Falling for Her Captor. Elisabeth Hobbes

reckless was slight.

      Though he would have denied it utterly, if questioned, he had developed a grudging respect for the woman. Most fine ladies—and if it came to that some men he could name—would have crumbled in such circumstances, but she remained unafraid. Even her swipe at his position had shown spirit.

      His mind drifted back to his first sight of her, lying barely conscious and helpless against the odious bastard he’d dragged off her. His fists clenched in anger as he remembered the obscene propositions the groom had made regarding the unconscious woman. Hugh’s temper had flared, and when the brute had lunged at him with the knife he had lashed out. The blow he’d delivered had sent the groom’s head back against a tree trunk with a crack of the neck, his body falling lifeless to the floor. Seeing it again in his mind’s eye, he knew he had been right not to trouble her with those particular details.

      Aline was standing now, with her back to him, running her fingers through her dripping hair. Hugh could not tear his eyes away from her. The fabric of her shift clung to her slim form, outlining the contours beneath, yet temptingly veiling them. It had been weeks since he was last with a woman, and he was shocked at the way his heart leaped as he imagined his lips travelling down the slender curve of her spine. The memory of their struggle on the forest floor was vivid. He felt himself stirring at the thought of her body held fast against him, not fighting to escape but with desire matching his own.

      She’s not for you, he told himself sharply.

      He dived under the water and swam a few strokes, hoping the chill would bring him to his senses. Surfacing, he threw his head back to shake the water from his eyes. A ripple of surprise coursed through him as he saw Aline was watching him intently. For a moment they held each other’s gaze. A deep blush began to spread across Aline’s creamy throat and she glanced away hurriedly. This was too much! Could the woman see inside his very thoughts?

      Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious, Hugh strode to where Aline stood and grasped her tightly by the arm.

      ‘Out!’ he commanded. ‘We move on in ten minutes.’

      She made no protest as he hauled her back to the cart. He left her stroking Bayliss while her shift dried in the heat and strode back to the water’s edge. He sent Duncan over with Aline’s clothes, unable to look at her himself.

      ‘Just keep your head down,’ he heard Duncan advise her. ‘Whatever is eating him will pass soon enough.’

      Hugh pulled on his boots roughly, refusing to think about the tears that had brimmed in Aline’s grey eyes. He insisted that they must get through the mountains and down to a more sheltered area before they stopped for the night. ‘The weather is closing in and I have no desire to get caught in a storm without cover,’ he snapped.

      They travelled silently after that. Aline walked the other side of Jack and kept her eyes fixed on the path, which suited Hugh fine. Once they were on flatter ground, and Bayliss and the mare were unhitched from the cart, he brusquely ordered her into the cart and they sped on their way.

      The sun had set by the time they stopped in the shelter of a high rock face. It was still not far enough, but the horses were beginning to stumble on the loose ground. Duncan went to gather wood for the fire, and Jack began preparing dinner. Hugh made some unnecessary adjustments to Bayliss’s bridle and saddle, checked the contents of the seat box and kicked the wheels of the cart before he finally admitted to himself there were no more pretexts for ignoring Aline.

      ‘Will you come out, please, my lady?’

      There was no response. Hugh cleared his throat and stopped himself in the act of smoothing his hair back. He was about to stalk off when Aline climbed through the curtains. The sight stopped him in his tracks. Her hair was free over her shoulders and she had changed into the blue dress. It was too loose, but Aline had gathered it at the waist with the belt and the billowing folds hinted invitingly at the contours beneath. The wide neckline revealed the delicate hollow where neck met collarbone, soft and oh, so tantalising.

      Hugh’s scalp prickled and his stomach flipped. He knew he was staring, and that she was waiting.

      ‘Lady Aline,’ he began hesitantly, feeling as awkward as a youth propositioning his first bar wench, ‘I ask forgiveness for my behaviour earlier. I was rude and it was unwarranted.’

      Before Aline could speak a soft whimper of terror broke the silence. They exchanged a glance of alarm. Hugh took Aline by the arm and pulled her round the corner after him.

      They both stopped short at the sight before them. Jack had been skinning and boning a brace of rabbits and the scent of blood had attracted a wolf. The animal must have been starving and desperate, because the rangy beast had crept closer into the camp and had now backed Jack against the wall of rock. It paced back and forth in front of him, snarling. Whenever the boy made a move it snapped its teeth and pawed the dirt.

      ‘Get back inside,’ Sir Hugh ordered Aline. He pushed her towards the cart before turning to Jack. ‘Throw it the bloody rabbit!’ he ordered.

      The boy was frozen to the spot. He stood holding the carcass as if in a trance, not even aware of the crossbow that lay on the log next to him. The animal was confused by the shout and turned; emitting a low growl, as if unable to decide which man seemed the most likely threat. It turned back to Jack and bared its teeth, transferring its weight as though preparing to attack.

      Sir Hugh took his dagger out of its sheath and with a roar crossed the ground between them. He made a feint at the animal. It turned and tensed, then leaped forwards, hitting him square in the chest and sending him flailing painfully to the ground.