A Knight's Temptation (Knight's Series Book 3) Read online

  Which led to yet another question. Why had she contacted de Lanceau to arrange the meeting at this tavern? Why was it important to her that the pendant be returned to his lordship?

  Questions de Lanceau had every right to ask her himself.

  And he would.

  Aldwin tried not to smile as a new plan played out in his mind. He stepped forward, the bag in his outstretched hand. Beware, his mind whispered. Don’t let her guess what you intend.

  Halfway between them, he opened his fingers. The bag plummeted to the floor and landed with a musical thud. Spreading both arms wide in a gesture of surrender, he stepped back.

  Her gaze dropped to the coin. An odd expression—a poignant mix of relief and regret—flitted over her face. Then, releasing her white-knuckled hold on the door, she edged toward him. Her wary gaze still upon him, she stooped to pick up the bag.

  The moment her focus left him, Aldwin lunged. He kicked the knife from her hand, sending it flying across the room, at the same moment her fingers closed on the coin. He followed, his hand crushing down upon hers.

  “What—” she cried.

  “Pity that I had to deceive you.”

  She sprang back, grabbing for the door. Her fingers touched the panel, but he wrenched her away. With a sharp tug, he drew her into his embrace. Her honeysuckle scent hit him a moment before her body slammed against him. Chest to chest.

  His arm clamped around her waist, smaller beneath the cloak than he’d suspected.

  Her breath rushed out on a huff. “Why, you—”

  With his free hand, he snatched the bag of coins. “I will take that.” He shoved the sack inside his cloak.

  She writhed in his hold. “Sir Reginald!”

  “Still unconscious,” Aldwin said.

  “Twig!” she shrieked.

  “Cannot hear you.”

  Her gaze became a frigid gleam, an instant before her knee jerked upward. He twisted to the side, avoiding a blow to his groin that would have left him crumpled in agony on the floor near Sir Reginald. Instead her knee bumped against his inner thigh, protected by his cloak.

  Aldwin crushed her tighter against him. “Tsk-tsk. How unladylike of you.”

  A wicked glint lit her eyes.

  He smiled. “Pity, that you underestimate me.”

  Her body tautened in his grasp. Before she could carry out whatever assault she was contemplating, he dropped to a crouch, slid his arm down behind her legs, and tossed her over his left shoulder. She landed with a gasp.

  Grunting at her weight, he stood.

  “Put. Me. Down,” she cried, trying to rise up on his shoulder.

  “I would gladly do so.” He tightened his hold on her thrashing legs. “You weigh far more than any lady I know.”

  “Oh!” Her elbow jabbed into his ear.

  He almost laughed. While her bulky cloak concealed the contours of her body well enough, he’d already determined her enticing proportions. Full breasts. A rounded bottom. Long legs. He resisted a groan. For what he had in mind, he’d have preferred her old, ugly, and completely undesirable.

  Her toes whacked into his gut, knocking the breath from him on a grunt.

  He bounced her, once, on his shoulder.

  “God’s teeth,” she spluttered.

  Squaring his shoulders, Aldwin turned to the open doorway.

  Her hands pounded his buttocks. He felt little more than dull punches through his wool cloak. “I warn you,” she said, her words muffled against the fabric. “Put. Me—”

  “Down?” Aldwin laughed. “Nay, Lady L. You are coming with me.”

  Chapter Four

  The swell of noise from the main tavern room mirrored the roar of blood rushing into Leona’s head. Being thrown over an arrogant knave’s shoulder like a sack of beans and dangling upside down was most disorienting. Not to mention mortifying.

  When Aldwin moved toward the door, causing her to bounce against his back, she fisted her hands into his cloak. Oh, God. The laughter, singing, and a chorus of cheers seemed to focus right in her throbbing brow.

  Nevertheless, she was not going to allow this arrogant oaf to carry her away as if he were an ogre from one of her childhood nightmares. She squirmed with all her might. The scratchy wool of his cloak abraded her cheek, as did the rope of her braid she’d looped around her neck, her only means of keeping it from dragging on the ground.

  He swatted her legs. “Stop struggling.”

  She tilted her face away from his cloak. “I warn you,” she yelled. “Put—”

  The door creaked farther open, spilling light over Sir Reginald’s prone form.

  Hammering her fists against Aldwin’s arse again, she yelled, “Sir Reginald!” Why did he not wake? And where was Twig with that accursed drink?

  Aldwin strode into the corridor. His boots raised a cloud of dust . . . or whatever lay on the floor in a fine coating. He paused, clearly deciding whether to proceed through the crowded main room or find another way out.

  A draft edged up under the hem of her gown, as if a ghostly sot tried to peep at her undergarments. Kicking her legs, she glared at Aldwin’s back. How galling for the tavern’s patrons to see her bottom up.

  His arms tightened around her thighs, restricting her struggles. She punched him again and raised her head. “Twig!”

  Hearty laughter swarmed from the bar, followed by a chorus of “Down in one! Down in one!” A drinking contest. No wonder Twig hadn’t returned with the liquor.

  “Twig!” she screamed again, hoping he heard her over the din.

  Aldwin pivoted, and she guessed he now faced the rear door, the source of the draft. Turning her face, she caught a glimpse of the main room. Past the tables where two men were arguing over a whore, she spied Twig. Clutching an earthenware mug in one scrawny hand, holding it high above the crowd so it wouldn’t spill, he elbowed his way through the throng. Intent on dodging the drunkards, he hadn’t seen her.

  “Tw—” she began with all the breath in her lungs, but before the screech broke full force, Aldwin jostled her again. “—ig!” she groaned.

  With brisk strides, Aldwin headed down the corridor toward the back door.

  Thrashing her legs, Leona inhaled another breath. “Tw—” Aldwin shifted her weight on his shoulder. She started sliding toward the ground. Headfirst. Her scream died on a frightened squawk.

  She fell the space of one gasp before Aldwin grabbed secure hold of her again. Not that she would have hit the floor. Her hands firmly gripped his cloak.

  He laughed softly, and her gaze clouded with fury. He’d almost dropped her on purpose. To let her know she was wholly in his control.

  The cool air in the corridor intensified. He approached the area where the tavern keeper received deliveries of ale and other goods. Barrels, topped by folded cloth sacks, were propped against the wall.

  Leona gnawed her lip, for she would not be hauled outside into the darkness with Aldwin. They might have met when they were children, but she didn’t know this warrior Aldwin at all. Who knew what he intended for her in the grimy yard, beyond the watchful eyes of the revelers and her father’s men?

  Mayhap he planned to carry her behind the stable, slit her throat, and take the pendant. He might return to the tavern and kill Twig and Sir Reginald, too, leaving no witnesses to their earlier meeting.

  If she didn’t escape, she risked Twig and Sir Reginald’s lives. They’d already hazarded a great deal to help her.

  She thought of the dagger Aldwin had kicked from her hand. If only she had some way to defend herself . . .

  Few warriors traveled without knives. She’d take Aldwin’s.

  She carefully loosened one hand and, stretching sideways, reached around for the cloak’s front opening. She found the edge of the fabric, then the softer wool of his tunic.

  Then the leather belt at his waist.

  “Beware, Lady L,” he muttered. “You might find more than you expected.”

  Bold knave! Her fingertips bumped the hil
t of a dagger. Aha! He’d treat her differently when she turned his own weapon upon him—

  “I think not.” Aldwin shrugged his shoulder.

  Tightening her grip on his cloak, she grabbed again for the dagger.

  He growled, before the broad muscles supporting her shifted. She careened sideways. As she cursed and struggled, fighting to reclaim her position, iron hinges creaked, and then cool summer air swept over her, enveloping her like a monster’s mouth.

  Glancing sideways, she spied the battered door. She grabbed hold of it, clinging to it like a limpet to a sea stone.

  “I will not let go,” she yelled. Wood bit into her palms.

  “Really?” Aldwin kept on walking. With an eerie groan, the door closed, pulled by her hands. If she didn’t relinquish her grip, her fingers would be caught between the embrasure and the door. A painful prospect. She needed her fingers intact.

  Spitting a curse, she drew her hands in. The door clicked into place.

  Darkness, the smell of wood smoke, and a foul odor surrounded her. If he hadn’t brought her out here to kill her, she’d die from the stench. Using part of his cloak, she covered her nose.

  From somewhere nearby came coarse voices and sounds of vicious fist fighting. Not at all promising for a rescue.

  Aldwin’s boots crunched on the dirt as he walked. When her eyes began to adjust to the blackness, she made out the stable’s rough-hewn wall. Trying to focus her thoughts, she recalled the tavern’s surroundings: the open area outside the building; the stable with its sagging roof; the old trees lining the short drive into the tavern; and the road leading into the forest beyond.

  His strides didn’t slow as he neared the stable, which meant he hadn’t tethered a mount there and wasn’t taking her away on horseback. That suggested he wasn’t carrying her far. Fear crawled up her skull.

  Dropping the fabric shielding her face, she shrieked, “Help!”

  “Quiet,” Aldwin snapped over his shoulder. “You will draw the attention of the tavern thugs.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Trust me. ’Tis not wise.”

  “Why not?” She spat the words at his back. Raising her head again, she screeched, “Help!”

  “Those men are a violent lot. You are more likely to be raped than be rescued.”

  “How gallant of you to worry about my welfare,” she shot back. “Should I thank you for tossing me over your shoulder? For knocking the breath out of me several times?”

  A snarl rumbled from him.

  “I vow the danger is from you, not the thugs. I will not make your efforts easy. In fact, I swear upon my brother’s grave that I will fight you and get away.”

  “You can try.”

  Aldwin’s arrogant tone brought a hot flush to her face. How she’d enjoy slamming her fist into his jaw again—this time hard enough to knock him senseless.

  The stable ended. The battered side wall, patched by warped boards, blended into the darkness as Aldwin strode on. The wood smoke smell intensified, bolstered by the roaring crackle of a bonfire.

  Fear ran through her in an icy tremor as, twisting sideways, she glanced at the blaze and the rough-looking men gathered there. Some sported bloody noses and ripped clothes. Others were delivering punches and kicks in the ongoing brawl. Surrounded by smoke, the thugs looked almost demonic. Yet she was running out of chances to escape.

  Aldwin’s footsteps quickened. No doubt he hoped to be away from the fighting as soon as possible. She had to act now.

  “Help!” Leona cried again. She grabbed handfuls of Aldwin’s cloak, scrambling to find his belt again. He wore his dagger on his right side. That meant the sack of coins was on his left.

  Aldwin grunted in warning, but she clawed her hands into his tunic. “Help me! Please.”

  “Oy!” a thug called. “You there. What ye doin’ ta that wensssch?”

  With shivers of relief and panic, she realized the man was addressing Aldwin.

  “Help me!” she cried. “He plans to kill me.”

  “Indeed,” Aldwin muttered in a voice only she could hear, “I am sorely tempted to strangle you.”

  “Put ’er down,” another man shouted, while the sounds of fist fighting quieted.

  Aldwin halted. He must have felt her hand skating across his belt, but he ignored her. Turning to face the men—which meant she couldn’t see them anymore—he said, “Put her down?” He laughed. “I paid good money for a tumble with this strumpet.”

  Several thugs muttered.

  “What?” Leona spluttered.

  “Ish that ssshhho?” another man shouted.

  “She is a feisty one,” Aldwin said. “Enjoys a bit of drama, I am told. Likes to pretend she is a lady carried off by her lusty lover.”

  More raucous laughter.

  Leona kicked her legs, heedless of the draft wafting up her skirt. “He is lying! Please! Help me.” Her fingers bumped the coin bag. She tugged it from Aldwin’s belt. “He has silver! Help me, and the money is yours.”

  Strong fingers snatched the bag from her hand. Before she could say one word, she heard the silver jingle, then the clink-clink-clink of coins landing on the dirt.

  “Drinks for all of you,” Aldwin yelled. Over hearty roars, she heard the men scrambling for the coins. No doubt Aldwin had tossed enough for drinks to render them all daft, so they’d be of no help to Twig and Sir Reginald when they searched for her.

  “My friends,” Aldwin said, “the lady and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “We will not interrupt ye,” one drunkard said with a rude cackle.

  “Not unlesshhh we can ’ave a go with ’er,” another yelled.

  “Nay,” Leona choked.

  “This one is all mine.” Aldwin’s tone held menace. “Remember, if anyone asks, you did not see us.”

  “Ssshee who?” another man said, to bawdy laughter.

  Leona groaned.

  Spinning around again, Aldwin continued toward the forest. Again, she fought him, trying to wriggle free of his grasp, but he didn’t lessen his grip the slightest bit.

  The smoke and firelight thinned, giving way to darkness lit by a weak moon. Unable to change her position, exhausted from her struggles, Leona stared down at the rocky dirt passing beneath Aldwin’s boots. Somehow, she had to find a way to let Twig and Sir Reginald know where to search for her. Taking hold of the end of her braid, she untied the bit of leather and dropped it to the ground.

  Dirt gave way to a verge of grass and weeds, and then ferns growing alongside trees and brush. The scents of mold and rotting leaves rose up from the damp earth. A night creature rustled in the undergrowth, an unseen hunter stalking prey.

  Leona yanked on the cloak. “Where are you taking me?”

  Fallen branches snapped beneath Aldwin’s boots. He didn’t answer, but kept walking.

  “What are you going to do?” She whacked him with her fist. “Are you listening? If you do not answer me—”

  A breathy snort sounded, followed by the metallic tinkle of a bridle. His horse was tethered in the forest shadows.

  Aldwin’s strides slowed. Oh, God. Did he mean to throw her to the ground, kill her, take the pendant, and ride away? Or—an even more unsettling thought—did he mean to shove her up onto his horse and gallop away with her, to murder her elsewhere?

  Whatever he intended, she’d not be a coward; she’d give him a fight he’d never forget. Through countless scuffles when they were children, Ward—peace upon his departed soul—had made certain she knew how to defend herself.

  Aldwin shifted her upon his shoulder and then his hold on her legs eased. Freeing her hands from his cloak, she curled them into fists, preparing to strike out at him. Faster than she believed possible, he bent, set her feet on the ground, and stepped back.

  Finally upright again, she fingered hair out of her eyes. The forest spun around her, and it took a moment before it settled into focus. Her numb legs wobbled.

  Before her legs folded beneath her, Aldwin caugh
t her wrist, his hold firm but, at the same time, reassuring.

  She scowled and tried to pull away.

  “Can you stand?”

  “Aye.”

  “Your legs are no longer numb?”

  Not as much as before, but they still feel as if insects are crawling up them.

  She began to shake, struggling against the memories of bees on her skin. Why did he care about the condition of her legs? Lifting her chin, she glared at him.

  “Good.” He grinned as if she’d bestowed upon him her most affectionate smile.

  He didn’t let go of her arm.

  Before she could tell him to unhand her, he hauled her toward a tree. Stumbling and skidding across the moldering leaves, she was forced to follow. A saddled destrier stood tethered to the tree. The magnificent animal seemed to recognize Aldwin, for it shook its mane and then nuzzled his shoulder.

  “Hello, Romulus.” He patted the horse’s glossy neck and then reached for the leather bag tied to the saddle. Or was he reaching for the crossbow, slung beside the bag? Fired at this close range, she’d be dead before she could draw in a breath. A quick, efficient murder.

  “Nay!” she gasped and yanked back on her arm. His fingers tightened on her wrist until she gasped again. He flipped open the saddlebag, plunged his hand inside, and drew out a length of thin, leather rope. It uncoiled, whispering toward the ground like a snake.

  He meant to bind her before he shot her. Revulsion turned her mouth dry. As though she were a young girl again, she remembered being tied to the tree, unable to move, the ropes digging into her skin.

  Aldwin’s head tilted. Silvery moonlight touched the hard gleam of his eyes and uncompromising set of his mouth. “Give me your other wrist, Lady L.”

  Chapter Five

  When Lady L’s face tautened with fear and rebellion, Aldwin bit back an oath. She seemed determined to battle him at every opportunity. When would she accept ’twould be far more pleasant for both of them if she did as he asked?