Falling for Her Captor. Elisabeth Hobbes
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‘So men of Roxholm break their word quickly!’ she spat at him.
‘I plan to sleep tonight—not sit up making sure my charge doesn’t walk away again. You will have your liberty in the morning,’ he answered.
The condescending tone of his voice made Aline’s blood boil but she bit back a retort, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by provoking him.
‘I want my necklace back,’ she demanded instead.
The Captain shook his head. ‘No. I think I’ll keep that for the time being. Maybe if you behave yourself over the next few days...’
The Captain was still holding on to her wrists, so she pulled her hand away from his sharply. He gave a deep, appreciative laugh, as though he respected her rebellion, and bowed before leaving her. Aline pulled fretfully at the cuffs, eventually succeeding in easing her sleeves under the metal. The material provided some shield from the sharp edges, leaving the only injury to Aline’s pride.
The night wore on slowly.
The three men sat close to the fire, playing dice and sharing a jug of ale. They ignored Aline, who sat watching from her position on the step, thinking miserably of home. Later Jack brought her a bowl of surprisingly good stew, thick with barley and sorrel. Her appetite returned with a vengeance and she ate greedily. The boy hovered over her, smiling shyly at how well the meal was received. His eye was beginning to turn a lurid colour from the thump Duncan had given him.
‘You should find some comfrey for your eye...it must hurt,’ Aline told him.
The boy gave her a rueful smile and brushed a hand across his swollen cheek. ‘If you had succeeded in escaping we would all have been dead men—the Captain included. I think I got off lightly really.’
They both looked over to where the Captain sat cross-legged and his meaning was clear. Aline shivered and followed his gaze. The Captain had removed his leather greatcoat and was clad in a light tunic. He wore a look of intense concentration on his face as he sharpened his dagger in slow, methodical strokes. An odd fluttering curled about Aline’s stomach as she noticed the way his muscles moved. A traitorous voice whispered in her mind that if he ever smiled properly this man would be very handsome. She mentally hushed the voice, annoyed that she had noticed at all.
The Captain became aware that he was being watched and turned to stare at Aline. She held his gaze boldly. He put down his whetstone, picked up a rolled blanket and walked over to where she sat.
‘May I join you, my lady?’
Aline shrugged, a twinge of embarrassment causing her heart to miss a beat. He took her empty bowl and gave it back to the young guard with a jerk of his head.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ he said pointedly.
The lad took the hint and went back to his companion. Aline moved to turn her back on the Captain, disinclined to talk, but the question that had gripped her heart since she had awoken got the better of her.
‘What does the Duke want with me?’ she asked, trying to keep the anxiety from her voice.
The Captain folded his arms across his broad chest and shook his head. ‘That I cannot tell you, I am afraid. My lord has not shared such information with me.’
A thought that had been shouting for Aline’s attention resurfaced. ‘You said a message was sent with the body of my groom. What happened to him?’
‘He betrayed you and tried to violate you, but you care how he died?’ The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘I didn’t say I cared. I said I wanted to know what had happened!’ Aline snapped.
Her fury must have hit a target because the Captain’s expression softened, then became serious.
He sat down next to her on the step, his shoulder brushing hers, and set his jaw. ‘As you must have guessed by now, he worked for my lord. He had been a groom in the citadel, then a criminal under sentence of death. He was offered a pardon in exchange for working his way into your household and bringing you to us.’
‘What had he done?’ Aline asked. Her hands curled into fists at the thought of how easily Leavingham’s security had been breached.
‘His crime? I am not sure. I did not play any part in choosing him,’ the Captain explained. ‘My only part in the affair was to meet him and escort you to Roxholm. We were to send him back to Leavingham alive, but battered. He had to keep up his story of heroically defending you against us.’
He paused and a strange look crossed his face that Aline did not fully understand. She wondered briefly if he was holding something back.
The Captain continued his tale. ‘He must have believed he was a dead man once his task was done, or maybe he took exception to my timing, because he produced a knife and attacked me. I had to act in self-defence. I do not regret his death, though, given what he was preparing to do. Neither should you.’
Aline exhaled deeply and her shoulders sagged as she felt the tension leaving her. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said. ‘And thank you for...’ Her voice tailed off as her mind played out the memory of Dickon’s mouth and hands roaming across her unwilling body. Her mouth twisted into a grimace.
When the Captain spoke next his voice was unexpectedly gentle. ‘You should get some sleep, my lady. You have had a hard day and we’ll be back on the road early. I give you my word that you will come to no such harm again.’
The memory of the Captain’s body on hers as they had struggled on the ground came back to Aline in a flash, along with the words she had screamed at him and the manner in which he had countered her assumption. He had said she was safe from...that, but could she trust him?
As if he was reading Aline’s thoughts, the Captain unrolled the blanket and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders with a smile. ‘You need have no fear for your safety in any respect whilst you are in my charge. I will keep you safe.’
He walked back to the fire, wrapped his own blanket around his body, and lay down, arms crossed over his chest. He was soon snoring gently, as though he had no cares in the world, and as though he had not just calmly told her of the death of a man and left her chained in the dark!
Aline climbed off the step and lay on the bedroll placed for her on the ground. His body had been warm next to hers and the air was chilly in comparison. She wrapped her blanket tighter and curled into a ball, hating him and doubting she would find such peace herself that night.
As Aline had expected, she slept badly that night. The blanket did little to keep out the chill and damp and she lay awake, resentfully watching the silhouettes of the sleeping men round the fire. Every time she almost found a comfortable position the manacles dug into her wrists and dragged her back to consciousness, and more than once she found herself stifling a scream of frustration.