His Lady of Castlemora(4)

There had been female companions, of course, in the past six years,  women of a certain class who filled a need. They were transient and soon  forgotten, unlike Beatrice. Her image was still vivid, although he'd  long since understood what she was.

Deep in thought Ban had been wandering along the edge of the burn,  winding among the trees, paying little heed to his surroundings. He had  left his men some way behind, being happy enough with his own company.  Now he paused in the dappled shade beneath a mountain ash and looked  about him. It was a pleasant scene with hills and trees and burn. The  summer had been unusually warm and dry and the flow was slightly less  now, but still the stream sparkled and leapt over the stones in its bed,  the water a clear peaty brown. Presently, it fell over a rocky shelf  and tumbled into a wide pool below. It looked cool and inviting and a  swim would be most welcome. Ban sat down and pulled off his boots. As he  did so a movement caught his eye and he saw that he was not the first  to think of the idea. Someone was swimming on the far side.

Instinctively he ducked behind a boulder, watching. He could see a horse  tethered to a bush and a pile of clothing at the water's edge. Then his  eyes widened and a smile dawned. The figure in the water was  unmistakably female. He had an impression of a slender waist and long  shapely legs. Long brown hair trailed after her like some exotic weed.  Who was she? Where had she come from? There were no dwellings near. She  was no commoner; one look at her mount established that. She was clearly  no blushing maiden either. Such girls were carefully chaperoned and  certainly not permitted to ride out alone, or to swim naked in lonely  woodland pools. Only one kind of woman would display her charms in such a  way. Ban grinned. Doubtless she had not expected to find a client in so  remote a spot, but this was a ready-made opportunity and no red-blooded  man would pass it up. If she was amenable they could spend an enjoyable  half-hour together on the river bank, time for which she would be amply  recompensed afterwards.                       
       
           



       

Stripping to his breeches Ban waded into the pool. The water was cold  enough to make him gasp but he plunged in, all sound concealed by the  fall above. Then, duck diving, he swam under water towards the far side  of the pool. By the time he surfaced near the other bank the girl was  out and drying herself with a linen cloth. She was younger than he'd  first thought, eighteen perhaps or a little more, but her body revealed  the rounded curves of early womanhood. Having removed much of the water  she wrapped the cloth around her and sat down on a rock to let the sun  do the rest. Its heat was already drying her hair and he saw now that he  had been mistaken: it was not dark brown but deepest auburn and it  framed a lovely face. Ban's smile widened. This really was too good to  miss.





Chapter Two


It was the horse that alerted Isabelle to his presence for the animal  threw up its head and whinnied as it scented him. She looked round  following the direction of the horse's gaze, and then drew in a sharp  breath. Hazel eyes widened as they registered the figure moving towards  her and she jumped up and backed a pace, ready to flee. Though the  stranger was apparently unarmed he was fully six feet tall and possessed  of the broad shoulders and hard-muscled arms that bespoke the fighting  man. His waist had not a hint of fat about it, nor the long powerful  legs currently accentuated by the clinging breeks. He stopped a few feet  away. She had an impression of tawny hair and blue eyes and a  clean-shaven face with strong lines and a square jaw. Then he smiled,  revealing even white teeth.

'Good afternoon.'

Her heartbeat quickened. The courteous greeting was at distinct variance  with the boldness of his manner and his present state of undress.  Darting a swift look around her, she became more acutely aware of her  present isolation and the remoteness of the place. If she screamed no  one would hear. Besides, it was a mistake to show fear. He had clearly  formed the wrong impression about her, but if she kept calm she might be  able to talk her way out of this.

Ban saw the dainty chin tilt. Far from appearing embarrassed or afraid  the look in her eyes was bold, challenging even. It satisfied him. He  hadn't been mistaken. Unusually though, she lacked the hardness he  associated with harlots. Perhaps that came with time. As yet she was  unmarked by her experiences and, at closer quarters, even more  desirable. The strength of his reaction surprised him. His gaze  travelled downwards, mentally removing the cloth again. Seeing this, the  colour rose in her face.

'How long have you been watching me?'

'Long enough.'

The blush deepened and the hazel eyes sparkled with anger. 'How dare you spy on me?'

'Unforgivable I know,' he admitted, 'but impossible to look away. Figures like yours are all too rare.'

She drew in a sharp breath at the sheer effrontery of it. Undismayed he waited, surveying her with keen enjoyment.

'You spy on me and then you insult me,' she said.

'No insult, lady, I swear. Consider it rather in the nature of homage to your beauty.'

'Such homage I can do without.'

'But it must be paid anyway.'

She shrugged. 'A cat may look at a king.'

'Or a queen,' he replied.

'I do not aspire so high.'

'Why, no, for if you were a queen you would not be alone in such a place as this; nor would you swim naked in the burn.'

Isabelle's heart sank and she backed another pace. The stranger came on, moving with apparent nonchalance.

'You need have no fear of me, lady. I won't hurt you.'

'What do you want?'

'Half an hour of your time, for which I will pay in gold.'

Her cheeks so pink before turned pale. He couldn't be serious. Another  look at his expression disabused her of the idea. His intentions were  unmistakable. Talking her way out of trouble was no longer an option.  There was only one possibility now: to run for it.

He caught her in three strides, swinging her up into his arms. Isabelle  shrieked. There followed a few seconds of furious struggle but his hold  didn't alter. If anything he seemed amused. For one brief instant he  looked into her face, then bent his head and brought his lips down on  hers.                       
       
           



       

Her stifled cry of protest was ignored, and the kiss became more  insistent, his mouth seeking her response in a more intimate embrace.  Being crushed against him it was harder to breathe. Naked warmth pressed  close. He drew back a little and again the blue eyes burned into hers,  their expression unmistakable. Her heart lurched painfully.

'Please, I beg you...'

The construction he put on the words was quite other than she had  intended. 'Have no fear, my sweet, you'll get what you want I promise  you.'

Panic-stricken now, she redoubled her efforts. 'Let go of me! Put me down!'

He retained his hold with difficulty. 'What the devil...?'

'I said let me go!'

In another woman he'd have suspected playful protest and half-hearted  struggle to increase his ardour, but there was nothing coy about her  tone or expression and nothing half-hearted about her struggles. He  frowned.

'Hold still, you little hellion. I'm not going to hurt you.'

'Then put me down.'

Hearing the note of fear beneath her command he hesitated. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'How can you ask me that, you clod?'

'Clod is it? Perhaps I should show you otherwise.'

She almost lunged out of his arms. 'You'll have to kill me first.'

'I have no intention of killing you, you little fool, only of pleasuring you.'

'Never!'

The challenge was there and the temptation. He gritted his teeth, only  too aware of the hot ache in his loins, of understanding that he wanted  her more than any woman he could remember, and knowing how easy it would  be to see his will met. Then he looked into her face. It reaffirmed the  fear and reluctance he had seen before. Passion began to ebb. He'd seen  enough of violence and violation to last him a lifetime. He wouldn't  inflict that on any woman, least of all this one.

'For one who desires to escape a man's attentions you are very scantily clad.'

She made no reply to this but the look in her eyes was eloquent enough. His frown deepened.

'Have no fear. I'll not take a woman against her will.'

To her unspeakable relief he slackened his hold and set her on her feet.  Grabbing the linen sheet she drew it higher, clutching it close. Her  face was very pale, her heart thundering against her ribs.

He glared at her. 'I think you'd better explain.'

'I... It's not what you think. In truth it is not. I thought only to bathe.'

'A foolish thought,' he replied. 'Does your husband know you ride out alone?'

'I am not married.' That much was true at any rate and she had no intention of enlightening him about the rest.

The news surprised him. She was of more than marriageable age and fair besides. 'Your father then?'