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“Allisun,” he whispered, lowering his head.
“What?” She blinked and shook her head, then flinched. back away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“This.” He moved closer, a hairbreadth from her lips.
She gasped and dodged aside. “Is this the way you keep your truce, by...by attacking me the moment my guard is down?”
“I was merely giving us what we both want.”
“Want?” She dropped his leg back into the water. “You are mad! This unholy lust must run in the Carmichael blood. But I am not as easy a mark as my poor father was.”
“You will cease implying that my aunt was some sort of—”
“Whore!” Allisun sneered. “Adulteress. Is that not what they call a woman who steals another woman’s bus—”
“Hello, there!” called a loud male voice.
Hunter whipped his head up, shocked to find a band of mounted men watching them from across the stream. There must be a score, at least, dressed in leather jacks and trews, swords at their sides, riding sleek horses.
Allisun cursed ripely under her breath and reached for the knife she’d set on the bank.
“Not Murrays, I take it?” Hunter whispered.
“Nay. Nor Bells, either, but they’re not the only vermin hereabouts.” She scrambled to her feet, her knife held before her. “Stay back.”
Hunter grabbed his sword from the stony riverbank, for all the good he’d be on only one leg.
Chapter Four
“Who are you?” Hunter demanded.
The foremost man, a stout fellow with graying hair and a wide, florid face, smiled and held both his hands up, palms out. “Easy...easy. We mean ye no harm.”
“English,” Allisun hissed.
Hunter scowled. “How can you tell? He sounds like a Scot.”
“To you, mayhap, but a Borderer can hear the difference.” Allisun glared at the newcomers. “Be on your way, Englishman.”
“Derk Neville,” the man replied, directing a puzzled glance at Allisun before returning his attention to Hunter. “And the lass is right, I was born across the Tweed. Like many men, I’ve land on both sides of the river. Last year, I bought a fine Scottish tower, and that’s where I make my home at present. We are on our way back there from Kelso.” He gestured at his troop, which included a few heavily laden packhorses. “Went there to fetch some goods my wife ordered.”
“How many men have you got sneaking around behind us?” Allisun demanded.
“None.” Derk looked affronted. “We came down to water our beasts and saw ye two, er, doing whatever ye’re doing.”
Hunter flushed. “I’ve twisted my—”
“He’s washing his feet,” Allisun said.
Derk grinned. “Oh, aye. Well, we’ll just give the beasts a wee sip and be on our way.”
“Don’t come any clos—”
Hunter clamped a hand on her leg. “You’ll have to excuse her curtness. We were set upon by brigands.”
“Was it Bells?” Derk exclaimed.
“Aye,” Hunter said slowly, neither trusting nor distrusting. “How did you know?”
“Well, most of the ill deeds done hereabouts can be laid at Ill Will’s door, but,” he said as he glanced around, “truth to tell, we’d not be taking this trail through the glen if my scouts hadn’t spotted Will and his bunch up on the moor.”
“What were they doing?” Hunter and Allisun both asked.
“Roasting a haunch of beef.”
“You are certain ’twas not a man?” Allisun asked.
“The lass knows Ill Will, I see. Nay, ’twas a steer. They had a good-size herd standing about nearby. Will’s men looked right busy keeping an eye on them, but my lads and I decided we’d not take a chance the Bells had time to rob us.” He grinned. “My Morna’d have a fit if I lost that thick Turkish carpet before she’s had a chance to walk on it.”
Hunter smiled back and laid his sword down. “We understand. Come ahead and water your stock, Derk Neville.”
“Nay,” Allisun softly cried. “What if he’s lying?”
“Shh.” Hunter motioned her down beside him. “The truth is, if Derk wanted to kill us, there is not a damn thing I could do to stop him,” he whispered. It galled, for he was a man who prided himself on his ability to cope with any situation. “I might take one or two with me,” he added, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Nevilles dismounted and brought their mounts to drink at the stream. “But I’d not win.”
“Us,” she hissed back. “I know how to use this, and if I had a sword—”
“Allisun.” He closed his hand over her clenched fist. “Even if we had two swords apiece, they’d best us.”
She glared hatred at the Nevilles. “What do we do?”
Derk Neville hailed them from across the stream. “Couldn’t help noticing ye’ve no horses about.”
“They are grazing,” Allisun replied.
Hunter squeezed her hand, then looked at Derk. “Actually, we lost both mounts getting away from the Bells.”
“Ah. Ye’re lucky to be alive. Ye hurt yer foot?” At Hunter’s nod, Derk frowned. “If ye like, we could juggle our load and free up a horse for the pair of ye to ride.”
“Aye,” said Hunter.
“Nay,” said Allisun.
“We must. No telling how long before our kinsmen can safely look for us,” Hunter said through his teeth. No telling if they were even alive. Then louder he said, “Thanks. We accept.”
Allisun spat a curse that would have made a trooper blush.
“Did your mother never tell you swearing isn’t ladylike?”
“She died when I was six.”
Hunter’s anger leached away. “I am sorry.” Recalling the gentle guidance and unswerving love of his own mother, Hunter felt a stab of pity for this prickly lass. With his free hand, he gently grazed her cheek.
She knocked his hand aside, her eyes flashing blue fire, her chin mutinously high. “I’m not going with you.”
Beneath her defiance, Hunter saw a flicker of fear. It stabbed at his conscience, reminding him that he was responsible for her safety. Whether she liked it or not. “Aye, you are. I’ll not leave you here alone and on foot with the Bells—”
“You are not responsible for me,” she snapped.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Derk asked, grinning as he waded across the stream.
Allisun glared at Derk and tried vainly to wrench her hand from Hunter’s grip. “We are not—”
“Of a sort,” Hunter interjected, seeing an answer to the questions he knew Derk would pose about who they were. “We were running away.” Beside him, he heard Allisun draw breath to protest. He stilled it by wrapping a loverlike arm around her waist and squeezing... hard.
“Humph,” Allisun wheezed, exhaling noisily.
“Her family does not approve of me.” Hunter grinned in response to her outraged expression. Under cover of dropping a kiss on her brow, he whispered, “If you do not go along with me, he may learn you’re a Murray and decide to collect the reward Uncle Jock has offered for you.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth snapped shut.
“Truly?” Derk climbed the bank, water streaming from his knee-high boots. His sharp gaze moved from Hunter’s equally fine boots and Spanish-made sword to Allisun’s worn tunic.
Hunter’s nimble mind seized a likely response. “I’m a Highlander,” he confided. “Her kin feared I’d take her north, and they’d never see her again.”
“Highlander, ye say. What clan?”
“Sutherland. I am Hunt Sutherland of Kinduin,” he added, borrowing his Uncle Lucais’s surname and estate.
Derk nodded his head in acknowledgment and turned to Allisun. “And ye, lass?”
“Allie...Allie Hall.”
“Hall?” Derk rubbed his thick gray beard. “From where?”
“Over Moffat way,” she said grudgingly, glaring at Hunter.
“Allie Sutherland, she is now.” Hunter met her scowls with a wide grin. “We are handfasted,” he added, to prevent her from being branded a loose woman.
Allie made a choking sound, her eyes wide with horror. Do you realize what you have done? they silently asked.
Hunter was a little shocked himself. The words had just slipped out before he’d had a chance to think...really think... about the consequences. In some places, merely declaring themselves wed before witnesses was enough to unite a couple for a year and a day. Then if the marriage did not suit them, the couple could separate. They’d be parting much sooner than that, Hunter thought. “’Tis just till we can find a priest and be properly wed,” he added, and hoped Derk would think lack of a permanent ceremony the reason for Allie’s outburst.
“Women set store by that,” Derk said. “’Tis pleased I am to meet ye both. Ah, here come the lads with the horses.”
While Derk went to meet his men, Hunter levered himself to his feet. “I am sorry for that,” he whispered to Allisun. “But I could not have him think you were a...a—”
“Better a whore than your wife,” she snapped.
“You are not the mate I’d choose, either,” Hunter said through set teeth. “But ’tis only for a few days, till my ankle heals and we can go our separate ways.”
“If they will let us.” Fear shadowed her eyes, and her lips trembled slightly as she watched the Nevilles close in on them.
Hunter felt another unwelcome stab of sympathy. Poor thing, she’d been hunted and hounded most of her life. “Do not be afraid.” He put an arm around her. “I will not abandon you.”
Allisun. threw off his arm and glared up at him. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”
“Aye.” Twelve years ago he’d been unable to save his aunt. He would not fail another woman.
“We are enemies,” she hissed as the Nevilles led forth a horse. “Why should you care what happens to me?”
“I do not know.” Hunter studied her delicate profile, the high cheekbones, haughty nose and willful chin. She was a complex lass, her bravery unquenched by hardship, her beauty undimmed by poverty. But the years had marked her, he thought, recalling the lush mouth that was made to smile but seldom did, the eyes so often shuttered and unreadable.
What was it about her that moved him?
The storm that had threatened the night before began in earnest as they set out.
The cool drizzle suited Allisun’s mood exactly. She wanted to feel as miserable on the outside as she did on the inside, torn by concern for her kinsmen and apprehension for herself.
“Here, this will keep off the rain.” Hunter draped over them both an oiled cloth he’d had in his saddle roll.
“I am used to being wet.” Allisun flung back the cloth.
“Allie, ’tis possible they are back home, safe and dry.”
“Our roof leaks,” she snapped.
“I am sorry for that.”
“Jock is not. He burned us out of our tower.” The memory of that chaotic night, filled with fire and screams of pain, bolstered her anger against Hunter.
“Getting sick yourself will not change that.” He tucked the oiled cloth securely around her, then clamped an arm about her waist to keep it there.
Allisun fumed, trapped against the hard wall of his chest. It was like being enveloped by a furnace. She tried to maintain her stiff posture, but the heat from his body seeped in to banish the cold from hers. Lulled by the warmth and the horse’s rolling gait, her tired muscles sagged and her weary mind drifted back over the night’s events.
Damn Hunter for being so confounding. His words, his actions confused her. She did not like him, but her reasons for hating him were no longer as clear as they had been. When he’d first guessed her identity, she’d expected to be abused or even killed. After all, he’d spent the past twelve years believing her father had murdered his aunt. But instead of taking his anger out on her, he had treated her with gentleness and respect. Oh, his high-handedness grated on her independent spirit, but his dry wit tickled her latent sense of humor. And that hadn’t happened in a long, long time. How could a man be infuriating and amusing at the same time?
Well, there was nothing humorous about the situation in which she now found herself. Handfasted to Hunter Carmichael.
Her parents and brothers were doubtless turning over in their graves. The only consolation she could offer to them, and to herself, was that it was temporary. As soon as they reached Derk Neville’s tower, she’d find a way to escape.
“Allie?”
“Hmm?” Realizing she’d slumped into him, she stiffened.
“Nay. Lean back, rest. I but wanted to tell you—”
“I am not tired.” She sat bolt upright.
