expedient.’
‘Not to me it isn’t. I don’t wish to go.’
‘But then we’re not discussing your wishes.’
If he was aware of her anger it was not evident, for his expression remained maddeningly unperturbed. Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought the urge to hit him.
‘I won’t go.’
‘You’ll go, lass—one way or another.’
The threat was plain and she knew it was not idle. He had the power to compel obedience. The expression in those dark eyes was deeply disquieting and she turned away from him, heart thumping, trying to think. Once across the border escape would become harder which meant she must get away before they reached it. In the meantime argument was futile and she would not bandy further words with him, but if Lord Bloody Iain thought she would tamely submit to his will he had another think coming.
Almost as if he heard the thought Iain’s voice broke in. ‘Dinna think of trying to run, Ashlynn. I’d find you again very quickly and then you might find my temper unpleasant.’
‘What difference would that make? Your temper is always unpleasant.’
The words were out before she was aware and drew down on her a look that caused her heart to miss a beat.
‘Put the matter to the test,’ he replied, ‘and you’ll discover a great deal of difference, I promise you.’
With that he took hold of her wrist in a vice-like grip and led her out to the courtyard. The cold air hit her for there had been a hard frost in the night and everything was rimed with silver. Around them men were already mounting. Robbie approached leading his own horse and a pretty chestnut mare.
‘Dougal told me to bring this for the lady,’ he explained.
Ashlynn wasn’t listening, her whole attention focused on the horse.
‘Steorra!’
Hearing her name the mare turned her head and whinnied softly. With tears in her eyes Ashlynn went forward to greet her, stroking the furry neck, utterly relieved that the horse had taken no hurt from her recent adventures.
Iain regarded them keenly. ‘I see you two know each other.’
For a moment all her resentment was forgotten. ‘Where did you find her?’
‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘My men found her wandering loose after the battle and brought her along with the horses we took from the Normans.’
‘I see.’
‘Will you mount, Ashlynn, or do you need my help?’
The bland tone didn’t deceive her for a minute, nor was the implication lost. Biting back the pithy retort that sprang to mind she lifted her chin.
‘That won’t be necessary.’
He watched her gather the reins and swing easily into the saddle. Then he mounted his own horse.
‘Let’s go.’
They rode at a steady pace and soon Hexham was far behind. To her relief Iain rode on ahead with Dougal and left her to the charge of the young man called Robbie. Though he cast sidelong glances at her from time to time, conversation was minimal. However, Ashlynn had no desire for it, her mind on other things. With every stride of the horse beneath her the feeling of desperation grew. Soon they would reach the border. Soon she would be lost. She could not allow herself to be sold into slavery or worse. Death would be preferable. Escape was a risk but a calculated one. All she needed was the opportunity.
* * *
It was a relief when the column stopped at noon and she could dismount and stretch her legs for already they felt stiff from the unwonted hours in the saddle. She wondered at these men that they showed no signs of the weariness she felt, or the cold either. As they led the horses to drink at the stream Ashlynn did the same, bending to scoop a handful of water. It was icy but it slaked her thirst. She was occupied thus when she heard a man shout. At once the cry was taken up and, straightening quickly, she looked round.
Half-a-dozen riders had just appeared round a bend in the road and almost ridden into the Scottish force. There followed a confused impression of helmets and mail and then
‘Not to me it isn’t. I don’t wish to go.’
‘But then we’re not discussing your wishes.’
If he was aware of her anger it was not evident, for his expression remained maddeningly unperturbed. Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought the urge to hit him.
‘I won’t go.’
‘You’ll go, lass—one way or another.’
The threat was plain and she knew it was not idle. He had the power to compel obedience. The expression in those dark eyes was deeply disquieting and she turned away from him, heart thumping, trying to think. Once across the border escape would become harder which meant she must get away before they reached it. In the meantime argument was futile and she would not bandy further words with him, but if Lord Bloody Iain thought she would tamely submit to his will he had another think coming.
Almost as if he heard the thought Iain’s voice broke in. ‘Dinna think of trying to run, Ashlynn. I’d find you again very quickly and then you might find my temper unpleasant.’
‘What difference would that make? Your temper is always unpleasant.’
The words were out before she was aware and drew down on her a look that caused her heart to miss a beat.
‘Put the matter to the test,’ he replied, ‘and you’ll discover a great deal of difference, I promise you.’
With that he took hold of her wrist in a vice-like grip and led her out to the courtyard. The cold air hit her for there had been a hard frost in the night and everything was rimed with silver. Around them men were already mounting. Robbie approached leading his own horse and a pretty chestnut mare.
‘Dougal told me to bring this for the lady,’ he explained.
Ashlynn wasn’t listening, her whole attention focused on the horse.
‘Steorra!’
Hearing her name the mare turned her head and whinnied softly. With tears in her eyes Ashlynn went forward to greet her, stroking the furry neck, utterly relieved that the horse had taken no hurt from her recent adventures.
Iain regarded them keenly. ‘I see you two know each other.’
For a moment all her resentment was forgotten. ‘Where did you find her?’
‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘My men found her wandering loose after the battle and brought her along with the horses we took from the Normans.’
‘I see.’
‘Will you mount, Ashlynn, or do you need my help?’
The bland tone didn’t deceive her for a minute, nor was the implication lost. Biting back the pithy retort that sprang to mind she lifted her chin.
‘That won’t be necessary.’
He watched her gather the reins and swing easily into the saddle. Then he mounted his own horse.
‘Let’s go.’
They rode at a steady pace and soon Hexham was far behind. To her relief Iain rode on ahead with Dougal and left her to the charge of the young man called Robbie. Though he cast sidelong glances at her from time to time, conversation was minimal. However, Ashlynn had no desire for it, her mind on other things. With every stride of the horse beneath her the feeling of desperation grew. Soon they would reach the border. Soon she would be lost. She could not allow herself to be sold into slavery or worse. Death would be preferable. Escape was a risk but a calculated one. All she needed was the opportunity.
* * *
It was a relief when the column stopped at noon and she could dismount and stretch her legs for already they felt stiff from the unwonted hours in the saddle. She wondered at these men that they showed no signs of the weariness she felt, or the cold either. As they led the horses to drink at the stream Ashlynn did the same, bending to scoop a handful of water. It was icy but it slaked her thirst. She was occupied thus when she heard a man shout. At once the cry was taken up and, straightening quickly, she looked round.
Half-a-dozen riders had just appeared round a bend in the road and almost ridden into the Scottish force. There followed a confused impression of helmets and mail and then
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