well," she said. "Will you turn your backs?"
The guards looked at each other. "Lord de Lanceau—"
Laughing, Elizabeth pointed to the surrounding shrubbery, a tangle of bushes, nettles and vines. "Where can I go? Up a tree like a squirrel?"
The men exchanged frowns, shrugged, and faced the meadow.
The breeze gusted. Leaves rustled overhead.
Elizabeth bolted. As she hurtled through a patch of tall ferns, she came upon a worn deer trail.
A branch snapped beneath her slipper.
Shouts rang out behind her.
The wound at her temple throbbed. Dizziness threatened to blur her vision.
She must not stop running.
She dodged low-hanging branches. Jumped raised tree roots. Twigs grabbed at her shift like gnarled fingers. The linen pulled taut. Tore.
Her pursuers were gaining ground. Their harsh breaths sounded louder than her own .
Her lungs burned.
She stumbled on a root. Slowed for the barest instant.
A guttural roar exploded behind her. A hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. A hard body slammed her against an ancient oak. She kicked. Clawed. Fought the blackness that threatened her consciousness.
Smells seared her nostrils. The churned loam. The musky
tree bark. The male essence of the rogue trapping her.
He caught her wrists. "Be still!"
De Lanceau's voice sent fear blazing through her veins, and an element far more dangerous. She stilled. His hands dropped from her, but he did not ease away. His thighs pressed against her hips. His chest crushed her breasts. His breath rasped over her flushed skin.
She shuddered.
"What were you thinking?" he growled. "You would never have outrun us. Were you hoping to break your neck?"
Her whole body quivered. "Release me."
"You will not escape me, milady. Not until I have vengeance against your father." His mouth formed a wicked smirk. "Mayhap not even then."
Chapter Five
"Get on the horse."
Elizabeth's blue-eyed gaze hardened, and she crossed her arms over her tattered shift. "Nay."
Geoffrey looped his destrier's reins about his knuckles, and looked at her standing beside his horse. Two scarlet spots stained her cheeks, yet she stared back at him without as much as a blink. Her furious blush had not dimmed since he hauled her out of the forest and set her between his horse and the wagon, curtailing any more attempts to escape.
He narrowed his eyes, willing her to yield, yet her glare did not falter. Irritation swelled within him, hot as the desire he was struggling to leash. He had only to look at her, and her fragrance, the crush of linen against his hands, the warmth of her quivering body, hummed anew in his blood.
He squashed the foolish, inconvenient lust. "I do not offer you a choice."
"How dare you demand further indignations of me? I shall not sit with my legs dangling either side of that beast."
"You fear your modesty will be compromised?" When her lips parted on a shocked gasp, Geoffrey chuckled. "Next time I abduct a lady, I will remember to bring a side saddle. I do not have one now, so you will ride like the rest of us." He smiled his crooked smile that, through the years, had swayed countless women's hearts. "Unless you prefer to walk?"
Elizabeth huffed and looked away. "Rogue."
"At last, you concede." He grabbed the drab woolen cloak draped over the destrier's saddle and tossed it to her. She let it crumple at her feet. He shrugged and tightened his horse's girth. "Put it on."
"If I do not?"
Her insolent whisper pricked his thinning patience. "If you do not," he said, "I shall be forced to heap further indignity upon you. I may dress you in the cloak myself, even if I must wrestle you to the ground and hold you down to accomplish it. You will make an even more fetching sight with flowers and grass in your hair." He gave the leather strap a firm tug. "Mayhap I should summon Viscon, and let him take care of the matter."
She sighed, a sound of reluctant defeat. He cast her a sidelong glance, and watched her pick up the cloak. His gaze skimmed her
The guards looked at each other. "Lord de Lanceau—"
Laughing, Elizabeth pointed to the surrounding shrubbery, a tangle of bushes, nettles and vines. "Where can I go? Up a tree like a squirrel?"
The men exchanged frowns, shrugged, and faced the meadow.
The breeze gusted. Leaves rustled overhead.
Elizabeth bolted. As she hurtled through a patch of tall ferns, she came upon a worn deer trail.
A branch snapped beneath her slipper.
Shouts rang out behind her.
The wound at her temple throbbed. Dizziness threatened to blur her vision.
She must not stop running.
She dodged low-hanging branches. Jumped raised tree roots. Twigs grabbed at her shift like gnarled fingers. The linen pulled taut. Tore.
Her pursuers were gaining ground. Their harsh breaths sounded louder than her own .
Her lungs burned.
She stumbled on a root. Slowed for the barest instant.
A guttural roar exploded behind her. A hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. A hard body slammed her against an ancient oak. She kicked. Clawed. Fought the blackness that threatened her consciousness.
Smells seared her nostrils. The churned loam. The musky
tree bark. The male essence of the rogue trapping her.
He caught her wrists. "Be still!"
De Lanceau's voice sent fear blazing through her veins, and an element far more dangerous. She stilled. His hands dropped from her, but he did not ease away. His thighs pressed against her hips. His chest crushed her breasts. His breath rasped over her flushed skin.
She shuddered.
"What were you thinking?" he growled. "You would never have outrun us. Were you hoping to break your neck?"
Her whole body quivered. "Release me."
"You will not escape me, milady. Not until I have vengeance against your father." His mouth formed a wicked smirk. "Mayhap not even then."
Chapter Five
"Get on the horse."
Elizabeth's blue-eyed gaze hardened, and she crossed her arms over her tattered shift. "Nay."
Geoffrey looped his destrier's reins about his knuckles, and looked at her standing beside his horse. Two scarlet spots stained her cheeks, yet she stared back at him without as much as a blink. Her furious blush had not dimmed since he hauled her out of the forest and set her between his horse and the wagon, curtailing any more attempts to escape.
He narrowed his eyes, willing her to yield, yet her glare did not falter. Irritation swelled within him, hot as the desire he was struggling to leash. He had only to look at her, and her fragrance, the crush of linen against his hands, the warmth of her quivering body, hummed anew in his blood.
He squashed the foolish, inconvenient lust. "I do not offer you a choice."
"How dare you demand further indignations of me? I shall not sit with my legs dangling either side of that beast."
"You fear your modesty will be compromised?" When her lips parted on a shocked gasp, Geoffrey chuckled. "Next time I abduct a lady, I will remember to bring a side saddle. I do not have one now, so you will ride like the rest of us." He smiled his crooked smile that, through the years, had swayed countless women's hearts. "Unless you prefer to walk?"
Elizabeth huffed and looked away. "Rogue."
"At last, you concede." He grabbed the drab woolen cloak draped over the destrier's saddle and tossed it to her. She let it crumple at her feet. He shrugged and tightened his horse's girth. "Put it on."
"If I do not?"
Her insolent whisper pricked his thinning patience. "If you do not," he said, "I shall be forced to heap further indignity upon you. I may dress you in the cloak myself, even if I must wrestle you to the ground and hold you down to accomplish it. You will make an even more fetching sight with flowers and grass in your hair." He gave the leather strap a firm tug. "Mayhap I should summon Viscon, and let him take care of the matter."
She sighed, a sound of reluctant defeat. He cast her a sidelong glance, and watched her pick up the cloak. His gaze skimmed her
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