Elisabeth Hobbes - Falling for Her Captor

‘I wasn’t going to thank you,’ Aline called after him. ‘I was going to tell you not to treat me as though I am incapable!’

He turned back to look at her and cocked his head. ‘Then we can all walk faster, my lady.’

His lips curled into a smile and Aline could not tell if it was mocking or not. She stalked past him with her head high and a flounce of her skirts. After that Aline caught him looking at her more than once with something in his expression that she could not identify.

The temperature increased hourly. They’d reached the high point by mid-afternoon, but as they began their descent down through the pass it became uncomfortably hot. The travellers were all irritable and bickering at the slightest provocation when they came upon a tarn, deep and clear, set into an outcrop on the hill. The pool looked so invitingly cool that Aline longed to dive in.

Clearly Aline was not the only one who found the water calling to her, because with Sir Hugh’s consent the men stripped off their shirts and boots and plunged into the water. Aline stood by the cart, enviously watching.

Duncan waded to Sir Hugh. The men had a brief exchange, then Duncan climbed onto the bank and escorted Aline down to the water, suggesting she swim, too. She had a brief internal battle about the appropriateness of undressing in front of her captors and almost refused.

‘We’ll close our eyes while you get in!’ Jack yelled good-heartedly.

Aline laughed, her resolve wavering. She glanced at Sir Hugh, but he had turned away and was wading to the middle of the lake in confident strides. In the end the overpowering heat and the need to wash away the grime of the past three days won out over modesty. She discarded her boots and thick stockings and then, turning her back on the swimmers, unlaced her bodice and slipped out of the torn and filthy dress. She quickly waded into the shallows in her undershift.

Ah, the water was wonderful! Revelling in the sensation of the cool water around her body, she unwound her hair from its braid. Closing her eyes, she lay back and floated. For the first time in days she felt peaceful, forgetting her captivity and the man who waited at the end of the journey.

* * *

Sir Hugh stood waist-deep in the tarn, watching his prisoner as she lay in the water. Her pale hair drifted around her like a cloud of smoke and her face was serene. It had been an impulse to let the men cool off and a risk to allow Lady Aline to do the same. But then, what harm could it do? The journey had been difficult and she seemed exhausted—a marked contrast to the spirited woman who had so fiercely fought him. Since that first escape attempt she had caused no difficulties, and the likelihood of her attempting anything 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.