Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(125)

“Milly! What the hell—!” He could find no further words.

The girl smiled gingerly. “I heard ye call me name, and I stepped closer to see what fer.”

Beneath Shanna’s wild-eyed stare, Milly gathered her gaping blouse and began to secure the front of it to cover her small, naked breasts.

“Besides,” Milly pouted petulantly, casting an angry eye toward Shanna, “I was getting tired o‘ waiting fer ye up there, and I ain’t one to like second best.”

“Whaaat!” The word exploded forth from Shanna’s lips. A sudden cold, violent rage flooding all reason whitened Shanna’s cheeks and struck green fire from her eyes as she understood the implication of Milly’s presence.

“Shanna!” Ruark began to struggle to his feet, already seeing the disaster ahead.

Blindly Shanna reached out a hand for a weapon. Any weapon! Her fingers brushed several harnesses hanging from pegs. An infuriated moan escaped her gnashing teeth as she flung the entire mass of leather straps across the two in the straw. The heavy draft collar caught Ruark in the back and flung him again into the stack. He rolled and saw Shanna standing above him, feet spread, arms raised, hair flying and full, white robe flowing about her like a rampant whirlwind. She was like some ancient avenging druid roused from the past. He had never seen her more beautiful, nor more enraged.

“Have your little toss in the hay!” she railed in a voice that could have frozen a flooding tide. “Enjoy yourselves first hand!”

She whirled toward the stall and, as Ruark struggled against the tangle of straps, threw open the gate. Milly began to fight the willful web of harnesses and only engulfed them both all the more. Shanna seized the rope bridle of Jezebel and dragged the animal from the stall. Then grasping a handful of mane, she flung herself astride. With thumping heels she drove the mare through the open stable door.

“Dammit, Shanna, stop!” Ruark bellowed.

Horse and rider cleared the pasture gate as if the steed had wings, and they were gone in the dark.

Ruark struggled to fling the harnesses from him, but Milly’s writhing defeated him. He snarled through gritted teeth.

“Hold still, damn you.”

Milly froze. “I was only funning,” she wailed, suddenly afraid of his wrath.

Ruark’s only reply was an inarticulate growl. Finally he freed himself and running full tilt for the door collided with the stableboy Elot who, rubbing his eyes, had chosen that moment to emerge from the tack room.

The stunned lad struggled to a sitting position from the floor of the stable where he had been knocked and managed, “Wha—”

“Go back to bed!” The words fairly lashed him with their force, and Ruark fled, leaving Elot to stare with amazement at the young girl who seemed to be trying to wear several harnesses at the same time. Mumbling something about nightmares, Elot stumbled back to his cot where he would rise with the morning and wonder at the soreness and bruises that mysteriously afflicted him.

Milly gave an exasperated groan as she tried to free herself from the tangle of straps. She froze as a dark shadow towered over her. Fearfully she raised her gaze.

“Lor‘, gov’na,” she sighed in relief. “Ye gave me a start, ye did. I thought it mighta been Mister Ruark returning.”

A black-gloved hand reached down and lifted the harnesses from her, hanging them on the pegs from which they had been hurled. The black cape swirled, displaying a tall, thin figure as the man knelt to help Milly to her feet. She leaned against him, her ebony eyes smiling coyly into his, and rubbed his shirted chest familiarly with her hand.

“I said what ye told me,” she murmured, peering up into his narrow face. She could see his smile broaden, though his features were shadowed by his tricorn. “But why’d ye push me? I nearly broke me bloomin‘ arse, tumblin’ like that.” She paused and grinned knowingly. “Would’ve ruined yer fun if I had. Aye, that’s the truth.”

The man only nodded then assisted her to the ladder, helping her up into the loft again, there to continue with whatever had occupied them before Ruark’s coming.





Chapter 14




SHANNA FLUNG HERSELF DOWN from the mare’s back and raced up the front steps of the manor. If Ruark came after her, no locked door would bar his entry. Indeed, she wouldn’t put it past him to create a scene right beneath the nose of her father, possibly even demanding to have it all out in the open if she refused him. She must fly before he could catch her. But first to clothe herself. The stable was some distance from the mansion, and Jezebel had crossed the grounds quickly, but Shanna knew she must hurry, for Ruark seemed part savage in some of the feats he accomplished. He was equally swift of mind and foot and had the uncanny ability of appearing almost out of nowhere.