A Knight's Temptation (12 page)

Propping his thumb under her chin, he forced her head back against the bark. She tried to twist away, but he held her firm. Her liquid glaze sparked with loathing so intense, he guessed she connected this moment with a past indignity. Again, he thought of Leona Ransley’s defiance, but quickly shoved the memory aside. Whatever had happened to Lady L was hers to resolve; right now, she needed to heed him.

“I should leave you here,” he muttered, “to spend the night alone, without warmth or food.”

“Fine,” she shot back.

“What a find for the poachers, when they come to check their traps.”

Her lashes lowered a fraction.

“I wonder what they would do, when they found you?”

“They would let me go.”

Aldwin laughed. “I do not think so.”

She jerked at his touch. His hand splayed wider, capturing more of her. He found her pulse, thumping beneath her skin.

“Is that what you intend, then? To leave me here?”

Aldwin leaned in closer, bringing his mouth next to hers. “After your foolishness tonight, I would gladly do just that.” He shut his eyes against the fury boiling within him. “A less skilled marksman might have killed you. To risk your life in such a foolhardy manner . . .”

“I had to escape.”

He opened his eyes to hold her gaze. “I will never let you go. Nor will you escape me. Your life is mine now.”

She thrashed in his hold. “Never!”

“Aye.”

“You—”

He lowered his lips. Chased her breath. Pressed his mouth over hers.

She shrieked against his lips while shaking her head from side to side. Strands of her hair caught in the bark like shimmering spiderwebs.

“Mine,” he growled.

Where their mouths met, warmth seeped into him, a tantalizing heat different from aught he’d ever known before. She was akin to a summer deluge—threatening to drown him with his desire, but so beautiful, he couldn’t deny himself. Her lush lips and downy skin coaxed him to touch and explore her. She gasped, no doubt indignant, while he slanted his lips across hers again, taking what he craved.

Impulsive, Aldwin
, his conscience yelped.
Take heed. If she is a lady
. . .

He blocked out the annoying voice, just as he ignored her muffled shrieks. How he wanted her. The force of his need sent a tremor jolting through him. His mouth continued to plunder hers, while his hand shifted, urging her head back even further. He pressed his lower body flush against her, their hips joined as closely as possible with their garments between them. A movement designed not only to intimidate her, but prevent her from kneeing him in the groin—for she seemed angry enough to try such.

She wrenched her mouth from his. Spluttered. Struggled.

He trailed his lips across the indent at the corner of her mouth, along the line of her jaw, and down her neck’s creamy curve; tiny, calculated kisses that delivered a sensory attack.

The sweetness of her skin . . . Addictive.

“Stop!” she gasped, swatting his arm. Not enough force, though, behind the punch to do him harm.

“Stop?” He nibbled her neck. “Why?”

“I—” She shuddered.

Aldwin nibbled again, this time drawing her skin between his teeth.

“That is not—” She shivered. “I-I mean—”

He sensed her defiance wavering.

At last.

“You tempted me tonight,” he said against her mouth, “more than once. Why should I not indulge my pleasure?”

“Nay!”

“Aye, Lady L.” He skimmed his thumb across her bottom lip and relished her short, angry moan.

Her moist gaze lifted, piercing him with her anguish. “Cease”—she spoke with tremendous effort—“and I will go with you.”

Triumph rushed through him. Those were the words he wanted to hear. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from taking one last kiss. “Willingly?” he asked against her mouth.

“A-aye.”

“If you try to deceive me—”

“I give you my word.”

He chuckled before nuzzling the plane of her cheek. “Easier to trust a starved lion.”

“What would a bastard like you know about lions?”

The resentment in her voice made him pause. He hadn’t been born out of wedlock. He might have enjoyed impressing that significant fact upon her, but his thoughts had already traveled back to Ward’s last days. Sitting by Ward’s bedside, listening to his fever-induced ramblings about the hot desert lands while the strength had seeped from his dying body, had been torment. But Aldwin had owed those difficult days to Ward, because of their game gone awry many summers ago, when Ward’s sister had perished.

“I know more about lions, Lady L, than you can ever imagine.” Aldwin yanked the bolt from the tree trunk. He stepped back, adjusted his hold on the crossbow, and tipped his head. “Move.”

***

Leona trudged through the forest, aware of Aldwin close behind her. Holding her head high, she fought the frustration gnawing at her. She
would
escape him. She
would
find a way back to Pryerston Keep. He couldn’t keep watch on her with his crossbow forever.

The night wind stirred her hair, and she brushed strands from her lips, hating the way her mouth felt hot and tender from his kisses. Her neck still sensed his callused fingers pressing against her, and her innards . . .

She wouldn’t think of those sensations. Ever again.

“Veer left,” Aldwin said, before a splintered, moss-covered stump became visible in the darkness ahead.

Without giving any indication she’d heard his order, she changed direction. With a wry laugh, he followed.

His laughter seemed to find its way inside her, to poke at memories she’d tried to keep trapped in her consciousness. But from the instant his mouth had crushed down upon hers, the memories had floated free. Once again, she was eight years old and unable to get away, while Sir Aldwin with the make-believe sword forced her chin up. Ignoring her protests, he pressed his lips to hers.

Her first kiss. Quick. Passionless. Not at all like his kisses tonight. Somehow, though, that past moment had stuck in her mind and refused to fade. Mayhap because ’twas the one and only kiss she’d ever experienced, until moments ago.

How many nights had she lain awake in her bed at her uncle’s keep, staring up at the overhead beams while thinking of that fleeting kiss? Wondering why, as part of his game, Aldwin had insisted upon it? She’d heard many knightly tales since then, and not all of the heroes kissed their ladies before heading off to combat.

Mayhap one day she’d know his reasons.

Or not.

Even if he did remember what he’d been thinking long ago, he wouldn’t tell her. Not unless he knew who she really was. She’d rather be sucked dry by leeches than reveal her true identity and thereby implicate her sire in the stealing of the pendant.

Also, Aldwin would have to trust her to confide in her. That wasn’t likely.

Easier to trust a starved lion
, he’d said, suggesting he knew all about lions. How? Had he seen them firsthand, like Ward? As far as she knew, Aldwin hadn’t journeyed to the East like her brother.

While she’d never seen a lion herself, she’d heard stories of the great beasts with shaggy manes, huge teeth, and roars so fearsome, they’d send children screaming. Ward’s drawings and notes in his sketchbook, delivered to Pryerston after his death, had created a clear picture of such awe-inspiring animals.

For Aldwin to say he knew about lions was arrogant. And a lie.

Holding onto a tree branch for balance, she stepped over a raised, uneven section of wall obscured by fallen leaves. Hearing Aldwin come up behind her, she released the branch so it snapped back against him, and smiled at his irritated grunt.

“That way.” He pointed his crossbow at a slight incline.

“’Tis easier to go that direction,” she countered, gesturing.

“True, but I wish to get back to Rom.” The crossbow bolt nudged her back. “Go.”

Rebellion seethed inside her, but she started forward. Truth be told, she was exhausted. A drink, a cheery fire, and a meal would be—

Her foot slipped on uneven ground. She gasped, just as Aldwin’s arm slid around her from behind, steadying her and stopping her from falling. At his touch, heat shot through her body, and she lurched away.

A fallen tree blocked her path, but she marched on, climbing up over it and down the other side. She’d ducked behind similar trees when playing chase through the woods with Ward. Once, he’d given her a clear shot while he stood looking for her. When she’d hit him in the arse with a slingshot-fired acorn, he’d yelped like a girl.

How she wished she had a slingshot this evening.

Not far ahead, river water glistened between the trees. The air smelled of damp loam.

Another large, fallen tree. She scrambled over it, glad to get her feet on solid ground. Yet she’d taken no more than five steps when the earth beneath her shifted and seemed about to disintegrate.

Leona hesitated, her arms splayed wide.

“Keep moving.”

She glanced back at Aldwin, standing on the log behind her. “’Tis not safe. The ground—”

Her boots began to sink into the earth. Spinning her arms so she didn’t fall, she scrambled back.

Aldwin climbed down from the log. “What is wrong?”

“I—Oh!”

The dirt beneath her slid away, as though being swallowed by an underground monster.

“Lady L!”

Leona shrieked.

The cry still burning her throat, she plunged into darkness.

Chapter Eight

Aldwin hurried toward the gaping hole where Lady L had disappeared. Dread mocked him for forcing her to take the route he’d wanted—because he could.

A
splash
echoed from belowground.

Lady L gasped, the sound clearly wrenched from her lungs. “Oh, God.”

A sharp sigh left his lips. She was alive. Was she hurt?

Setting aside his crossbow, Aldwin crouched before the yawning cavity. He couldn’t see her at all, only blackness. Where his hands pressed, dirt crumbled down into the hole.

“Lady L?”

More splashes. A spitting sound, then a cough, rose from below.

“Are you all right?” His voice resonated, carried back up to him by the darkness.

“I . . . think so.” A shaky sigh. “The water is not too deep. W-where am I?”

“You may have fallen into a buried building.” He tried to keep his tone steady and calm. “Do not worry. I will get you out.”

Water sloshed. “Ow! God’s teeth—”

“Hold still. I will fetch a torch.”

“Something is moving down here.” Lady L’s voice wavered.

“Stay still. I will be right back.”

“Y-you cannot leave me here!”

“I will be quick. I promise.”

Her angry snort echoed. “If you
dare
leave me here . . .”

You will do what?
his mind taunted. But he’d heard her anxiety. More insistent than his longing to taunt her was the need to know she was safe. He was responsible for her life and well-being.

Aldwin pushed to standing and retrieved his crossbow. With a gritty whisper, dirt fell down into the hole.

More spitting. “You did that on purpose!”

Her furious muttering chased him as he headed toward the river.

Rom stood in the shelter of the wall where Aldwin had left him. The destrier raised his head and snuffled a greeting.

After untying the rope still secured to the wall and rolling up the blanket on the ground, Aldwin shoved them into his saddlebag. He untethered Rom and led him into the woods, closer to where Lady L had fallen and where he’d be better protected from the elements. Aldwin withdrew a flint from his bag, snatched up some dry brush, and lit a small fire, then shoved a branch into the flames. Each step seemed to take an eternity.

What if Lady L had refused to stay still? What if she’d fallen in the water and knocked her head? What if the creature she’d heard moving down there was a starved predator?

He glared at the branch.
Catch fire
.

With a faint crackle, the wood finally caught. He slung his saddlebag over his shoulder, and, cupping his hand before the flame, hurried back to the cavity in the ground.

“Aldwin?” Lady L’s voice rose up to him.

“Aye.” He knelt and dropped his crossbow and bag on the ground, wondering if she sensed how relieved he was to hear her voice.

“T-thank God.”

“Stand aside. I will lower down the torch.”

“Stand aside,” she repeated. “I cannot even see my fingers before my face.”

Holding the branch between his knees, Aldwin knotted the rope around it, and then lowered it into the inkiness. The flame sputtered. He saw Lady L standing a fair distance below, up to her waist in water, but could see little else of where she’d fallen. As he’d ordered, she stepped backward, her garments dragging in the depths; she’d obviously understood he wanted to protect her from the swaying flame, and that she’d take the branch when ’twas at a level she could reach.

While he fed the rope down, he wondered if ’twas wise for him to give her a weapon. Still, if she wished him harm, there must be rocks to pick up in the water and throw. At this point, since he was her only means out of the ground, she’d be foolish to attack him. If she seemed to be contemplating an assault, he’d remind her of that fact.

Wind blew against his back, and he shivered, thinking of the fire still burning. He stopped lowering the rope. “Can you take the torch now?”

“A-aye.” Teeth chattering, she sloshed over to it. Stifling a pang of regret, he waited while she caught hold of the branch and untied it with shaking hands.

The rope slithered loose.

With brisk tugs, he whisked back up.

“W-what—” she choked out.

“I am not leaving you.”

“Then w-what are you doing? Aldwin!”

He turned away from the cavity, strode to the fallen tree, and knotted the rope around a stout branch. After stamping out the fire, he returned to the hole where faint light now glimmered. He slipped his saddlebag and crossbow onto his shoulder, then grabbed hold of the rope. He slid into the cavity.