The tall blond ma
n stood to the side of the road, his sword hanging at his side, violence darkening his features. The destrier that Gavin recognized as Jube's was on its side, its gut slit open and spilling entrails onto the dirt road.
"They made certain I could not save her!" he shouted furiously, rage roughing his voice. "By the rood, I'll murder the man who took my Blazon!"
"To me!" Gavin roared, calling his men to cluster about him. "You who cannot fight, do you ride ahead to Prentiss Keep and relate this stealing of the lady to Lord Markhand's captain of the guard-ask for reinforcements. We go east and will see them as they come to join us. Those who can, follow me!"
Rule leapt forward and the others fell in behind. Fortunately, the ground was soft from the rains and left a clear pattern of tracks along the easterly road. Gavin and Rule kept a generous lead from the remainder of the party-approximately eight of the fifteen men with which they'd left Mal Verne.
As they thundered down the road, Gavin forced himself to focus on reaching the kidnappers and saving Madelyne. The man he'd killed had worn no standard or livery that could identify him. It was likely he was part of a band of thieves that preyed on travelers. Mayhaps Madelyne been targeted and taken to be held for ransom. If that were the case, then she would not be harmed.
The tightening of his chest-the fear that he was wrong, that there was some other reason for her kidnapping-grew and he urged Rule on further.
Madelyne swallowed the fear that bubbled in her middle, nauseating her. Mayhaps 'twas the stench of the man who carried her on his mount in front of him that caused her stomach to turn, but most likely it was the horror that she was no longer in the safe hands of Gavin Mal Verne, and had been catapulted into a worse fate than that of being taken to the king.
Her hands were bound tightly in front of her with a rough rope, and she clutched the mane of the horse in hopes that she would not lose her balance and be trampled under its hooves. The man behind her-she'd heard his name given as Arneth-breathed heavily, leaning forward and billowing stale breath into her face.
Lord Gavin.
She thought his name, praying that he would have heard her scream and was even now racing to save her. She did not know who had taken her, nor had the four men who accompanied her captor said anything to disclose the reason for her kidnapping. She had seen through the whirlwind of fear and fighting that some of the men who'd ambushed them had been left for dead, and the others had been separated, retreating in a different direction.
Suddenly, they changed course, wheeling off the road and into the underbrush. She heard a grunt from Arneth, and the reek of his breath buffeted more strongly as he shouted, "We are followed! Break away!"
A leap of hope lunged in her chest, and she wrenched her head to look back. Arneth's face, drawn together in ugly intensity, loomed inches behind her, his gray teeth bared in concentration. Madelyne jerked away from the ugly proximity and felt her seat slip. Bracing her aching legs against the side of the horse, she struggled to regain her balance even as she heard the man chuckle in her ear.
Dear God, please let that be Gavin. Please let him find me. Madelyne prayed with more vehemence than she'd ever thought possible on those nights at the prie dieu in Lock Rose Abbey. I will cease these errant thoughts of him if You will grant me this.
She felt Arneth shift behind her, and then heard his exclamation of surprise. Loud thrashing, heavy breathing, shouts and the unmistakable sound of steel being slid from within steel filled her environment. . . and then suddenly, it was over.
A howl reverberated in her ears as she felt a jerk behind her, then the loss of Arneth's weight in the saddle as he tumbled to the ground. She clutched at the horse, a cry escaping her lips as she began to slip, and then suddenly, she was lifted-plucked easily from her seat-and slammed onto the front of another saddle.
She did not even need to look behind her to know that it was Gavin whose powerful arm held her steady in the seat in front of him, and whose brawny thighs enclosed her. Her heart still thundered in her chest even as they slowed to a canter, and then a trot, and finally to a standstill in the middle of the forest.
If there had been others in the chase, they had left them far behind, and the stillness of the wood caught up with them as they stopped in a small clearing. The only sound was his rough breathing mingling with her own.
Gavin said naught, and she, too, had remained silent, trying to catch her breath and slow her heart. He slid from the saddle, his feet landing on the ground in two rhythmic thumps. When he turned his face to look up at her, raising his arms to lift her from the saddle, Madelyne nearly recoiled in shock.
It was Gavin Mal Verne, and yet it was not.
If she had thought him to have a mask of stone for a face before, she had not a clear idea of how that truly should look-for now his countenance was still, angry, and hard, and his gray eyes blazed with intensity and ferocity as his chest heaved with exertion. His wide brown hands slipped under her bound arms and lifted her down with a gentleness she had not expected.
"I cannot plead your forgiveness enough, my lady," he said stiffly, his flat gaze inscrutable. "My foolish actions and lack of attention to your person were disgraceful and inexcusable. " He looked down at her hands, which were beginning to gray due to the tightness of her bonds. His mouth pinched and she saw his face darken. In a trice, he had sliced the hemp at her wrists and began to chafe them gently.
The pinpricks of circulation returning to her fingers caused her to pull away and shake her hands. "Lord Gavin, I am in your debt for your protection of me-"
"Do not be a fool, my lady," he snapped, spinning away to stalk toward Rule. "'Tis I who am indebted to you, and 'twas my folly that caused you to be in this state. "
He gathered up the trailing reins of the well-trained destrier and, with a quick pat on his nose, led the horse toward Madelyne. Mal Verne's thick dark hair sprung wildly about his face, brushing the heavy black brows that drew together in angry points while curling softly about his ears and throat. The cord of his neck throbbed and thrummed with his furious pulse, and his sensual mouth leveled into a thin, hard line. "Come now, I will get you back to the others where you will be safe. "
He stepped toward her, and the energy that surrounded him engulfed Madelyne even as he reached to touch her. Pushing aside her earlier bargain with God to cease her deviant thoughts of Gavin Mal Verne, she looked up at him and replied, "I cannot be any safer than when I am with you, my lord. "
Her heart swelled in her throat and her stomach turned a little flip when he paused, his hands resting on her shoulders. The harshness in his features eased into derision and weariness clouded his eyes. "If you imagine that, Lady Madelyne, then you are even more of a fool than I believed. " He made ready to lift her, but she stopped him, reaching out to place a light hand on his chest. It felt solid and warm beneath the shifting, chinking of his mail.
"I am no fool, my lord," she replied, suddenly annoyed at his persistence on that track. "An' if that is all you think of me, then-"
"Nay, Madelyne, that is not all that I think of you," he whispered, and suddenly he pulled her to him, his mouth slamming down onto hers.
Those lips that had moments before been hard and unyielding became soft and coaxing as they closed over her mouth that parted in surprise. They molded to hers, hot and smooth and slick, tasting of mint and sweat and man. . . Gavin. Gathered up against his solid chest, Madelyne felt the bumps of the mail and the bands of his arms holding her close, his hands cupping her head from behind. She fitted against his tall length, thigh to thigh, belly to belly, mouth to mouth. Her hand moved up to touch his thick, damp hair, and her fingers brushed the heat and moistness of his neck.