her
ear.
She nodded shortly, puzzled. The
silky voice and the hard gaze she had just met a moment ago did not match. Was
this man always so confusing?
The caravan moved on, Jordan resting
against William’s muscular body. The heat he radiated coupled with the rhythmic
sway of the horse drew at her and she found that she was completely exhausted.
But she fought the sleep that tried to claim her, fearful that if she were to
sleep, somehow she would find herself in the clutches of an English soldier
with evil on her mind. Even though William had pledged to protect her, how
could she be sure? She didn’t know the man, his mind or his convictions. For
all that she knew, she should be trying to protect herself from him.
She tried to sit forward a little,
putting a minuscule amount of space between William’s body and her own. A
minimum safe distance. Yet between the movement of the horse and her own
weariness, she soon found herself resting against him once again.
Sweet Jesu’ , but she felt
content when she was pressed to him. It was an indescribable feeling of
pleasure and satisfaction such as she had never experience before. Although she
was still denying it, her instincts told her that William’s pledge was honorable
and true, and that he was a man of his word.
He said he would die for her.
Somehow, she believed him, although she didn’t want to. She somehow knew that
she could sleep completely in his arms and that nothing at all would harm her.
It was so queer, this trust she felt
with him. Strange and wonderful and the same time. All she had was his word,
the word of an Englishman no less, that no harm would ever come to her. And she
believed him.
Darkly, she began to feel
traitorous. What had she told Jemma? That she would show the English what Scot
pride was? That she would make her family proud? Feeling the emotions that she
was for the captain was certainly no way to make her family proud.
But she was in a new world now, and
she had to do what she had to do to survive in it. If no one but her knew what
she was feeling, then no one would suspect that she was a weak, silly woman whose
weak, silly emotions could rule her head. Only she would know her shame. The shame
in actually not hating an Englishman.
For the moment, she had stopped fighting
and fearing it wasn’t long before he felt her relax completely and her
breathing grew steady. He shifted her so that she lay across him, her head
nestled against his massive bicep and her creamy breasts half-pressed into his
chest. She slept the dead-sleep of a child, her rosy lips parted mostly in
sleep.
As tumultuous as Jordan’s thoughts
were, Williams were worse. He gazed upon her for a moment impassively, as one
sees after a weaker and smaller being. He felt secretive, allowing himself to
drink in the beauty of the woman who had infatuated him for the better part of
a year. He still could not believe she was real; not one of his faded dreams,
and he found that holding her in his arms was one of the more pleasant experiences
of his life. Better than he had imagined.
One of William’s officers, a young
knight named Jason Grey, rode alongside. He could have almost been William’s
younger brother with his darkly handsome looks. His brown eyes raked
appreciatively over Jordan in his captain’s arms.
“A beauty, to be sure,” he commented
seductively.
William felt a strange sense of
possessiveness creep into his veins. Calmly, he glanced down at his burden.
“Aye,” he said evenly. “Jason, go to
the wagon and retrieve a cloak for my lady. It looks to rain.”
Jason reined his animal around and
dashed back along the column.
William let out a sigh of release.
He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. It occurred to him that
having his angel of mercy so near him was going to create a tremendous conflict
in his mind. He had to control himself where she was concerned, no matter what
kind of debt he felt to her. It was an unpaid debt he felt toward
ear.
She nodded shortly, puzzled. The
silky voice and the hard gaze she had just met a moment ago did not match. Was
this man always so confusing?
The caravan moved on, Jordan resting
against William’s muscular body. The heat he radiated coupled with the rhythmic
sway of the horse drew at her and she found that she was completely exhausted.
But she fought the sleep that tried to claim her, fearful that if she were to
sleep, somehow she would find herself in the clutches of an English soldier
with evil on her mind. Even though William had pledged to protect her, how
could she be sure? She didn’t know the man, his mind or his convictions. For
all that she knew, she should be trying to protect herself from him.
She tried to sit forward a little,
putting a minuscule amount of space between William’s body and her own. A
minimum safe distance. Yet between the movement of the horse and her own
weariness, she soon found herself resting against him once again.
Sweet Jesu’ , but she felt
content when she was pressed to him. It was an indescribable feeling of
pleasure and satisfaction such as she had never experience before. Although she
was still denying it, her instincts told her that William’s pledge was honorable
and true, and that he was a man of his word.
He said he would die for her.
Somehow, she believed him, although she didn’t want to. She somehow knew that
she could sleep completely in his arms and that nothing at all would harm her.
It was so queer, this trust she felt
with him. Strange and wonderful and the same time. All she had was his word,
the word of an Englishman no less, that no harm would ever come to her. And she
believed him.
Darkly, she began to feel
traitorous. What had she told Jemma? That she would show the English what Scot
pride was? That she would make her family proud? Feeling the emotions that she
was for the captain was certainly no way to make her family proud.
But she was in a new world now, and
she had to do what she had to do to survive in it. If no one but her knew what
she was feeling, then no one would suspect that she was a weak, silly woman whose
weak, silly emotions could rule her head. Only she would know her shame. The shame
in actually not hating an Englishman.
For the moment, she had stopped fighting
and fearing it wasn’t long before he felt her relax completely and her
breathing grew steady. He shifted her so that she lay across him, her head
nestled against his massive bicep and her creamy breasts half-pressed into his
chest. She slept the dead-sleep of a child, her rosy lips parted mostly in
sleep.
As tumultuous as Jordan’s thoughts
were, Williams were worse. He gazed upon her for a moment impassively, as one
sees after a weaker and smaller being. He felt secretive, allowing himself to
drink in the beauty of the woman who had infatuated him for the better part of
a year. He still could not believe she was real; not one of his faded dreams,
and he found that holding her in his arms was one of the more pleasant experiences
of his life. Better than he had imagined.
One of William’s officers, a young
knight named Jason Grey, rode alongside. He could have almost been William’s
younger brother with his darkly handsome looks. His brown eyes raked
appreciatively over Jordan in his captain’s arms.
“A beauty, to be sure,” he commented
seductively.
William felt a strange sense of
possessiveness creep into his veins. Calmly, he glanced down at his burden.
“Aye,” he said evenly. “Jason, go to
the wagon and retrieve a cloak for my lady. It looks to rain.”
Jason reined his animal around and
dashed back along the column.
William let out a sigh of release.
He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. It occurred to him that
having his angel of mercy so near him was going to create a tremendous conflict
in his mind. He had to control himself where she was concerned, no matter what
kind of debt he felt to her. It was an unpaid debt he felt toward
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