A Perfect Knight For Love by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online

with the effort. It humored him, too. Amalie narrowed her eyes and glared at him and received a full grin for her trouble.
    “Why not?” She was about to use her cross voice. The one reserved for the stupidest servant. She hoped he was prepared.
    “’Tis unsafe. Too many men about.”
    That stopped her words and then it evaporated every bit of the just-awakened confusion. Her heart moved to mass in her throat, nearly closing it off. “Where . . . is the babe?” There wasn’t any sound to her whisper but he knew what it was.
    “With her wet-nurse. Filling her belly. Eating. Exactly as I’ll be doing. Once I’ve taken a moment to . . . uh . . .”
    His voice trailed off and Amalie watched as it looked like his neck darkened and then his chin. Men blush? She wondered it before wondering why she cared. And further, if he wanted to keep the emotion hidden, he should wear a collar with his shirt. Or at least fasten his clothing fully, rather than leave it gapped to mid-chest, revealing skin-covered sinew she’d snuggled against all night. That’s when Amalie stopped every thought before she got her own blush. He hadn’t been mistaken about bruising, either. There was a dark shadow along the edge of his jaw. His chin didn’t look swollen, however, or he was more sculpted than seemed possible.
    “Seek the privy?” she added to assist him.
    He glanced toward her and then looked away again. Nodded. And went an even rosier shade.
    “That bothers you?” she asked.
    “I’ve na’ been around lasses much,” he replied. “And never one I’d wed.”
    Amalie stiffened, realized that mistake as every portion of her collided with him, and then pulled in on her cheeks. She hoped he’d know disdain when he saw it and tried to make certain he heard it. “You’re mistaken, sir,” she replied. “We are not wed. Further, I wouldn’t wed with you if you were the last man, I repeat— last —man I ever run across.”
    He pulled in air, pushing his chest and belly into hers, flicked his glance to her, and then he shoved the breath out, cursing her with heated warmth all over.
    “We’re already wed, lass. ’Twas your mouth saying the words.”
    “No.”
    “Aye.”
    “ N . O .” She spelled it this time and added a head shake for emphasis.
    “By declaration. Among witnesses.”
    “I . . . refuse.”
    “I dinna’ wish it, either, but trust me. ’Tis Scot’s law. We’re wed. Legal and binding.”
    “If you didn’t wish it, why didn’t you stop it?”
    “Because I value life. I want to finish with mine. You heard Dunn-Fyne’s words. Drawing and quartering is nae fit way to die.”
    “This isn’t happening. It isn’t true, and it certainly isn’t right.”
    “Trust me, lass. ’Tis true. And serious. You’re wed to me. Just as you spoke.”
    “That was playacting!”
    “Keep your voice down!” He rumbled the threat and made certain of it with a hand atop her mouth. “Doona’ you ken a word I say? I value life. I just wish you placed the same value on yours so I would na’ have to do it!”
    Amalie didn’t doubt him anymore. Everything on him looked earnest and truthful. And ready to make certain of it.
    “Trouble with the wife, MacGowan?”
    “Nothing I need an assist with. But I thank you all the same, Dunn-Fyne.”
    Thayne turned his head to answer the snide voice of their captor. Amalie didn’t need to look and verify it. The unpleasant ripple of shiver going all over her was enough proof of who stood there. As well as the volume of men he had with him.
    “You certain?”
    “Aye.”
    “Any wench gave me that much issue, I’d see her whipped.”
    Amalie’s eyes were huge and unblinking, probably reflecting absolute horror at the man’s words.
    “My thanks for the advice,” Thayne replied.
    “Some wenches react best to a whip.”
    Amalie tried to shut off her hearing. She wasn’t listening to such things. Not in this lifetime. And not about her.
    “She worries over the