A Knight of Passion

chapter Nine

The iron fingers that gripped Riana’s waist tightened on her flesh.

“If the duke’s men find us here, you will become an inmate in your own prison,” Sir Bryant said to the warden.

The warden addressed the man, “Laurence, bring the priest to the rack room.”

“And if he is not finished with his current business?” Laurence asked.

“Tell him he will have four more deaths to preside over.”

With a quick nod, Laurence turned and disappeared out of the door. The warden took two steps to his desk, opened a drawer, and withdrew a ring of keys.

Riana stiffened. “Bring as many priests as you like. I will not marry you.”

Sir Bryant leaned close. Her pulse jumped at the intensity in the green eyes that stared down at her.

“Your Glen will be safe enough until I can secure his release,” he said.

She gasped. He knew? How?

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Trust me.”

“Trust you? I do not know you.”

He traced a finger along her cheek. “Surely, I am not a complete stranger?”

Riana stared. How was it possible a knight, a man of the world, could be so naïve? “Many men can say the same of me,” she said.

His hand fell away and he nodded without rancour. “Those days are past.” He faced the warden. “With your leave.”

He strode around the desk past them.

Riana’s mind raced. Panic rushed to the surface. “I will not go.”

Sir Bryant shifted and, before she realised his intent, he had hauled her over his shoulder. The warden moved past them and Sir Bryant followed him out of the door.

“How dare you?” Each word was punctuated by his purposeful stride down the corridor. “Put me down,” she growled, and began flailing her legs.

“By God,” he cursed.

His arm clamped down on her legs. A dull slap sounded in unison with an unexpected sting to her arse. She cried out, confused, then realised he had swatted her.

“Beast,” she shouted. They turned a sharp corner and she jerked back, narrowly missing the stone wall. “You will knock me senseless.”

“Mayhap knock some sense into you,” he muttered.

Sir Dunbar laughed. Riana jerked her head up and met his gaze. The old knight lifted a brow.

“Poison would have served you right,” she muttered.

He laughed harder.

The reached narrow stairs that descended in a tight circle. Sir Bryant shifted. She felt herself falling and grabbed for his gambeson He slid her into his arms and pressed her close to his chest. She clung to his neck and buried her face against the warm flesh. His scent, masculine and musky, was just as it had been when their bodies had been entwined, his cock moving in and out of her arse as she bucked against the phallus. He had gripped her waist with an intensity that had startled her. Her heart beat a thunderous rhythm in her ears. Why had he wanted her so badly…why had she wanted him? What did he want with her now?

At last, they reached the bottom, and Riana lifted her head. “Put me down.”

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he continued to follow the warden through a second corridor. They turned another bend and the warden stopped at the door on his right. He unlocked the door, then lifted the sconce from the wall to the right of the door and stepped aside. Sir Bryant entered the darkened cell with Riana in his arms, followed by Sir Dunbar. Light flooded the room when the warden entered, sconce in hand.

Riana squirmed in Sir Bryant’s hold.

“Be still,” he ordered with a squeeze.

“Put me down,” she countered.

“By God, Riana, another word, and I will bind and gag you.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to Hell, but his hard stare sent a flush of panic through her. He would make good on the threat.

“The priest will arrive shortly,” the warden said. “He will guide you through the tunnel.”

“You will report that we were here?” Sir Bryant asked.

“I have no choice. Too many people will have seen you. No one could mistake her.” He nodded towards Riana.

Anger tightened her chest. “You had no intention of helping me.”

He shifted his gaze to her. “Mayhap not in the way you thought.”

“You led me to believe you would release Glen.”

“Nay, Lady. I did not.”

“Knave,” she spat. “How could you?”

He shrugged. “I am a man.”

“Tell them we took her at sword-point,” Sir Bryant said.

Riana crossed her arms over her chest, eyes on the angular jaw only inches from her face. “You had better be ready to make good on that threat.”

“I will report that my men spotted men-at-arms in the trees around the prison,” the warden said.

A glint lit Sir Dunbar’s eyes. “You would not be mistaken—though your men would not have detected them.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, and the old knight laughed.

“Leave this place,” Dunbar said. “I could use a man like you in my service.”

Surprise shone in the warden’s eyes. He acknowledged with a cant of his head. “I will keep the offer in mind.”

“You have run mad if you think I will marry you,” Riana said.

Sir Bryant’s gaze shifted to her. “Would you stay with the duchess the rest of your days?”

“I —” What could she say? No, I didn’t plan on staying for, after I pretended to murder Sir Dunbar, I would have fled, then probably been dragged back and imprisoned for a crime the duchess manufactured? “My plans are my own,” she said.

His gaze sharpened. “Would you save your Glen?”

“What do you care of Glen?”

“What of your sister?” he asked.

“My sister?” she burst out. “You play a dangerous game, sir. What do you know of my sister? Ah, yes,” she went on before he could reply. “You have something of the Peeping Tom in you.”

He laughed. “Turnabout is fair play, Lady. And be glad I eavesdropped, for that told me more than you could have.”

“What do you hope to gain by this madness?” she demanded.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “You.”

He shifted his gaze to the warden and she looked in his direction. The priest stood behind him.

The warden turned. “Father Vaughn, you have two customers in need of your services.”

The warden stepped aside and the priest entered the room. His gaze locked on Riana.

She flushed, but didn’t drop her eyes. “Aye, priest, it is I, the duchess’ whore.”

A soft smile touched his mouth. “This is a strange place for you to be, Lady Ellis.”

She’d often wondered what the priest thought of her. As today, he was always all compassion, a man who didn’t judge, but only offered brotherly respect. But he didn’t look the part of a brother. A bare inch shorter than Sir Bryant, his broad shoulders and muscled chest didn’t belong to a priest. Here was a man who could f*ck a woman until she cried out in pleasure. Yet he had never looked at her that way.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“We are to be married,” Sir Bryant said.

Shock widened the priest’s eyes, then he turned a broad smile onto Riana. “That is wonderful.”

“Do not be too hasty with your felicitations,” she said.

“Riana.” Sir Bryant’s hold tightened around her.

“Unless you intend to throttle me, he will hear the truth,” she said.

Laurence appeared in the doorway. “The duke’s men are searching the prison.”

“Explanations will have to wait,” the warden said, though Riana had the distinct feeling he was sorry not to be privy to the details. “Father,” he said, “show them the way through the tunnel.”

The priest nodded.

“I wish you luck.” The warden glanced from Riana to Sir Bryant. “You will need it.” He handed Father Vaughn the sconce, and turned.

“You will, indeed, need it,” Riana muttered, as the warden and Laurence disappeared from sight.

Sir Bryant looked down at her.

She lifted her brows. “If the men-at-arms do not slit your throat, I will.” And she would for, despite all appearances, no man saved a woman for anything but to achieve his own ends.

“Nay, sweet,” he replied in a voice that was all consolation, “poison is your preferred method of murder.”

* * * *

Bryant gave a nod to Father Vaughn. The priest handed the sconce to Sir Dunbar, then crossed to the corner the warden had indicated and deftly pressed a spot on the wall. The stone began a slow swing inwards.

“Quickly,” he said, when the opening was large enough for them to fit through, and waved them in.

Sir Dunbar entered first, then Bryant, with Riana tight against his chest.

“I can walk,” she said as the priest followed them into the passageway and closed the door.

“Aye,” Bryant replied, “but this will be quicker.”

They started forward, Dunbar in the lead.

“If you faint from the fatigue of carrying me,” she said, “I will leave you where you fall.”

“If I faint from the fatigue of carrying you, I deserve to be left where I fall.”

She didn’t entwine her arms around his neck as she had earlier, but left them crossed over her breasts.

“Though I might drop you,” he said.

“I doubt that,” she said in a dry voice.

Bryant couldn’t repress a laugh. “You will make an interesting wife.”

“I will not.”

They reached a junction in the tunnel.

“To the right,” Father Vaughn said, and they turned as instructed.

They travelled in silence for minutes, until a faint clanking sound broke the quiet. They halted and looked at one another.

“Could they have discovered us so soon?” Bryant asked in a whisper.

“I would not think so,” Father Vaughn said.

“You do not know the duchess,” Riana said.

“Perhaps not,” Bryant replied, “but she is not here.”

The priest motioned them forward. “It is not much farther.”

They hurried down the corridor. A moment later, the unmistakable voice of a man filtered towards them. Riana’s head snapped up.

“Make a sound, and we all die,” Sir Bryant warned.

“Faster,” Father Vaughn urged, and broke into a run.

Sir Dunbar raced forward and Bryant followed. Riana threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. A moment later they reached a stone wall. Father Vaughn pressed the fifth stone from the bottom, and the stone slowly opened. A sliver of sunlight appeared on the floor. Sir Dunbar placed the sconce fire-first into the holder. The light died. Dim light streamed into the room.

“Let me look first,” the priest said. He edged to the door and peered around the wall left and right, then looked back at them. “Follow me.”

Dunbar went first, glancing both ways, then nodded for Bryant to follow. Bryant stepped from the tunnel. He squinted against the morning sunlight, muted as it was, seeping through dark clouds. The cover of trees lay a few feet from the keep. Father Vaughn closed the door and motioned them to follow.

“Release me now and I will not implicate you in this crime,” Riana said.

Sir Dunbar barely stifled his laughter.

“Make another sound,” Sir Bryant warned, “and I will gag you until we reach Chilgoriam.”

Five minutes later, they entered the small chapel on the west side of the village. Bryant set Riana’s feet on the wooden floor.