A Knight's Temptation (20 page)

Bastard
. “Let go of my arm.”

“Ye ’ave a bit of fight in ye? Ye won’t when I am done.”

How her fingers begged to claw into his leering face. Trembling with fury and fear, she forced herself to remain still. If she wanted to escape this predicament unharmed, she must use her wits.

Taunting Peyton would only provoke his cruelty. Therefore, she must react as he expected. Like a . . . damsel.

Ugh
.

Lowering her head, she let her shoulders slump. She forced a sniffle.

“That’s better.” His fingers shifted on her arm. “Now—”

Leona brought her leg up in a swift jerk. Her knee slammed into his groin.

He howled.

The knife flashed toward her. She jumped back and snatched up a branch from the ground.

One hand cupped over his privates, his eyes wet with pain, Peyton glowered at her. He raised the knife again, his hand trembling. “Ye will
beg
me ta—”

“I will not.” Holding the branch with both hands, she swung it hard. Peyton staggered backward, but his boot heel hit a stone. He wavered, and she swung again. With a grisly
clunk
, the wood smacked into the side of his head.  His body stiffened. He teetered sideways, and then fell to the ground, the knife still clenched in his fingers.

The force of the blow burned in Leona’s arms. Raising the stick to strike again if necessary, she edged toward Peyton. He didn’t move.

Had she killed him? The thought sparked a horrible twinge inside her. He might be vile, but to have taken his life . . .

He still breathed. Relief rushed out of her on a sigh. However, when Peyton woke, he’d be angry enough to kill her. She had to escape
now
.

Throwing aside the branch, she spun toward the rope.

Aldwin stood on the rock, holding his crossbow.

Leona froze. Her body flooded with warmth. Joy? Relief? Mayhap a deluge of both.

“Well done,” he murmured.

She nodded and dried her sweaty hands on her cloak. Pride and an unnerving awkwardness welled up inside her.
Remember, Leona, he’s not your lover, but your captor
.

He stepped off the rock onto the shore.

“I was told you died.” She hated the way her voice caught.

“Not this day. Two of the poachers, however, are dead.” Aldwin shifted his near empty quiver. Blood spattered across the front of his tunic, and his left sleeve was torn near his wrist.

His gaze shifted past her to the unconscious poacher. “Did you kill him?”

“Nay, only knocked him senseless.”

His crossbow aimed at Peyton, Aldwin strode to him, squatted, and searched his cloak. Clearly finding naught of importance, he pried the knife from Peyton’s fingers. “He will wake soon. We must leave.”

When Aldwin rose, he grimaced. She noticed a bloodstained slash in the side of his tunic she hadn’t seen before. “You are wounded!”

“A scratch.”

“More than a scratch.”

“I will be fine.” He walked back to her. “And you?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” He paused in front of her and his gaze softened. Was he glad she was unharmed because he cared about her? Or was he relieved she wouldn’t be a burden for the rest of their travels?

Likely the latter. Still, heat lingered in his eyes. She felt that poignant glimmer deep inside her—the same sensation she’d experienced when he kissed her.

His gaze fell to her lips. His mouth opened, and he looked about to say something important.

Then he blinked and turned away. “We must leave, as soon as possible. The poachers who survived ran off. They will be back, though, to collect their friends’ bodies and help this man. They may come with reinforcements.”

He spoke as if each word was a struggle. He seemed to be resisting what he really wished to tell her.

Had he meant to say he cared about her? Nay. More likely, events had occurred aboveground that he regretted.

He hadn’t mentioned his horse.

As Aldwin tossed Peyton’s knife into the river, she said, “What about Rom?”

“He ran into the woods. We will find him.”

Without the horse, they’d have to make their way on foot. They’d be easy prey for the returning poachers. Even more vulnerable than if they stayed in this cavern. “What if we don’t find Rom? What then?”

Aldwin crossed to his saddlebag. After removing his quiver, he retrieved his cloak and put it on. She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but as he shoved his saddlebag and quiver back onto his shoulder, he said, “We will worry about that situation if and when we need to. Now this is what we will do. I will—”

He spoke just like Ward when he’d asserted his “older and wiser than you” authority. How tired she was of Aldwin’s orders. Tired of being cold, damp, and trapped when the situation at Pryerston might be dire.

Brushing past him, she started toward the rope.

“Leona.”

“You said we should leave here as soon as possible.”

His strides carried behind her, followed by the
thwap
of his wet tunic being snatched from the column. “I did say such, but I will climb up first.”

She reached the water’s edge and leapt to the rock.

His footfalls quickened, and then he landed behind her. He stood indecently close, consuming the miniscule space separating their bodies. “I will go first,” he repeated, his breath stirring her hair.

Wicked heat spiraled through her, while her patience fought his demand to lead. He didn’t want her going first because she might pull up the rope before he’d climbed it, leaving him down here with Peyton.

“’Tis best if I go first,” Aldwin said. “I will make sure the poachers are not waiting for us.”

“How noble of you.” His reasoning, though, made sense. He was better prepared to defend both of them if the ruffians lay in wait. Indeed, ’twas noble of him to put himself in jeopardy.

Annoying, though, that his actions seemed gallant.

Aldwin must have sensed her irritation, because he chuckled. “Protecting you
is
my responsibility.” He stepped past her to better approach the rope.

“Protecting me while holding me hostage and hauling me halfway across Moydenshire,” she grumbled.

“Mmm.”

He leapt for the rope. When his hands clenched around it, his face contorted with pain.

Just as she planned to ask if he was all right to climb, he started up. His cloak parted at the waist, revealing his strong legs flexing with each movement. His boots whispered against the rope, marking his upward progression. He moved as if ’twere no effort at all.

She glanced back at Peyton who hadn’t yet stirred, glad of something to look at other than Aldwin’s physique. “In truth, I am relieved you are going first. I did not want you looking up my gown.”

Aldwin’s indignant laugh carried down to her.

She squinted up at him. Now he’d say he was too much of a knight to do such a thing? Ha.

A groan carried from across the cavern.

She glanced back at Peyton. Still lying on the ground, he reached up to touch his forehead.

“He is waking,” she called to Aldwin, who neared the sunlight above.

Aldwin grunted, a sound of annoyance and pain. Dirt showered down on the water, and then he was through the opening.

He leaned down into the hole. “Jump to the rope. I will pull you up.”

“What about your wound?”

Scowling, he said, “Do not argue. Just—”

Another groan from Peyton. She glanced over her shoulder, to see him rise up to sitting, his enraged gaze on her.

Leona threw herself to the rope. Its roughness scratched her palms and the insides of her wrists, but, looking to Aldwin above, she started to climb.

The rope jerked as he pulled her higher.

Rocks clattered behind her. “Bitch,” Peyton yelled. “Ye will not get away.”

A fist-sized stone soared past her right elbow and slammed into the cavern ceiling. Dirt rained on her head.

She grabbed higher up the rope, while at the same time, Aldwin hauled her upward. Just a little farther, and she’d be in sunlight.

Another rock flew, barely missing her torso. Aldwin tugged again on the rope. Her head cleared the hole, and then her shoulders. Clawing her hands into the ground, she pulled herself out.

Scrambling to her knees, she spun and reached for the rope, relishing the moment she yanked it out of Peyton’s reach. However, the rope’s end was already in Aldwin’s grasp.

He grinned at her, while a roar echoed up from the cavern.

She brushed off her hands, even as he tossed aside the rope. His crossbow at the ready, he darted toward the fallen tree. Crouched behind it, he studied the surroundings.

Leona snatched a stick from the ground and crept up behind him.

“Do not look beyond the log.”

“Why not?”

“’Tis not a pleasant sight.”

Indeed? Did he think she was weak of stomach?

Raising his weapon, he edged forward, as though to better see into the woods. Curiosity gnawed at her and she glanced beyond the log. Several yards from a fallen stag, two young men lay dead. The closest one was sprawled on his back, a crossbow bolt buried in his chest. The other, his face twisted in agony, curled on his side, his hand clutching the bolt piercing his gut; another bolt jutted from his hip. Blood darkened the ground around them.

Leona tore her gaze away. She’d seen death before. Only months ago, she’d helped bathe her mother’s body and ready her for burial. Still—

“I told you not to look,” Aldwin said, his expression grim.

“Aye.”

“I did not want to kill those men, but I had no choice. They refused to put down their weapons. They would have killed me—
us
—if I had not killed them. Remember that.” He rose, swung his legs over the tree, and started down toward the woods.

Aldwin hadn’t grabbed her hand, tied her, or ordered her to stay by him. But, Leona realized, he didn’t have to. She’d rather be his hostage than be at the poachers’ mercy. After clambering over the tree, she started after him. He didn’t say a word or glance at her, yet she sensed he knew she followed.

His crossbow poised in case of an attack, he called, “Rom.”

Silence stretched through the forest. A bird rustled in a nearby tree before swooping down to land on a low branch.

“Rom,” Aldwin shouted again.

A rustling came from the bushes a short distance away. Rom appeared out of the forest’s shadows and trotted toward Aldwin. After halting before his master, the horse whinnied, and then exhaled a breathy snort.

Leaves dangled from Rom’s mane. “’Tis all right,” Aldwin murmured, running his palm over the destrier’s neck.

Leona swallowed. He’d spoken to her like that long ago, when he’d knelt beside her in the river and splashed water over her burning skin.

“’Tis all right,” Aldwin said again, while his splayed hand moved over the destrier’s coat. He must be looking for injuries.

Flexing her hands on her stick, she scanned the forest. His attention might be focused elsewhere, but she’d not let the poachers surprise them. Neither would she work herself into a breathless swoon while watching his caresses. With fierce concentration, she scrutinized the bushes and fallen logs.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the imagined feel of his hands roving over her, skimming down her face to her neck, and then to the neckline of her gown . . .

“Stop, Leona,” she muttered aloud, swishing her stick. “Stop—”

Aldwin appeared at her side, aiming his crossbow at the woods. “You saw someone?”

Argh!
“Nay.”

“What did you say, then?”

“I was reminding myself of . . . an important matter.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked about to laugh.

Annoyance crackled inside her like fat spitting in a pan. Waving her stick at the forest, she said, “At least I am keeping watch.”

“As am I. I wanted to be sure Rom wasn’t hurt before we traveled on. He, too, is my responsibility.”

Touching words, spoken by a warrior. ’Twas admirable he cared so much for his horse.

After returning to Rom, Aldwin took the reins and led the animal forward. “I will lead him to the tree stump over there. ’Twill be easier for you to climb onto his back.”

Leona waited for Aldwin to summon her to follow.

He strode on. Sunshine played over his broad back. He looked as strong as his horse.

Aldwin
was
strong, she recalled with a shiver. And, warm. And, clever. He didn’t have to tell her to follow him, because he knew he’d catch her if she ran—just as he knew she didn’t want to be stranded in the woods when the poachers returned.

A silent groan broke inside her. He had all the advantage. And, he knew it.

Aldwin halted Rom beside the stump. Bowing at the waist in a most elegant way, Aldwin motioned to the saddle.

She rolled her eyes.

“Come, milady. You would not be so foolish as to refuse.”

Leona frowned.

“All right. You might, indeed, be so foolish as to refuse. However, you also know that if you disobey, I will come after you and force you onto Rom against your wishes. Therefore, you realize you are wiser
not
to refuse. You will come as I ask.”

God above
. Her head hurt trying to keep track of his arguments.

“I will come.” She strolled to him. “Not because you wish it, but because I am eager to leave these woods.”

As she walked, the breeze stirred her damp garments and she silently acknowledged the other reasons why she’d agreed: cold and fatigue. While her body ached with exhaustion, she had little hope of outwitting him.

She drew near, and Aldwin dipped his head. “Thank you.”

She smothered an astonished gasp. Why did he bother to be chivalrous? They both knew ’twas irrelevant. “I make no promises for the rest of our travels.” She stepped up onto the weathered stump, fingered her hair back over her shoulder, and smiled down at him.

Aldwin’s glinting gaze locked with hers. “Do not tempt me, Leona.”

He’d bitten out the word “tempt.” The sound held a savage quality that suggested his rational thoughts were losing their fight with his emotions.