the art of being a lady?  Her plans began to crumble into dust, and
she fell into a morose silence.

          ‘Twas only a matter
of time before the king discovered her missing. As a ward of the crown, she
would rely solely on his judgment for her marriage.  But she had no wish to be
a pawn in his intrigues.  The only way to avoid it was to be married before
discovery, but any man who was caught with her would risk the king’s ire, and
treason if he chose not to be lenient.  She knew that a king’s fury at being
thwarted would not be an attraction to suitors.

          What’s more, she
had no way of knowing how to get a husband, and she would not make a suitable
wife as she was.  She had no skills as a woman, since her grandfather had
raised her as the son he’d lost to the plague.  She wanted only to choose
someone safe, of easy temper, a man who would be a comfort to her.

          Scotland and her
mother’s people had seemed ideal, her only hope to escape, but she had been
thrust into the midst of this petty feud.  Would her kin see her as consorting
with the enemy?  Oh, what a tangle she was in, to be sure.

          “We’ve arrived.” 
At her downtrodden expression, Rafael said, “Do not look so.  You’ll see, Alex,
their males are far easier to handle.”  He laughed and rode ahead, Gray
scowling in good humor.

          ‘Twas no wonder he
was quiet.  Dung permeated the air until she could scarce breathe.  Why would
anyone want to steal such foul smelling creatures?  She’d had no idea how much
they reeked en masse.

          A baritone shout
broke the stillness and all hell broke loose.

          Wild cries filled
the night as the McPhersons and Blackmores clashed.  She could see them, their
horses circling each other, chasing, chasing, coming to blows when one was
caught.  How could they think this a jolly good game?  Firedancer, never one to
miss action, bucked at his bridle and resisted her frantic efforts to remain
safely away from the battle.  He ran toward the fray as fast as the wind.

          Her nose itched and
she wrinkled it, not daring to release her terrific hold on the reins.  The
tickle persisted, and she realized in horror her mustache was loose.  She
brought her hand up to clamp over it when a gust of wind blew it betwixt her
fingers.

          Shrieking like a
banshee, with a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she halted and jumped
down to the ground, landing squarely in the midst of a dung pile.

          In disgust, she
looked at her once immaculate shoes.  Firedancer sidled, near unbalancing her,
then took off into the fray.  “Son of a goat!”  She shook her fist at the foul
beast.