A Knight's Temptation (2 page)

Unease crawled over her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath as one of the bees buzzed next to her ear. She jerked her head sideways. How long till the boys came to her rescue?

When another bee began to circle her, a shriek scratched her throat. She couldn’t scream. If she did so before they’d run very far, Aldwin would call her a wobbly-kneed coward.
See, you are a helpless girl
, he’d taunt.
Go on. Admit you were wrong
. His mocking smile burned into her thoughts.

Blocking out the steady hum of the bees, she forced herself to count. “One,” she said between her teeth. “Two . . .”

A tickling sensation began at her ankle, at the top of her leather shoe. Something was climbing up her leg, beneath her silk chemise. She shifted her weight. “Three. Four . . .”

A painful pinch. Another. Straining against her bonds, Leona glanced down.

Bees swarmed on the ground by her feet.

A nest.

With a frantic gasp, she dug her fingernails into the ropes. Tried to find a weak spot in the knot.

A bee landed on her skirt and crawled upward. Another landed on her arm.

Bzzz
.

“Ward!” she shrieked, pulling against her bonds. “Help!”

No answer.

A sting on her elbow.

“Ow! Ward—”

“Well done, Leona!” her brother called, his voice faint. “Keep screaming.”

“Help meee!” Oh, God. Bees in her hair. Scrambling. Burrowing. Their angry drone sounded louder than her own words. “I am not pretending. Help. Help!”

She yanked the ropes back and forth against the tree trunk, scraping her wrists. Again. Again. Her bonds didn’t yield. Thrashing her head from side to side, she dragged in frantic breaths. “Ward!”

Try to stay calm. Ward will be here any moment
.

Tears burned her eyes. Stinging heat seared her arms and legs. A bee stung below her right ear; pain shot down the side of her neck. More bees—a moving cloud of black dots—hovered before her face. They looked like spots of ink spattered on the blazing glow of sunshine.

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

Over the bees’ furious
bzzz
, a humming noise rang in her ears. She blinked, trying to focus. The dots swirled. More stings on her legs. Her knees. Her upper arms. Soon, her whole body would be covered with stings.

“
Ward!
” She tried to twist her hands, but her arms were unbearably heavy. So were her eyelids. Impossible to keep open.

Another moan broke past her lips. What would her father say when he found her? He didn’t know she’d slipped out with the boys. He expected her to be inside, with the other young ladies, entertaining themselves with a quiet game or embroidery.

A sickly heat began to spread through her body, and then numbness. Her whole body felt sluggish, as though she’d fallen into a vat of soft butter and was slowly submerging.

Blackness crept into her mind, smothering her consciousness. The bees sounded distant now, barely audible above the shrill humming. Mayhap they’d flown away.

Nay, Leona. You are fainting. Stay awake! Call for help. Now!

“Leona!”

Her brother’s voice. It cut into the darkness. Pulled her back toward the insistent hum. And the light.

Ward sounded far away. Was he speaking to her from down by the trees? She must call to him. Tell him . . . about . . . bees.

By sheer force of will, she coaxed her chin up. Her groggy head swayed, as weighty as a boulder upon her shoulders. She tried to force her eyes open. Her lids were . . . too leaden.

Why was her mind spinning, around . . . around . . . ? Must not . . . slide back . . . toward darkness.

A thudding noise.

Stones falling? Ripples of thunder?

So easy . . . to give in to . . . soothing darkness . . . To the place . . . of no pain.

Do not faint! Fight, Leona!

She struggled to drag her consciousness back. Difficult . . .

The thudding grew louder. Not stones. Not . . . thunder.

Someone . . . running.

“Sis!”

“Ward,” she croaked. Relief burgeoned inside her. “H-help me.”

Something batted against her bodice. Hands, she realized dully, swatting at her gown. Slapping at her arms.

“There are bees all over her!” Aldwin’s voice. “She stirred up a nest.”

“God’s bones!”
Ward.
“The welts on her arms.”

Help me
.

“Aldwin”—Ward sounded scared—“’tis all our fault.”

“W-we must get help.”

“Oh, Leona.” Her brother made a sound like a sob.

She tried to move her lips, to show him she’d heard . . . Impossible.

The darkness . . . was growing thicker. Like a blanket wrapping itself around her. Trying to . . . suffocate her.

Help . . . me
.

Hands brushed against her wrists.

Stay . . . alert. Fight
.

A tug. The ropes fell away.

Free, at last. Stand . . . Show Aldwin
—

Her body sagged. Her mind whirled, before she felt her shoulders connect with another body.
Ward. He’d caught her
.

Nay. Scent . . . not Ward’s.

“—too many bees,” her brother was saying.

“The river.” Aldwin’s voice resonated very near. “We must drown the bees.”

“But—”

“’Tis the only way. Hurry!”

Hands jostled her.
Pain!
A cry ripped from deep inside her.

“I am sorry.” Her brother sounded as though he was weeping. “Leona, I am sorry . . .”

The shrill humming filled her ears again. Ward’s voice . . . distorted . . . His words were sucked away into the darkness . . .

What seemed only moments later, through the fog cloaking her mind, she became aware of icy coolness. A splashing sound. A hollow sloshing.

“’Twill be all right,” a young male voice murmured. His words were reassuring, but he sounded terrified. Must be Ward. His voice sounded different because he was worried.

She tried to swallow. Her mouth felt as puffy and dry as old leaves. Every bit of her body throbbed with pain.

As her senses sharpened, she realized the coldness surrounded her.

Water.

Without opening her eyes, she realized she lay with most of her body submerged. The sloshing noise was water rushing in and out of her ears.

“Ward?” she whispered past her aching throat.

“’Twill be all right,” the voice said again, followed by another frigid rush of liquid over her body. She shivered, her burning skin protesting the iciness. The cold settled so deep, she could hardly breathe.

With immense effort, she forced her eyelids open. She squinted against sunlight that hurt her eyes.

Someone leaned over her, a shadow against the sun’s glare.

Aldwin.

Her fingers stiffened on a flare of anger. “W-Ward—”

“He has gone to get help.” She heard no trace of mockery in Aldwin’s tone. He held her gaze the barest moment, then looked away.

He wasn’t wearing his tunic. In places, red lumps—bee stings—marked his bare chest and arms.

Her gaze crept lower, to find him kneeling in the river water. His soaked hose were coated with mud.

A grimy, green swath lapped against his knees: the skirts of her gown.

Black objects—like catkins fallen from a tree—floated in the sopping folds. Bees.
Oh, God
. She shuddered, her innards clenching so tightly, she almost vomited.

Aldwin squeezed her arm. “Most of the bees are dead.”

Most? Some were still wriggling.

Leona scrambled to prop herself up on her elbows. The river blurred before her eyes. The blackness taunted, trying to smother her again.

“Lie down.” Aldwin pressed upon her shoulders, urging her back.

Anguish and pain wrenched from her in a gasp. “Do not . . . touch me!”

His expression hardened. Lifting his hands from her, he said, “You should rest.”

Rest? Was he
mad?
“B-bees—”

“They will not hurt you anymore.”

Tears streamed from her eyes and seared a path down her swollen face. She must not cry. Not in front of him. But she felt so wretched. So . . . weak.

Her right arm trembled, then collapsed beneath her. With a
plop
, she fell back onto a soft, wet pillow. His boots, she realized, wrapped with his tunic, which had kept her head up out of the water.

Darkness swirled into her mind. Odd, how it sounded like the lulling lap of water. Coaxing . . . Peaceful . . .

Aldwin nudged her shoulder. “Leona. Stay awake.”

She groaned. A pathetic sound. Barely a whisper.

Fight, Leona!

Even as the thought trailed through her mind, water splashed over her again.

“Listen to my voice. I promise, ’twill be all right.”

All right . . .

She sighed. The darkness beckoned, more tantalizing than before.

“Do not die,” he said hoarsely. “You must not die.”

Die?

“Nay,” Leona said, but her lips refused to move. The word echoed inside her head, a hollow, empty sound. Panic screamed in her dulling mind.

Help. Me.

Thick as swarming bees, the darkness took her.

***

“Leona!” Aldwin cried.

Her head lolled. Against the muddy pillow of his tunic, her blotchy face looked too pale. His pulse kicked into a painful thunder.

“Leona.” Shoving his hand under her neck, he lifted her head up out of the water. He dipped his chin, bringing his ear close to her cold lips. The barest breath warmed his hair.

Sliding his arm under her shoulders, he pulled her limp body against him and cradled her head against his chest. She’d told him not to touch her, but, unconscious now, she’d never know; he’d keep her warm and do his best to save her life.

“’Twill be all right,” he whispered against her cheek. His voice caught. She
had
to be all right, for he’d brought this upon her. He’d ignored her wishes and insisted upon the game, and now . . .

Her body trembled, racked by pain, although her eyelids didn’t open. He held her tighter. Water dripped from her hair, a sound akin to light rain.

Helplessness ripped through him. What more should he do? How did he save her? Never, in all his life, had he felt so powerless.

In the distance, he heard hoofbeats. A group of riders approached. Thank God.

How he prayed they weren’t too late.

He held her close, waiting until the pounding hoofbeats drew very near. Horses whinnied, stomped, and bridles chimed as the animals came to an abrupt halt.

Looking up, he saw men leaping down from their mounts. Leading the riders, his face a mask of fury, was his father.

Aldwin’s belly lurched. Soon, he’d feel the strike of his sire’s hand. He’d live with the bruises for days afterward. He’d accept every one, though—as an honorable knight would—for he deserved such punishment.

“What has happened here?” his father bellowed, striding down the muddy bank and into the water toward them, kicking up waves.

Another man—Lord Ransley, Leona’s father—followed, his expression stricken with horror. “Is she alive?” he demanded, water soaking his fine silk hose and tunic.

“Aye, milord.” Aldwin’s teeth chattered. He hadn’t felt cold until now.

More riders converged by the bank. Close behind followed a running crowd of men, women, and children, headed by Ward. Among them, he saw Leona’s mother, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Swallowing down a stab of guilt, he shielded Leona against the waves rocking her body.

“Wretched boy.” His sire reached down and yanked Aldwin to standing. Leona slipped from his arms and fell back toward the murky depths.

“Careful,” Aldwin cried, but Leona’s father caught her. Kneeling and lowering her back to the makeshift pillow, he and three other men began examining the welts on her neck and arms.

His eyes red-rimmed and accusing, Lord Ransley glared up at Aldwin. “What were you doing? Trying to kill my daughter?”

“I was drowning the bees, milord. ’Twas the best way—”

“You ordered her tied to a tree. Ward said she didn’t want to play your game.”

When Lord Ransley turned Leona’s wrist, exposing the red rope marks, his father swore between his teeth.

Aldwin shuddered. “I never meant to hurt her. ’Twas supposed to be just a silly game. I—”

“Is this how you were taught to treat ladies?” his sire roared.

Pressing his lips together, Aldwin shook his head.

“We are a family that respects the king’s laws. The great honor of knights. Chivalry.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd gathered on the bank.

Aware of water splashing behind him, Aldwin glanced back, to see Lord Ransley carrying Leona toward the shore, her loose hair dragging in the water.

“Father—” Aldwin said.

His sire turned away. He reached for an object caught in the nearby reeds—the stick, tied with the scrap of ribbon—and again faced Aldwin.

“Lord Ransley’s daughter could well die. You shame our family,” his father growled. “You shame me.” His fingers tightened on the branch.

“Father, ’twas an accident. Please, believe me.”

“Turn around.”

A sickening tremor wove through Aldwin, for he’d never seen his sire so angry. The temptation to run, as fast and far as he could, raced through him. But running would show him to be a coward. Knights didn’t run from their fears. They faced them with pride and honor.

Water lapped against Aldwin’s legs as he turned his back to his father. Now he faced the crowd and the weight of their condemning stares.

The stick whistled through the air and smacked his bare back. Aldwin winced.

“Stop!” Ward raced toward the bank. “Milord, he tried to help Leona!”

Grabbing Ward’s arm, Lord Ransley hauled him back to the horses, where Lady Ransley sobbed into her hands. Several men were preparing to get Leona onto a horse.

“Aldwin!” Ward cried, struggling.

Thwack!
The stick lashed again. Claps of approval broke in the crowd.

Pain streaked across Aldwin’s lower back and he fought a groan. He must not cry out. A real knight would keep his silence.