A Knight of Passion

chapter Sixteen

At the sound of the door opening behind her, Riana turned from the hearth in Sir Bryant’s bedchamber. He stood in the doorway.

“Good evening, my lord,” she said. “You are well?”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “Aye.”

He entered the room, closing the door behind him, and crossed to the bed. He unstrapped his sword, laid it on the dresser beside the bed, then stretched out on the mattress.

“The duchess can no longer harm you or Siusan,” he said.

Riana nodded. “I am grateful.”

“Grateful? Hmm. How grateful?”

She couldn't be angry at the question. She owed him her gratitude, and the amused twinkled in his eyes stated he would take her gratitude in any form she gave it. How much more gratitude would she have to give for the request she was about to make?

Riana walked to the bed and sat on the edge beside him. “The duchess cannot hurt us. But she can hurt Glen.”

He nodded, clearly waiting for her to ask outright.

“I have nothing more to offer. I am yours to do with as you please…”

“I imagine you would again take matters into your hands if I did not deal with the matter.”

“I cannot abandon him.”

“He risked prison for you.”

“I had no idea the duchess would imprison him,” Riana burst out. “Had I known…”

“We will buy his release,” Sir Bryant said.

“The duchess cares nothing for your money.”

“True, but the warden will.”

Riana flushed with memory of the man, his hands on her body, mouth on her cunt when Sir Bryant burst into the room.

“I must tell you what you want to know,” she said.

Sir Bryant grasped her wrist and pulled across his chest. He brushed her cheek with a thumb. His trailed his finger downwards over her chin and along her neck. Gooseflesh raced down her arms. His feather-light touch skimmed across the exposed curve of one breast, then the other. He dipped his finger into her bodice, brushing her nipple. She shivered. He tugged down her sleeve, exposing a breast. He palmed the weighty flesh. His gaze shifted to her mouth and he leaned close.

When he had nearly reached her mouth, Riana said, “My lord.”

His eyes lifted to hers.

“We must speak.”

He tugged her skirt thigh-high and reached between her legs. He brushed a thigh with his fingers, then slipped them between her already moist folds.

“Is this what I need to know?” he asked. “How wet you are for me?”

Her heart raced. She wanted him. Wanted to feel his length deep inside, to know she was safe in his arms…would always be safe. But a man’s cock had never saved a woman. He plunged his fingers into her channel. Pleasure ripped through her.

“What you need to know,” she said in a breathless voice, “is that Her Grace murdered Lord Marr.”

The fingers inside her stilled.

“What?”

“Lord Marr,” she said. “The duchess is responsible for his death.”

“He was killed by a robber,” Sir Bryant said.

“The murder was made to look like a robbery.”

Sir Bryant removed his fingers from inside her and straightened, forcing her to sit up.

“You certainly know how to shrink a man’s cock to the size of a sausage.”

Heat crept up her cheeks.

He eyed her. “You could not have waited five more minutes to tell me this?”

“My lord, I—”

He barked a laugh. “Ten minutes, then.”

She didn’t reply, uncertain whether or not his look of frustration was truly tinged with amusement as she perceived.

He studied her. “This has weighed on your mind.”

“You must know the truth,” she replied.

“So that I may be certain I made a good bargain.”

“It is why you married me.”

“And what of the bargain you made?” he asked.

She frowned. “What?”

“Have you made a good bargain in marrying me?”

“I never dreamed I would have such good fortune.”

“Because I have taken you away from the duchess?”

“And Siusan,” Riana added.

“And Siusan,” he repeated.

Riana laid a hand on his arm. “I will always be grateful.”

“Grateful.” He gave a low laugh. “Fate is a cruel mistress to have turned my plans against me.”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

He dropped his gaze to her hand where it still rested on his arm and she snatched it back.

He stuffed his hands behind his head and regarded her. “How do you know the duchess is responsible for Lord Marr’s death?”

Riana hesitated, uncertain of his sudden change in mood and topic. “He came to Arundel. The duchess was angry when he refused to financially support Balliol.”

“Lord Marr is a loyal follower of Sir Andrew. She was a fool to think he would change alliances.”

“But he supported Balliol at Dupplin Moor.”

Bryant’s eyes narrowed. “You are mistaken.”

She shook her head. “He regretted it, but it is true. The duchess threatened to expose his involvement if he did not add to Balliol’s coffers.”

Sir Bryant grew thoughtful. “If news reached Sir Andrew that Lord Marr had supported Balliol, Lord Marr would be relegated to the ranks of the Disinherited. But the duchess would gain nothing by killing him.”

“Nothing but the fear of those who would resist her requests in the future,” Riana said.

Sir Bryant looked nonplussed. “She aspires to rule Scotland?”

“In her way, yes,” Riana replied. “She cares nothing for politics…”

“But everything for power,” he ended.

Riana nodded.

“Was she successful in frightening her next victim?”

“I know only of Lord Cormac. He contributed to Balliol’s cause.”

“You are certain Lord Cormac supported Balliol?” Sir Bryant demanded.

Before she could stop the thought, her face heated with the memory of Lord Cormac in her bed.

Sir Bryant’s expression hardened. “Did he tell you while his cock was buried inside you?”

She couldn’t prevent a small gasp.

“By God,” Sir Bryant muttered.

Riana lifted her chin. “You knew what I was before we married.”

“Aye,” he bit back. “I even f*cked you in the bed meant for Sir Dunbar.”

“You did. And with very little urging.”

He gave a strangled laugh. “What man could resist that?” He glanced at her breasts and she looked down. She had forgotten she was still exposed.

Riana yanked the bodice up over her breast. “Only moments ago you couldn’t refuse.”

“Aye, and even now my balls ache and my cock is so hard you could ride me all night and not wear me out.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

His mouth thinned. “You tried once, after having my cock inside you, to f*ck another man. Never again.”

“What—” She leapt from the bed. “How dare you?”

He gave a low laugh. “I dare because I am your husband.”

“You had no claim on me then.” She lifted her chin. “You had no right to interfere.”

“Interfere? I saved your pretty neck from the hangman’s noose.”

“Which time?” she demanded. “When you saved me from murdering a man by coming to my bed by mistake, or when you burst into the prison as the warden was f*cking me?”

Sir Bryant seized her wrist and yanked her to the edge of the bed. “It seems you owe me twice over.”

He was probably right, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “The warden would not have harmed me.”

“Nay, he would only have f*cked you sore.”

“He would not have been the first.”

Sir Bryant jumped from the bed so quickly she had barely taken a step back before he was pressing her against the wall.

“And he will not be the last.” Sir Bryant ground his hard length against her belly. “But it will be me between your legs rubbing you raw.”

She gasped.

He gave a small nod. “I see the notion appeals to you.”

Riana pushed at him. To her surprise, he turned and strode to the door.

Hand on the handle, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “Remember, you are mine. Mine to touch. Mine to f*ck.” His gaze bore into her. “Mine to love.”