A Knight's Temptation (14 page)

If he didn’t understand that she had no wish to talk to him, ’twas not her fault. Indicating the sticks, she said, “We w-will need more f-firewood.”

He nodded. “We shall, for the fire to last until dawn.”

“Good, then I—”

“Thank you.”

“—s-shall continue.”

Wait.
Thank you?

Their gazes locked. Leona shivered, and not entirely from cold. His masculine scent taunted her, a reminder of their bodies crushed together. Her treacherous mouth heated, as though remembering how his lips had claimed hers.

Or wished they would.

God’s bones! Was she becoming addled over this arrogant knave?

Anger at her own idiotic thoughts brought heat to her face. She began to turn away.

“Hold,” he said and then sighed. “I mean—”

An odd note in his voice made her pause.

“I am . . . sorry for . . . upsetting you earlier. Whatever I said . . .”

Irritation glittered in his eyes, but also genuine concern. If he looked at a woman that way for long, she’d become utterly witless.

Leona looked down at the sticks. “Thank you.” Why, suddenly, couldn’t she put more than two words together?

He pushed the garment he was holding toward her. “Here.”

Oh, nay. She was
not
going to wear his clothes. Her own might be wet, but they’d dry while she sat by the fire. To smell him against her skin all night would be sheer torment.

Shaking her head, she said, “I am—”

“Cold. I know.”

“After I have w-warmed myself by the fire, I w-will—”

“Still be cold. Your garments are soaked. Your fingernails are blue.” He offered the garment again. “Wear my tunic. ’Tis not a woman’s garb, but ’tis dry and warm. You might fall ill if you sleep in those sodden clothes and boots.”

She certainly didn’t want to succumb to sickness. Not when she needed to escape and find her way back to Pryerston. Still . . .

Before she could say another word, Aldwin raised his hand. “I can guess your reasons for wanting to refuse, and I respect your stubborn pride. However, you know ’tis the wisest decision.”

He spoke as though ’twere the
only
decision. She frowned.

As Leona sucked in a breath to reply, he draped the tunic over her arm. “’Tis only a temporary inconvenience.” He gestured to the fire, now a sizeable blaze. “We will lay your clothes and boots out to dry. With luck, they will be all right to wear in the morning. My tunic will go back in my saddlebag and no one will ever know.”

“Except us.”

He nodded once, before he shrugged. “I will not tell. Will you?”

“Of course not.” Leona cringed, for her shrill tone made her sound uneasy. Weak.

After shoving the sticks into his hand, she snatched up the tunic. “Let us get on with it, then.”

For the briefest moment, Aldwin looked stunned. He’d obviously expected her to put up more of a protest.

“Are you surprised I agree with you? ’Tis only for one night.” She arched an eyebrow. “As you said, staying in wet garments might make me ill. I couldn’t escape then, could I?”

His face darkened with a scowl.

A giggle welled inside Leona while she spun and took three steps toward the fire—before coming to an abrupt halt. She tried not to shudder, but between the frigid cling of her garments and the unsettling realization . . . “Um . . . One more thought.”

His lazy footfalls came up behind her. “Mmm?”

She faced him. Judging by his grin, he’d guessed her dilemma.

“I will not peek,” he said.

“You certainly will not! Neither will you watch my reflection in the water.”

He glanced at the river. “I had not thought of such. That is, until you so kindly pointed it out.”

Leona growled a sigh. “I will find a spot where you cannot see.” Whirling around again, she stomped past the fire, looking left and right. Despite its brilliant gleam, the light didn’t reach all of the cavern’s shadows.

“Over there.” Aldwin waved at a boulder barely visible along the wall. “I will give you the torch.” Crossing to the flaming branch, he pulled it from between two tightly wedged rocks and handed it to her. “Do not be long.”

“Might there be a way out, behind the boulder, I wonder?” She raised the torch so its light played over the cavern wall.

“I cannot say.” Aldwin smiled, stooped near the fire, and withdrew a small pot from his saddlebag. “You will not have a chance to find out. If you are not back by the time I have heated some water, I will come and get you—whether or not you are dressed.”

Chapter Nine

Lady L hurried toward the boulder, and Aldwin smothered a chuckle. ’Twas not fair of him to taunt her. Somehow, though, he couldn’t help himself. Every sharpening of her gaze and willful tensing of her body sparked a fiery glow within him. She amused him, as well as being quite a handful.

A determined handful, he reminded himself, while he lowered the water-filled pot onto the iron trivet he’d set in the fire, near the edge where the flames didn’t burn as high. He dare not trust Lady L, or he’d find himself returning to de Lanceau without the ruby pendant or a captive. Aldwin’s wishes for knighthood would disappear like the powdery ash of a cold fire.

Lady L is quite a handful in other ways, too
, his conscience added. As if he needed reminding. Aldwin yanked at a branch pinned beneath a column lying on its side like a storm-tossed log, while he fought the memory of her standing disheveled but still beautiful before him. How he’d yearned to reach out and run his fingers down her cheek. That hand would have slid down to cup her breast, the beginning of a coaxed seduction that would have left them both naked, gasping, and undeniably warm.

Lust seared through him. Exhaling a harsh breath, he willed away his wanton musings. She’d sooner skewer him with a stick than warm her body with him.

But the way she’d looked at him, once, when she hadn’t guarded her expression . . .

He tugged again at the branch. With a gritty rasp, it pulled loose.

The torchlight, reflected like a fluid dot in the river, wavered, then dimmed. He glanced over his shoulder. Lady L had gone behind the rock.

Next, she’d be unfastening her wet cloak, before drawing it off to reveal her damp gown molded to every swell of her body—

Stop
.

He whacked the branch against a rock, breaking the wood into several pieces, then rose and tossed the sections into the fire. After striding a few paces down the bank, he snatched up more branches while nudging aside stones and rubble. At least the noise he made hid any sounds coming from behind the rock.

Aldwin adjusted his armload of wood. By now, her garments would be lying rumpled on the ground. She’d be slipping his tunic over her head and down over those firm, round breasts . . .

He kicked a buried column and welcomed the pain radiating through his toes. Far better to focus on something other than her donning his favorite, spare tunic. Five winters old, and it grew more comfortable with each washing. Every time she moved, she’d feel it against her bare skin . . .

Scowling, he returned to the fire, where he stacked his supply of wood. Steam swirled up from the pot as he brushed off his hands.

Lady L should have returned by now.

He’d best check on her. A matter of honor. He’d told her he’d fetch her if she didn’t return when he expected.

Just as he turned toward the boulder, he heard the clatter of stones. Wearing his tunic, Lady L walked toward him, carrying her clothes and the torch.

The pendant’s gold chain glinted at her neckline. The tunic, large on her slender figure, hung to her knees. His gaze snapped to the flash of skin at the garment’s hem, where her bare legs disappeared into her boots. His mouth suddenly seemed dry.

When she neared, he reached for her clothes. “Give me your boots, as well. I will set them out to dry.”

She pulled back, thwarting his courtesy.

“You will need your boots and clothes to be dry on the morrow.”

Her mouth—slightly less blue than before—curved in a saucy smile. “I know I will.”

She spoke as if she’d discovered a way out of the cavern. Aldwin resisted glancing at the boulder, for it didn’t matter if she had. He wouldn’t give her the chance to get away.

“Give me your things, then.”

Her gaze shadowed with a hint of modesty. Was she embarrassed by the thought of him handling her garments?

“I will care for my clothes.” She brushed past him, dropped her belongings with a watery
plop
, and began to drape them across the fallen column.

When she bent forward, her hair slipped in glossy ribbons against the darker colored tunic. The garment clung to her bottom. The hem edged a fraction higher, not enough to be deliberately provocative, but still . . . More luscious skin.

Whew
.

Grabbing a branch from the stacked pile, Aldwin sat and poked at the flames. A useless task, but ’twas better than ogling.

Wood popped, and sparks soared in a crimson cloud. Blinking against the ensuing smoke, he stole another glance at what he could see of her legs. Firm. Well-muscled. Not fleshy like some ladies’.

He couldn’t remember seeing more enticing legs—not even among the pretty maidservants at Branton Keep.

Lady L straightened and glanced over her spread-out cloak, gown, and chemise. After removing her boots, she propped them upside down against a rock, and then smoothed her hands over her tunic—
his
tunic—so it again covered the top of her knees.

Jabbing the fire once more, Aldwin watched her hands. They were finely boned; his earlier suspicion that she might have noble blood in her could well be right. Tonight, he’d learn the truth about this wench who in so many ways was still a mystery to him.

“You are staring.” Lady L didn’t even look at him when she spoke.

He forced his attention back to the fire. “I was seeing if you needed help.”

Setting her hands on her hips, she faced him.

“You seemed to have the task well in hand,” he added.

“You were staring. Do not pretend otherwise. An honorable man would never lie to a lady.”

He almost laughed, and not because she was throwing chivalry in his face. She looked so fetching in all her tousled fury. “Very well,” he said. “I was staring.”

“Just like a man,” she muttered, so softly, he almost didn’t hear.

“What do you mean?” That sad note had colored her voice again, suggesting that when she spoke, her thoughts pertained to one man in particular.

A client? Friend?

Lover?

He suddenly wondered how many men had been part of her life. Most of all, how many she’d taken to her bed.

She looked tired as she made her way to the fire. He rose, offering his hand to assist her, but she waved him away. Reaching a flattish rock, she sat and stretched her bare feet toward the fire.

Her shoulders lowered on a sigh.

Aldwin dropped down on a nearby rock, close enough to catch her if she ran, but far enough to give her a little freedom. Firelight flickered over her features, tinting her hair with gold and softening the taut press of her mouth. Crossing her arms, she leaned forward, clearly anxious to soak up every bit of warmth.

Aldwin smothered a low groan. After all the trouble she’d given him, he shouldn’t feel sorry for her. But he did.

And, he couldn’t look at those lovely legs all night.

He drew over his saddlebag, reached inside, and handed her the blanket.

“I will be all right in a moment,” she said.

“You can give it back to me then.”

He thought she’d refuse, but, with a nod, she took the blanket. Another sigh broke from her as she wrapped it around her body.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. However, those two words, kindly spoken, warmed him.

Aldwin, do not become addled by this wench
.

He dug in his bag again and drew out a small wooden bowl, along with a cloth-wrapped parcel of bread and cheese. After ladling some hot water into the bowl, he handed it to her, then passed her the food. “Dip the bread to soften it. ’Tis not much, but ’twill help to warm you.”

After breaking off some bread and cheese, she handed the parcel back. Then she dipped a chunk of the coarse brown bread into the water and ventured a nibble. Lady L had remarkably even, white teeth. Most of the common folk he knew had rotten teeth or none at all.

She paused mid-chew, as though assessing the watery bread’s flavor, and then swallowed. At least she hadn’t cringed or spat it out.

Dragging his gaze away, Aldwin nudged the pot off the trivet and onto a flat bit of wood. He took a portion of the fare, then slid a bit of bread through the water and ate it. Rather bland, but at least he and Lady L wouldn’t go to sleep tonight with empty bellies.

She still seemed to be shivering, though. He needed to get her warm quickly, as well as get her talking. And, he knew just how to accomplish both.

From the side pocket of his saddlebag, he withdrew a leather flask. He uncorked it and inhaled the ambrosial scent of the liquor inside.

After wiping the top of the flask with his sleeve, he offered her the drink. “Cherry brandy.”

She shook her head.

“’Tis an excellent one, made by monks in a monastery near Branton Keep.” Aldwin grinned. “Strong enough to warm you in an instant.”

“Aye.” She smiled back. “And to render me senseless.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So I cannot escape during the night.”

A very good point
.

He thumbed a scratch on the side of the leather flask. “I have no wish to get you drunk, only to ease your discomfort. ’Tis up to you, after all, how much you drink.”

Downing another mouthful of bread and water, she looked at him. “True. You cannot force me to swallow that liquor.”

He almost grinned. She might regret that challenge, if he weren’t so concerned with prying useful information from her. Taking care not to drop his bread and cheese, he held the flask out again. “The choice, then, is entirely yours.” Still, he couldn’t resist a little taunt. “Unless, of course, you cannot tolerate strong drink?”