A Perfect Knight For Love by Jackie Ivie Page A

her gasp and how her hands hooked about his arm like claws.
    He chuckled at her antics, and then the voice of Dunn-Fyne interrupted, waking Thayne to reality and danger. And making him acknowledge it.
    “More trouble with the wife, MacGowan?”
    Thayne pulled in a lungful of air, lifted his head, and turned toward the man. His wife had ceased breathing, if the form in his arms was any indication. She was in a full tremble, though.
    “Nothing I canna’ handle,” he replied, on the released breath.
    “She acts more like a maid than a wife.”
    “Because she prefers privacy?”
    “Because she fights you so. I’ve been watching. And pondering.”
    “She likes a good argue, Dunn-Fyne. As do I. I doona’ like my women cowed. Or beaten.”
    “Hmm. Pity.”
    Thayne looked at Laird Dunn-Fyne, astride a like-size Clydesdale, but due to the man’s smaller stature there was little choice but to look down. He watched as the man acknowledged it and then hated him for it. And started evaluating and deciding his options again, without one word being exchanged.
    Dunn-Fyne had full lust for this Sassenach governess. Thayne couldn’t alter it, even swaddled as she was in a thick bundling of green, red, and black plaid. Dunn-Fyne also lusted for revenge. He spent some time looking at Amalie, debating which one suited him best. All of it was easy to spot. Thayne’s mind whirled but nothing else moved except the horse beneath him. To portray marital discord of the wife might work in their favor. But Dunn-Fyne may find it more enjoyable to take the lass’s maidenhood and break her spirit, exactly as he’d done with Mary. Thayne gulped and felt the resultant pop in his ears as he waited and watched.
    “I’ve been thinking, MacGowan. I may have need of another wife. Should Mary na’ be located. Or found to have died. A man canna’ be without a wife and son. I’m thinking on the lines of a feisty one this time. Bonny. Young. I also like them . . . maidenly.”
    The man drew out each word to get a reaction. The lass went deadly still in Thayne’s arms, making a deadweight. He would’ve suspected a faint except for each catch of breath she made, pushing her breasts against where he held her upright. He cleared his throat.
    “This here’s nae maid, Dunn-Fyne. She’s my wife. For nigh a year.”
    “So you both . . . say.”
    “True. We both spoke on it. You heard. We’re wed. And nae woman has two husbands. You ken the law.”
    “She only has a husband while you live. True?”
    He finished with a kick against his horse, sending it into a canter and leaving them. Thayne watched him without expression, although the strength and rapidity of his heart beating was impossible to control. The lass was gagging, if her reflexes were accurate. Or perhaps she sobbed. Either reaction was hidden by how she’d turned her head and settled it exactly atop Thayne’s heart, stopping the ragged beat before restarting it in an even faster and harder pace.

Chapter 5
    “Well, lass?” His voice came out higher pitched than he wanted it to, and with a hint of tremor. Thayne cleared his throat before trying again. “You’ve na’ much time. Perhaps one eve.”
    “This isn’t happening.”
    Her whisper sent warm breath over his upper belly.
    “You say that oft. I doona’ think you ken what it means.”
    “It’s . . . a denial.”
    She said it in a hint of voice that heated up the area about Thayne’s heart before turning to a squeeze. Then it moved to a twinge through his arms before it coiled and spread warmth right through his belly. Thayne lifted his head, looked over the woman’s head at the mass of horses before him and gulped. He’d never felt such a thing. It was akin to the weak-kneed reaction he’d had when he’d won his first battle, but much worse. This feeling suffused his features with warmth while everything else about him grew strange-feeling . . . almost soft, pliant, and weak. Thayne narrowed his eyes, clenched his