Monsoon Mists by Christina Courtenay

Any wolf or lynx stupid enough to challenge him would regret it. He always carried a lethal dagger and knew how to use it.
    It was Midsummer Night’s Eve and despite the late hour, it was no darker than at twilight since the sun wouldn’t set at all this night. To celebrate, Jamie had spent the evening carousing with friends. He was three sheets to the wind, but it didn’t matter. His horse could find the way home without guidance, leaving his master to reminisce about a pretty maidservant who’d promised to meet him in a few days’ time.
    A piercing scream broke the silence and startled the horse into rearing up. Jamie only just managed to grab the reins and hold on, his fuzzy brain struggling to process what was happening.
    ‘Whoa, Modig, easy boy.’ He pulled his dagger out of its sheath, calmed the horse while dismounting and looked around. Another cry came from his right and Jamie plunged in among the trees, towing Modig behind him.
    He knew every path for miles around his father’s manor house and he remembered there was a river nearby with a very pretty waterfall. The screams had seemed to be coming from that direction so he headed there. Soon after, he burst into a clearing by the water’s edge and stopped dead.
    ‘Elisabet? Dear God, what happened to you?’
    Feeling suddenly stone cold sober, Jamie took in the dishevelled state of his brother’s beloved. Elisabet Grahn was lying on the ground, her clothing torn and dirty, and her bodice covered in what looked like blood. Tears ran down her cheeks and her mouth was swollen. Jamie couldn’t help but stare at her half naked upper body, which was covered in scratches.
    ‘J-Jamie, h-help me, please,’ she sobbed, stretching out a hand imploringly towards him.
    Jamie let go of Modig – he knew the horse wouldn’t go far – and rushed forward to help Elisabet off the ground. ‘Can you stand? Are you badly hurt?’ He searched her face for signs of pain as she stood up with his assistance.
    She shook her head, but winced. ‘A little, but I …’ She looked downwards and understanding hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. It was clear that she’d been violated. He’d noticed her skirts had been bunched up beneath her, leaving her legs exposed. Even now the material was badly creased.
    ‘Who did this?’ he asked, his tone deadly. Elisabet belonged to Brice, Jamie’s older brother, everyone knew that. Although no formal betrothal had taken place, it was only a matter of time. The families were just waiting for Brice to come back from a journey to China before making the announcement.
    ‘The … the blacksmith’s apprentice. Luc, the oldest one,’ she whispered.
    ‘What, one of the Walloons? Damn it all to hell!’
    The local blacksmith was of Belgian extraction, from the Walloon region, and for the last year he’d had some younger relatives apprenticed to him temporarily. They were handsome youths, with black hair, dark eyes, cheeky smiles and tanned skin. At twenty, Jamie was a bit older than them so hadn’t been in their company much. But although he’d heard they were prone to picking fights with local boys, he’d never thought any of them would stoop to rape.
    Jamie put an arm around Elisabet’s shoulders and led her towards the horse. ‘Let me take you home, then I’ll go after him. He’ll not get away with this.’
    ‘No, it’s too late,’ Elisabet sobbed. ‘He said he was leaving. I … I don’t know where he’s gone. Probably back to … to his country.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find him.’ Jamie lifted her up onto the horse’s back, and mounted behind her. ‘Here, take my jacket.’ He draped it round her to hide her pale curves. Not because they tempted him, but in case they met someone.
    She was a tiny slip of a thing, as fragile as a porcelain doll. Although she was exquisitely beautiful with a perfect face and figure, Jamie had never been as beguiled by her as his brother. It was strange, he thought, but he