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

flailed about, the ill-tempered stallion snorted and swung its massive head and sidestepped them.
    “I won’t go with you,” Ysabelle declared.
    Nicholas grappled with her, his hands gentle but firm.
    Alex sat his horse, leaning his forearms on the prong of his saddle as he watched them. His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Are you having trouble with your betrothed, brother? Perhaps I might be of assistance.”
    Nicholas’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the man. Ysabelle raked her fingernails across the Ram’s neck and he roared with anger. Raising her arms, she prepared to dodge his heavy fists, but no blow descended.
    Without a word, Nicholas took her by the waist and lifted her into the saddle, then came up behind her in one fluid movement. She sat stunned, clutching the edge of the saddle with whitened knuckles. With his right arm, he held her firmly before him, taking the reins in his left hand. As she squirmed against him, she felt him clutch her in a vise she could not break. Instinctively, she knew this man was no bumbling fool like Sir Malcolm.
    “Sit still,” he urged in a growling whisper.
    She gasped as the warhorse pranced anxiously beneath them. When the animal reared and pawed the air, Ysabelle clamped her hands onto the Ram’s forearm. As the horse settled its hooves on the ground, Ysabelle’s grip tightened. She had no desire to be trampled by the beast.
    With her back pressed tight against his chest, Nicholas Ramsay lowered his head and spoke against her ear. His voice was a low rumble that accented his Scottish burr with rolling R’s. “What manner of mon would you think me if I ignored our betrothal and allowed your king to wed you to another? Think what Lord Maston would have to say on the matter. He would be verra displeased.”
    How dare he bring her father into this? “My father would want his people safe.”
    He smelled of spice and leather and his warm breath sent tingles of sensation up her spine.
    “Maston would have fought any king that tried to force him against his will. You’re mine, lass. I willna let you go.”
    Ysabelle stilled. Though she hated to admit it, he spoke the truth. If the situation were reversed, she would never stand by and allow another to wed her betrothed without a fight.
    Looking up, Ysabelle saw Lambert, her dead husband’s corpulent son, standing in the doorway of the great hall. Lambert’s fat lips tightened, his gaze hateful as he stared at her. A younger version of his father, he was closer to Ysabelle’s age and a better marriage choice. But she knew Lambert had no liking for her, except for her vast lands, which he had hoped to inherit upon Malcolm’s death. At the wedding feast earlier that evening, he’d told her as much, when no one but her could hear his words. With the Scots Ram stealing her away, it looked as though Sir Lambert would once again be landless and poor.
    “My lady!” Ada stood twisting her fingers together, her face drawn in a mask of anguish.
    The handmaiden ran toward Ysabelle and almost threw herself at one of the mounted Scots warriors, trying to climb into the man’s saddle. “You will not take Lady Ysabelle without me.”
    Ysabelle cringed. “Please don’t harm her.”
    Nicholas Ramsay barked a command and one of his soldiers snatched Ada. The woman uttered an indignant screech as the Scotsman plopped her onto the back of his horse. Following the Ram’s lead, they all turned and galloped off into the night.
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    The thunder of horses charging across the moors pounded in Ysabelle’s ears. Though she hated to touch her captor, his solid forearms offered the most security on the galloping horse. As her fingers tightened around his muscular arm, a blast of memory filled her mind. Not from the past, but a dream of her future. A dark, handsome man smiling at her, followed by screams of pain, the spray of arrows and an inferno of fire.
    Shaking her head, she focused on the present. The brutal speed of