A Knight's Temptation (13 page)

As he descended, he realized Lady L had fallen into an underground cavern. She no longer stood in the liquid depths, but on a mud bank strewn with rocks, fallen trees, branches, and other debris. Holding the torch high, she was taking a good look at the surroundings. From the slow but clear-flowing water, he guessed the cave had been gouged out by years of rising and diminishing floodwaters, and that the current joined the rest of the river not far away.

Still holding tight to the rope while he hovered just above the water, he shifted his weight. The rope began to swing. Not far to the large rock jutting from the water, and then, but a leap to the bank.

To her
.

As he swung nearer the rock, Lady L turned, and their gazes locked. She looked utterly bedraggled. Her wet hair spilled down the front of her dripping cloak caked with mud. Her gaze, though, seemed strong and clear. A good sign. Hopefully she hadn’t suffered any injuries in her fall.

His boots scraped the rock. He dropped onto it, and then leapt to the bank.

Lady L wiped water from her face, while Aldwin squared his shoulders, preparing for the verbal flaying she’d no doubt unleash upon him for causing her to end up in this place.

She gestured to the ground. “Look.”

He dared a glance. Half-buried in the mud by his feet lay broken columns and chunks of pottery.

“There is more beneath the water.”

“Swept here by floods,” he guessed aloud.

The torchlight shifted and cast long shadows. He followed her gaze upward to the haphazard ceiling of rock, decaying trees, and mud.

“The c-creature I heard before might be l-living up there.” Her throat moved with a loud swallow. “W-will that ceiling c-collapse upon us?”

“We are safe enough, I vow.”

Her attention snapped back to him. Her body shook as she thrust the torch up toward the hole. “Safe? As I was, w-walking over unstable g-ground?”

A flush warmed his cheekbones. “I did not expect the earth to give way.”

“I t-tried to tell you, but you w-would not l-listen.” Her brows drew together. “You were too busy g-gloating.”

Aldwin scowled. If she weren’t soaked, and if this situation weren’t entirely his fault, he might have grabbed her by the front of her cloak, hauled her up onto her tiptoes, and growled in her face. He could roar loudly enough to startle the challenge from her eyes.

If she still didn’t yield, he’d kiss her again.

His loins heated at the thought, and, his scowl deepening, he shoved the inconvenient desire away. Indulging his temper would solve naught. This wench might test every single one of his knightly values, but she would
not
get the better of him.

“Very well,” he agreed. “I was gloating.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Therefore, I accept full blame for our circumstances.”

She set her hand on her hip. “Good.”

“Since ’tis my fault you fell in here, I take complete responsibility for getting you out.”

“Thank you.” Her boots squelched as she started toward the rope. “Now, if you w-will help me—”

“Of course. As soon as ’tis light.”

Her back to him, Lady L froze. He sensed her struggle to control her ire. “What did you say?”

“We will climb out in the morning. ’Twill be safer.”

She turned, very slowly. Her lips, bluish purple in the dim light, flattened, and she eyed him as though he were the one who’d fallen through the ground—and cracked his skull on the way.

“You c-cannot mean to spend the n-night here.”

“Why not? There is plenty of firewood.” He patted his saddlebag. “I have food and drink.”

Lady L shook her head. “I am
n-not
—”

“’Tis only for one night. I agree ’tis not the most comfortable place. Certainly not what a
lady
is used to, but—”

He sensed the moment her patience shattered. Her lips curled back from her teeth in a growl.

The torch hissed through the air, spitting smoke. Wielding it like a sword, she slashed at his stomach. A deft thrust. Who’d taught her to swordfight?

“Stop this foolishness, Lady L.”

She slashed again. He dodged the strike. Just.

“Injure me,” he warned, “and we will be here longer than one night.”

“You might be. I will climb the rope by myself.” Again, she struck out, the torch slicing the air with a menacing
hiss
.

“You cannot ride Rom. Remember?”

Hiss
. “Then I will go on foot.”

Aldwin leapt back. His boot heels skidded on loose rocks, and he felt the heat of the torch whistle close to his body. “Who will protect you from the poachers?”

Her chin jutted up. “I can defend myself.”

She tensed to strike again.

He studied. Waited.

The flame swung toward him. Lunging forward, he caught her wrist. “Who will protect you,” he said, “from yourself?”

They stood together, frozen like ancient statues, while the torch crackled and spit.

As if she’d been stabbed, a moan broke from her. Her hand gripping the torch opened, and the flame clattered to the ground.

He released her wrist.

“What did you say?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Frowning, he repeated, “Who will protect you from yourself?”

A terrible sadness haunted Lady L’s gaze before a violent tremor shook her. She spun, crossed to a pile of rubble, and slumped down on a large rock. She dropped her face into her hands.

Aldwin stooped and picked up the torch, which, thank God, had not gone out. What in hellfire had just happened?

He crossed to her. “Lady L?”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t glance up.

“What is wrong?”

Raising her head, she looked at him, her expression stark with anguish. “Go away.”

Her pain gouged deep. The chivalrous part of his nature urged him to sit beside her, slip his arm around her, and murmur soothing words. He’d do such for any woman in distress. At the very least, he’d like to understand why his words had upset her.

But caution also clamored inside him. She was a cunning wench, determined to escape. If he let down his wariness for a moment to comfort her, she might try to deceive him.

As though aware of his dilemma, she hugged herself and turned her face away. “Stand guard at that wretched r-rope, for all I care. L-leave me alone.”

***

Ignoring the freezing water trickling down into her lap, Leona willed Aldwin to walk away. She sensed his keen stare upon her until, at last, he left her side.

Good. For she was within a breath of picking up the nearest rock and hurling it at him. Thanks to Ward’s tutelage, she never missed.

She blew out a weary breath and tried to catch hold of the emotions unraveling inside her.
Who will protect you from yourself?
How many times had Ward said those exact words? To hear them from Aldwin had been a complete shock.

A scraping noise echoed in the cavern, and she dared a glance. Aldwin squatted some distance away, mounding branches and debris to start a fire. When he reached for another bit of wood, his hose stretched over his thighs, outlining thick-hewn muscles.

Leona looked away, forcing aside the memory of those broad thighs pinned against her in the forest. Shivering again, she hugged her arms tighter across her soggy bodice. What a peculiar predicament, for her heart to ache so fiercely, while her body turned numb.

Who will protect you from yourself?
Usually Ward had said that right before she intended to take a risk.

Such as the night he’d caught her in Pryerston’s armory, a few weeks before she was stung by the bees.

“What are you up to?”

Starting at the sound of her brother’s voice, she spun around, almost dropping the helm in her hands. Ward stood in the armory doorway, his shoulder-length hair shining in the light cast by the wall torch.

Crossing his scrawny arms, Ward leaned against the embrasure and leveled her a stern look.

She’d never get away with her plan now.

“Leona?” He raised one eyebrow, a gesture he’d inherited from their sire. Her brother, though, was nowhere near as intimidating. More often than not, she could turn his brotherly scowl into a reluctant grin. Mayhap she could persuade him to help her?

“I needed a helm,” she said, holding up the one in her hands. It looked too large for her head. However, she could stuff undergarments inside to tighten the fit and would grow into it.

“Why do you need a helm?”

The tricky question. If her palms didn’t stop sweating, she’d drop the wretched headpiece on the floor. What a colossal
clang
that would make. “One day, I might need one.”

His frown intensified. “You are eight years old.”

“I know, but—”

“You are a lady, Leona.” He sighed. “We fight with pretend swords and wrestle in the lake, but that is just play. You are not destined to fight battles.”

She managed a lazy little shrug. “How do you know? What if you and Father are not able to defend the keep and it is attacked?”

Ward tsked.

“’Tis a wise question.”

“Father would leave enough men-at-arms to defend Pryerston. When you are grown, your husband will deal with such matters.”

Husband? Ugh. “What if he is away settling a dispute in another part of our lands?”

“He will have assigned another to handle such matters for him.” Her brother shook his head. “Leona, be sensible.”

“I am. I do not want to be a lady. I wish to train to be a squire, like you.” Frustration thickened her voice. “I hate learning to embroider. I cannot stand the quiet games young ladies are supposed to play, and the boring chatter drives me mad!”

A grin tugged at her brother’s lips. Oh, marvelous. Mayhap she could convince him, after all.

Her silk gown rustled as she again stepped closer. “I will take this helm and leave, now. Do not tell Father, all right?”

Ward snorted.

“Why do you make that foul noise?”

“Because I know
you
. If trouble is to be had with that helm, you will find it.”

“Not true,” she grumbled. But he was probably right.

Ward eased away from the door. His gaze tender, he closed the distance between them and put his hand on her shoulder. “When will you stop trying to be a boy? You are a girl.” He smiled. “The most beautiful sister in all of England.”

A blush warmed her face. “You are trying to sway me. You want me to put down the helm, return to my chamber, and say no more about being a squire.”

“Father does not need two sons. He loves you as his daughter.”

An awful tightness filled her breast. “He wished I were a son. We have both heard him say how he regrets his second boy was stillborn.”

“Father loves you, Leona. Never forget that. And, no matter what you say or do, you will always be one of the fairer sex. A lady who deserves a protector.”

She squarely met Ward’s gaze. “I am not some wilting damsel. I do not need you, or anyone else, to defend me. I can fire a slingshot as well as you. I can ride a horse equally well, and last time, I hit more targets with rocks.”

An affectionate smile touched his mouth. “You are also stubborn of will, hot-tempered, and far too curious for your own good.”

She huffed a breath. “Well—”

He plucked the helm from her hands and set it with the others. “As much as you might deserve that helm, Leona, I cannot let you have it. For who will protect you from yourself?”

The tang of smoke wafted to Leona, drawing her from her thoughts. Aldwin was setting more branches on the fire that had just begun to burn.

He looked up at her and shook his head, as though he didn’t like what he saw. She tried to quell him with a disdainful glare—the kind that had even made Ward squirm—but her teeth were chattering so badly, ’twas impossible.

Muttering under his breath, Aldwin dropped the last of the debris on the fire and reached for his saddlebag. Pushing up the leather flap, he rummaged inside and withdrew a garment. He rose and marched toward her. His boots sounded an ominous
crunch, crunch
.

Aldwin looked angry enough to ram that clothing down her throat.

Trying to ignore her rising alarm, she shoved to her feet and walked down to the river. Her garments clung to her legs, while water ran down her ankles into her boots. She tried to imagine a scorching summer day, with a sun as golden-orange as the torchlight reflected in the river. The flames cast enough light to see her reflection; she also saw Aldwin change his direction and stride toward her.

“Lady L.”

She stooped to pick up a broken stick. Two good, dry pieces to put on the fire.

His scuffed boots appeared in her line of vision. She was still bent over at the waist, her hand rising from the ground. He stood close enough that she could touch his boots’ muddy toes. To stand so near was a blatant disregard for the invisible boundaries between strangers.

Mayhap, after their kiss in the forest, he didn’t consider her a stranger to him anymore?

If he thought such, he was a bold man indeed.

Aldwin didn’t move or speak, but waited for her to notice him. Another attempt to intimidate her.

She reached for another stick.

“Lady L,” he repeated. His tone implied if she didn’t immediately rise and look at him, there would be repercussions.

Making certain their bodies didn’t touch, she straightened, the sticks clenched in her hand. Her face came level with his neck. Strands of his blond hair were caught in his cloak’s fastening and for one, ridiculous moment, she wanted to reach out and brush them aside.

What
was
she thinking?

“You wished to s-speak to me?” she said.

“Aye.” His brows raised. “For a moment, I thought I might have to request an audience with you.”