Hannah Howell Read online

  “Mayhaps that is because ye have your own aroma to savor.”

  She knew that was a lie, and that only added to her annoyance. While she struggled along with inadequate dabbings, he had clearly been bathing. It was unfair.

  “Fetch the things ye will need, and I will show you where the water is. Ye can have a quick bath. I repeat—quick.” When all she did was grab the soap she had discovered in his supplies, he frowned. “Ye will need something to dry yourself with.”

  “I will use my clothes before I wash them.”

  “Ye plan to wash your clothes as well?”

  “Aye, I do, and there is no need to shout. I only have these, and I am not putting them back on dirty.”

  “Well, ye arena going to sit about outside—in the open—until they dry, either,” he grumbled as he moved to his supplies, where he found a clean shirt and thrust it toward her. “Ye can put this on, then get back here and dry your clothes over the fire.”

  She eyed the shirt warily. It would be big on her but not big enough. There would be a lot of her left showing. When she looked at him, intending to protest, she saw him already stepping out of the cave. Deciding she could tolerate a little immodesty for the sake of cleanliness, she hurried after him.

  When they reached the small, clear pool, fed by a tumbling rivulet originating from high up in the rocks, she almost hit him. The place was close to their cave and well sheltered from view. As far as she could see, there was no reason for him to deny her access unless he still feared she might run off. She watched him check for snakes for a minute.

  “I hope you enjoyed hoarding this all to yourself,” she said as she sat down to yank off her boots.

  “Now, Tess—”

  “Ye had best return to guarding our wee hole in the rocks. I am too eager to get clean to listen to any convoluted excuses for your greediness.”

  “Well, just dinna dawdle. This place may look sheltered, but it can be reached—very easily,” he warned as he walked away.

  Fighting the urge to tug her forelock, she looked around again. It was sheltered, but he was also right, much to her annoyance. Since it was at the foot of the rocks, it could be easily reached by horse. Shrugging, she started to undress. Her uncle’s men had not been around for quite a while. Although it was possible they could return to the area, she had enough time to bathe. She would not let Revan’s ill humor make her fear every shadow.

  After scrubbing her clothes and laying them out in the sun to dry, she jumped into the pool. The cold water stole her breath away for a moment. Once that shock had worn off, she luxuriated in the pleasure.

  Idly soaping herself, she began to think about Revan. He was in her thoughts much too often, but what could she expect? They were together night and day. She was far too aware of him as a man, one who made her feel all too much the woman. She was thinking of kisses—and of a lot more than kisses. A curiosity about all that could be shared between a man and a woman, about passion, had risen to a keen edge within her.

  Her curiosity was fed by Revan, for he was far too attractive for any woman’s peace of mind. Living so close to him for days, she had tried to find fault, some unattractive twist to his character, some flaw that would stem her growing fascination with him. He had flaws, but they were not doing a thing to halt her wanting. Even when she grew annoyed with him, it was only a temporary check. It did not take long for the interest to return in full force.

  “He definitely has faults,” she muttered as she began to scrub her hair. “I simply must try to concentrate on them more.”

  He was arrogant, she told herself. Then she reluctantly admitted she had known those more arrogant than he, and he had some right to what he did have.

  He had a temper. But then, she mused, so did she.

  He was also untrusting, but then, she was finding trust a little hard to grasp herself at the moment.

  There was a definite authoritarian streak in the man, but then, did the situation not call for decisiveness?

  She cursed. His faults simply were not deep enough. They were present but too easily tolerated—or too close to her own to criticize without hypocrisy.

  There were also too many good things about him. That was the real problem. Faults were the last things on her mind when he looked at her, with his fine blue gray eyes softened with interest or understanding. Or, she thought with a scowl, when she woke to find that big strong body of his curled close to hers, warming her sometimes a little too much. It was almost embarrassing to recall how she reacted to his smiles. She was soft clay in his hands. Fortunately he did not know that yet.

  Even as she ducked beneath the water to rinse out her hair, she amended that last statement to—he could not know for certain. She was not secretive. What she felt or thought was all too often clear to read on her face. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that Revan had gleaned a hint of what she felt. It was up to her to keep it only a hint. That was not going to be easy, not when her emotions were so strong and so tangled. As she lazily paddled about the pool, she hoped he was having as much difficulty as she was.

  Revan sat in front of their hideout blindly staring off into the distance. He tried not to think about what Tess was doing, but it was proving impossible. The softness he had felt curled against him was being revealed, and he ached to take a peek. If nothing else, she might prove far less attractive than his imaginings, which could serve to stem the wanting eating away at him. He badly needed that.

  Frustration was slowly chipping away at his common sense. He still found that curious. She was a pretty little thing but had a sharp tongue and, dressed as she was, was not seductive-looking in the least. She was the last woman he would expect to be tied up in lustful knots over. Yet, he was and it was growing worse.

  Well, he could just forget it, he thought to himself. Undoubtedly she was a virgin, and feeling lustful over a woman like her would have him standing before a priest before he could spit.

  He shook his head. Even that old warning, one that had always cooled his ardor before, did not work. What he needed was to put some distance between them, but that was impossible for at least the next two days. Most likely even longer because she was in as much danger as he was. And he could not just leave her somewhere.

  “So rein it in, Revan,” he admonished himself. “Then ye will be able to ride away without guilt or regret when this is done.”

  He scowled at the vista spread out before him. The girl had an unsettling effect upon him. For one thing, he never used to talk to himself.

  “Which wouldna be so bad if it helped.” He glared in the direction of the pool, then tried to concentrate on watching for any hint of trouble.

  She was touching emotions inside of him he really did not want disturbed. He had his life all planned out. He was a knight in service to the king. It was a dangerous position, one meant for a solitary man with no ties. Lust was acceptable, a shallow if sometimes fierce feeling that could be enjoyed, then discarded. He did lust after Tess, but there was more, too much more. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, fight it, ignore it, he knew she was stirring far more than his lust. That was dangerous. That made her someone to avoid. Unfortunately, he could think of no way to do that—not for some time, anyways. So he was stuck, stuck within reach of those huge brown eyes which seemed to look right inside of him and demand he feel more than passion, more than an ache in his groin.

  Like protectiveness, he mused, and cursed. She also held his interest. He knew there was a sharp mind behind those beautiful eyes. He found himself wanting to know its twists and turns. At times she could stir what could only be termed tenderness inside of him. That could prove a real threat.

  “Almost,” he grumbled, “as big a threat as those five horsemen riding toward her bathing pool.”

  It took a moment for what he was seeing, for the import of his own words, to sink into his mind. Then he gaped, coming to full attention. Ambling straight toward Tess were five horsemen. Despite the distance, he recognized the slov
enly riding style of Thurkettle’s men. As he raced down the steep path to the small pool, he prayed for time. He would need it in order to get Tess safely out of sight.

  The instant he reached the edge of the pool, he started to pick up her clothes. “Come along, Tess. Ye have to hie back to the cave—now.”

  Crossing her arms over her breasts, Tess crouched in the water up to her neck. “What are ye doing?”

  “Thurkettle’s men are headed straight toward you.”

  He was gratified to see an appropriate look of alarm on her face. What annoyed him was that, even now, with danger but yards away, he was thinking about things that had nothing to do with that danger. Things like wanting to shed his clothes and climb into the water with her, like how much more they could do besides swim.

  “Well, let me have my clothes,” she snapped. “And turn your back.”

  “There is no time to get dressed! As it is, we will be fortunate to reach the cave without being seen. There is no time for some cursed maidenly modesty.”

  “I canna simply run out there. I am naked.”

  “God’s beard, lass, five men will be riding through the scrub any moment now. If ye hesitate much longer, your modesty willna be the only thing slighted. Ye have got a choice. Either show me some bare skin as ye hie to safety or stay here and be murdered. Which is it? Bare arse or dead arse?”

  “Bare.”

  She bolted from the water, grabbing her shirt as she ran by him. It took Revan a moment to follow. The sight of her slim naked form had knocked all good sense from his head. By the time he started after her, she had his shirt on, lacing it up even as she ran.

  When they reached the cave, he was right behind her. He gave her a nudge inside, then turned to see where Thurkettle’s men were. He pressed himself against the highest point of the rocks and watched as the five riders found the small hidden pool. He inwardly cursed when one proved alert enough to find the footprints he and Tess had just left. That ensured that the men would linger in the area, stay far too close for comfort. While it was true they had been close before, they had never been given such a clear reason to stay around. Those tracks gave them one.

  Dashing back into the cave, he came face to face with a wide-eyed Tess. She looked far too distractingly enticing clad only in his shirt. He wanted to order her to get dressed but swallowed that urge for two reasons. Her clothes were still wet, and he was sure he would deeply embarrass her. It was not really her fault he could not control his baser emotions. Although, he mused with a touch of irritation, it would help if she did not have such long, slender, beautifully shaped legs.

  “Did they leave?” she asked.

  “Nay. They willna. We left our marks all around that pool, and one of the fools has spotted them.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “ ’Tis not your fault. I wasna keeping as close a watch as I should have. I was too slow to see them. That error meant I didna gain myself time enough to take all the precautions I could have—like brushing out our tracks.”

  “So ye feel they will linger here, search for us.”

  “By now Thurkettle must be getting very annoyed.”

  She grimaced. “They will stay.”

  “Aye, so I thought.”

  “And they will look very hard. So now what do we do?”

  “For now we stay here.” He moved to the fire and started to put it out. “This isna an easy place to find. If we hold quiet and remain out of sight, they could yet miss us.” Once the fire was out, he led his horse to the far back of the cave, then saddled it.

  “Do you expect to have to make a run for it?” she asked as she watched him.

  “ ’Tis always best to be prepared.”

  “Mayhaps we should just leave now.”

  “The moment they found the pool, we lost all chance to do so without being seen. They havena found us, just ken that we were about. We may get lucky. They could easily quit the game, decide we moved on.”

  “We havena had a great deal of good fortune.”

  “True,” he said as he returned to the mouth of the cave, “so I have another plan or two in mind.”

  “And what are they?”

  “Dinna fret about it. Just stay right here and be quiet.”

  “Ordering me about again,” she muttered as she watched him crouch down at the cave’s opening.

  Sighing, she wrapped her arms about herself. Now came the waiting—waiting for discovery or waiting for their tenuous safety to return. She feared it would be the former. Her uncle could be impressive when he was furious or in fear of his own safety, as she was certain he was by now. Four days of fruitless searching would surely have strained her uncle’s none-too-well-controlled temper. And her uncle’s men would not want to return unsuccessful. They would look hard. Fools though they were, they were also stubborn. There was a sign for them to follow now, a hint that the victims they sought were close at hand.

  She began to pace, careful not to make a sound as she walked out her tension.

  “Curse them. Curse them all to hell,” Revan hissed as he stood up, rubbing the stiffness out of his body.

  “They are still there?” Tess spoke as softly as he did even though she sat by his horse.

  “Aye and it looks as if they plan to camp here tonight.”

  “I see. They mean to sit right here until they find something—anything.”

  “Aye—us or our trail. Ye would have thought, after all these hours, they would have given up. I fear one of them has enough knowledge about tracks to ken those by the pool were very fresh—too fresh for us to have gotten far away.”

  “Well, Uncle occasionally found a lout with a hint of wit in his fat head.”

  “That hint could mean our death,” he said darkly. He frowned for a moment, continuing to work the stiffness out of his body.

  “Mayhaps I should just go to them,” she said at last.

  Stopping abruptly, he scowled at her though he knew she couldn’t see him in the shadows. “Ye have the wish to be a martyr, do ye?”

  “Oh, aye, ’tis ever been my plan to die young by some dramatic self-sacrificing gesture,” she drawled. A minute later she sighed, knowing their precarious position was straining her temper. “I but thought I would have a better chance of staying alive—at least for a while. They would cut ye down without a moment of hesitation.”

  “And how do ye think ye could save yourself in what little time ye might be granted?”

  “I havena even a hint but I suspect I could think of something. And then, there is my family.”

  “Who are days away if ye could even get word to them. I couldna get help for you for days, either, and I truly doubt ye would be given even a few days by Thurkettle. I am still certain that his plan is to use this incident to be rid of you. ’Tis too good a chance to gain all he wants yet come away looking as if he is a victim.”

  “Aye, and that is something Uncle would dearly love. Well, what do ye think we ought to do?”

  “Not we—I will do something. Ye will sit right here—safe and hidden away.”

  “So now who wishes to be a martyr? Are ye sure ye are a mere knight and not some lordling? Ye spit out orders like some earl.”

  “There are times when ye have to be a bit of both,” he murmured, staring at their belongings as he rubbed a hand over his chin. “I must lead them away from here. The trick is convincing them ye are with me.”

  She stood up and moved a little closer to him. “What happens after ye lead them away?”

  “I will lose them, then make my way back here.” He crouched to roll up their bedding.

  “So simple. Did ye happen to forget that they will be aiming arrows at you, trying their utmost to bring ye down, hurl ye right out of your saddle?”

  “Nay, I dinna forget, but we have seen that they are very poor archers.” Once his bedding was secure, he began to afix her wet clothes to the pile.

  Trying to see what he was doing, she edged a little closer to him. “If Uncle found one ma
n who can read tracks well, perhaps he found one who might be able to hit what he aims for—even if the target moves swiftly.”

  “I will have to risk that.”

  “Why canna we simply stay here? Isna it a good defensive position?”

  He glanced toward her. “We could make a stand, but there are five of them and only two of us. That is assuming ye can fight with sword, arrow, or dirk.”

  “I have a wee bit of skill,” she said defensively. “More skill than some of Uncle’s men.” She stared down at her small hands. “My greatest problem is that bows, and other weapons, arena made for people of my stature.”

  “Well, any skill would help if all else fails, but I would rather not be pressed into such a corner. Even Thurkettle’s simpleminded fools could think of smoking us out, setting up a siege until we ran out of supplies, fetching more men if we stayed here long enough.”

  “Enough.” She held up one hand. “I can see it all too clearly. Do ye plan to do this now?”

  He nodded as he continued to work. “Where they are now will allow me to slip out, then choose when I let them see me.” Standing up, he picked up his clothed bedroll. “There, how does that look?”

  She frowned. The cave was too dark to see his invention clearly. It appeared vaguely human in form. “Is it meant to be me?”

  He nodded.

  “Well,” she said slowly. “I am a wee bit limp about the arms and legs . . . and where is my head?”

  “I will place your hat on top of it. Since I will have it in front of me I hoped they wouldna notice it’s, er, a wee bit limp. They will be behind me, their view of this severely hindered.”

  “And ’tis growing darker out,” she murmured. “ ’Twill probably work,” she reluctantly admitted, not wanting him to do as he planned.

  After setting his odd creation back down, he picked up a stick and began to write in the dirt. “Now, if I dinna return . . .” he began as she drew closer to watch him.

  “That isna the wisest thing to say if ye intend for me to maintain some air of calm,” she muttered as she sat by his side.