Risk Everything (19 page)

She ignored it. He watched her as intent as a hawk spying a field mouse. She didna disappoint him.

Meghan bounded up and struck out at him with her fists.

His arms deflected each blow. He did not strike back. Never would he beat a woman. She would soon tire herself and know she could not fight or wrestle him to the ground. His strength was far greater than her own.

Damp whorls of brown hair fell over her forehead. As she

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peered at him through the strands, he saw defeat lurk in the sea-green depths of her eyes. Her resolve would not waver, not until she suffered the last blow of his vengeance. He grimaced at the wrongness of it, and his heart lurched. He must build a steel cage of memories around his mind and heart with pictures of Ingirid’s terrified eyes as she passed and the feel of his tiny son in his arms as he breathed his last. They braced him.

He gripped Meghan’s shoulders and forced her to stand quietly. “You can strike at me till you drop, or we can wrestle together on the ground all this morn, but in the end you will return with me to Rimsdale.” His harsh voice grated in the quiet of the woods. Her shoulders slumped beneath his hands. “Come. Luath waits but a short way back.”

“How did ye find me so quickly?” Her voice was little more than a whisper of air.

Had Rolf not been so attuned to her every move and sound, he would not have heard her. “I returned to my solar and knew someone had been there. I ken when an object is moved but a mite. When I went to your room, I found Ugsome shut within. I knew Ede was too afeared to be near the beast. That left only you.”

“I covered my tracks. Even froze my feet in streams to throw ye off.”

“Aye. You did.” Should he tell her he had learned her secrets each time she rode out with her escort? Why did he de-bate with himself? “I have watched you climb the highest trees when you hunt. You wouldna sleep on the ground. If not for the moon, ne’er would I have seen where you rested.”

He tossed her atop Luath and mounted behind her. Meghan didna speak again. He admired the lass. She had well-nigh eluded him with her cleverness. For near a league, Ugsome had searched both banks beside the stream and could not find her scent. Rolf rode far upstream and looked back. When he noted the large branch overhanging the water, ’twas then he knew he had her.

She had covered more ground than many of his warriors could have in the same time. He didna tell her Laird Damron

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had an endless pattern of scouting patrols crossing his borders.

Half a league more and she would have been free. Lost to him.

He also kept silent about his strict orders that whenever messengers arrived from Blackthorn, the patrols were not to allow them within half a league of Rimsdale.

Mereck had arrived yester eve. When Rolf met with him, Mereck had insisted Rolf name the ransom he sought for Meghan. Rolf replied that he did not hold her for ransom. She was a
guest
. Not a prisoner. She would return to Blackthorn when she concluded her
visit
.

This night, she would begin to make amends for what Blackthorn’s men had done. He did not have the sense of satisfaction felt on earlier days. Instead, knowing he could not waver from his plans, her coming humiliation caused him pangs of distress so harsh he near cried out. He shook his head, trying to stifle his thoughts. He could have captured Connor’s bride, a Saxon.

She would not do. He did not want her to bear his son.

Only Meghan would suit.

Neither spoke until they rode across the bridge. He felt her stiffen further. Her eyes studied the water with longing.

“Dinna think on it, Meghan. Even did you someday again elude the guards and make it to shore, I would be there as you came from the water.” His arm tightened around her. He would not allow her to flee from him again.

Though all at Rimsdale noted their arrival, they went about their business. That did not stifle their curiosity. While pretending to be occupied with their pursuits, they watched from the corners of their eyes.

Meghan felt her tension ease when he stopped at the castle steps. He did not intend to again imprison her in the stable like a horse to be broken.

“I have not seen Storm or Simple these past days. I would that you take me to them now.”

“On the morrow I will take you to see the wee hawk and Storm. This day you will keep within and prepare yourself for me.”

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Prepare herself for him? Was the man daft? She would as soon prepare to meet the devil!

Meghan ignored Rolf ’s outstretched hands and sprang from Luath. He near stepped on her heels all the way to Ede’s room. She gripped the door, ready to slam it in his face, but he was too swift for her. He sent it crashing against the wall.

“Get out,” Meghan shouted. ”Ye dinna have the right to invade another’s room.”

“Aye, I do. No door in this castle may be closed to me.”

As he sauntered into the room, his eyes scanned everywhere.

Spying the trunk in the corner, he strode over to it and threw back the top. Seeing it held male attire that had belonged to Ede’s husband, he shouted for Jamie.

“Take this and store it with the clothin’ in the warrior’s barracks.”

“Ye have no right to remove Ede’s possessions.” Meghan’s hands tightened into fists.

His sole response was to quirk a brow at her.

Jamie left the room with the trunk balanced on his shoulder. Rolf latched the door and turned to her.

“Take off your clothes.”

Meghan folded her arms across her chest and stared at the wall.

“I dinna want to tear my own garments. If you force my hand, you will repair the damage.” His lips twisted in a bleak, tight-lipped smile. One meant to freeze the viewer.

Meghan planted her feet; her chin lifted higher.

“I know how much you dislike womanly pursuits, Meghan.”

His voice purred as he stepped closer. “Did I not watch you steal out of the women’s solar whene’er Lady Phillipa set you to the task of sewin’ Connor’s garments?” He rubbed his jaw as if recalling an incident. “Hmm. Did I not also hear a tale of a certain tapestry you made to welcome Damron’s bride?”

Meghan felt herself flush. All on the tapestry was done right enough, except for the figures that represented Damron, his bride Brianna, and Connor. They were stick figures.

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“Brianna loves that tapestry. She had me help her take down the one hanging in their room and set mine in its place.”

Of a sudden, Rolf ’s hands flashed out to remove the belt around her hips. She tried to shove at him, to pull away from his grasp, even to hit him with her fists. She failed to thwart him.

Never had she been so quickly divested of her garments. That the clothing was overlarge was part of the reason. In a mere trice, his pilfered breeches were the last thing covering her.

Her efforts brought her bare breasts in closer contact with him, and she gritted her teeth and stood still. One quick flip of his eating knife, and the breeches fell to puddle around her ankles.

He released her. With as much dignity as she could muster, she stepped out of the breeches. She turned her back on him and walked over to the bed. Every inch of her felt his heated gaze as she snatched a blanket and draped it around herself.

Taking all he had stripped from her, he tossed them out the door, then turned back to her. The heat from his narrowed gaze added its own threat.

“You will wear none but womanly attire till I return you to Blackthorn. Dinna again stoke my ire on this.” He waited for a response.

He would roast in hell’s fire afore she gave him the satisfaction of hearing “aye” from her lips.

Rolf had not wanted to leave her. What he had wanted was to bar the door and explore her intriguing body inch by beautiful inch. Every beautiful,
golden
inch. His mouth went dry and his manhood strained so mightily against its confines that he near expected the cloth would split.

He glanced down at the throbbing bulge centered there between his legs. Mayhap he should wear naught but a tartan when Meghan was about. He shook his head and grimaced.

Even so, the obvious effect she had on him would be nigh impossible to hide.

Once he had begun to strip her, he thought she would be

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affrighted. Nay. She wasna. She stood as proud, as regal, and as defiant as any queen.

By God’s grace! She was magnificent.

A feast for his eyes, even though mud streaked her face.

How could a lass so enthral him, standing with her lovely breast bared yet with her lower body still clothed like a man?

She would never know how hard he fought to keep his face impassive as he bared the rest of her. It had taken all of his hard-won control not to snatch her back against him when she turned and walked to the bed. His hands twitched, wanting to stroke that beautifully curved back, to squeeze those firm rounded nether cheeks.

The sound of his boots striking the steps leading below dis-quieted him. From whom did he run? Meghan? Himself? A growl rumbled up from deep within him. He prickled with impatience. He must needs wait for evening. His revenge, planned with such care, called for the witnessing of her surrender. He glanced out a window opening to judge how many hours remained in the day.

Too many.

The sun crossed low in the western sky as Meghan prepared herself to go below. She handled the white silk hose with care as she gartered them above her knees with white ribbons. When she held up the pale leaf-green smock, she noted it was near transparent. As it slithered down her body, it floated soft and luxurious against her skin.

Earth colors were her chosen favorites. She admired the deep hue of the forest-green tunic. In some lights, it appeared near black. The silver girdle would lend a beguiling contrast.

“Ede, dinna linger for me. I would have a minute of quiet afore I go below.” She peered in the polished metal, pretending to take one last admiring look at the artful way Ede had arranged her hair.

After the sweet woman left the room, Meghan yanked the pins from her hair, ran her fingers through her tresses until it

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flowed, untamed, as wild as racing storm clouds. Minutes later, she settled the silver girdle about her hips. Satisfied, she threw the brown cloak about her shoulders and jerked open the door. Jamie jumped to attention.

“Thank you, sir, for your escort,” she said as she smiled up at him.

The closer they came to reaching the great hall, the more her skin crawled at what awaited her.

At the entrance to the room, Meghan squared her shoulders. Lady Phillipa had trained her well. She could grace any royal court with dignity.

Rolf waited in front of the great table, clean-shaven with his hair neatly tied back. He wore a white shirt with the red, green, and black MacDhaidh tartan about his waist and up over his left shoulder. She fancied she smelled spice and sandalwood. For the first time, he looked as he had so many years afore. Her heart ached for what had been lost between them.

Standing in the middle of the room, she held a steady gaze on his eyes. With slow, deliberate movements, she released Jamie’s arm and stepped forward. Out of his reach. She let her hands drop, shrugged her shoulders, and the brown cloak slipped to the floor to lie there like soft earth among the rushes.

Her chin shot up. Cold air struck her on every side. She fanned hair from about her shoulders to cover her breasts.

She wore naught but white stockings and the sheer green smock. The silver girdle rode low on her hips, its heavy clasp accenting the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.

Rolf was too stunned to move or speak.

Not her, though she didna have much to say.

“Ye would make me yer leman? Then ’tis a slut ye desire.”

As greedy eyes from every corner of the room roved over her, she steeled her flesh to not quiver.

Rolf stood as if frozen, unable to move. Not a muscle twitched.

Had she misjudged him? Could any man have so changed his character in a few short years? Cold heartache struck its fist into her chest. Her breath caught with the pain of it.

Could she call forth the Rolf he had once been?

Chapter 15

Meghan twirled in the center of the great hall. She fought the burning muscles in her legs that wanted to turn and flee up the stairway to hide in the darkest corner she could find.

A lifetime had passed since she had entered the room. She again faced Rolf and threw back her head.

Defying him. Challenging him. Would he allow her to so degrade herself and not move to stop it?

He would not. He exploded into motion.

The veins in his temples stood out in livid ridges as he stormed over to her. “Are ye brainsick?” he yelled at her.

He lunged down, grabbed the robe, and sprang up so fast the garment swooped through the air like a giant brown bird, its wings swirling and dipping, scattering bits of rushes high to float down and sprinkle through her tumbled hair.

“Dinna ye ken ye are near to naked? As any common trollop?” His nostrils flared in a face taut with anger. “Not an inch of yer body is hidden from any who care to gaze on it.”

Rolf, his face a hot mask of rage, yanked the robe tight about her neck. She flinched, fearing he longed to throttle her.

“Ye would do well to fear me,” his voice rasped. “Ne’er have I felt such a great need to beat a woman.”

Still silent, she squared her shoulders, stiffened her spine, and shot him a hand gesture that Brianna, Damron’s unusual wife, had said meant a man should swive himself. How that was possible, she could not say.

“You goad me to violence, Meghan of Blackthorn.” Rolf glowered at her and slapped her hand down.

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Sparks of tension flew from him, prickling her skin. His teeth ground together, his hands clenched as he fought to control his anger. Sorrow seeped through to an already burdened heart as she fought tears that threatened dishonor. She blinked them back.