his attention, and he
peered at the petite woman slipping out from the other side. Short, blond, shapely, and
pretty. Blake was just turning his eyes back to the taller woman when Rolfe suddenly let
out a gasp of dismay behind him.
Blake glanced away to see the alarm on the other man's face, then turned quickly back, but
it was too late. As they moved out to the sides, both the small female and the taller one
had grasped hold of the tapestry and jerked it forward. The heavy rug was even now pulling
away from its position on the wall and crashing down atop them. Blake barely managed a
step to the side as the tapestry fell. It was not enough to save him completely and the
heavy ornament caught his shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground.
As soon as the tapestry came loose from the wall and began to flap out over the men,
Seonaid yelled to Aeldra and raced toward the door, intent on escape. An enraged shout
from her cousin made her whirl around, dismay on her face as she saw the tapestry had not
come down to cover all of the men. One, a mountain of a man, had been a step or two behind
the bishop, guarding the other men's backs, and had entirely escaped the dusty old
tapestry entangling the others. He had also managed to catch Aeldra as she raced past him
and stood holding her off the ground from behind, his arms around her waist, seemingly
impervious to her scratching fingernails as she clawed at him and kicked her feet
furiously. She was caught.
Cursing, Seonaid glanced briefly around for something to help her cousin with, but she
couldn't find anything appropriate. Giving up the search as Aeldra screeched again, this
time in warning, she glanced around to see that the man in the plaid had made his way out
from beneath the tapestry and was moving toward her.
Seonaid grabbed up a pew and hurled it at him just as the chapel door opened and Lady
Helen and Sister Blanche hurried in. Excitement and victory were on their faces as they
entered, but dismay soon followed as they spied the chaos they had walked in on. Not
bothering to explain what should have been obvious, Seonaid grabbed up both swords as the
women held them out and ordered them to get out of
the room before turning back to confront the fellow in the plaid.
Blake slowed his forward impetus as he spied the two blades with which he was faced.
Surprise was his first reaction. She held the blades as if she were comfortable with them,
which drew his attention to the fact that they were smaller than the average sword and of
lighter weight. They had obviously been made specifically for the woman before him and the
one giving Little George such a rough time.
“Hold,” Blake said as the pieces fell together. He had first assumed the Scot in the
chapel a man, and no doubt the one who had broken into the abbey, but now that he knew she
was a woman and one who exactly fit Rolfe's description of his betrothed, Blake began to
realize he faced none other than Seonaid Dunbar. She fit the description far too well to
be anyone but her. Ice blue eyes, glorious blue-black hair, well-formed. Aye, he was
finally confronting his betrothed. And she was wearing braies.
“I mean ye no harm,” he murmured once he had her attention.
“Nor I you,” she answered sweetly, then lifted one of the swords and had at him.
The viciousness of her attack took Blake by surprise, and at first he was kept busy
fending off her blows. By the time he recognized that she was directing the battle so that
they shifted position, the two of them had already turned enough that she was approaching
the spot where Little George and her friend struggled. Before Blake could do anything
about it, she had closed the last of the distance between herself and his first and had
kicked out to the side with her right foot. Blake winced as her foot connected viciously
with Little George's left
peered at the petite woman slipping out from the other side. Short, blond, shapely, and
pretty. Blake was just turning his eyes back to the taller woman when Rolfe suddenly let
out a gasp of dismay behind him.
Blake glanced away to see the alarm on the other man's face, then turned quickly back, but
it was too late. As they moved out to the sides, both the small female and the taller one
had grasped hold of the tapestry and jerked it forward. The heavy rug was even now pulling
away from its position on the wall and crashing down atop them. Blake barely managed a
step to the side as the tapestry fell. It was not enough to save him completely and the
heavy ornament caught his shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground.
As soon as the tapestry came loose from the wall and began to flap out over the men,
Seonaid yelled to Aeldra and raced toward the door, intent on escape. An enraged shout
from her cousin made her whirl around, dismay on her face as she saw the tapestry had not
come down to cover all of the men. One, a mountain of a man, had been a step or two behind
the bishop, guarding the other men's backs, and had entirely escaped the dusty old
tapestry entangling the others. He had also managed to catch Aeldra as she raced past him
and stood holding her off the ground from behind, his arms around her waist, seemingly
impervious to her scratching fingernails as she clawed at him and kicked her feet
furiously. She was caught.
Cursing, Seonaid glanced briefly around for something to help her cousin with, but she
couldn't find anything appropriate. Giving up the search as Aeldra screeched again, this
time in warning, she glanced around to see that the man in the plaid had made his way out
from beneath the tapestry and was moving toward her.
Seonaid grabbed up a pew and hurled it at him just as the chapel door opened and Lady
Helen and Sister Blanche hurried in. Excitement and victory were on their faces as they
entered, but dismay soon followed as they spied the chaos they had walked in on. Not
bothering to explain what should have been obvious, Seonaid grabbed up both swords as the
women held them out and ordered them to get out of
the room before turning back to confront the fellow in the plaid.
Blake slowed his forward impetus as he spied the two blades with which he was faced.
Surprise was his first reaction. She held the blades as if she were comfortable with them,
which drew his attention to the fact that they were smaller than the average sword and of
lighter weight. They had obviously been made specifically for the woman before him and the
one giving Little George such a rough time.
“Hold,” Blake said as the pieces fell together. He had first assumed the Scot in the
chapel a man, and no doubt the one who had broken into the abbey, but now that he knew she
was a woman and one who exactly fit Rolfe's description of his betrothed, Blake began to
realize he faced none other than Seonaid Dunbar. She fit the description far too well to
be anyone but her. Ice blue eyes, glorious blue-black hair, well-formed. Aye, he was
finally confronting his betrothed. And she was wearing braies.
“I mean ye no harm,” he murmured once he had her attention.
“Nor I you,” she answered sweetly, then lifted one of the swords and had at him.
The viciousness of her attack took Blake by surprise, and at first he was kept busy
fending off her blows. By the time he recognized that she was directing the battle so that
they shifted position, the two of them had already turned enough that she was approaching
the spot where Little George and her friend struggled. Before Blake could do anything
about it, she had closed the last of the distance between herself and his first and had
kicked out to the side with her right foot. Blake winced as her foot connected viciously
with Little George's left
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