Read My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) for Free Online Page B

as Alex let her go and she clutched madly for the Ram’s neck. Alex merely crossed his arms and smiled as Nicholas pushed his way through the bushes.
    Away from the scrutiny of others, Nicholas picked his way through the dark, as if seeking a sheltered place. Finding what he sought, he deposited Ysabelle on her feet. Soft grass tickled her toes. The clouds gave way and the moon glowed down upon them like an eerie nightmare. Seeing the ground carpeted with meadow, she sighed with relief.
    “Thank you,” she offered in a tight voice.
    Their gazes locked, his eyes gleaming. In the shadowed night, his chiseled face seemed harsh and she took several steps backward. She began to suspect he was not as ruthless as he appeared, but he was stronger and could throw her to the ground and brutalize her, if he chose. She’d been told he often did such heinous things. But he stood perfectly still.
    He inclined his head toward the thicket. “You have only a few moments to relieve yourself. I suggest you hurry.”
    “Turn your back, please.”
    He tilted his head to one side as he considered her. “So you can escape again? I think not.”
    “You are not gallant, sir.”
    He took two steps toward her and she didn’t think to back up until it was too late. Her breath froze, her gaze locked on his face.
    “Don’t!” she cried.
    His mouth softened and an image of sultry kisses flittered through her mind.
    “Don’t what?” he asked.
    She swallowed and clutched the opening of her cloak tighter about her throat. Her mind screamed for her to flee. Not because he could harm her, but because he touched an inner corridor of longing in her soul, which she’d kept safely locked away.
    Until now.
    What it meant, she had no idea. He disarmed her in a way Sir Malcolm never could. Attraction blazed between them like bolts of lightning in the western sky. A look, a touch, a power of heat flowed between them, which she had no wish to explore. And she thought it must be fear that made her think such things.
    He lifted a hand toward her face. Caution overcame her need to prove her courage. Bolting into the brush, she called to him. “Stay where you are.”
    As she made her way through the sheltering trees, Ysabelle stumbled upon a stream bubbling over moss-covered stones. Dare she try once more to flee? In the dark, without shoes, she wouldn’t get far. And testing the Ram’s anger would be unwise.
    Dipping her fingers into the cool water, she scrubbed Malcolm’s blood off her hands and arms. She splashed the clear liquid on her face and washed her neck, feeling refreshed.
    Nicholas’s gruff voice broke into her reverie. “Speak to me, lady.”
    “I’m still here, Ram. There’s no need to call out another chase.”
    Realizing he was restless, Ysabelle hurried about her task. Joining him moments later, she noticed he hadn’t budged at all. His gaze took in her damp skin and he grunted with approval. Picking her up, he carried her back to camp.
    With her arms wrapped around his neck, Ysabelle noticed he stared straight ahead and she had a moment to study his chiseled face. He ate, bled, and could die like an ordinary man. But anyone who saw him would not call him common. His life, his appearance, even his name were amazing. The Scots Ram. He had surely earned the title.
    Back in camp, he placed her beside a fire someone had started. With an exclamation of delight, Ysabelle leaned forward and rubbed her hands together. Praise the saints for this bit of warmth after their long, chilly ride. Nicholas went to his trappings and rummaged around in his saddle packs and she stared after him.
    Ada appeared on the other side of the clearing and Ysabelle came to her feet, thinking to speak with the woman.
    “Stay where you are, lass.”
    Did he have eyes in the back of his head?
    She dared not move until Nicholas returned with a skin of water, dried meat and bread.
    “I wish to see that Ada is all right,” she said.
    “She’s fine, as you can