Stealing the Bride. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
look. He pressed his knees into his stallion and guided the animal closer to her with a firm hand on the reins.
“Because I used yer name, lass? Well now, yer brother told me ye were nay the sort of girl impressed with ceremony and titles.”
“My brother told you several things you’d be better off not counting on.” Elspeth suddenly wanted to know what his face looked like beneath that beard. She scoffed at herself for thinking it, annoyed that she couldn’t keep her thoughts on the conversation.
“Is that so?” Something flashed in his eyes that drew an answering flicker from deep inside her. She raised her chin, giving him nothing kind in her expression. But the eager looks on the faces of her brother’s men returned to needle her. The man in front of her was powerful; insulting him was not wise.
That didn’t mean she was set to do what he wanted. Handfasting was sure to gain her nothing. She would have to think of a way to send him away without offending him.
“I came out here to think things through, and I’ve no had any time to do that just yet.”
“So I can leave, is that the way of yer thinking, lass?”
Her horse was nervous with the lightning still making jagged lines across the sky.
“Aye. For the moment. ’Tis nothing against ye.”
He grunted. “Well now, Elspeth, I do believe ye are living up to the very image yer brother painted of ye.” His face darkened. “But I’ve come to meet ye and a bit of surly temper will nae send me packing.”
“Ye’re too accustomed to people pampering ye if you think I am being surly.”
“Pampering?”
He nearly choked on the word, bringing a smile to her lips. Elspeth shrugged.
“Do you mean to imply that yer position does nae bring many to you who do naught but agree with anything ye say?”
The rain began to soak her, a full downpour with no softness to begin it. Wild and harsh, the weather whipped against them, soaking her to the skin in moments. It suited her mood and she didn’t even raise the hood of her cloak but left it draping down her shoulders while the rain wet every inch of her head.
“You certainly don’t suffer from that need.” He sat as content as she in the rain, no hint of dislike for the cold water bathing him. It soaked his shirt, where the front of his doublet was unbuttoned. The fabric plastered itself to his form, allowing her to see the firm ridges of muscle that coated his chest. Apparently he was a man of action. That was in his favor, but it was not enough to gain him hers.
“As if I care what any man thinks of me.” Elspeth kneed her mount and the animal needed no further urging to break into a full run. She did not mind the rain; however, her brother’s horse falling sick would mean trouble for her. But she did not mind taking a care with the stallion. Riding such a magnificent creature meant thinking of its health too. That was the bond that yielded trust between horse and rider. It was getting colder by the minute, so she would have to take the animal back to its dry stable.
The ride back to the stable was very different from the one away from it. A strange awareness invaded her mind, interfering with her normal enjoyment. She couldn’t become one with the beast, couldn’t seem to forget that Hayden Monroe was behind her. She could hear the faint pounding of his horse’s hooves breaking through the thunder to tease her ears. For certain, men had flirted with her in the past, but this was different. She was acutely conscious of the fact that he was trailing her, actually chasing her for the purpose of bedding her.
That was a wicked thought if ever there was one. It bled through her like scarlet wine spilled on a cream-colored table linen. You knew it would be impossible to remove completely, yet couldn’t help but watch in fascination as it was streaked farther across the fabric.
She wanted to turn her head and look back, but that would only encourage the man. It would be the same as hoisting a flag of surrender. What did it matter if he was well muscled? She needed to recall her mother’s words and the teaching of the church, because handfasting was considered pagan.
That was what she needed to do. She knew it and still part of her wanted to know Laird Monroe better.
Elspeth snorted at herself. She gained the path that led to the tower and growled when she noticed the green and yellow flags of Monroe sticking to the stone of the walls. Even soaked with rain, they still stood out, announcing the presence of the powerful laird.
But what enraged her was the looks she gained when she entered the yard. People poked their heads out of windows and doorways. All of them looking at her expectantly. Her cheeks heated when she realized that they were wondering if she was still a maiden. Many of them looked at her dress, seeking out any little telltale sign that she’d already surrendered to Hayden Monroe.
Well, she would not be.
And that was that.
Chapter 2
They gained the stable and she was forced to slide from the saddle. The yard was already muddy, making her glad she had good boots to protect her feet. A man like Monroe would have a stone courtyard, with thousands upon thousands of small rocks hauled up to his castle to keep the rain from turning the courtyard outside his home into a bog. It was a task for which a smaller clan such as the Leasks did not have the resources.
At least the stable was sturdy and dry. The stallion was happy to be led through the doorway and toward his stall. He snorted and shook the water from his head. Elspeth heard Monroe behind her and peeked back at the man. Slight amazement hit her as she caught him seeing to his horse with his own hands. For so powerful a man, the sure strokes of his hands drew her attention. He was no stranger to the task and even appeared to be enjoying it. No boy appeared to relieve his laird of the chore, which meant the man had either told his people to leave them alone or he always saw to his own stallion.
“Ye find it surprising that I tend to my own horse, Elspeth?”
She frowned at the use of her Christian name. But a little ripple of sensation traveled across her skin leaving gooseflesh behind. He chuckled at her pout, clearly enjoying her annoyance.
“I suppose ye believe that the laird of the Monroe clan would be above doing chores, but I’ll tell ye something, lass—any man who will nae rub down his own stallion does nae deserve the trust of that animal.”
“I agree.”
Her own hands were moving along the flanks of her brother’s horse, and even if her fingers lacked the strength of a man, she would keep at the task in spite of the ache that often invaded her joints. It was how she showed the animal he was more than just a beast of burden.
Monroe nodded. “’Tis a point of honor to look after good Hector here. I’m longing for the day that I can teach me son to honor the same tradition.”
“Ah, of course, the reason ye are here.” Her voice sounded hurt and she struggled against the feeling because it shouldn’t make any difference whatsoever why the man was on Leask land.
“Well now, lass, would ye prefer that I came to meet ye because of the number of sheep yer brother offered me to take ye?”
“No.” She rubbed a little too hard, gaining a snort from her brother’s horse. “Why did ye name yer horse after a hero who fell before the end of the battle?”
“Because he carries me, and all men have flaws, lass.” Monroe stopped working and looked over the back of his horse at her. “I have desires that distract me and I’m no fool enough to say otherwise.”
“What ye want is a sin. The church could have us lashed for even talking about handfasting, ye know.”
He laughed, the sound deep and brassy. With a final pat on Hector’s flank, he stepped around the animal. Elspeth felt him nearing her. Her belly tightened and her eyes were glued to him in fascination.
“Lads