“He has!” she retorted. “And I liked it! I liked it very much!”
In response Ian Douglas leaned forward and kissed Cicely. It began as a fierce kiss that turned tender and deepened as he felt the petal soft lips beneath his yield.
Cicely’s head spun.Oh, my!she thought as she felt herself succumbing to the kiss, and kissing him back.
The laird drew away. “Did you like it as much as that?” he asked her wickedly.
“No!” She was practically shouting at him.
Ian Douglas laughed. “Ah, ladyfaire, you are a terrible liar. Youkissed me back.” Then, standing up, he left her to fume while he went to turn the rabbit on the spit.
She hadn’t kissed him back! She hadn’t! But she had, Cicely was forced to admit to herself. He was a horrible, horrible man! He had kidnapped her, treated her abominably, and when his mouth had closed over hers she was momentarily lost. It was certainly not going to happen again. Nay, it was not!
When the rabbits were well roasted, the laird brought Cicely a small haunch on a leaf along with an oatcake. “Here,” he said.
Cicely turned her head from him. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “I will eat nothing from your hand, villain. Take it away!”
“All right,” he said pleasantly, his white teeth tearing into the roasted meat as he walked away.
Cicely’s belly rumbled. She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since early morning after the Mass, and she had eaten little, for she was in a hurry to get into the town. She closed her eyes, as if that would block out the delicious smell of the roast.
“My lady.” Fergus Douglas knelt by her side. In his hand was another piece of rabbit on a broad, wet leaf. “Please try to eat something. I know all that has happened this day has been upsetting for you, but you need your strength.” He held out the meat.
“Why do I need my strength?” Cicely asked him petulantly.
“Because we have a long ride tomorrow, and into the next day. My brother is a wonderful hunter, but he may not be so fortunate finding food tomorrow as he was today. And no one roasts a coney over the fire like Ian. The meat is never tough, and ’tis always moist and sweet.” He smiled at her.
Cicely couldn’t help herself. There was something so engaging about Fergus Douglas. She smiled back at him. Then, reaching out, she took the meat from him and began to eat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“To Glengorm. Our home is there. We are the Douglases of Glengorm, a small branch of Clan Douglas. Your new home will be a largestone house with a slate roof that sits on a small hillside overlooking Loch Gorm. Our glen is almost hidden, and can be entered only through a small wood. We’re surrounded by the Cheviot hills, which make up the border between Scotland and England,” he explained.
Cicely finished the rabbit he had given her, and took the small, flat oatcake he offered. “It won’t be my new home,” she told him. “It will be my prison until the king arranges for my release. Do you have anything to drink?”
Fergus undid a small leather flask from his belt and, unstoppering it, held it out.
Cicely took the flask and, putting it to her lips, swallowed deeply. A sudden look of surprise crossed her face. She gasped, coughed, and her face turned red. “What in the name of the Blessed Mother wasthat?” she demanded when she could speak again.
“Whiskey,” he said, and he grinned. “I should have warned you, madam, but it didn’t occur to me until you put it to your lips that perhaps you had never tasted whiskey,” he said, looking abashed. “Would you like some water?”
Cicely nodded, and handed him back the flask. “ ’Tis a potent brew,” she noted.
“Aye,” he agreed. He helped her up. “We’ve no drinking vessel, so you will have to cup your hands in the stream,” Fergus told her. Then he escorted her to the stream.
Cicely knelt by the water. Her throat was still burning from the swallow of whiskey, and she was suddenly overcome with weariness. Cupping her hands, she drank, and then stood up, swaying.
Suddenly the laird was beside them. He scooped the girl up in his arms to return her to her place by the large, mossy boulder.
“Put me down, you lout,” Cicely protested feebly, but the truth was she wasn’t certain that she could stand if he did put her down.
Ignoring her, Ian Douglas set her back on the ground. He had spread the gray-white-and-black length of tartan he carried with himover the moss. Cicely was already half-asleep, and did not notice it, nor did she notice that he laid his cloak over her to keep her warm.
“What will you sleep in?” Fergus asked quietly.
“We’ll share your cloak when we sleep, but do without when we keep watch,” the laird said. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Fergus nodded and, rolling himself in his cloak, placed his body in front of Cicely’s to shield her. Then he quickly fell asleep. When his brother awakened him four hours later he rose obediently, turning the cloak over to his sibling, then adding more wood to the little fire to help him avoid the damp chill of the late autumn night. Traveling with the lady, they had another day and a half’s ride to reach Glengorm. Fergus sighed. He hoped his Marion was all right. The new bairn was due in another few weeks. When the false dawn began to show in the sky Fergus awoke his older brother.
The laird was immediately on his feet. “Do y’think we can move out soon?” he asked the younger man. He picked up Fergus’s cloak and handed it to him.
