A Laird for Christmas Page 8

  Egan, the one servant who had come along with them, corralled the dogs with the crack of a whip and kept them on the scent of the fox. The open field was cloaked with drifting shreds of fog that dispersed briefly as the horses pelted across the sleepy earth. A glance back over her shoulder showed the fog settling again as though undisturbed. The echo of hoofbeats sounded in the morning air.

  Colin, sensing his private moment was over, moved ahead with the others, but another rider remained.

  “You will not win this competition if you hang back here with me, Sir Nicholas.”

  “You know I do not care one whit for winning if it means you come to harm,” Nicholas replied without looking at her. His shoulders were tense.

  “Relax. What could happen out here while we are moving?”

  His lips tightened, but he said quietly, “Anything.”

  Jane was about to laugh when her horse suddenly pitched forward, in but a moment hitting the ground with an audible thud. She released the reins and rolled away from the beast as the ground slammed up to meet her. She gasped at the shock of pain that radiated through her side.

  Before she could even orient herself to the situation, Nicholas was beside her. Instead of scooping her into his arms as she expected, he pulled her gently behind the fallen horse, using the animal as a shield as he peered out over the meadow.

  All was quiet except for the retreating hoofbeats from the riders who had not seen what had happened. A moment later, she and Nicholas were alone in the open space. His horse pranced while hers whinnied, frightened in her entangled state.

  “Are you hurt?” Nicholas said, hovering over her. The concern in his eyes nearly brought tears to her own. A warm sensation moved through her, dispelling the remnants of pain. “Only my pride.”

  He reached out and touched her cheek with one finger. “I could not bear it if something happened to you.” A heartbeat later his finger was gone and he reached for his boot, withdrawing a small dagger.

  “Stay low,” he warned as he stroked the neck of her horse, then reached over the animal to slice through the rope that entangled her feet. The horse kicked until her feet were free.

  “Get ready to move,” he warned as the horse rocked back and forth a moment before gaining its feet. Once the horse was in motion, so were they. Jane got to her feet, but then she found herself lifted as Nicholas ran for his own mount, set her on its back, then joined her. With a click of sound he guided the horse back toward the castle at breakneck speed. Her own horse followed. She was pleased to see her gait steady and strong as the scared animal hung close to Nicholas’s mount. Jane was scared, too, as she clung to the horse’s mane and took comfort from the solid wall of muscle at her back.

  “I need to stay with the hunt.” The masculine scent that was Nicholas’s own spun Jane’s head so thoroughly she could barely think straight.

  “No.” The harsh sound brought her gaze to his. Anger and frustration darkened his eyes.

  “But the competition—”

  “There will be no need of a competition if you are dead.” The words were rough, crisp, and true.

  Jane turned back around as a frisson of fear tingled across her flesh. There could be no more denying that she was the target of the so-called accidents that had occurred over the past several weeks. Someone wanted her dead. Bryce? Or someone else? Bryce could not have orchestrated this attack. He was hunting with the rest of her suitors. She had seen him only moments before the attack, riding beside David for the lead.

  Then who? Jane shook off her thoughts and looked about her. Nicholas had changed his course while she was lost in thought, no longer heading toward the castle. Instead, he came to a halt outside the vacant woodcutter’s cottage on the eastern side of Bellhaven’s land. He slid down from the horse then, gripped her waist, and lifted her down beside him. He did not linger beside her. He grabbed his satchel and headed for the door.

  Jane halted in the doorway of the musty cabin, waiting for him to locate a candle or lantern. “Why are we here? I thought it was protection you sought?”

  “I am adequate protection for you right now.” He shuffled in the darkness until a flare of light suddenly lit the small room. He set the candle on the rickety table. “We cannot give ourselves away with a fire,” he said as the small flame sputtered in the chill air.

  Jane shut the door, then unfastened her crushed hat and set it on the rough-cut table two paces from him. Her heart hammered at the sight of his lean power and strength. His dark gaze fixed on her. The raw hunger in them made her hot and shivery.

  Jane broke her gaze and turned away even as a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill air slipped down her spine.

  Nicholas moved to the closed doorway. A heartbeat later, Jane heard someone walking around outside. Nicholas stepped back from the doorway, swept Jane into his arms and pulled her behind him into the shadows while they listened.

  Jane went stock-still as her chest connected fully with his back and a wave of familiarity and desire tore through her. The heat of him warmed her and his raw masculine power overwhelmed her. Even more disturbing was the fact that she closed her eyes and drew in the scent of leather and sandalwood. Nicholas’s scent. She had never forgotten it. But she also had never forgotten the way he had left her behind. Her brother had demanded Nicholas leave her, accusing him of only wanting her title and land. Instead of fighting for her and what they had once shared, he vanished from her life.

  It had taken her months to get over his betrayal and to feel as though her life was not fracturing into a million little pieces. Jane opened her eyes. Her body still remembered his and mourned his loss, but she was older, wiser, and would never allow him to hurt her that way again. She clenched her fingers at her side, fighting for control as the sound of boot heels stopped right in front of the door.

  Nicholas could not breathe with Jane so close to him. He had always been highly tuned to Jane’s senses, and with her this close, the torture was all too real. He felt her all the way through his body. He flexed his hand at his side, fighting the desire that had been theirs so long ago. They had only ever shared passionate kisses, but the memory of her touch, her softness, haunted him now.

  He had brought her into the cottage because he knew they were being followed. He had heard the telltale sounds of one set of hoofbeats behind them and he had wanted to confront the enemy at a point of his own choosing. Had they returned to the castle, it would have been too easy for the villain to blend in with everyone else, as he had before, bringing them no closer to finding who was threatening Jane. He could protect her from harm here with a face-to-face confrontation.

  There was a shuffle just outside the door; the latch raised.

  Nicholas tensed and soundlessly moved with Jane further into the shadows, out of harm’s way. The door creaked open, and a sliver of daylight seeped into the cottage. With only a rush of air to be heard, Nicholas drew his sword. A foot appeared, then the full skirts of a woman. A young woman?

  “Who’s there?” the woman asked, peering inside the cottage.

  Nicholas did not lower his weapon as he stepped out of the shadows. “The better question is who are you?”

  She fumbled with her skirts as she stepped back outside. “I came to meet my brother, the woodcutter. He lives here. I saw the horses and worried he might be in trouble.”

  Nicholas kept his grip firm on his sword, still uncertain about the woman or her purpose in the woods. “Who is your brother?” Nicholas asked, watching her response.

  The girl paled. “I told you. He is the woodcutter here.”

  “His name.” Nicholas stepped toward the intruder. “If he was your brother, then what was his name?”

  “P-Peter,” she said with a hint of triumph in her voice.

  “And your name?”

  “Clara-Clarisa. Clarisa.”

  Nicholas’s instincts warned him that all was not right with this girl. But he honestly could not tell if the girl had a simple nature, or if she were
having a difficult time recalling her brother and her own name. She appeared harmless enough.

  “Where is my brother?” she asked again.

  “He is not here.” Nicholas eased his grip on his sword.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”

  Nicholas studied the woman. Was she the one who had attacked Jane that morning? A thin serving girl? She appeared too slight and inexperienced to launch the weapon that had taken down Jane’s horse. “We needed to rest before we returned to the castle.”

  Nicholas sheathed his sword, but his senses remained on alert. He moved back toward Jane as his protective instincts heightened. Never would he take chances with Jane’s life. If the girl were involved in Jane’s accident, she had to be working with someone else.

  The girl scowled. “You’re from the castle? I have never seen you before.”

  Jane stepped around him. “Perhaps not, but I am from Bellhaven.”

  At the sight of Jane, the young woman’s eyes widened. She dropped into a curtsey, bowing her head, or blocking her face from full view. Nicholas was not certain which. “Milady, I had no idea ’twas you.”

  By the inflection in her voice, the girl sounded genuinely surprised at Jane’s presence. As the young girl straightened, Nicholas turned his attention to Jane. Her face was calm, but a slight crease settled across her forehead as she studied the young, flaxen-haired woman. Neither woman spoke as they sized up each other. Finally, Jane turned back to him. “We all need to return to the castle. At least there we are safe.”

  Jane’s last word trailed off and Nicholas knew she was thinking about the times at the castle when someone had threatened her life. She was not safe, neither in nor out of the castle. Was she even safe in the presence of her suitors? The thought made Nicholas uneasy, for he knew he could not have exclusive rights to Jane. Not while this ridiculous competition was underway. Something inside him twisted at the thought, but he forced it away. He needed to remind Jane of what they once shared and let the memories bring her back to him.

  Wasting precious moments in the cottage would not serve him there. He gently took Jane’s hand in his. “Come, let us return to the castle.”

  Jane started at the touch of his hand, almost as though the feel of his roughness against her softness were a foreign kindness. She tightened her fingers around his and scorched him all the way to his heart. He swallowed, then stiffened as he led Jane outside.

  Nicholas made certain at all times that the flaxen-haired girl was in front of them. He watched her mount the horse she had taken from Bellhaven before he set Jane upon his horse. They would once again share an animal since Jane’s horse was no longer in sight. Presumably instinct had sent the injured animal back to the castle. He would make certain to find the beast when they returned and treat any possible wounds.

  “After you,” Nicholas said to the girl, waving her in front of them. He had no intention of giving her access to Jane or a chance to run away. He had more questions for her when they returned.

  As they plodded through the snow, Nicholas was keenly aware of Jane’s nearness. The feel of her back against his chest did something to him that he could not define. Nicholas breathed in her sweet, feminine scent as his body throbbed and ached for her with a primitive need. Was there anything he could do or say that would help her remember what they had once shared? Did he have a chance of winning at all when compared to the physical perfection of Colin Taylor?

  Plagued by the disquieting thought, Nicholas turned his attention back to Jane. Despite the incident this morning, she sat tall and proud upon the horse. Her chin was tilted slightly, and a look of determination settled across her face.

  Instantly, he remembered what it was about Jane that had captivated him long ago. It was not her beauty; it was her indomitable will. There was a strength in Jane he had rarely seen in other women. She spoke her mind. And as she spoke, it was hard not to see that her soul was filled with fire and vitality. An irresistible combination.

  Nicholas frowned. Did the others see what he saw in Jane? If so, this competition could become ruthless, for Nicholas did not intend to lose what was once so precious to him.

  With the reins in one hand, he brought his other hand up to pluck a leaf from the escaping hair of Jane’s tight plait. He should have pulled back when the leaf was gone, yet he could not resist coiling his finger in the wisp at her nape. Her glorious thick hair had always intrigued him. In the weak winter sun, her hair was like golden sunshine and warm silk against his flesh.

  At this touch, she did not pull away. He saw her smile. Sensual and knowing and devastating. The amused gleam in her eyes was breathtaking, and her features softened with the charm that had always been his undoing. She would melt their hearts, all six of her suitors.

  Nicholas suddenly needed to ask the question burning in his mind. “Why have this competition, Jane? Why not choose your champion and be done with it?”

  “The competition was Aunt Margaret’s idea.”

  “You seem perfectly happy to participate,” Nicholas replied with an edge to his words.

  Jane’s smile faded. “I have no other choice. If I want to keep the castle, I must marry. Father’s will allows me no other option.”

  “You are certain your kin are dead?”

  “It has been six months.” Her voice rose. The girl on the horse in front of them turned back to stare. “Why do they not return if they are alive?” Jane asked in a softer voice as her brow knit. “I know it sounds terrible, but I almost hope they are being held prisoner somewhere. Better a prisoner than dead.”

  “If they were being held hostage, would not their keepers send word for ransom?” Nicholas lowered his voice. “I am sorry, Jane. Losing your father would be difficult. Losing both your father and brother must be unbearable.” He smoothed her arm atop her cloak, not knowing how else to comfort her.

  “The odd thing is—they left with a company of men.” She twisted to look him in the eyes. “Not a one of them returned.” She paused and drew a sharp breath before continuing. “How can all those men vanish, every single one of them? Not even a horse returned home to us.”

  She swallowed hard, saying nothing, and he knew the turmoil of emotion that must tie her in knots every night. He had felt that kind of loss before when his own mother had died. It was not the loss of her that had hurt so much, though he did miss her every day. It was the monster her loss had unleashed in his father. Nicholas had been forced to endure that pain for years.

  To counter the emptiness inside him, Nicholas had become ferocious and reckless, hiding his pain and desolation. He had thought himself jaded to all humanity before he had met Jane. Somehow she had managed to touch something soft in him, and from that day forth he had been a different person. He had come back to life because of Jane and her brother Jacob. Only when he had befriended them and escaped the horrors of his own home had the endless twisting in his gut disappeared.

  A chill breeze teased the end of Jane’s hair against her neck, the same wind that caused his hair to ruffle against his forehead. He became acutely aware of the crisp scent of the forest they had left behind, the rhythmic sound of the wind in the grass, the bitter cold as it brushed his cheeks. The air seemed suddenly thick and hard to breathe.

  “Jane,” he said, forcing her name past the roughness in his throat. “I will make inquiries. I am well connected. Someone had to see them during the battle or after.”

  He did not say the word “dead.” He would find her something of the truth—give her some way to accept what had happened. He owed her that much, and more.

  “Thank you, Nicholas, for giving me something to hope for.”

  He smiled. “ ’Tis the season of hope. All things are possible at Christmastide.”

  She tipped her face up to greet the wind, and tendrils of hair brushed her temples and cheeks. “I keep forgetting it is the holiday season.”

  “I will see what I can do to help you remember that fact each and every day u
ntil Epiphany.”

  She smiled, a true smile this time. “I used to love this time of year.”

  “You will again,” he said, as they reached the approach to the castle.

  The drawbridge was down and the gates stood open. Why had they not closed the gates when the hunters left? Nicholas frowned. He would have to speak with the guardsmen about security. They could not afford any more vulnerability than they already had.

  They rode the rest of the distance in silence. The outer bailey was silent, eerily so. It was not until they entered the inner bailey that activity resumed. Six warriors stood next to their horses while others from the castle gathered around. As Nicholas and his party approached, all eyes turned toward them. A cry rose from the crowd and Margaret rushed toward them. Nicholas dismounted and assisted Jane, holding her close for one final moment before he set her on the ground. He kept hold of her hand as he led her from the horse toward her aunt.

  “Merciful heavens. What has happened?” Margaret asked, stopping before them. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes concerned as she studied the two of them from head to toe.

  “Jane was attacked during the hunt,” Nicholas said, releasing Jane’s hand.

  Nicholas’s gaze shifted to the unidentified warriors. Why were they not wearing their colors? Was it a mere coincidence that these men had arrived on Jane’s estate very shortly after she was attacked? Were these men responsible? He had an easier time believing these men were Jane’s attackers rather than the slip of a girl they had met in the woods. Nicholas gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to draw if necessary. The odds were against him should they attack, but he would not make their task easy.

  “We knew something was amiss when Jane’s horse returned on its own. I was preparing a party to go search just as these warriors arrived.” Margaret picked up Jane’s hands and intensely scrutinized her niece. “Are you hurt?”

  “I am well,” Jane reassured. “How is my horse?”

  Her aunt sighed. “She is in the stable with Ollie.”