Read Online A Perfect Knight For Love by Jackie Ivie - Free Book Online Page B

stopped the moment she heard their tormenter’s name.
    “We canna’ have witness to our tupping. You ken?”
    “Tupping?”
    “Aye. Tupping. You and me. ’Tis what happens with a man and woman. Can you na’ listen to a word I speak?”
    “I am listening. I’ve just never heard . . . it called . . . uh.” Her voice trailed off. She’d never heard it referenced at all.
    “’Twould be pure shame within hearing of the pipers, too.”
    “Pipers?”
    “Aye. MacGowan pipes. Now, turn about like a good lass. We need a bit of rest and the bairn sounds as if she needs a cuddle or two, as well.”
    He didn’t meet her eyes, looking instead out over her head. He had a rosy shade along his jaw as well. Then he put both hands on her waist and turned her forward-facing, or as close to it as her side-slung legs allowed. She felt him fuss behind her with the flat round bag-thing he carried at his groin, putting it flat between them. All of it mystifying and interesting. Especially as the flush moved up his cheeks. He didn’t explain and she didn’t ask. It was hard enough recollecting what she’d promised and what he’d do.
    Tonight .
    Amalie looked away before he’d spot her blush. Then she felt his thighs move beneath her, tightening on the horse as he motioned it back to a walk. That sent her leaning into the rock-like substance of his lower belly and the bag-thing, which got her a groan from him. He didn’t speak. And she didn’t question. She was afraid of the answer.
    He’d been right about the infant. Mary’s baby was at a full wail despite the wet-nurse’s efforts to quiet her. The sound carried over the surface of the lake, making it difficult to spot where it spawned. Amalie could feel the tenseness in Thayne the closer they got. He also walked their mount faster. She didn’t know it was to fling the reins at her and jump from its back until he did it, leaving her stranded and alone and bereft and easy prey.
    And that got her Dunn-Fyne’s unwavering gaze.
    Amalie kept her head averted to slide off the horse in Thayne’s wake, keeping the animal between her and Dunn-Fyne. The ground was wetter than it looked and soaked through her socks the moment she reached it. Amalie stood indecisively, one hand on the horse’s mane and the other on her plaid to make certain it covered her. She hunched slightly to step atop her hem where it had to be warmer.
    “’Tis such a weak bairn.”
    Amalie’s breath caught. She held it until it burned before easing it out. She didn’t have to look. She already knew who spoke. And where he was. And what he wanted. Shaking was overtaking her form despite effort to fight it, bringing faintness in its wake. Amalie fought the swell of black rising from where her blanket covering touched ground, blinked hard and fast while breathing quickly and shallowly until the darkness faded back into dull grayish-brown mud. Everything on her was cold now. Everything.
    “Verra weak for a MacGowan,” he continued. “Must be the mother at fault.”
    She tipped a glance to where he stood, exactly as she’d known. He was watching her from over the top of Thayne’s saddle. Amalie looked away the moment her eyes verified it. Thayne ordered her to stay near to avoid this very thing, and then what happened? When she needed him, he wasn’t here. And worse. In the hunched state she’d assumed, she looked and felt even more vulnerable. It was unbelievable. Amalie Ellin. Only daughter of the Earl of Ellincourt. Standing in a bowed position, terrified as she’d never been and weak-kneed enough to drop where she stood.
    “’Twas an early birth?” he asked.
    Amalie lifted her shoulders in a shrug, forced her fingers not to tighten on the wad of material she held to her throat.
    “You ken why I ask?”
    She shrugged again.
    “You doona’ feed your own bairn. ’Tis powerful odd. Na’ many husbands hire a wet-nurse.”
    If she’d doubted Thayne’s words, she was getting paid back. Fully.