Page 211 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Thirteen

“I was so afraid,” Andreana told Rhoslyn after they’d been riding for a short time. “The archers could not get a clear shot of the boar because ye kept getting in the way.” She glanced at Rhoslyn. “I couldna’ bear to lose you.”

A lump lodged in Rhoslyn’s throat. How selfish she’d been. She lost a husband and son, but Andreana lost father and brother. Then Rhoslyn left her. She grieved just as Rhoslyn did. Rhoslyn had told herself she was going to the convent just long enough to clear her heart of grief, but if not for King Edward’s command to marry she would still be there. Perhaps her betrothal was God’s punishment for deserting her family. She started. If marriage to an Englishman was divine justice, how much more was her punishment to bear a child conceived in violence?

“God’s avenging angel,” Andreana said.

Rhoslyn looked sharply at her. “What?”

Andreana stared at the men ahead. “Sir Talbot. I have never seen the like. When he notched his bow...”

“Not a hint of emotion moved on his face,” Lady Isobel finished for her. “He has ice in his veins.”

It did seem as though he was made of ice. Rhoslyn recalled how he stood forty feet away. Too far to reach her before the boar. Close enough for her to discern the intense concentration in his expression—and the determination. A contrast to the fury that had flashed in his eyes when he’d rammed his fist into Jacobus’s belly after the young man laid his hand on his sword hilt. But St. Claire hadn’t let his anger control him even then. The dispassionate tone of his voice had belied the flash of his eyes.

“The tales of his skill as a hunter didna’ do him justice,” Isobel said. “All three of his arrows found their mark.”

Rhoslyn looked at her. “The three arrows that felled the boar were St. Claire’s?”

“Aye,” Andreana said. “Ye ran in an erratic line. As I said, the archers and spearmen couldna’ shoot for fear of hitting you.”

“Some did shoot,” Rhoslyn said. “I saw the arrows, and a spear.”

Andreana nodded. “But if you hadna’ been in the way, they could have felled the boar with a dozen arrows. It is fortunate Sir Talbot stood beside the horses. He had a clear vantage point.”

“The man isna’ human,” Lady Isobel said.

Isobel’s voice held a hint of fear, but interest lit her eyes. Rhoslyn turned her face away in disgust. Only last night St. Claire had saved Isobel just as he had her. Maybe that gave Isobel reason to think he wanted her. Though he had immediately deposited her onto a chair and tried to disentangle himself. But then, all their guests looked on. To have settled Isobel on his lap would have been a direct insult to Rhoslyn.

She was fooling herself. Men seldom turned from a beautiful woman’s attentions. Alec hadn’t kept a mistress, but he was no young man. He had been good to Rhoslyn, attentive and caring, but his passion had diminished greatly over the years. St. Claire, on the other hand, was clearly a passionate man. Though he had made no attempt to bed her yet. Why?

Rhoslyn cast a furtive glance at Isobel. Her eyes remained on St. Claire’s back. Rhoslyn would wager a full harvest that the woman was envisioning the glow of firelight off his naked body, slick with sweat after making love to her. His large hand slid along her ribs to the curve of her waist then hip. Rhoslyn’s pulse skipped a beat when his fingers brushed her thigh, then traced a line upward to the curls between her legs.

Mortification jarred her from the fantasy. Sweet Jesu, how had her mind gone from knowing what Lady Isobel was thinking to seeing her own naked body pressed against St. Claire’s arousal? A strange emotion flitted across her insides and she found herself even more disturbed by the desire that stirred between her legs.

She swallowed against a dry throat. He was exceedingly handsome. She didn’t half blame Isobel for lusting after him. No doubt, most women did. But he had sworn fealty to a king who intended to rule Scotland by the might of knights like him. He was, in fact, Scotland’s devil, the enemy that would destroy them from within. How much easier it would be to hate him if angry horns jutted from his head, and his eyes blazed red with hellfire. Nay, she added after conjuring the image. Even as a demon he would be beautiful.

Rhoslyn’s attention snapped onto St. Claire when he reached for his sword. The snap of a twig beneath horses’ hooves sounded within the trees. The scrape of steel followed as the guardsmen drew their swords. Riders shot out from the trees on both sides of the road. St. Claire released his sword hilt, deftly unslung his bow, and pulled an arrow from the quill strapped to his saddle.

In an instant, Rhoslyn counted twelve men, swords drawn. Half a dozen of St. Claire’s guardsmen broke from the circle and met their attackers head on. The remaining nine men closed ranks so closely around them that Rhoslyn was forced to keep a tight rein on her horse to prevent it from shying. Andreana’s horse gave a shrill cry and started to rear. Rhoslyn seized the reins and yanked them downward.

“Hold her steady,” Rhoslyn ordered as steel rang against steel.

An arrow flew from St. Claire’s bow. The arrow found its target even as a second arrow flew, then another. Rhoslyn’s heart thundered. All three arrows felled an enemy. An enemy warrior notched an arrow for a shot at St. Claire.

“St. Claire!” Rhoslyn shouted, but he had already turned, another arrow pointed, and let the shaft fly.

The man’s arrow flew through the air, missed St. Claire, and sailed past. A attacker reached him. A scream stuck in Rhoslyn’s throat when the man swung his sword toward St. Claire’s head. St. Claire yanked his sword free of its scabbard in time to block the blow. He parried, his blade moving in a blur as he drove the man back. Suddenly, he kicked his horse forward. The animal lunged and Talbot drove his sword through the man’s belly.

Her heart leapt into her throat when another enemy warrior shot past him, sword swinging. St. Claire wheeled his horse around so quickly that Rhoslyn could scarce believe it when he thrust the blade through the man’s back.

Andreana screamed. Rhoslyn jerked her gaze onto her. A nearby guardsman fell from his steed as an enemy warrior yanked his sword from the man’s neck. The man who had killed him charged the guards nearest Rhoslyn. Another barreled down on them to her left where Andreana sat atop her horse.

Rhoslyn’s heart pounded. The guardsman surrounding them edged closer to the three of them. The double attack was sure to break their line of defense and she, Andreana, and Isobel would be vulnerable. Sweet God, why hadn’t she brought a dirk? She hadn’t thought with all the men St. Claire brought that she would need a weapon.

“Lady Isobel,” Rhoslyn said. “Have ye a dagger?”

“If I had a dagger I would kill at least one of those bastards.”