Aye, her form covered up by the blanket and the cloak that still enshrouded her, but there was no mistaking the curved outline of her body that made Conall’s loins grow tight.
By God, was he a barbarian to lust after an unconscious woman?His future bride, aye, but he had no idea if she would ever wake from the brew that had left her limp in his arms the entire ride to this secluded spot.He had told her that he wouldn’t hurt her, but what was she now?He would rather she was glaring at him and cursing him for abducting her than in this endless sleep—
“No…no…not my necklace…”
Conall felt his breath catch at the soft sound of her voice, the first time he had heard her speak.Sitting beside her, he edged closer so he might hear if she murmured anything else, but she only tossed her head from side to side and then once more grew still.
Och, but at least it was some movement!Some sign that she might be coming out of the stupor that had enveloped her for hours.
Conall saw that Father Titus had heard her words, too, for he had lifted his head to glance in their direction—though he lay back down and tightly folded his hands once again in prayer.
The man’s lips moved, but no sound came, which made Conall send his own silent appeal heavenward that the lass would be fully recovered by morning.
What necklace had she spoken of?He did not recall that she’d worn any jewelry when he first saw her.A gift from MacCulloch?
Shrugging away that thought, Conall could not resist reaching out to touch a dark lock of hair that glistened with red in the firelight—och, so soft, like the feel of her cheek when he had wiped away a tear that morning.
Isabeauwasbeauteous, just as King Robert had told him, though Conall felt certain that her lovely features would contort with hatred once she opened her eyes again.
Aye, once she realized that she was far away from Dumfries and her betrothed and was soon to marry another man against her will.Conall had every expectation that she would kick and scream and fight him every step toward the altar of the village church that lay several hours’ ride from where they had camped tonight.
Her outraged cries of protest ringing from the rafters, though thankfully, they would be in territory loyal to King Robert, and not England.
“Ah, lass…it’s not what I wish, either,” Conall said under his breath, gently twisting a silken tendril around his forefinger.“Our lives are not our own, our paths decreed by others.I dinna want a bride and you dinna wantme.A Highland warrior that never dreamed he would be the laird of anything, but now with a castle and lands awaiting him once I take you tae wife.Mayhap it would be better if you never awake for the unhappiness our marriage will bring you, Isabeau Charpentier—och, it’s in God’s hands.”
With a heavy sigh, Conall let the curl slip from his finger and lay down beside her, pulling his own blanket up to his waist.
He needed sleep, too, for whatever the morrow might bring.
He had no doubt that Euan MacCulloch and his English-loving compatriots were searching high and low for her, but Conall and his men had ridden so hard and so fast after they reunited that no one would catch them now.
Another two days and they would reach Dumbarton Castle, but there was a lot to accomplish before that happened.
A wedding and a bedding—och, if the lass lived.
Conall glanced to the side and saw again in the gleam of firelight that her chest still rose and fell—but with a slight catch that made him look at her face.
No, she slept on…her features in gentle repose, which made him certain that he had imagined the unexpected movement.
Weariness overwhelming him, Conall rolled onto his side with his back to her and closed his eyes, the sputter and crackle of the flames lulling him to sleep.
Lisette blinked open her eyes the moment the huge Scotsman rolled away from her, though she didn’t move an inch.
Her heart thundering, she glanced to her right at the men sleeping around the fire—and then to the massive shoulders of the man lying to her left, his broad back blocking out any view on that side.
Dear God, he was the same man who had forced that foul-tasting liquid into her mouth, nearly causing her to choke.She could see that he wasn’t dressed any longer in the habit of a friar, but in a dark tunic with a padded leather overshirt that she guessed must be some sort of armor.He had said he was a warrior, hadn’t he?A Highland warrior…
Lisette sharply drew in her breath, her heart beating so fast now that she thought it might leap from her breast.
He had called her Isabeau Charpentier, too.Isabeau!That alone made the cobwebs still lingering in her mind disappear altogether, the astonishing reality of what must have happened hitting her with full force.
The man had abductedher, thinking she was her half-sister!
And he intended to take her to wife…but she was Lisette!What would this giant of a Scots Highlander do with her when he realized the truth?
Lisette squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard against tears threatening to spill, her mind racing.
A nightmare had drawn her out of the blackness…a terrible, recurring nightmare that had plagued her since Claudia had torn the necklace her father had given her from her neck and flung it into the fire.
