The Laird's Captive Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

still alive after that then she’s all yours, De Vardes.’
    Ashlynn’s stomach lurched. The swift death she had hoped for would not come. They intended to make her long for it instead. She saw Fitzurse glance over his shoulder towards the barn.
    ‘Take her in there and strip her.’

Chapter Two
    A s they dragged her back towards the ruined building Ashlynn began to shout and fight like one possessed, her screams shattering the still morning air. It availed her nothing. If anything it seemed only to add to the enjoyment of the men who held her. They reached the barn and, kicking the door open, strode inside with Fitzurse following at leisure a few paces behind. Dry mouthed with horror Ashlynn struggled harder but in vain for they held her with ease. One man pinioned her arms while the other unfastened her cloak and let it fall, his hand moving across her breast with coarse and deliberate slowness. She shivered as he stepped in closer and gripped the neck of her gown. For one moment her gaze met his and saw the mocking smile before he ripped the cloth apart in one sharp downward jerk. Never taking his eyes off her face he did the like with the kirtle beneath pulling the material wide to reveal her breasts. Only then did he glance lower and the cold eyes glinted in evident appreciation. He was not alone.
    ‘Well, now, a very pretty little chicken,’ said Fitzurse. ‘I would see more, Duchesne.’
    His henchman grinned. ‘As you wish, my lord.’
    Ashlynn trembled as his hands reached for the fabric of her gown.
    * * *
    Outside among the trees at the top of the sloping pasture another group of horsemen drew rein in obedience to their leader’s command. Mounted on a dapple grey stallion he held the powerful horse in check with one gauntleted hand while his keen gaze swept the scene taking in the barn and the group below. Then he glanced at the man beside him.
    ‘It seems our information was correct, Dougal.’
    ‘Aye,’ replied his lieutenant. ‘It has to be them.’
    ‘It’s them all right. That blue roan destrier down yonder belongs to De Vardes. The cur never strays far from Fitzurse’s heel. In any case they’ve left a trail of devastation that a four-year-old child could follow.’
    ‘Aye, Reedham, Welbourne, Heslingfield.’ The other shook his head in disgust. ‘The cowardly dogs attack women and children because they like the certainty of winning, my lord.’
    ‘Let’s shorten the odds and find out how they greet our Scottish steel. We’ll hit them fast and hard. Pass the word back.’
    As the latter hastened to do his bidding the rider on the grey horse never let his gaze shift from the scene in front of him. A few moments later he heard the soft scraping sound that accompanied the drawing of many swords. Then Dougal returned, blade at the ready, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
    ‘Just say the word, my lord, and let us at them.’
    His laird nodded. ‘Kill as many as you can. We’ll take no Norman prisoners. But remember…’
    ‘Aye, I know. Fitzurse is yours.’
    ‘That he is. The bastard little dreams this day is his last.’
    Lifting his sword arm he touched the grey with his spurs and called the charge. Quivering with excitement the big horse leapt forward, hearing behind the echoing battle cry as fifty riders burst from cover and hurtled down the slope toward the foe.
    Taken completely by surprise the Normans could at first only stare at the advancing tide of horsemen. Then, as they awakened to the impending danger, the instinct for self-preservation returned. Amid shouting and confusion they scrambled to remount, turning then to face the enemy with scant time to draw their swords before the Scottish vanguard was upon them in a deadly wave of steel.
    The laird’s blade cleaved its first skull and came back for a wicked lunge into the next opponent. He heard the death scream and was aware of the rider toppling sideways even as a third opponent closed in. Since both hands were engaged