CHAPTER ONE
Cumbria, English Border-1604
She inhaled the thick, moist air in a slow, steady rhythm and eyed the new border warden sitting his horse a stone’s throw away. The leather fabric of her gloves clung to her palms hiding the frantic pulse throbbing at her wrists. Her nerves, taut like a pulled bow, refused to be alleviated by the sword at her side or the quiver of arrows across her back, and the five hundred mounted men on the hill behind her only made her aware of just how much was at stake if she failed in her task. “You’ve cullions to cross on Graem lands.”
“Last I understood this was England,” Lord Woodhaven said, staring down his aquiline nose at her.
“Says an Englishman.”
“Are you not English?” he asked. A dark brow rose beneath the steel of his bonnet as if daring her to speak treason.
But then, treason was a matter of perspective. One could not commit such flagrancy if one hadn’t pledge fealty. And Aidan Graem most assuredly had not – nor would he ever – allow King James authority over his people. He’d slit his own throat ‘afore he’d bow a knee and kiss the pompous arse’s bejeweled hand. And she’d not risk her father’s ire by stating otherwise. “Nay. I am a Graem. And you’re on my land.”
He seemed to have not heard her as he reached into a pack and pulled out a piece of folded foolscap. “I’ve a warrant,” he said, waving it in the air like a white flag. Obviously he expected her to come to him.
And she would have if the air had not seized in her lungs, burning a raw trail to the backs of her eyes. She swallowed hard, choking on the breath as she let it go. Still she didn’t move toward him. She couldn’t. Her muscles refused to comply. All she could do was stare at him and the unknown threat he held in his fingertips.
There would be no running, now.
No hiding.
Irritation ticked in his jaw and then he approached, stopping a few paces from her. His woodsy aroma swirled around her, sending tiny sparks of fire to her toes and other places best left ignored lest she find herself thoroughly enchanted with the border lord. She could not fancy this warrior out to destroy her family.
She would not.
“I do not understand.” She wrinkled her brow, confused at her inability to discern what lay within this warrior’s heart. He was as closed to her as any impenetrable fortress. “You’ve no jurisdiction here.”
His eyes darkened to the color of the raging sky and she witnessed the raw power lurking with each roll of his forearm as he adjusted his reins. Despite his pallid complexion, which might suggest he suffered some ailment, danger lurked beneath every fluid movement.
“I do now.” His tone cold, impersonal. Yet, his eyes glittered as if to challenge her to say otherwise. The corner of his full bottom lip lifted, tempting her.
His honed muscle and languid manner hid the man beneath the warrior. She had always been able to read the intents of a man’s heart and the thoughts of his mind. Until now. And although she sensed deep wounds festering at his conscience, there was nothing more. If only she could see past the veil cloaking him, see the truth of his heart, then perhaps she would not be tempted by his braw beauty.
“The devil, you say.” She slid her hand to her sword and gripped the hilt until the rounded contours bit through the fabric of her glove and into her flesh.
“So I’ve been told.” His saddle creaked beneath him as he sat forward. “But only when I’m provoked.”
Her heart pounded in a fierce tattoo. Evidence his threats began to chop at her fragile composure. She sighed and gave herself a mental shake. She could not allow fear to grab hold of her mind. Even if she could not read him, she knew Woodhaven was but a man. A spawn of the devil to be sure, but a man nonetheless. And as long as he was flesh and blood, she had the power to bewitch him, at least according to her father. And if that didn’t work. . .then she’d kill him.
