Read Online The King's Mistress by Sandy Blair - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandy Blair
Ads: Link
. Her gray shied as she stared in horror at a vibrating arrow imbedded in the dense bark not a yard before her.
MacKinnon, cursing, jerked around, his gaze raking the path and woods. Before she could ask why someone would shoot at them, he kicked his destrier into a full gallop and she, terrified and nearly unseated, found herself being hauled pell-mell into the wood. Shouting broke out behind them and to their right as pine boughs slapped her face. MacKinnon hauled her mount up shale and through a burn before reining in behind a huge boulder outcrop and vaulting from his saddle.
Heart thudding, she cried, “What’s happening? Why would someone—”
“Later.” The rein binding her wrists fell away, and he hauled her off her palfrey. His arm came about her waist, and he started running. “Hie now! Into the hole.”
Breathless, her mouth suddenly parched by fear, Genny stumbled over her skirts and into the boulders’ shadows. He pressed on her shoulders, and she fell to her knees within a nest of winter-dead leaves and needles, a spider’s web brushing the cheek the arrow so nearly penetrated. Shivering, she batted the gauzy threads away.
He grabbed her chin to get her attention. “Do not move if you want to live. I’ll be back.”
“But—”
His mouth closed over hers, firm, warm and moist. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and yielded. His tongue swept past her lips, startling her, caressing hers, causing inexplicable heat to flare deep within her chest and middle.
He pulled away and whispered, “I had to know.”
Swamped by sensations she had yet to sort out, it took her a moment to realize he meant to leave her alone. Horrified he’d even think to do such, she gasped as her eyes flew open.
He was gone.
“Your Highness appears most pleased this morn’,” Lady Campbell murmured.
For the third day in a row, Yolande smiled in shy fashion just as Anton suggested, which was no easy task, given her worry. He’d been gone four days. “The day is most pleasant.”
Her court turned toward the window, and in unison, frowned at the dark sky looming overhead.
“Most pleasant,” Lady Fraser murmured, glancing surreptitiously at Lady Campbell.
Yolande held the little bed gown she’d been working on to the lamplight to admire the tiny leaves she’d embroidered and allowed her smile to broaden. “I’m famished, Evette.”
Her cousin looked up from her work. “But you just ate but an hour past.”
“ Oui. Would you be so kind as to ask Cook for a basket of her wonderful buns, a bit of cheese and a few olives? No, I should like a dozen olives.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Yolande waited until her cousin crossed the threshold to call after her. “And sardines! And…”
Evette poked her head back in the solar and, grinning, asked, “Perhaps something to drink?”
Yolande beamed at her cousin. “ Oui ! A chalice of milk.”
All in the room gaped at her, obviously aghast at the thought. Only Mademoiselle Dupree dared mutter what all were thinking. “Milk , Your Highness?”
Yolande picked up her embroidery needle and, smiling, murmured, “ Oui .”
By mid morn’, Yolande’s middle heaved in fiery revolt. She fought for composure for as long as she dared, then bolted, a hand over her mouth, toward the garderobe.
As she flew past her commiserating court, she heard Lady Campbell murmur in their crude tongue to Lady Fraser, “Tell Ross.”
Britt, broadsword in hand, ran on silent feet as far as he dared from Lady Armstrong before deliberately stepping on a felled branch. The resounding crack echoed through the forest. A pursuer somewhere to his right shouted, “ La-bas! ”
Down there. God’s teeth! Their attackers weren’t hapless thieves but French. The queen’s men.
More branches fractured as their assailants rushed forward, one running directly toward him, the other moving fast at right angles to the depression in which Britt had sought cover, doubtless
MacKinnon, cursing, jerked around, his gaze raking the path and woods. Before she could ask why someone would shoot at them, he kicked his destrier into a full gallop and she, terrified and nearly unseated, found herself being hauled pell-mell into the wood. Shouting broke out behind them and to their right as pine boughs slapped her face. MacKinnon hauled her mount up shale and through a burn before reining in behind a huge boulder outcrop and vaulting from his saddle.
Heart thudding, she cried, “What’s happening? Why would someone—”
“Later.” The rein binding her wrists fell away, and he hauled her off her palfrey. His arm came about her waist, and he started running. “Hie now! Into the hole.”
Breathless, her mouth suddenly parched by fear, Genny stumbled over her skirts and into the boulders’ shadows. He pressed on her shoulders, and she fell to her knees within a nest of winter-dead leaves and needles, a spider’s web brushing the cheek the arrow so nearly penetrated. Shivering, she batted the gauzy threads away.
He grabbed her chin to get her attention. “Do not move if you want to live. I’ll be back.”
“But—”
His mouth closed over hers, firm, warm and moist. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and yielded. His tongue swept past her lips, startling her, caressing hers, causing inexplicable heat to flare deep within her chest and middle.
He pulled away and whispered, “I had to know.”
Swamped by sensations she had yet to sort out, it took her a moment to realize he meant to leave her alone. Horrified he’d even think to do such, she gasped as her eyes flew open.
He was gone.
“Your Highness appears most pleased this morn’,” Lady Campbell murmured.
For the third day in a row, Yolande smiled in shy fashion just as Anton suggested, which was no easy task, given her worry. He’d been gone four days. “The day is most pleasant.”
Her court turned toward the window, and in unison, frowned at the dark sky looming overhead.
“Most pleasant,” Lady Fraser murmured, glancing surreptitiously at Lady Campbell.
Yolande held the little bed gown she’d been working on to the lamplight to admire the tiny leaves she’d embroidered and allowed her smile to broaden. “I’m famished, Evette.”
Her cousin looked up from her work. “But you just ate but an hour past.”
“ Oui. Would you be so kind as to ask Cook for a basket of her wonderful buns, a bit of cheese and a few olives? No, I should like a dozen olives.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Yolande waited until her cousin crossed the threshold to call after her. “And sardines! And…”
Evette poked her head back in the solar and, grinning, asked, “Perhaps something to drink?”
Yolande beamed at her cousin. “ Oui ! A chalice of milk.”
All in the room gaped at her, obviously aghast at the thought. Only Mademoiselle Dupree dared mutter what all were thinking. “Milk , Your Highness?”
Yolande picked up her embroidery needle and, smiling, murmured, “ Oui .”
By mid morn’, Yolande’s middle heaved in fiery revolt. She fought for composure for as long as she dared, then bolted, a hand over her mouth, toward the garderobe.
As she flew past her commiserating court, she heard Lady Campbell murmur in their crude tongue to Lady Fraser, “Tell Ross.”
Britt, broadsword in hand, ran on silent feet as far as he dared from Lady Armstrong before deliberately stepping on a felled branch. The resounding crack echoed through the forest. A pursuer somewhere to his right shouted, “ La-bas! ”
Down there. God’s teeth! Their attackers weren’t hapless thieves but French. The queen’s men.
More branches fractured as their assailants rushed forward, one running directly toward him, the other moving fast at right angles to the depression in which Britt had sought cover, doubtless
Similar Books
