|
An Excerpt From: Dream
Knight
© Copyright Lois Bonde, 2004.
All Rights Reserved,
Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Sean
Duncan tossed a log on the campfire and watched the sparks fly. He cursed
his father for sending him off on such a cork-brained task. He was willing
to do his part to ensure the family’s well-being, but marrying a young girl
who was said to be so thin as to be hardly recognizable as a woman was not
his idea of a fair share. But he could certainly see the wisdom of adding
her lands to his own, so he was on his way to be wed. His strong sense of
duty would allow no less.
Once
they were wed, he would own all of her lands adjacent to his. With the
eventual addition of his father’s lands, he could make a formidable stand
against any of the clans that might threaten them. Resigned, but not adverse to stalling it a bit, he’d sent his retinue on
ahead while he took his time. He was going to enjoy his last day and night
of freedom.
He
tucked his kilt under his arse and sat against a
huge chestnut. His dirk was safely tucked into his stockings and his sword
lay at his side. He picked up his bottle of Scotch and drank deeply.
Staring at the fire, he racked his brain for any excuse that could further
delay his arrival at his bride’s castle. He had about given up when he
heard the steady slow clumping of a horse’s hooves. Quickly shoving his
pack under his blanket to give the impression that he was asleep, he darted
into the dark woods with his sword.
The
horse passed within a few feet of him. He saw a rider slumped over its
back, his arms hanging down on each side. Had he been accosted by a
highwayman? Or was he feigning injury to get the upper hand?
“Ho,
there, friend,” Sean called out.
The
horse stopped, but the rider didn’t move. He could see now that his body
was shrouded in dark blankets that went down to his boots. The man was
lucky he hadn’t fallen off before now.
Wary,
Sean raised the tip of his sword and approached the horse. He heard a soft
murmur, or was it a moan of pain? Using the tip of his sword, he lifted
back the blanket shielding the rider’s head. A myriad of red curls sprang
free, exposing a woman’s face that glowed in the firelight peeking through
the trees.
“By
all that’s holy,” he murmured.
He
tapped her shoulder with the broad side of the sword, but she didn’t move.
He could see that she was breathing and either sound asleep, drunk, or
unconscious. Sheathing his sword, he led the horse to the stream by his
campfire. He hobbled him so he could drink water and eat grass but not
wander far. But what to do about the rider?
He
ought first to check to see if she was wounded, though he saw no evidence
of blood or bruising. Lifting her from the horse was easy enough with a
hand under each arm. He lowered her until her feet touched the ground. Her
knees immediately began to buckle and she moaned. Mayhap she was injured
after all. He swung her into his arms and carried her to his fire. Pushing
his pack off the blanket with his foot, he lowered the mysterious lass onto
it, leaning her against his chest as he knelt beside her.
She
moaned again. Her soft complaints didn’t sound at all like she was in pain.
He was glad of that. He couldn’t understand who would want to harm such a
pretty little thing. He was startled when she suddenly wrapped her arms
around his waist and snuggled her cheek against the length of plaid
crossing his chest.
Feeling
a tightening in his groin, he pushed her hair back from over her face and
untied the shawl that had lost the battle to keep it confined. When he
looked down carefully at her and saw the delicate features of a truly
beautiful young woman, he drew in a quick breath. If only he could marry
one as sweet as this, he thought sadly. Then he wouldn’t be taking his
sweet time to get to his wedding. He’d be riding at a gallop, anxious to
ride her just as hard and as fast. His cock surged and pressed against her
soft breasts as he swallowed a groan.
CLOSE WINDOW
|