Passion Over Time (19 page)

Chapter Five

Fury rammed through Bryant. Using Riana as a whore wasn’t enough. The duchess would have the young woman murder for her. He had wondered why Riana had emptied the wine goblet into the chamber pot. He was gratified to understand she wouldn’t chance him drinking the deadly wine by mistake. She was no murderess, at least not at heart.

The duchess, however, schemed to murder his mentor, the man who had been more of a father to him than his own father. Twenty-three years ago, Bryant’s father had torn him from his mother’s arms at the age of seven and gave him to Dunbar as his page. Now Bryant was a knight to be reckoned with—though he wasn’t powerful enough to stand against the Duke or
Duchess
of Arundel.

Bryant’s word wouldn’t be enough to bring her to justice for conspiring to murder, but Sir Dunbar would believe him and, if the older knight saw the wisdom in the plan now forming in Bryant’s mind, together, they might wield some power over the duke and duchess.

Five minutes later, Bryant entered Sir Dunbar’s room.

Dunbar cursed and propped himself up in bed when Bryant lit a candle. “‘Tis the middle of the night.”

“I can leave and take with me the information about the attempt on your life,” Bryant said.

Dunbar threw back the covers and sat up. “Who have I offended this time?”

Bryant lowered himself into the chair to the left of the bed. “The Duchess of Arundel.”

Dunbar’s brows rose in question, and Bryant told him all he’d overheard between her and Riana.

Ten minutes later, Bryant had finished the tale and he leaned back in his chair as Dunbar gulped the last of the wine he had poured.

He set the goblet on the night stand beside the bed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You are damned fortunate the wench did not feed you the poison just for good measure—and I am fortunate to have caught the eye of that serving maid. Had she not brought me to these chambers, I would have certainly fucked the whore, then drank the poison she fed me.” He grinned. “Your life for mine is a fair trade after all, the times I’ve saved your life.”

Bryant recognized the amusement in the comment, but gave a serious nod. He would gladly give his life for the older knight.

“This is the work of Shrewsbury,” Dunbar said. “With me out of the way, he could take control of my forces and seize my land—mayhap yours as well. His army combined with mine would give him a seat at Sir Andrew’s table, and an ear with David once the pup takes his place as king. Curse Shrewsbury,” Dunbar muttered. “The bastard made a pact with that bitch—they are well suited.” Dunbar snorted. “She likely used your little bitch to seal the deal.”

“She is no bitch” Bryant replied.

“She is a whore.”

“I intend to marry her.”

“Marry her?” Dunbar blurted. “Have you gone mad?”

“I am a bastard,” Bryant replied. “Who am I to judge her station in life?”

“Your station will be greatly enhanced once you marry a proper lady—something you should have done five years ago.”

“She is a proper lady.”

“Her title is of feudal rank, not peerage. You will be little better off than you are now.”

Bryant lifted a brow. “Peerage?”

“Your father expects you to marry well.”

Bryant gave a mirthless laugh. “I care nothing for what he expects.”

“He has done well by you,” Dunbar replied.

“Nothing he does has ever been out of love for me—or my mother.”

“You will not forgive him, will you?”

Bryant met his gaze squarely. “Why should I?”

“He did not know she was sickly. I knew your mother. She was skilled at keeping her secrets.”

“He left her in that hovel.”

“Not a hovel, lad.”

“Not the lavish warmth his wife enjoyed,” Bryant shot back.

Dunbar studied him. “Are you certain you do not mean to hurt him by marrying this girl?”

“I would not give him even that satisfaction.”

“You could take her as a mistress. That would be paradise compared to her life here.”

“That would sentence her to the same fate my mother suffered. No, my lord, I will marry her.” Bryant's heart softened. He recognized the old knight’s attempt to ensure his future, and gentled his tone. “I must take her sister with us. That is the only way she will agree to the marriage.”

Sir Dunbar’s brows shot up. “You cannot believe the duke will let the girl go.”

“Do not forget, his wife attempted to kill you.”

Dunbar laughed. “You overestimate my importance, especially when compared to that girl’s beauty. Also, their stepfather still lives. He, too, has control of the girls’ lives. You might save the older sister by marrying her, but that gives you no power over the younger. There is also the matter of Castle Fyvie,” he added. “The duchess will not want the land fall to you.”

Bryant nodded. “But consider, Neas. If the plotting of your murder is any indication of what she has coerced Lady Ellis into, imagine what other secrets Riana might know. If I offered her protection, she would change her allegiance without hesitation, and her secrets would become ours.”

The older man was silent for a long moment. “The duchess favors our self-proclaimed king Edward Balliol. Perhaps there is something that might incriminate them enough to count them among the
Disinherited
.” He paused. “If you marry Lady Ellis and she lies to us—or does not know anything of great import—the duchess will not rest until we are dead.”

“You were as good as dead when you entered Arundel,” Bryant said.

Dunbar shot him a recriminating look. “The girl has more reason to lie than to tell the truth.”

“Not with the right incentive.”

“Miscalculate, and you accomplish far more than a bad marriage. Your father cannot protect you against the Duke of Arundel.”

Bryant’s jaw tensed. “When have I ever called upon my father for help?”

“In that, you are a fool.” Dunbar rose. “So, you intend to bind the house of Arundel to your own by marrying the duchess’ whore? You had better have bollocks, lad. You will either end up dead, or a very powerful man.”

Bryant smiled. “I prefer the latter.”

Chapter Six

Riana choked back a gag at the foul odor of the prison and pulled the hood of her cloak tight around her face as she followed the guard down the tiny walkway between cells that lined the walls to the left and right. How did these men live in such squalor? Was this how Glen was being forced to live? She had to get him out at all costs.

Thanks be to God that Sir Dunbar hadn’t been in his chambers when Riana sought him out two hours ago. She’d reported to the duchess, who had been furious, but day was fast approaching, and his men-at-arms would soon be rousing themselves. The duchess agreed that he must have been distracted with another tasty wench. Tonight, she would ensure he came to Riana. That gave Riana today to secure Glen’s release. Once free, she would sneak Siusan out of Arundel, and she—A grimy hand shot from the darkness between the bars on the left side. Riana leapt back, then cried out at the vicious yank on her arm that dragged her against the bars on the opposite side. Meaty fingers snaked around her waist and pinched a breast through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Let her go, you filthy wretch!” shouted the guard.

Riana twisted and met the feral brown eyes of the prisoner. He seized her bodice and yanked it down past her breast as he jerked her against the bars. Foul breath washed over her face. She gagged in reflex at the rank smell. His greedy mouth latched onto a nipple and sucked. Pain spiked from the sensitive bud. Riana twisted as fingers dug in between her legs. Bile rose.

The guard’s club slammed down on the man’s arm. The wretch growled. The club beat down upon the man’s arm again, and his grasp loosened. Riana jumped back, then whirled in time to miss a swipe from another large hand on the other side of the room. She dragged the bodice up over her breasts, breath coming in painful wheezes.

The guard appeared at her side. “I told you to walk directly behind me.” He added something unintelligible, then started forward again.

Riana stumbled after him, legs so shaky she couldn’t halt her tears. With trembling hands, she tugged the hood over her head, gaze straight ahead as she followed directly in the guard’s footsteps down the middle of the aisle until they passed through a doorway into another narrow corridor, this one, thankfully, without cells. They made a dozen twists and turns through the stone hallways and up and down stairs before finally coming to a large wooden door. The guard rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside.

“The lady to see you, my lord.”

Riana entered, legs still trembling so badly she feared they would give way beneath her. Warmth washed over her and she started at sight of the inviting fire that blazed in the hearth at the opposite side of the room—and the tall, dark-haired man sitting behind a desk a few feet front of it. The quill that had been moving across a page stilled, and he looked up. This man didn’t fit the lecherous picture the duchess had painted of the prison warden.

Not all men looked the part of letches, she reminded herself. But they were.

Not so
. Glen wasn’t, neither had her Stuart been…or Sir Bryant? She shook off the unexpected thought and focused on the man sitting behind the desk. If he wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s body, then he would require coin, and she needed to save every gold piece for Glen and Siusan. Pray God a letch lived behind the intense brown eyes that stared at her.

She glanced meaningfully at the guard. “May we speak alone, my lord?”

The warden motioned with his head for the guard to leave. The man snickered, then left.

Riana waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then crossed to the desk. “I am here to secure the release of a friend.”

He laid down his quill and looked expectantly at her.

Fear sliced through her at his lack of response. “You do not seem surprised by my request, sir.”

“I have many requests to release prisoners.”

His deep voice unnerved her. “I can pay,” she said.

His gaze raked down her body, then came back to her face. “Indeed?”

“Any price,” she added.

“Who is the friend?”

“Glen Ramsey.”

He gave a small nod. “The duchess’ latest pet.”

Her heart raced. “Is he well?”

His mouth turned downwards. “As well as can be expected.”

Fear squeezed her stomach. “What does that mean?”

“You have seen this place. Who would be well here?”

“Aye, no one, but is he unharmed?”

“Last I saw him. He is strong. He can care for himself.”

“Any price,” she said. “I can pay.”

“How is it a man like him has won the allegiance of a woman like you? He is a deaf mute.”

Anger flared, but she forced back the emotion. She wasn’t allowed indignation. She would fuck the devil if it would get Glen out of hell. “He is my father.” The lie was slight.

“A woman would do almost anything for a father,” he said slowly.

“Not
almost
anything,” Riana corrected. “Anything.”

“The duchess will expect her pet to be where she left him.”

Riana snorted a condescending laugh. “Her Grace has never set foot here, nor will she.”

Though if she knew what Riana was about to do, she well might hazard the foul stench to watch. Riana forced back a shiver. It was one thing for the duchess to have watched while Riana let a man rut between her legs when sprawled on the sweet-smelling mattress at Arundel, but quite another for her to enjoy the picture she’d painted of Riana chained to a wall as a man pounded into her while grunting like the animal he was.

The warden leaned back in his chair. “The duchess is not a woman to cross.”

A tremor rippled through Riana. This man was no fool to be easily misled. She eased the hood from her hair, then undid the tie on the cloak and sloughed the garment from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, but the warden’s eyes were on the well-fitting but low-cut bodice that revealed a hint of nipple.

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Word of your visit is sure to reach her ears.”

The damnable man was unmoved.

“I can remain here as long as you desire.”

A brow rose. “At my word, you would never leave here—and her spies would be no more.”

Riana’s pulse jumped. Coming from another man she wouldn’t have believed it. But this man might very well wield the power he boasted. Pray God he did.

“She need never know, then?” Riana stepped toward the desk. “You have that power?”

“I rule hell.”

So she would be forced to fuck the devil after all. Though by the looks of him, his breath wouldn’t be as foul as that of the monster who had grabbed her. Or would he share her with those animals, as the duchess predicted? Mayhap he was like her, and preferred to watch? Gaze locked with his, Riana inched the sleeves of her dress down her arms and allowed the dress to fall to the floor beside the cloak.