A Knight's Seduction Read online

  “Are we going to be all right?” Mary asked, her eyes enormous.

  “We are.”

  “What if the ruffians plan to slaughter us all?”

  “’Twould be very foolish of them,” Claire answered, trying to sound calm and clear-headed, despite the panic buzzing in her mind like a trapped fly. “I doubt the conquerors would want hordes of angry friends and relatives of the deceased rushing to the castle to demand vengeance. Moreover, there would be no one left to cook the meals, or wash the floors, or care for the horses, or otherwise maintain Wode.”

  “There are worse things than dying.” Mary’s voice shrilled. “The ruffians might batter down the door, take us prisoner, and then…” Her words faded on a moan.

  “Mary.” Setting her hands upon her friend’s shoulders, Claire waited until Mary blinked and met her gaze. “You and I will be fine. We must be as brave as Lady Brackendale. We are not helpless, after all.”

  Mary looked confused.

  “We have blockaded the door. If need be, we have plenty of things in this chamber to use to defend ourselves.”

  “We do?”

  Claire glanced at the hearth. The blaze that had warmed her chamber through the night had burned down, and fresh logs hadn’t been added because the servants had expected her to be leaving for her aunt’s castle.

  Catching Mary’s hand, she pulled her friend to the fireplace and threw on more logs. She and Mary were going to be in this chamber for a while and might as well be comfortable. Then she pulled the fireplace poker from among the implements made of iron. Jabbing it in the air a few times, Claire said, “Perfect.”

  “ That is going to save us?”

  “If I poke a man in the right place,” Claire said with a wink, “he will come no nearer.”

  “Oh, I see. You will aim for that part of him, then?”

  They way Mary spoke ‘that part,’ she sounded as though Claire was going to do something drastic and…wicked. Claire flushed, for she had heard rumors about one place on a man that was especially sensitive to pain. She’d seen proof last spring, when a kitchen maid wielding a cast iron pot had marched into the bailey, shrieked at one of the stable hands, and then slammed the pot between his legs. The man’s high-pitched screams had brought half of the castle servants running to his side, and he’d walked strangely for days afterward. Yet, Claire would rather not have to wound a man there if she could thwart him another way.

  With a shrug and stab of the implement, Claire said, “If I threaten to stick an attacker in the eye, he will back away.”

  “The eye.” Mary tsked. “I thought you meant…” Her face reddened. “Well, you know.”

  “I do.” Claire’s flush intensified. “’Tis a last resort, though, to poke him in his male parts.” Truth be told, the thought of poking a man in his dangly bits made her want to throw up, but she should have no such qualms. If left with no other choice, she must do what had to be done to protect herself and Mary.

  Claire picked up a bit of kindling, a branch sturdy enough to deliver a sound wallop or even knock an attacker senseless. “Take this.” She pushed the kindling into Mary’s hands.

  “I have never used such a weapon before.”

  “Neither have I, but—”

  Somewhere in the distance, women screamed.

  Mary wailed. She scrambled to turn the branch and hold it like a sword.

  “Those screams came from the great hall,” Claire said. The fire iron wobbled in her grasp. Mercy! Her heart was going to pound its way out of her ribcage.

  “Those poor women sound terrified. Do you think they are being taken captive? What if…?” Mary swallowed loudly. “Will the ruffians come to get Lady Brackendale and then…us?”

  Claire tightened her grip on the fireplace poker. “Whatever is about to happen, we will be ready.”

  Chapter Four

  “How dare you think to lay your filthy hands upon me!”

  Tye glared down at Lady Brackendale. The crackling fury of her words still hung in the air, as palpable as if she’d struck him hard across the cheek. She eyed him as if he were a wayward boy who deserved a whipping—a mistake she’d quickly regret, if she wasn’t careful.

  He’d already subdued her guards and searched the chamber. The auburn-haired lady-in-waiting stood weeping by the doorway with a mercenary standing guard over her. All that remained was to search her ladyship for weapons or costly jewels hidden beneath her gown. If the old woman had jewels up her skirts, she might try to bribe one of the mercenaries to help her escape or get a message out of the keep; Tye would not risk her ruining his carefully-laid plans.

  Tye slowly tightened his grip on his gloves, clasped in his left hand. At the soft creak of leather, she swallowed hard, her wrinkled throat moving. “’Twill be far easier if you cooperate,” he warned. “Refuse me, and there will be consequences, not just for you, but others within these walls.”

  The lady-in-waiting moaned.

  Her ladyship, however, glowered all the more fiercely. “I want assurances from you, especially for the two wards within my care.”

  “Assurances? I think not.”

  Her eyes flashed. “You are willing to invite the wrath of the King, then? I promise you, my wards—”

  “Enough.” Tye signaled to two of the three mercenaries behind her ladyship. They caught her arms, holding her still as he dropped to a crouch, set down his gloves, and lifted the hem of her gown.

  She squirmed and kicked him in the leg. “Stop, you disgusting, unprincipled—”

  His hand locked around her left ankle. “Kick me again, your ladyship, and I will bind your hands and feet. You will stay bound until I decide to free you, which might be days from now.”

  Her ladyship snorted. Yet, finally, she stood still. He ran his hands up and down her legs, then dropped her skirts and patted down her arms and her bodice. She glared at him throughout the search, but he ignored her. Finally, he took her hands in his and slipped the rings off her fingers; he slid them into the leather bag at his hip, along with his gloves. The money raised from selling the jewels would help pay his hired men.

  “Take her ladyship and her maidservant to the great hall.”

  “My wards,” Lady Brackendale said. “I must know they will be safe.”

  “As I told you earlier: no assurances.”

  Fear touched her gaze. “Now you listen—”

  “Take them,” Tye snapped. Lady Brackendale had delayed him long enough, and there was still much to accomplish. The mercenaries pulled her ladyship toward the doorway, heedless of her shouts and struggles.

  After a last quick search of the solar, Tye strode into the passageway, the remaining mercenary following him. They continued searching the rooms on the upper level of the keep.

  His keep.

  Four chambers down, he caught up with the mercenary, who’d come upon a locked door.

  “Whoever is inside will not open the door, milord.”

  “Did you warn them we will break it down?”

  “I did.” The mercenary grinned, baring his crooked teeth. “A woman inside answered. She told me to stay out, or she would take drastic measures.”

  Tye whistled and shook his head. Either the woman was extremely brave or completely witless. By now, everyone in the keep would know of the siege. She must realize that she and any others in the chamber had no hope of avoiding capture.

  Of the three rooms he’d investigated so far, one was a place for ladies to retire and chat, with a large hearth and unfinished embroidery and wooden games resting on the side tables. The second room appeared to be made up for unexpected guests. The third, judging by the silk gown draped on the chair near the bed, wa
s the chamber of a young lady, likely one of the wards her ladyship had mentioned.

  Was she behind the door he faced now? The other young woman might be in there with her.

  One way to find out.

  He hammered on the door. “Open up.”

  Startled gasps sounded from inside the chamber.

  “Leave us be!” came a sharp retort, slightly muffled by the panel.

  The corner of Tye’s mouth ticked up. The voice was without doubt a young woman’s, and it had a rather pleasing lilt. Whoever she was, she clearly hoped that he’d move on to easier conquests.

  Whoever she was, she’d sorely underestimated him.

  “Last chance,” Tye commanded. “Obey, or I will knock down this door.”

  “I obey Lady Brackendale’s orders,” the woman replied with admirable defiance. “The door remains closed until she tells me to open it.”

  The hell it does. Tye signaled to the mercenary, who kicked the door. Then, Tye hefted his booted foot and slammed it into the door. Again and again they attacked until, with a loud crack , one of the wooden slats split.

  “Oh, nay!” a woman wailed from within—a different female to the one Tye had heard moments ago.

  “Stay calm!” said the woman who’d defied him.

  A heady swirl of anticipation raced through Tye, for the willful young lady intrigued him. He looked forward to setting eyes upon her, to staring her down until she blushed nervously and averted her gaze and thereby yielded to him. To further prove he was in control now of everything and every one at Wode, he might even haul her into his arms and steal a lusty kiss from her. His loins heated at the thought.

  Another well-aimed kick, and the split in the door widened. The mercenary shoved his left hand inside, found the key in the lock, and turned it. The lock mechanism clicked. The door was now open, but through the gaping hole, Tye saw a sturdy trestle table blocked the doorway.

  On his signal, he and the mercenary both slammed their shoulders against the door. It jostled, but didn’t move inward.

  “Damned table,” the mercenary said, rolling his shoulder.

  “Again,” Tye ordered. This time, the door jarred inward a fraction.

  With a triumphant growl, Tye pressed his palms flat to the door and shoved. The mercenary also pushed. A grating noise came from inside. The panel slowly moved as the table was pushed back across the planks.

  A woman wailed. “’Tis the end of us.”

  “Do not say that,” the lady of the dulcet voice said, although her words sounded unsteady.

  Enough of a gap had formed at the door’s edge. Tye pushed through, swung his legs over the table, and landed on the other side, his sword poised for attack. His dramatic entrance clearly made an impression, for the wide-eyed damsels before him—one slender and blond, the other curvaceous and dark-haired—shrieked and stumbled back.

  “Well, well,” he murmured. They both wielded weapons. The brunette, though, was clutching a large stick, and seemed more likely to collapse in a teary heap than do any real damage.

  The blonde holding the fireplace poker, however…

  “Stay back,” she ordered.

  So she was Lady Defiant. She would indeed jump into a fight and deliver wounds, if he believed the fierceness of her tone and the blaze of her blue eyes. Wisps of wavy hair had come loose from her braid and fanned out around her face. He grinned, for she reminded him of a fluffy kitten, hissing at him, threatening him with her tiny claws.

  “I warn you,” she said, “if you do not turn around and leave—”

  “You will skewer me?”

  A strangled sound of both shock and distress broke from her lips that were full and pink and just right for kissing. Aye, he liked the idea of stealing a kiss from her before he left this chamber. Still grinning, he winked at her, and her posture stiffened, indicating she didn’t like his flirtation.

  Good. The more uncomfortable he made her, the faster she’d surrender.

  Hearing the mercenary move in to guard the doorway, Tye deliberately let the silence lag. He stole a quick glance at the rest of the room, searching for signs that any others—knights, ladies, or even children—might be hiding in the chamber. The room was sparsely furnished. Apart from the table, the only large pieces of furniture were a linen chest and an oak framed bed. ’Twas unlikely anyone was hiding under the low bed or in the chest, but not impossible.

  His gaze returned to Lady Defiant. Her throat moved with a swallow, but she didn’t lower the fire iron. He continued to hold her stare, refusing to give her even a moment of reprieve. Once he’d thoroughly unsettled her, she’d be more likely to put down the implement and save them all a scuffle. It would end, after all, with her as one of his hostages. He didn’t want to hurt one so lovely if he didn’t have to; she might be worth a sizable ransom, and would be more valuable to him unharmed.

  She shifted the angle of the fireplace poker, a nervous reaction. His gaze narrowed. Indulging in the curiosity nagging at his better judgment, he dropped his gaze, and it skimmed over her, slowly, so slowly, from her crown of flaxen hair to her neck, to the shadowed dip between her breasts that disappeared into her fitted, embroidered bodice. He’d tasted, teased, and touched many women’s breasts in his years, and even though hers were covered by silk, he knew they were perfect: round, full, heavy enough to spill with delicious softness into his cupped hands. The thought sent a sweet, sharp ache through his loins, for he yearned to see those beautiful breasts uncovered—not that she’d ever yield that pleasure to him. Not willingly. Not today.

  He savored one last, thorough, appreciative ogling, before his attention dipped lower, to her flat belly, and then to the fullness of the gown swirling about her ankles.

  She wasn’t just a fighter, this one, but a beauty.

  His beauty, if he so chose.

  He fought the hardening of his groin, even as his attention returned to her exquisite breasts. Her breathing quickened. Her bosom rose and fell with enticing frequency.

  “Please,” she said. “Leave us alone.”

  Her voice sounded very different from before. He had offended her, he guessed, in his roguish appreciation of her beauty. That meant his plan to unsettle her was working.

  “Leave?” Tye smiled. “We only just met.” He savored the dismay in her eyes. “Tell me, is there anyone else in this room except for you two ladies?”

  Her chin edged up a notch. “Why should we tell you? You are an enemy of Wode.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Nay? Then why have you attacked this keep? Who are you, and what is it that you want?”

  “Be careful,” the brunette said, nudging her friend in warning.

  The blonde spared her companion the barest glance. Then, as though collecting her resolve, she pushed her shoulders further back. When she’d spoken, her voice was firm and steady once again. The questions, combined with her unwavering stare, might have persuaded Tye that she was fully in control of her anxiety and prepared to attack him.

  Indeed, with her holding the fire iron straight out toward him, he might have heeded the wariness skating at the base of his skull. A hostage could inflict a good deal of harm with such an implement, except that it was wobbling. If she didn’t take care, she might drop the end on her foot.

  “You ask a great many questions, Kitten,” Tye said.

  Her gaze sharpened on the word kitten. “You have not answered even one.”

  Laughing, he flicked his hand, motioning the mercenary into the chamber. The man strode forward and began to search the room, starting with the bed. The brunette gasped and huddled further behind the blonde.

  “At least tell us your intentions toward us!” the blonde said.
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br />   “Mmm.” Tye took several steps toward them. If he herded them back against the far wall, there was less chance of them dashing for the doorway.

  As he expected, the women took a hasty step back. The fire iron wobbled a little more. Ignoring the blonde’s insistent stare—a foolish dare to lock gazes with her again—Tye looked along the length of metal to her bare arm. What he could see of it, anyway, exposed by the drape of her wide sleeve. He noted a delicate wrist, as fine-boned as the fingers clasping the implement’s handle. Her skin appeared to be smooth and soft; the skin of a spoiled woman who’d been handed countless privileges because of her noble birth, not because she’d toiled, or suffered, or fought with passion and conviction to earn them. Hers was the kind of life he’d been deprived, because of his sire’s rejection; ’twas the kind that deep in the pit of his soul, he envied.

  The ever-present bitterness flickered inside him, and as he met her gaze at last, his jaw hardened.

  “I asked your intentions,” she choked out.

  “I heard you. Do as I say and you will not be harmed.”

  A thump carried from the other side of the chamber: the lid of the linen chest falling shut. “Milord,” the mercenary said. “There are no others ’ere. Only the women.”

  “Good.” Tye let the word roll upon his tongue and infused it with roguish menace. “No witnesses, then. No brave heroes to rush to the rescue, if matters get…complicated.”

  “Oh, God, ” the brunette whispered, sounding as if she expected to be run through and left for dead within the next moment.

  The blonde’s face was paler than before. “Swear that you will not harm us.”

  Astonishment jolted through him. She, the one at a disadvantage, was making demands of him? He clearly wasn’t unsettling her as much as he’d thought. That wasn’t just annoying, but wholly intriguing.

  Hellfire, but now wasn’t the time to indulge his fascination with this woman, who was entirely too bold. He was the one in control of this situation, not her. “You dare to make demands of me, milady? Do not. I might consider that proof you will not cooperate with me and my men.”