Free His Woman by Diana Cosby Page A

staying—to learn the truth of Isabel’s relationship with Frasyer.
    “Can you walk?” she asked.
    “I have a wound on my arm, not my leg. Of course I can walk.”
    A disgruntled frown dragged across her brow. “Or crawl if you had to. You are barely holding your own. Not that you would be admitting it,” Isabel charged. “You have not changed, Duncan MacGruder. You are still a stubborn, mule-headed fool.”
    “Do not start flattering me now, lass,” he hissed through the pain. “Why, I will think you still favor me.”
    Her expression faltered. “Duncan, this is serious.”
    He grunted and then started to shift to a more comfortable position. A shadow on the far wall caught his attention. “Look, behind that tapestry on our left. There is another door.”
    Isabel leaned forward. “That might be where he keeps his valuables hidden.”
    “Mayhap. When we return, we will search there.”
    She turned toward him, uncertainty haunting her face. “I am sorry. I never meant to involve you in any of this.”
    A solid knock echoed on the outer door.
    “Enter,” Frasyer said.
    The master-at-arms strode in. “My lord, Lady Isabel is not within the keep.”
    “Continue looking,” Frasyer ordered. “She has to be here somewhere. When she’s found, secure her in the dungeon, then inform me.”
    “Aye, my lord.” The master-at-arms bowed, then left.
    Water sloshed as Frasyer stood. “Incompetent fools. Once I have Isabel back, I will show them how to break a woman’s will.” His squire rushed to dry him off. After Frasyer had donned his robe, he stormed into his bedchamber and slammed the door.
    Isabel jumped, and Duncan squeezed her hand in reassurance. If the bastard hadn’t subdued Isabel’s spirit after three years, how did he believe he could do so now?
    The earl poured himself a drink.
    Duncan willed Frasyer to keep drinking. If the earl passed out, that would solve their immediate problem of his noticing when they made their escape.
    After downing the single goblet, the second since his arrival, Frasyer walked toward them. The bed shifted above them as he settled in for the night.
    Duncan gritted his teeth in frustration. Frasyer had not consumed enough to inebriate a toad. Unless he was exhausted from this day’s travel, then all chances of escaping were for naught.
    Duncan pantomimed Frasyer sleeping to Isabel. Then he mouthed, “Is he a heavy sleeper?”
    In the meager light cast by the taper, she shrugged.
    Unbelievable! How did one not know how soundly their lover slept? Duncan closed his eyes and waited.
    At this moment, their only option.
    Time dragged on. The throbbing of his body a potent reminder of his weakening condition. After what seemed an eternity, Frasyer’s breaths became regular. Another long pull of time passed before, finally, he began to snore, a fact Duncan owed to the earl’s hard travel this day.
    The bells of Matins tolled.
    Duncan glanced toward the open window. They’d lain here for two hours.
    He shifted, muffling a groan as he tried to relieve the cramping of his joints. He and Isabel couldn’t wait until daybreak. Delaying would serve to weaken him further. However slow they traveled, the cover of nightfall would shield their movements as they crossed the open field to reach the woods.
    “Let us go,” Duncan whispered.
    “Can you make it?” she asked in his ear, her soft breath feathering across his skin. The bed creaked above them, and her eyes widened with fear.
    He held up his hand for her to remain silent, then he reached for his dagger. If Frasyer discovered them, Duncan might not last long, but he’d give the bastard a solid fight.
    With another shifting of the bed, the earl’s feet came into view. He lumbered across the chamber. Frasyer was leaving! Then he paused at the table and extinguished the tapers.
    Blackness smothered the room.
    Steps closed, then the bed sagged.
    With a silent curse Duncan closed his eyes and fought to suppress the shudders that