A Knight's Temptation (Knight's Series Book 3) Page 9

  She lowered to a crouch. The rustling grew louder, followed by a scampering sound. A fawn bounded through a slant of light, toward a doe standing watch in the shadows. Leona blew out a sigh. Not Aldwin or . . . a ghostly Roman.

  As she continued on, more ruins emerged from the shadows, and then she saw the deer track winding through the woods. The one they’d traveled earlier? Her body warmed with a surge of hope.

  She hurried forward. Branches, hidden by layers of rotting leaves, crackled beneath her boots. She paused, her heartbeat pounding. Had Aldwin heard the noise?

  Please, nay!

  She waited long moments, afraid to even reach up to wipe the sweat from her face. If he’d heard, he wasn’t racing toward her. Daring to continue on, she walked onto the trail.

  Aldwin stood leaning against a tree, holding his crossbow. The weapon pointed toward the ground, but was nevertheless cocked.

  Their gazes locked in the darkness.

  The skin across her breasts tingled. The pendant’s weight brushing her cleavage seemed even more noticeable, somehow, as if she’d suddenly become aware of every place it touched.

  An awful sense of entrapment squeezed in upon her. Was this how a deer felt when it faced the hunter about to bring it to its knees?

  Aldwin made no move, yet she sensed him preparing his trap to close in on her.

  “How did you get free?” His voice sounded deceptively soft. Almost admiring.

  “I rubbed the rope against a stone.”

  He nodded and his eyes narrowed a fraction. Somehow, she knew he was relieved by her answer. Had he thought someone else had cut her loose?

  As though following her thoughts, he said, “These are hazardous woods, Lady L. I did not mention before, but there are poachers’ traps—”

  “And knaves who kidnap ladies,” she cut in. “Those are the most dangerous of all.”

  He smiled. “Come back with me now.”

  “Nay.”

  “Nay?” His voice reminded her of the growl of thunder. “We both know I am in command here.”

  Aldwin had spoken to her in the same manner years ago, while Ward was tying her to the tree. What he’d wanted was all that had mattered. And look what had happened then.

  Familiar rage and anguish whipped through Leona. She hated for Aldwin to see her trembling—to see her weak—but she couldn’t control the tremors. The thought of being tied, helpless, with him deciding what happened to her, made her want to scream. “I am not going back with you.”

  He eased away from the tree. “Lady L, start walking toward the river.” He pointed. “That way.”

  Leona shook her head.

  His fingers flexed on the crossbow. “Let us be sensible and make this easy on both of us.”

  “Easiest,” she said, “for you.”

  “Agreed. Yet we both know you cannot escape me.”

  She took a step back. A deliberate taunt. “You will not shoot me.”

  “We discussed this earlier.” His smile hardened. “I warn you. Do not tempt me.”

  “If you shoot me—injure me—you will have to care for my wound. The inconvenience will delay your return to Branton Keep. If the injury becomes corrupt, I might die. You will not risk it.”

  She took another backward step, her boots crushing dry leaves.

  Aldwin matched her retreat with a forward step. “I have cared for wounds before. The inconvenience will not stop me.”

  Would he really shoot her? The uncompromising set of his jaw warned he would, indeed, fire the weapon.

  “Do not tempt me, Lady L,” he said again, very quietly. “I have given you ample warning.”

  He had. However, she must escape, and not only because she wanted her freedom. Aldwin had spoken before of responsibilities; the good folk of Pryerston Keep needed her help, now more than ever. Her sire couldn’t rid the castle of Veronique and the baron on his own.

  Leona took another step away from Aldwin and shivered inside as his mouth tightened. She’d almost reached the trees. He might be an expert shot, but if she dodged and wove, as in the game she and Ward had played in the woods, she might outwit Aldwin. At some point, he’d run out of bolts.

  Aldwin edged nearer. He moved as though his body were tightly coiled, waiting for the precise moment to lunge.

  Just as he raised the crossbow, his right boot sank into the earth.

  “What—” he muttered.

  Leona spun, her cloak whirling at her ankles, and dashed into the trees.

  Aldwin roared an oath.

  Her breath scorching her lungs, she darted from side to side, behind bushes, trees, and low branches. The forest became a muddied blur of light and murky shadows.

  Run, Leona!

  Footfalls crashed behind her. Too close behind.

  The toe of her boot slammed into a buried branch, causing her to pitch forward. She gasped, regained her balance, and rushed on.

  The footsteps behind her quieted.

  Panic rushed through her. Pausing the barest moment, she glanced back, raising her hand to sweep hair out of her eyes.

  The forest behind her was empty.

  Silent.

  Wrong!

  Oh, God! Run!

  As Leona spurred herself forward, she heard a faint click: the sound of a firing crossbow.

  Before she could gasp, the steel-tipped bolt slammed into her.

  Chapter Seven

  Aldwin lowered the crossbow, loaded another bolt, and shrugged aside the tension knotting his shoulder muscles. His arms ached with the need to slam his fist into the nearest tree.

  He’d warned Lady L.

  Her foolish protest was finished.

  Leaves smashed under his boots as he strode toward her. She stood in a stream of moonlight, tugging at the bolt buried in the oak behind her. The steel tip had pierced the lower part of her wide cloak sleeve and pinned it the tree, holding her fast.

  Her breaths came in desperate gasps. Eyes luminous, she glanced at him, streaks of her hair cutting across her cheek, before she looked back at the bolt and gave it another tug.

  Cloth tore.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  In that one word, Aldwin heard a plea, a curse, and a wealth of frustration. He steeled himself against the instinctive bloom of sympathy, drawing instead upon the rage and desire humming like a dark song in his blood. He’d tried to be gallant. He’d warned her, offered her the chance to return to the ruins of her own free will, and she’d refused to cooperate.

  Now she’d accept the consequences.

  Lady L muttered under her breath, words he couldn’t distinguish. No matter. What he’d hear, from her lips, was acknowledgment that he’d won this confrontation. She’d admit she couldn’t escape him.

  Five more strides and he stood close enough to catch her scent, piquant in the damp earthiness of the night forest. He breathed her in, her fragrance filling his mind until all he sensed was her. Desire tugged at his loins, coaxing him to claim that gap between them.

  She must have sensed his unruly emotions, for her hand, clasped around the bolt, fell away. Caution shadowed her features as she faced him, her trapped arm spread wide, her other arm at her side.

  “The chase is done, Lady L.”

  Defiance hardened her gaze.

  “When I remove the bolt, you will come with me. No running. No fighting.”

  Her chin nudged up. Moonlight glistened on her full, pursed mouth. She clearly wasn’t going to agree he’d bested her.

  His control snapped, like a weighty branch breaking and plummeting to the ground. Beware your recklessness, Aldwin. Remember how your impulsiveness caused you to almost murder de Lanceau.

  More powerful than his conscience, however, was the need to conquer her willfulness.

  Now.

  He stepped nearer, raising the crossbow. Closer again, and the bolt’s tip nudged the front of her cloak. Resting, he realized with a flare of lust, above the roundness of her right breast.

  Her breath hit
ched. Her lips moved with a swallow.

  “Tell me you concede.” He hardly recognized that ragged voice as his own.

  “If”—she swallowed again—“I do not?”

  God’s blood! It seemed she was even more impetuous than he. Forcing a wicked smile, he said, “Then you leave me no choice.”

  “W-what choice?” she whispered, her gaze astonishingly steady, despite the weapon against her breast.

  Anger hammered against his temple. How good ’twould feel to give voice to his fury, to yell into the night and hear it echo around them. She’d take that display of emotion, though, as another victory in her fight with him.

  To subdue her will, he must be controlled. Relentless.

  Persuasive.

  A groan welled inside him while he slid the crossbow, achingly slowly, across her cloak. Apprehension flickered in her eyes, but she made no sound as the bolt whispered between her breasts. Over the raised swell of the pendant. Down the plane of her belly. At last, he ended the contact, withdrawing the crossbow to hold it pointing down against his side.

  She exhaled a tense sigh.

  Before the sound faded, he moved, forcing their bodies into intimate proximity. She struggled, but, raising his hand, he pressed it against the pale slope of her neck. His thumb and forefinger fitted against her throat.

  So very soft, her skin. Smooth, like a lady’s. Unblemished, apart from her freckles. A silent, appreciative growl rumbled inside him.

  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.