Free A Perfect Knight For Love by Jackie Ivie Page B

filled her throat, trembling owned her limbs and there wasn’t anything left to react to how he dangled her. She was entirely surprised the infant was still cradled against her breast and that her arm cupped it.
    “Nae sound, lass! You ken?”
    She nodded and craned her head with him to look back around the tree. At the site they’d just left. Dunn-Fyne hadn’t moved. He was still endlessly watching them. Nothing looked changed. Or alert. Amalie glanced to where two forms had rolled into the spot Thayne and she had claimed. Yet another one filled where Sean and Iain had just been.
    She was still assimilating all that as Thayne sucked in air and then he moved, quickly and quietly. No rustle of sound betrayed his steps, taken sure and swift through shrubbery that showered with spent rain and limbs that swayed and slapped without end. Then they were out of trees and onto open moor that was shadowed with rocks and other obstructions. That’s when Thayne lifted her fully into his arms and broke into a run, as if there was a path and it was easily negotiated. Amalie held to the babe and kept gulping at a lump in her throat she couldn’t speak around. Her voice was missing. And if she found it, she’d likely be screaming.
    It was better to hide her face fully against him, scrunch her eyes, and pray. The thump of his pulse grew faster and harder, his breaths more strident and harsh, yet still he ran on, impressing her fully with his endurance and strength, taking countless steps over an unknown distance. And then without warning he slowed, spun, and knocked his back on what sounded like wood.
    “Quickly . . . lass! Here!” His words were shoved through heavy breaths as he set her on her feet facing utter blackness. He was untying the knot at her neck as he spoke.
    “But—” Amalie began.
    “We’ve . . . little time!” The words were harsh and rapid, matching the exhalation of breath he used to say them.
    “Time?” Amalie repeated.
    “For tupping! There!”
    The bundle of infant opened and was lifted from her. In the complete blackness, Amalie couldn’t see what he did with it.
    “But—your men?” Amalie asked.
    “Took our . . . spots. I doona’ . . . see what that has to do—make haste!”
    “With what?” Amalie asked in a little voice she hated the moment it came out.
    “Your clothing! At least . . . shed your plaid!”
    She heard the sound of rustling that could be him removing clothing, but could be a sign of rats as well. All she knew was it was black and cold and carried a lone feeling that started a tremor deep within her.
    “Where . . . are we?” she asked.
    “Shepherd croft. Well built. Well-placed. Well hid. Private. Where are you? I canna’ find you, lass! Amalie?”
    He had his breathing back under control somewhat. The words were no longer sharp and huffed and spaced. She could sense his movements but despite how alert she was, couldn’t hear them. Further, it was odd he asked. She hadn’t moved from where he’d set her.
    “Your men . . . know about this?” she asked.
    “Jesu’, lass! Of course they know ! They’re my Honor Guard!”
    Amalie went hot with the all-over blush, filled with instant embarrassment and dismay. “They know what . . . we’re doing right now?”
    He gave a heavy sigh. Swore beneath his breath, and then answered. “They ken I was na’ wed two days hence. And that I’m now consummating it. Keep speaking, I’ll find you.”
    “B-but, Thayne, I—”
    “You said you’d na’ give me a fight!”
    “It’s just—”
    Hard arms grabbed her, pulled her to a like hardness of chest and held her there. Everywhere she touched was bare skin, slick with a sheen of moisture and heated with the extent and duration of his run.
    “Ah . . . there you are . . . mmm. Nice.”
    His voice turned low, to a croon of sound, as he ran his hands along her shoulders and then her arms, pushing the blanket thing with it. Amalie felt instant chill once the blanket fell but it got