Free A Perfect Knight For Love by Jackie Ivie

Amalie tried to shrug again but failed. Nothing worked at stopping how she shook in full-body tremors. She knew he saw it.
    “You ken my meaning?”
    Amalie had prided herself on a self-confident and fearless nature. She’d always exhibited it in her charades with Edmund, her dealings with others at court, her father’s decrees. It’s that strength of purpose she’d tapped when stealing the real governess’s identity and luggage and undertaking a journey of this magnitude. She was known for bold fearlessness. Courage. Daring.
    It was mortifying to find it all a sham when faced with true danger. She was also starting to cry. No matter how much she blinked and how quickly she breathed, or how tight she held her entire body. Nothing worked. And if Thayne didn’t come soon, she didn’t know what else might happen. All she knew was she feared it, to a near incomprehensible level.
    “We’ll speak more on this. You’ve my word.”
    Amalie blinked on moisture that kept flooding her eyes, making the view of lake and mist-draped mountain glimmer and blur and then glimmer again. How long she stood there, she didn’t know. The edge of her plaid worked well as a handkerchief. She sopped at her face and then cupped her hands about it. All she wanted was to be back home. In her stateroom at Ellincourt Manor. Warm. Dry. Safe.
    “What’s happened?”
    Thayne’s voice accompanied arms that pulled her into an embrace of bulk, warmth, and protection. Amalie put her face firmly in the center of his chest and shook with the sobs.
    “Well?” He lifted her enough her toes cleared the muck and wet and cold.
    “You . . . left,” she whispered.
    “A moment. I was gone a trice. Mayhap less.”
    “He . . . he—”
    “Dunn-Fyne?” He spit the name into existence.
    Amalie nodded. “He—uh . . . he . . .”
    “He . . . what? Come along, lass. Answer or no. Doona’ leave me guessing.”
    “You left me.”
    “I saw your reaction to the others . . . so, to spare you, I—Oh, Jesu’! I canna’ be with you every moment!”
    “B-but that’s . . . what you said. At your side. Always.”
    “You canna’ have it both ways, lass!”
    “Both ways?”
    “I—uh— women! ” The way he said it was another cursed word.
    “I want to go home,” she replied.
    “Soon, lass. Soon. We’ll be on MacGowan land by tomorrow eve. At Castle Gowan a day past that. With any luck.”
    Castle Gowan. Her mind conjured a building as dark and cold as the day about them. She shivered involuntarily. “I’m cold, Thayne. And wet.”
    “As is everyone. Look about. We’re all cold and wet. Can you spare my ear the complaints?”
    “But I haven’t even . . . got shoes.” She lifted a foot and touched it to his lower leg. He jumped slightly.
    “Why dinna’ you say something sooner?”
    “I—”
    “Christ! And His mother, Mary! You’ll catch your death!”
    He swung her into a berth in his arms, cradling her against him and placing her nose right against his neck. His steps were just as sure and swift as when he’d first held her in the stable yard. There was a pulse pounding from his throat against her, too. Sturdy. Strong. Powerful.
    He probably didn’t know it was the perfect restorative. Amalie wasn’t going to tell him, either.

Chapter 6
    She could feel him watching them. It continued throughout the rest period and wouldn’t abate. Dunn-Fyne watched them. Every glance showed him watching. It got worse once they’d reached the meadow Thayne told her of. Despite supervising placement of the fire cover, ordering the score of men grouped about Thayne’s small band, even when shoveling the stew they’d cooked into his mouth, ignoring where he dripped broth onto his beard. He was always watching her and Thayne. With a dark expression that matched his plaid.
    Amalie tried ignoring Laird Dunn-Fyne but that just caused nervous suspense that made her limbs quake as if she was a fearful mouse and not a bold adventuress. The thought brought