He would never have imagined finding the woman he was sent to abduct twirling around in her room with her slender arms outstretched and her lilting laughter filling the air.
He had quietly pushed open the door to her chamber, expecting to find her still abed and asleep—but no, not this one.He had stood there for a moment like a dolt, mesmerized by the sight of her, aye, and with the sweet smell of her lilac perfume arousing his senses.
Her lissome figure awash in sunlight beneath a pale pink gown that hugged every tempting curve, her long dark hair tinged with red that had startled him…like glimmering streaks of fire.
Yet it had been her face filled with such joy that had most struck him, her eyes closed, her head tilted back, her rose-pink lips curved into a smile that made him feel like a brute to have come to steal her away from whatever had made her so happy.
Her upcoming marriage?Euan MacCulloch?Mayhap upon first sight of her future husband, she had fallen deeply in love—och, what did it matter?
The thing was done, the spell broken when Isabeau had sunk to her knees, clearly to catch her breath, and Conall had stepped further into the room.
She had appeared to freeze as if sensing his presence, her expression no longer one of joy but of sheer dread.
Only then had she opened her eyes to look up at him, his breath catching at their soft brown hue—aye, he couldn’t deny it, while the dismay emanating from her had instantly become confusion.
Yet why wouldn’t she have appeared confused to find a man dressed as a friar standing in her bedchamber?A confusion that had all too quickly become alarm and then panic, Conall grateful for the sleeping elixir that he had forced down her throat.
Isabeau had understood him, that much he knew, for she had nodded when he spoke to her in Gaelic, which was something else to be grateful for.He knew a wee bit of the French language, but not enough to explain to her what had occurred—and whatelsewould soon occur—as soon as she regained consciousness.
A ragged sigh rose to Conall above the pounding of his horse’s hooves, which made him slow his mount’s pace since he judged they were far enough from the convent now to warrant it.
Yet still she slept within his arms, though in the sunlight he saw a wetness streaking her face that startled him.
Tears?
He held the reins with one hand and touched her cheek, her skin warm to the touch as his fingertip came away wet.
Was she caught in some nightmare?Was there some foul ingredient in the potion he’d given her that was making frightening phantoms inhabit her mind?
Hugging her closer, Conall felt sickened that he might have made her suffer such an ill effect, but there was nothing to be done about it.
All he could do was keep riding while hoping that the men who had accompanied him had managed to stay hidden from any passing English soldiers or Scotsmen loyal to their enemies to the south.
Mayhap by the time he rejoined them, Isabeau would be awake and he could apprise her of her fate.At once he envisioned screams and struggles and attempts to escape and more tears, which made Conall swear to himself and shake his head.
“Och, man, why the devil did you discard that basket?Now you’ve nothing left tae calm the lass, no matter it gives her bad dreams.”
At the sound of his voice, his horse snorted and tossed his head as if agreeing with him, and now Conall laughed, though he felt little humor.
Here he was riding north toward the Highlands with a woman he had no wish to marry, and who would most likely hate him for the rest of his life for stealing her from the man she loved and the life she’d envisioned for herself—God help him!
What a pair made in heaven.
“She’s gone.”
Isabeau had breathed the obvious as she stood beside Euan MacCulloch in the bedchamber she had left no more than a half hour ago.
No signs of a struggle at all, only Lisette’s woolen tunic upon the floor, which made Isabeau’s gaze flit to the open trunk that looked as if someone had rummaged through it.
“Ah,non, my beautiful wedding gown is gone, too!”
She ran to the trunk and stared in horror while Sister Damaris, the Reverend Mother of the convent, stood in the doorway and wrung her bony hands.
“Please dinna blame our young novice, it wasna her fault!The friar said he was a healer come tae tend tae Lady Isabeau and that no one had answered his knock at the main gate, so the child opened the door in the back wall for him.She was only trying tae help.Then he left a few moments later with the lady slung over his shoulder—God be praised that it wasn’t you, Lady Isabeau!”
“Aye, a foul plot was afoot here,” interjected Euan, his ruddy face flushed and his hazel eyes filled with fury.“The man didna come here tae abduct a lady’s maid, but tae steal my bride.She must have dressed herself in your wedding gown for her own amusement, Isabeau, what other explanation can there be?The fiend thought the lass was you, which is no surprise.She looks just like you with her dark hair and face like an angel—”
“Angel?”Isabeau cut him off, though what did it matter now if Euan had thought Lisette fair to look upon?
