A Knight's Temptation (8 page)

The cool air in the corridor intensified. He approached the area where the tavern keeper received deliveries of ale and other goods. Barrels, topped by folded cloth sacks, were propped against the wall.

Leona gnawed her lip, for she would
not
be hauled outside into the darkness with Aldwin. They might have met when they were children, but she didn’t know this warrior Aldwin at all. Who knew what he intended for her in the grimy yard, beyond the watchful eyes of the revelers and her father’s men?

Mayhap he planned to carry her behind the stable, slit her throat, and take the pendant. He might return to the tavern and kill Twig and Sir Reginald, too, leaving no witnesses to their earlier meeting.

If she didn’t escape, she risked Twig and Sir Reginald’s lives. They’d already hazarded a great deal to help her.

She thought of the dagger Aldwin had kicked from her hand. If only she had some way to defend herself . . .

Few warriors traveled without knives. She’d take Aldwin’s.

She carefully loosened one hand and, stretching sideways, reached around for the cloak’s front opening. She found the edge of the fabric, then the softer wool of his tunic.

Then the leather belt at his waist.

“Beware, Lady L,” he muttered. “You might find more than you expected.”

Bold knave!
Her fingertips bumped the hilt of a dagger. Aha! He’d treat her differently when she turned his own weapon upon him—

“I think not.” Aldwin shrugged his shoulder.

Tightening her grip on his cloak, she grabbed again for the dagger.

He growled, before the broad muscles supporting her shifted. She careened sideways. As she cursed and struggled, fighting to reclaim her position, iron hinges creaked, and then cool summer air swept over her, enveloping her like a monster’s mouth.

Glancing sideways, she spied the battered door. She grabbed hold of it, clinging to it like a limpet to a sea stone.

“I will not let go,” she yelled. Wood bit into her palms.

“Really?” Aldwin kept on walking. With an eerie groan, the door closed, pulled by her hands. If she didn’t relinquish her grip, her fingers would be caught between the embrasure and the door. A painful prospect. She needed her fingers intact.

Spitting a curse, she drew her hands in. The door clicked into place.

Darkness, the smell of wood smoke, and a foul odor surrounded her. If he hadn’t brought her out here to kill her, she’d die from the stench. Using part of his cloak, she covered her nose.

From somewhere nearby came coarse voices and sounds of vicious fist fighting. Not at all promising for a rescue.

Aldwin’s boots crunched on the dirt as he walked. When her eyes began to adjust to the blackness, she made out the stable’s rough-hewn wall. Trying to focus her thoughts, she recalled the tavern’s surroundings: the open area outside the building; the stable with its sagging roof; the old trees lining the short drive into the tavern; and the road leading into the forest beyond.

His strides didn’t slow as he neared the stable, which meant he hadn’t tethered a mount there and wasn’t taking her away on horseback. That suggested he wasn’t carrying her far. Fear crawled up her skull.

Dropping the fabric shielding her face, she shrieked, “Help!”

“Quiet,” Aldwin snapped over his shoulder. “You will draw the attention of the tavern thugs.”

“Exactly!”

“Trust me. ’Tis not wise.”

“Why not?” She spat the words at his back. Raising her head again, she screeched, “Help!”

“Those men are a violent lot. You are more likely to be raped than be rescued.”

“How gallant of you to worry about my welfare,” she shot back. “Should I thank you for tossing me over your shoulder? For knocking the breath out of me several times?”

A snarl rumbled from him.

“I vow the danger is from you, not the thugs. I will not make your efforts easy. In fact, I swear upon my brother’s grave that I will fight you and get away.”

“You can try.”

Aldwin’s arrogant tone brought a hot flush to her face. How she’d enjoy slamming her fist into his jaw again—this time hard enough to knock him senseless.

The stable ended. The battered side wall, patched by warped boards, blended into the darkness as Aldwin strode on. The wood smoke smell intensified, bolstered by the roaring crackle of a bonfire.

Fear ran through her in an icy tremor as, twisting sideways, she glanced at the blaze and the rough-looking men gathered there. Some sported bloody noses and ripped clothes. Others were delivering punches and kicks in the ongoing brawl. Surrounded by smoke, the thugs looked almost demonic. Yet she was running out of chances to escape.

Aldwin’s footsteps quickened. No doubt he hoped to be away from the fighting as soon as possible. She had to act
now
.

“Help!” Leona cried again. She grabbed handfuls of Aldwin’s cloak, scrambling to find his belt again. He wore his dagger on his right side. That meant the sack of coins was on his left.

Aldwin grunted in warning, but she clawed her hands into his tunic. “Help me! Please.”

“Oy!” a thug called. “You there. What ye doin’ ta that wensssch?”

With shivers of relief and panic, she realized the man was addressing Aldwin.

“Help me!” she cried. “He plans to kill me.”

“Indeed,” Aldwin muttered in a voice only she could hear, “I am sorely tempted to strangle you.”

“Put ’er down,” another man shouted, while the sounds of fist fighting quieted.

Aldwin halted. He must have felt her hand skating across his belt, but he ignored her. Turning to face the men—which meant she couldn’t see them anymore—he said, “Put her down?” He laughed. “I paid good money for a tumble with this strumpet.”

Several thugs muttered.

“What?” Leona spluttered.

“Ish that ssshhho?” another man shouted.

“She is a feisty one,” Aldwin said. “Enjoys a bit of drama, I am told. Likes to pretend she is a lady carried off by her lusty lover.”

More raucous laughter.

Leona kicked her legs, heedless of the draft wafting up her skirt. “He is lying! Please! Help me.” Her fingers bumped the coin bag. She tugged it from Aldwin’s belt. “He has silver! Help me, and the money is yours.”

Strong fingers snatched the bag from her hand. Before she could say one word, she heard the silver jingle, then the
clink-clink-clink
of coins landing on the dirt.

“Drinks for all of you,” Aldwin yelled. Over hearty roars, she heard the men scrambling for the coins. No doubt Aldwin had tossed enough for drinks to render them all daft, so they’d be of no help to Twig and Sir Reginald when they searched for her.

“My friends,” Aldwin said, “the lady and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“We will not interrupt ye,” one drunkard said with a rude cackle.

“Not unlesshhh we can ’ave a go with ’er,” another yelled.

“Nay,” Leona choked.

“This one is all mine.” Aldwin’s tone held menace. “Remember, if anyone asks, you did not see us.”

“Ssshee who?” another man said, to bawdy laughter.

Leona groaned.

Spinning around again, Aldwin continued toward the forest. Again, she fought him, trying to wriggle free of his grasp, but he didn’t lessen his grip the slightest bit.

The smoke and firelight thinned, giving way to darkness lit by a weak moon. Unable to change her position, exhausted from her struggles, Leona stared down at the rocky dirt passing beneath Aldwin’s boots. Somehow, she had to find a way to let Twig and Sir Reginald know where to search for her. Taking hold of the end of her braid, she untied the bit of leather and dropped it to the ground.

Dirt gave way to a verge of grass and weeds, and then ferns growing alongside trees and brush. The scents of mold and rotting leaves rose up from the damp earth. A night creature rustled in the undergrowth, an unseen hunter stalking prey.

Leona yanked on the cloak. “Where are you taking me?”

Fallen branches snapped beneath Aldwin’s boots. He didn’t answer, but kept walking.

“What are you going to do?” She whacked him with her fist. “Are you listening? If you do not answer me—”

A breathy snort sounded, followed by the metallic
tinkle
of a bridle. His horse was tethered in the forest shadows.

Aldwin’s strides slowed. Oh, God. Did he mean to throw her to the ground, kill her, take the pendant, and ride away? Or—an even more unsettling thought—did he mean to shove her up onto his horse and gallop away with her, to murder her elsewhere?

Whatever he intended, she’d not be a coward; she’d give him a fight he’d never forget. Through countless scuffles when they were children, Ward—peace upon his departed soul—had made certain she knew how to defend herself.

Aldwin shifted her upon his shoulder and then his hold on her legs eased. Freeing her hands from his cloak, she curled them into fists, preparing to strike out at him. Faster than she believed possible, he bent, set her feet on the ground, and stepped back.

Finally upright again, she fingered hair out of her eyes. The forest spun around her, and it took a moment before it settled into focus. Her numb legs wobbled.

Before her legs folded beneath her, Aldwin caught her wrist, his hold firm but, at the same time, reassuring.

She scowled and tried to pull away.

“Can you stand?”

“Aye.”

“Your legs are no longer numb?”

Not as much as before, but they still feel as if insects are crawling up them
.

She began to shake, struggling against the memories of bees on her skin. Why did he care about the condition of her legs? Lifting her chin, she glared at him.

“Good.” He grinned as if she’d bestowed upon him her most affectionate smile.

He didn’t let go of her arm.

Before she could tell him to unhand her, he hauled her toward a tree. Stumbling and skidding across the moldering leaves, she was forced to follow. A saddled destrier stood tethered to the tree. The magnificent animal seemed to recognize Aldwin, for it shook its mane and then nuzzled his shoulder.

“Hello, Romulus.” He patted the horse’s glossy neck and then reached for the leather bag tied to the saddle. Or was he reaching for the crossbow, slung beside the bag? Fired at this close range, she’d be dead before she could draw in a breath. A quick, efficient murder.

“Nay!” she gasped and yanked back on her arm. His fingers tightened on her wrist until she gasped again. He flipped open the saddlebag, plunged his hand inside, and drew out a length of thin, leather rope. It uncoiled, whispering toward the ground like a snake.

He meant to bind her before he shot her. Revulsion turned her mouth dry. As though she were a young girl again, she remembered being tied to the tree, unable to move, the ropes digging into her skin.

Aldwin’s head tilted. Silvery moonlight touched the hard gleam of his eyes and uncompromising set of his mouth. “Give me your other wrist, Lady L.”

Chapter Five

When Lady L’s face tautened with fear and rebellion, Aldwin bit back an oath. She seemed determined to battle him at every opportunity. When would she accept ’twould be far more pleasant for both of them if she did as he asked?

He drew more of the rope between his fingers. She was no titled lady, worthy of delicate handling. Still, he’d rather not force her to his demands.

But he would.

Her men would soon be searching for her outside, and he intended to be gone from this forest by then.

“Lady L.” He gestured to her free wrist, while keeping an iron grip on the other.

Her gaze narrowed, and then she glanced at the trees behind him, no doubt searching for a way of escape. Uncertainty glimmered in her eyes, and a peculiar tension squeezed his innards. An inconvenient sense of chivalry.

From his youngest days, he’d aspired to live by the knight’s code of honor, to respect those of noble birth, to fight for his king and lord, and to champion those less fortunate or in peril. Binding a woman’s hands and whisking her off into the night, against her will, seemed a contradiction of those morals.

At least some of them. His duty to de Lanceau, however, took priority over her needs. If her testimony could save Moydenshire from the baron and Veronique’s evil, then he must take her to Branton Keep. As quickly as possible.

“I will ask but one more time,” he said quietly.

Lady L’s focus snapped back to him. Her eyes looked huge against her ashen skin, her face taut with resolve. Her unraveling braid, rippling down the front of her cloak, was a snarled mess. No longer was she the poised temptress, but a wild woman ruled by instinct.

Her body tensed. She clearly prepared to bolt.

“Do as I ask. I will not hurt you.”

A brittle laugh broke from her. “You want to tie my hands.”

“Only so that you do not injure me. Or yourself.”

Her wrist tendons tightened in his grasp, and he felt a shudder jar through her, as if she feared for her life. Did she think he was lying to her? That he intended to restrain her before hurting her?

Aye, he’d given her ample reason to distrust him. But why would she believe he meant her grave harm?

She began to fight anew. Leaves rustled as she kicked at his shins while wrenching her arm. “I will not let you tie me. I know what you intend to do.”

God’s teeth! She was going to damage her shoulder with her struggles.

“Calm yourself.” He turned the rope in his fingers, waiting for the right moment to snatch her other hand. The faster he tied her, the better.

“Tie me to a tree, shoot me dead, take the pendant, and gallop away. ’Tis what you plan.” Her voice turned shrill. “I will not let you!”

He might have laughed at her ridiculous assertion, except at that moment, she glanced at Rom. Her mouth flattened. A warning buzz in Aldwin’s mind reminded him of his crossbow tied there, even as her gaze lit with determination.

She lunged toward the destrier.

Hauling her back, spinning her toward him, he grabbed her other wrist.

“Nay!” she shrieked.

The terror in her cry struck him deep, but he ignored his inner voice that told him to treat her more kindly. She spat, kicked, and fought like a cornered cat. Holding her firm, he looped the rope around and between her wrists and made a knot. He cinched the bonds tight.