Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,44
pulled taut, then secured the rope with a bowline knot.
The Cunningham heir moved to the next tiedown. “Why are you taking her? She will see us all killed if you ask me.”
“’Tis why I haven’t asked your opinion.” James secured the second rope. “But she kens the lad and she’ll make our ruse all the more convincing.”
The problem was James still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing by letting Her Ladyship come along. Too many things could go wrong, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ailish.
“She’s not bad with a bow,” said Caelan, tightening the girth strap on his saddle. “I’d recruit her into my archers if she weren’t a woman.”
“Wheesht both of ye,” James said, straightening his roughhewn hood and heading for the cave and batting a hand at the naysayers.
Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he found Blair fussing over Lady Ailish’s veil like a mother hen. The friar’s portly form blocked Her Ladyship’s face from sight. “What is taking so long?” James asked. “First I go against my better judgment and agree to let you accompany us. And now we have not even begun our journey and you’re already holding us up.”
“Forgive me,” she said, patting her hands over the linen cloth and stepping out from behind the holy man. “But if I am posing as your wife, I mustn’t look like nun.”
James’ mouth went dry as he gaped at the bonniest creature who ever shifted a saucy gaze his way.
“And her lady’s maid is still at the priory,” said Blair, his words barely sinking in. “I think we have her looking quite nice, do you not agree, sir?”
Gulping, James allowed his gaze to meander from her head to the hem of her gown. She wore only the white linen under veil, held in place by a braided circlet—perhaps hewn of horsehair. The headpiece framed her face, drawing his attention to the beauty of her eyes, fanned by long, alluring lashes.
She pursed those bow-shaped, moist lips. Lips he’d be kissing right now if there weren’t a friar standing but a foot away. “Are you unhappy?” she asked.
“Nay,” he managed as his gaze shifted lower to a blue gown, the neckline scooped from one shoulder to the other, plunging over a pair of succulent breasts. Aye, he’d noticed her breasts before.
Many times.
But he’d only seen Lady Ailish without a nun’s habit at the coronation. Aye, she’d bewitched him then, but here in the cave where they were standing only a few feet apart, he was utterly entranced. “W-where did you find the dress?”
“You do not remember?” She smiled, her shoulders waggling. Had she any idea such movement drew even more attention to the perfection of her breasts? “I’ve been wearing it under my habit all along.”
“Well,” he grumbled, swiping a hand across his eyes. “It is a good thing you kept it covered until now.”
“Why, because it might end up soiled?”
He grasped her hand. “Because the men would never be able to take their eyes off you.”
“Your cloak, m’lady,” said Blair, holding up the garment and handing her a black, woolen bundle. “And your habit in case you have need of it.”
Ailish turned and allowed the friar to slip her woolen cloak over her shoulders. “It would have been very miserable without this,” she said, tying the mantle closed at the neck.
James stood back, his gaze shooting straight to her breasts. Thank goodness the cloak covered most of the distraction. “That’s better. Now come, else we’ll not make it to the border afore nightfall.”
“Is that where you plan to make camp.”
“Just north of there. I ken of a crofter who will shelter us for the night.” He helped Ailish onto the wagon’s bench and then addressed the retinue of soldiers he’d hand-picked to travel with them. “Listen to me, men. We are hunters traveling to Carlisle to sell our pelts. If we are stopped, I will do the talking, do you understand?”
Everyone voiced their consent aside from Her Ladyship. James gave her a pointed look. “That means you as well, m’lady.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of speaking out of turn.”
“Very good,” he said, climbing beside her and taking up the reins. The timbers of the old wagon creaked as he cued the horse to walk on.
Lady Ailish glanced to the rear where her mount was tethered and following behind. “Why are you not taking the palfry?”
“Because poor hunters do not own expensive warhorses.”
She groaned. “I should have thought of that.”