Claire Delacroix by The Warrior Page A

her hand.”
    “The end is the same, lady mine,” he reminded her. “And there is no delay in this. I have little taste for loitering when my decision is clear.”
    “And what of my decision?” she murmured. Before he could reply, she sighed and glanced into the forest, a small frown marring her brows. Resignation claimed her then, and her shoulders drooped, though he never would have imagined that she would surrender any battle so readily.
    “I forget myself. If you do not intend to beat me, then I suppose my lot is more fortunate than that of most women. One way or the other, we shall make a match of this, I suppose.” Aileen granted him a smile so sad it fair tore his heart in two. “I should have liked to have been courted, but God knows, I must be content with what has been granted to me. A thousand women would likely be pleased to take my place.”
    The Hawk feared she might weep, but his wife brushed past him them and headed back to the horses, stepping with care around the worst of the brambles. The Hawk watched her, feeling more a cur than ever he had.
    A courtship, to his thinking, could be arranged.
    Especially if the prize was his lady’s favor.
    * * *
    Aileen cursed herself for the remainder of the day. What impetuousness had claimed her, that she had matched wits with the man? It was too tempting by half to talk to him, especially when he spoke to her as if she was someone possessed of intellect. Yet each time she bantered with him, she revealed more of herself and undoubtedly dissuaded him of the notion that she was passive and amenable.
    And trustworthy. Aileen gritted her teeth at her own susceptibility to the man’s charm. She could not take the words back: she could only hope that she was more successful in future.
    How keen were the Hawk’s wits? She suspected they were sharp indeed. How attentive was he? Would he even notice if her manner changed? Many men took little note of women, much less of their changes of temperament.
    Aileen feared this man might, for he seemed most observant. All the same, she had to try to hide her intent to escape from him. She had to remember to act meek and agreeable, regardless of what he said or did.
    It would not be easily done. His was a dangerous allure, that much was clear. There was something about the Hawk that tempted her to speak her thoughts in truth. Perhaps it was his lack of censure for her words, perhaps it was that half-smile or the way her heart leapt when he looked at her with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. She liked his pledge to not beat her—and worse, she believed it.
    It was nonsense, of course, but Aileen almost thought him a gallant knight bent upon winning her affections. She almost believed that he wished to make a marriage in truth.
    Then why the sorcery? And why did he deny it? It could be no accident that he no longer forced his kiss upon her.
    What of his reputation, and his own threats? He must be behaving other than he was, as well, in an attempt to gain her trust. Aileen dared not be beguiled. She had to escape him, and do so before he enchanted her completely.
    * * *
    Aileen’s scheme grew more clear as they rode persistently south. Every day, by her reasoning, they traveled closer to the king’s own court. If she could only escape the Hawk, she could make her way to Stirling and throw herself at the mercy of the king. Surely a bishop would take her pledge that her match with the Hawk had never been consummated, surely someone would believe her.
    She could not imagine that any honest soul would give credence to the Hawk’s view, or that no one would defend her against such a man as he.
    She knew that a dispensation could be had from Rome for a match unconsummated or one made between a man and woman too closely related. She was not a cousin of the Hawk, sadly, so the argument of consanguinity would not aid her. She was certain, though, that she had heard once of a woman abducted who had seen her match dissolved.
    All she had