A Knight of Passion (12 page)

His eyes lifted to hers.

“We must speak.”

He tugged her skirt thigh-high and reached between her legs. He brushed a thigh with his fingers, then slipped them between her already moist folds.

“Is this what I need to know?” he asked. “How wet you are for me?”

Her heart raced. She wanted him. Wanted to feel his length deep inside, to know she was safe in his arms…would always be safe. But a man’s cock had never saved a woman. He plunged his fingers into her channel. Pleasure ripped through her.

“What you need to know,” she said in a breathless voice, “is that Her Grace murdered Lord Marr.”

 
The fingers inside her stilled.

“What?”

“Lord Marr,” she said. “The duchess is responsible for his death.”

“He was killed by a robber,” Sir Bryant said.

“The murder was made to look like a robbery.”

Sir Bryant removed his fingers from inside her and straightened, forcing her to sit up.

“You certainly know how to shrink a man’s cock to the size of a sausage.”

Heat crept up her cheeks.

He eyed her. “You could not have waited five more minutes to tell me this?”

“My lord, I—”

He barked a laugh. “Ten minutes, then.”

She didn’t reply, uncertain whether or not his look of frustration was truly tinged with amusement as she perceived.

He studied her. “This has weighed on your mind.”

“You must know the truth,” she replied.

“So that I may be certain I made a good bargain.”

“It is why you married me.”

“And what of the bargain you made?” he asked.

She frowned. “What?”

“Have you made a good bargain in marrying me?”

“I never dreamed I would have such good fortune.”

“Because I have taken you away from the duchess?”

“And Siusan,” Riana added.

“And Siusan,” he repeated.

Riana laid a hand on his arm. “I will always be grateful.”

“Grateful.” He gave a low laugh. “Fate is a cruel mistress to have turned my plans against me.”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

He dropped his gaze to her hand where it still rested on his arm and she snatched it back.

He stuffed his hands behind his head and regarded her. “How do you know the duchess is responsible for Lord Marr’s death?”

Riana hesitated, uncertain of his sudden change in mood and topic. “He came to Arundel. The duchess was angry when he refused to financially support Balliol.”

“Lord Marr is a loyal follower of Sir Andrew. She was a fool to think he would change alliances.”

“But he supported Balliol at Dupplin Moor.”

Bryant’s eyes narrowed. “You are mistaken.”

She shook her head. “He regretted it, but it is true. The duchess threatened to expose his involvement if he did not add to Balliol’s coffers.”

Sir Bryant grew thoughtful. “If news reached Sir Andrew that Lord Marr had supported Balliol, Lord Marr would be relegated to the ranks of the
Disinherited
. But the duchess would gain nothing by killing him.”

“Nothing but the fear of those who would resist her requests in the future,” Riana said.

Sir Bryant looked nonplussed. “She aspires to rule Scotland?”

“In her way, yes,” Riana replied. “She cares nothing for politics…”

“But everything for power,” he ended.

Riana nodded.

“Was she successful in frightening her next victim?”

“I know only of Lord Cormac. He contributed to Balliol’s cause.”

“You are certain Lord Cormac supported Balliol?” Sir Bryant demanded.

Before she could stop the thought, her face heated with the memory of Lord Cormac in her bed.

Sir Bryant’s expression hardened. “Did he tell you while his cock was buried inside you?”

She couldn’t prevent a small gasp.

“By God,” Sir Bryant muttered.
 

Riana lifted her chin. “You knew what I was before we married.”

“Aye,” he bit back. “I even fucked you in the bed meant for Sir Dunbar.”

“You did. And with very little urging.”

He gave a strangled laugh. “What man could resist that?” He glanced at her breasts and she looked down. She had forgotten she was still exposed.

Riana yanked the bodice up over her breast. “Only moments ago you couldn’t refuse.”

“Aye, and even now my balls ache and my cock is so hard you could ride me all night and not wear me out.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

His mouth thinned. “You tried once, after having my cock inside you, to fuck another man. Never again.”

“What—” She leapt from the bed. “How dare you?”

He gave a low laugh. “I dare because I am your husband.”

“You had no claim on me then.” She lifted her chin. “You had no right to interfere.”

“Interfere? I saved your pretty neck from the hangman’s noose.”

“Which time?” she demanded. “When you saved me from murdering a man by coming to my bed by mistake, or when you burst into the prison as the warden was fucking me?”

Sir Bryant seized her wrist and yanked her to the edge of the bed. “It seems you owe me twice over.”

He was probably right, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “The warden would not have harmed me.”

“Nay, he would only have fucked you sore.”

“He would not have been the first.”

Sir Bryant jumped from the bed so quickly she had barely taken a step back before he was pressing her against the wall.

“And he will not be the last.” Sir Bryant ground his hard length against her belly. “But it will be
me
between your legs rubbing you raw.”

She gasped.

He gave a small nod. “I see the notion appeals to you.”

Riana pushed at him. To her surprise, he turned and strode to the door.

Hand on the handle, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “Remember, you are mine. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck.” His gaze bore into her. “Mine to love.”

Chapter Seventeen

Is his fa
Riana argued with Siusan, but to no avail. Her younger sister insisted they visit the chapel before the evening meal. Thankfully, there was no priest in residence, and Riana slipped into the back pew of the four pews on the left of the dimly-lit room.

“You will not pray?” Siusan asked.

“Not today.”

Her sister smiled. “God will not fault you for protecting me.” Siusan placed a kiss on her cheek. “Neither will Sir Bryant.”

Riana startled at the unexpected insight, but before she could respond, Siusan had turned away and was walking down the aisle.

“Mine to love.”

In the hour since he’d said the words, Riana had played them over and over in her mind. Lit candles at the altar sent light skimming across small, stained glass windows on the left and right, lending the cut glass an eerie sense of animation. Riana remained motionless as Siusan stopped in front of the dais, crossed herself and knelt.

Were Sir Bryant’s words a declaration of love? A flutter closed around Riana’s heart with memory of the heat in his gaze in the instant before he’d left the room. She had the odd sense that, despite the fact he’d lain between her legs twice, he was telling her that his true claiming of her was yet to come. Was it possible he saw her as more than the whore she had become?

He had married her believing she intended to murder his friend. Was Siusan right? Did he understand? Riana allowed herself to relax against the back of the pew. Whatever his feelings, he had proven he was willing to protect her and Siusan. Perhaps Sir Dunbar was right and the duchess feared their combined forces. Was that why she had released them? Or was it the fact that their mother was with child? Sorrow wound through Riana. Why had her mother not told her? If a son was born, he, instead of Riana, would be heir to Fyvie Castle. What kind of man would he grow to be? Her heart went cold. He would be just like his father, a puppet for the duke and duchess—if they survived the
sentence of forfeiture
Lord Fostar had planned for them.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Soon, the Duke and Duchess of Arundel would be penniless and without authority to harm anyone. Siusan would marry and bear children. She would have a good life.

What of her? Riana came up short. Would Sir Bryant want children? What would it be like to feel his child growing inside her? A tremor rippled through her. What would her son think of the fact that his mother was a whore? What of their daughters? Riana bowed her head. If God was kind, He would allow her to keep that secret. Would Sir Bryant keep her secret? She recalled his gentle touch. He wasn’t a cruel man.

Siusan rose, crossed herself again, and started back down the aisle. Riana stood and, when Siusan reached her, linked arms with her. They reached the chapel door and Riana glanced back at the dais. The Christ hung behind the altar, head downcast, eyes upturned. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes. Riana started, before realising it was nothing more than the play of candlelight against the painted irises. She let the door close behind her and they walked along the path leading to the castle.

Siusan gave a cry and Riana halted at sight of Glen emerging from the small group of trees ahead on the left. Siusan pulled free of her and raced across the short distance to him. She threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her close for a long moment before she straightened.

“You are well!” Siusan cried.

He nodded, eyes soft, then turned his gaze to Riana as she stepped up to them. She hugged him close, her tears bathing his shirt. He drew back and smiled.

“How?” Riana asked.

He reached inside his shirt and withdrew a letter. Riana took the paper. She spotted the duke’s seal and fear streaked through her. Glen grasped her trembling hand and squeezed. She looked at him. A corner of his mouth lifted in encouragement. Siusan leaned in close. Riana considered sending her into the castle, but didn't. Siusan was no child. She should understand her fate. Riana broke the seal and read.

Riana,

I will not speak of your treachery. Instead, I will give you the opportunity to set things right. As you can see, I have freed Glen. This is only the first of my mercies. I also release Siusan. She may stay with Sir Bryant and we will dower her. All this we will do, if you return home. Glen will escort you to Arundel, where you will immediately wed Sir Ross. Do not fear the sham of a marriage to Sir Bryant will prevent this. I have already dealt with the matter.

“She cannot annul your marriage,” Siusan cried as Riana read the last lines.

You will leave Arundel a legally married woman and live with Sir Ross until it is time to occupy Fyvie Castle.

The Duchess of Arundel

“How dare she?” Siusan seethed.

Riana looked at her, surprised at the edge in her sister’s voice. “She dares because she can. Just as she can keep her hold on you, if she pleases.” Riana looked at Glen and sadness entered his eyes as he nodded in agreement. She grasped his arm. “You are free. There is nothing she can do to us now. I will speak with Sir Bryant.”

Glen nodded, relief obvious in his eyes.

“Sir Bryant will protect us,” Siusan said with confidence.

Riana nodded. After all, he’d said she was his to spread her legs, his to fuck and his to love.

* * * *

“Murder?” Riana repeated. She stared at Sir Bryant, who sat beside her at the head of the table in the great hall.

The din created by the men gathered for the evening meal nearly drowned out the word, but he smiled gently, and said, “The assassin was unsuccessful.”

She envisioned the downward slice of the knife that had grazed his arm instead of plunging into the muscled flesh between his shoulder blades as intended. She dropped her gaze to his left arm, wrapped with a snow-white cloth. Not a spot of blood shone through. Whoever had tended him was skilled.

“How was he able to enter Chilgoriam Castle?” Riana couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice.

“Many come and go from Chilgoriam Castle,” he replied. “Sir Dunbar and I have combined our forces and we share men and resources. That makes the keep a focal point for a fifty mile radius.”

“Your guards cannot keep out a murderer?” she demanded, then remembered that Glen, too, had entered the castle unmolested.

“Unlike Arundel, Chilgoriam draws few murderers,” Sir Bryant replied. “Our enemies prefer an all-out attack.” He grinned. “I am a bastard, not a nobleman.”

A bastard who has angered a noblewoman.

Riana’s stomach twisted. The duchess was behind the attempt on his life. She might have meant for him to die, but she knew that if her assassin failed, Riana would understand that next time he wouldn’t.

“I am not so easily killed.”