“I am betrothed to Sir Fergus Ogilvey.”
“Ye willnae be for verra long.” He held her close and closed his eyes, afraid that if he did not stop kissing her and touching her, he would lose all control. “I swear to ye, lass, the mon is all I have told ye he is and nay doubt a lot worse.”
“Ye will forgive me, please, for nay wanting to believe that people who have cared for me for so long would betroth me to a monster.”
“And forgive me, lass, for saying that those people didnae care for ye in any way. They put ye under their boot and did everything they could to keep ye there. Aye, e’en to making the one person who truly cared for ye leave when they threw Old Meg out of Dunburn.”
“Old Meg beat Lady Anabel,” she murmured, a little unsettled by his sharp words. “I but thank God they didnae hang her.”
“And were ye nay surprised that they didnae?”
“Aye,” she answered carefully, “I was, but I had begged them for her life.”
“Which they so graciously gave ye, thus making ye feel e’en more indebted to them.”
She blinked as the hard truth of that hit her squarely. It had made her feel indebted to them. Whenever she had felt the stirring of anger or rebellion, she had thought of how they had let Old Meg live and she struggled to subdue such feelings. It was hard to believe that they had planned that, though. Anabel had certainly seemed very eager to see Old Meg dead.
Cecily began to see that she had not yet thought enough on all Artan had told her. She needed to search through her memories of her time beneath Lady Anabel’s rule much more carefully. It was still hard to believe they would want her dead, that they had actually had a hand in the murder of her father and Colin, but it was time to stop simply refusing to even consider it. She had told Artan she would think about all he had accused Anabel, Edmund, and Fergus of, but she saw now that she had not really done so.
“Mayhap,” she murmured. “Did ye e’er think that I am reluctant to believe the things ye say because it means I have been living with people who dinnae care for me at all and ne’er will, people who may actually have been wishing I was in a grave alongside the rest of my family? ’Tis nay an easy thing ye ask of me.”
He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I ken it, lass. I just dinnae want ye to ignore the possibility that I am right, because if ye do, it could mean your life. And that, my Sile, is too high a price to pay for loyalty to people who have ne’er given ye any.”
She nodded slowly. He was right. He was also putting his hand on her breasts, she realized and gasped. She grabbed his hand and quickly moved it away.
“There will be none of that.”
“I was just getting comfortable.” He grinned when she snorted, the sound rife with mockery.
Held in his arms, Cecily realized she felt safe and warm. She did not know if she wanted to curse or weep. The man had tricked her, kidnapped her. She should not be lying in his arms thinking foolish things such as how she would like to go to sleep every night with him at her back. She was indeed a fool, a sad, besotted one. All she could do was pray that Artan did not discover just how weak her will was.
Chapter 10
Hot. She was so very hot. Cecily struggled to wake up, to shake free of dreams of a man with a lovely broad, smooth chest and kisses that made her toes curl. When she finally came to her senses, she found herself clinging to Artan and being heartily kissed. Worse, she was kissing him back—again—just as she had done last morning and the morning before that. For a moment she even had the traitorous idea of pretending she was still asleep so that she could continue to enjoy his lovemaking and not feel guilty about it, but she quickly banished that disgraceful plan and pushed against Artan’s chest.
The man was driving her mad with his kisses, she thought as she met his slumberous gaze. Every chance he got he kissed her or touched her. It was bad enough they were running from Sir Fergus’s dogged pursuit without Artan turning everything into a part of his continuous seduction. The fact that she spent long hours sitting in his arms as they rode toward Glascreag only made it easier for him. It was getting so that he could have her knotted up with desire with only one brief glance from his silvery blue eyes.
“There will be nay more of that,” she said for what she felt must have been the hundredth time.
“Cannae a mon woo the lass he means to wed?” Artan asked as he sat up and stretched.
Out of the corner of his eye Artan caught Cecily staring at him, her gaze moving over his body with what could only be called greed. If he did not feel the same way about her lithe body, he could begin to feel quite vain. In some ways he already did, for what man would not when the woman he wanted eyed him much as a starving man eyes a meal.
He stood up and stretched a little more, mostly to give her a good eyeful of what she was denying herself. If she ever figured out what he was doing and decided to retaliate, he could be in serious trouble. Just the thought of Cecily flaunting her slender beauty in front of him was enough to make him sweat. He would have to be very careful to keep her unaware of his games, or she could find out just how easily he could be captured if she tried a few games of her own.
Cecily bit back a curse and scrambled to her feet. She winced and rubbed at her lower back. Although she was beginning to become accustomed to spending so much time on the back of a horse, sleeping on the ground made her feel like an old woman in the morning. She walked toward the shelter of some trees to tend to her needs, hoping that just walking around would ease some of the stiffness from which she was suffering.
By the time she returned to their rough camp, Artan had the horse readied and handed her an oatcake. Cecily prayed they would reach Glascreag soon. She desperately wanted a lavish hot meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed. When she realized that her vision of a big, soft bed included a big, hard Artan lying in it—naked—she almost screamed. Now she was not even free of his seduction in her own mind.
“If all goes weel, we should reach Glascreag in about three more days,” Artan said as he handed her the wineskin.
She frowned, took a drink, and handed the wineskin back to him. “I can recall it taking much longer.”
“Aye, but I suspicion ye were traveling at an easy pace and staying to whatever roads and trails ye could find. Old Meg took ye back to Dunburn on much the same route as we are taking, so it would have been quicker.”
“I dinnae recall much about the journey with Meg,” she said quietly.
“Ah, nay, ye wouldnae would ye. ’Twas a sad and frightening time.”
