A Knight of Passion (5 page)

Riana stumbled after him, legs so shaky she couldn’t halt her tears. With trembling hands, she tugged the hood over her head, gaze straight ahead as she followed directly in the guard’s footsteps down the middle of the aisle until they passed through a doorway into another narrow corridor, this one, thankfully, without cells. They made a dozen twists and turns through the stone hallways and up and down stairs before finally coming to a large wooden door. The guard rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside.

“The lady to see you, my lord.”

Riana entered, legs still trembling so badly she feared they would give way beneath her. Warmth washed over her and she started at sight of the inviting fire that blazed in the hearth at the opposite side of the room—and the tall, dark-haired man sitting behind a desk a few feet front of it. The quill that had been moving across a page stilled, and he looked up. This man didn’t fit the lecherous picture the duchess had painted of the prison warden.

Not all men looked the part of letches, she reminded herself. But they were.

Not so.
Glen wasn’t, neither had her Stuart been…or Sir Bryant? She shook off the unexpected thought and focused on the man sitting behind the desk. If he wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s body, then he would require coin, and she needed to save every gold piece for Glen and Siusan. Pray God a letch lived behind the intense brown eyes that stared at her.

She glanced meaningfully at the guard. “May we speak alone, my lord?”

The warden motioned with his head for the guard to leave. The man snickered, then left.

Riana waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then crossed to the desk. “I am here to secure the release of a friend.”

He laid down his quill and looked expectantly at her.

Fear sliced through her at his lack of response. “You do not seem surprised by my request, sir.”

“I have many requests to release prisoners.”

His deep voice unnerved her. “I can pay,” she said.

His gaze raked down her body, then came back to her face. “Indeed?”

“Any price,” she added.

“Who is the friend?”

“Glen Ramsey.”

He gave a small nod. “The duchess’ latest pet.”

Her heart raced. “Is he well?”

His mouth turned downwards. “As well as can be expected.”

Fear squeezed her stomach. “What does that mean?”

“You have seen this place. Who would be well here?”

“Aye, no one, but is he unharmed?”

“Last I saw him. He is strong. He can care for himself.”

“Any price,” she said. “I can pay.”

“How is it a man like him has won the allegiance of a woman like you? He is a deaf mute.”

Anger flared, but she forced back the emotion. She wasn’t allowed indignation. She would fuck the devil if it would get Glen out of hell. “He is my father.” The lie was slight.

“A woman would do almost anything for a father,” he said slowly.

“Not
almost
anything,” Riana corrected. “Anything.”

“The duchess will expect her pet to be where she left him.”

Riana snorted a condescending laugh. “Her Grace has never set foot here, nor will she.”

Though if she knew what Riana was about to do, she well might hazard the foul stench to watch. Riana forced back a shiver. It was one thing for the duchess to have watched while Riana let a man rut between her legs when sprawled on the sweet-smelling mattress at Arundel, but quite another for her to enjoy the picture she’d painted of Riana chained to a wall as a man pounded into her while grunting like the animal he was.

The warden leant back in his chair. “The duchess is not a woman to cross.”

A tremor rippled through Riana. This man was no fool to be easily misled. She eased the hood from her hair, then undid the tie on the cloak and sloughed the garment from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, but the warden’s eyes were on the well-fitting but low-cut bodice that revealed a hint of nipple.

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Word of your visit is sure to reach her ears.”

The damnable man was unmoved.

“I can remain here as long as you desire.”

A brow rose. “At my word, you would
never
leave here—and her spies would be no more.”

Riana’s pulse jumped. Coming from another man she wouldn’t have believed it. But this man might very well wield the power he boasted. Pray God he did.

“She need never know, then?” Riana stepped towards the desk. “You have that power?”

“I rule hell.”

So she would be forced to fuck the devil after all. Though by the looks of him, his breath wouldn’t be as foul as that of the monster who had grabbed her. Or would he share her with those animals, as the duchess predicted? Mayhap he was like her, and preferred to watch?

Gaze locked with his, Riana inched the sleeves of her dress down her arms and allowed the dress to fall to the floor beside the cloak.

Chapter Seven

Bryant propped an elbow on the mantel in the great hall and leaned towards the fire crackling in the hearth as he nodded to the young warrior he was speaking with. The postern door opened and Sir Dunbar entered. He swept the room with his gaze until he met Bryant’s, and he crossed to where they stood.

“Leave us,” he commanded the young man. With a nod to Bryant, the warrior left. Dunbar remained quiet until they were alone, then said, “Your little bird has flown the coop.”

Bryant straightened from the mantel. “What?”

“Easy.” Sir Dunbar gave an almost imperceptible nod in the direction of the duchess, who sat beside Lady Siusan Ellis at the table. “Her Grace is a very observant woman.”

“What has happened?” Bryant demanded.

“The stable boy told me Lady Ellis left an hour ago.”

“That was before dawn. Did he say where she went?”

Dunbar shook his head. “Nay, but Klenmarnoch is just an hour’s ride north.”

Comprehension hit like ice water. “By God,” Bryant cursed. “It is. The little fool has gone to the gaol to beg for Glen’s release.”

“Exactly.”

Everyone knew of the duchess’ prison. Arundel Castle where the duke and duchess lodged was the largest castle within two days’ ride. The duchess’ ancestral home, Klenmarnoch, lay on the edge of the village of Geary where, ten years ago, they had established a prison. Thirty-seven cells wound throughout the maze of corridors and stairs of the four-storey castle. Riana could enter the prison and never be heard from again.

“She cannot hope to succeed,” he said through tight lips.

“Beautiful women often succeed where men cannot,” Dunbar said.

“But at what price?”

Bryant envisioned the picture the duchess had painted of Riana’s tender body shackled to a stone wall while the gaol master fucked her until she was too sore to stand. Fury and fear rammed through his veins.

“You are not taken with the lass, by chance?” Dunbar asked.

Bryant recalled the exquisite torture of her arse tightening around his cock as he had eased into her and the way she impaled herself on the phallus as he thrust inside, and felt himself grow hard.

“You knew what she was when you hatched this scheme,” Dunbar said. “You did not expect her to change?”

“I did not expect her to feel the need to fuck another man.”

The older knight laughed. “Then you do not know women.”

Sir Bryant scowled and set the goblet on the mantel.

“You are going after her?” Dunbar asked.

“Aye.”

He sighed. “Then let us be done with it.”

“You need not risk your neck.”

“If you wed the wench, my neck is at risk.”

“I can stand on my own,” Bryant said.

Dunbar snorted. “The duke would crush you, then the duchess would have your liver for breakfast.”

If what Riana had said to the duchess was true, Bryant would have the duke’s liver for breakfast.

* * * *

Riana slowly walked around the desk, careful to emphasise the sway of her hips. She stopped in front of the warden and knelt. Cold seeped from the stone through her knees clear to the bone, a strange contrast to the warm fire that bathed the right side of her body. She laid a hand over his groin. The firm cock hidden by his tunic pulsed beneath her fingers, and relief flooded through her.

She looked up at him. “You have the power to do with me what you will, but is a willing slave not more desirable than an unwilling slave?”

She lifted the tunic out of the way, bent her head, and, with her teeth, grazed the mushroom tip of the hard length bulging against the thin fabric of his hose. He groaned, and she slowly sucked along the side before straightening.

He released a slow breath and reached forward. She sat motionless, startled as he smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen forward across her cheek. His thumb traced a gentle line across her cheek, then he dropped his hand onto his thigh and relaxed back into the chair.

“My life will be forfeit if I release your
father
,” he said.

“You said no one would know I had been here, if you so chose,” Riana persisted. “Could Glen not be
killed
in a fight? Surely the duchess would accept your word?”

She scooted closer and flattened her palms on his muscled thighs, while strategically allowing her breasts to brush his rod.

His eyes darkened. “How can you be certain I will not take what you offer, then send you on your way without payment?”

“I cannot.” Eyes locked with his, she rubbed her nipples against his rod. “But if you do not release him, I will not return.”

The warden studied her. “You are willing to submit as often as I please?”

“As often as you desire.”

“A fine arrangement,” he replied. “But once I free your father, you have no reason to keep your word.”

“Not so, my lord.” Little did he know she might find herself in this prison. Mayhap he would show some mercy if she dealt straight with him now.

Riana grasped the waistband of his hose and pulled it down. His cock sprang free, pointed directly at her as if in command to suck the hard length into her mouth. She could smell his scent, male musk, ripe for a woman’s tongue. His gaze sharpened as she swung a leg over his, then began to rub against his hose-covered flesh.

“If I renege,” she said, “you can have your revenge in any number of ways.” Still rubbing against him, she leaned against his leg and lowered her mouth towards his cock. “One word from you and the duchess will know I was here.”

Riana circled the weeping crown with her tongue. The clean tang of his pre-cum burst across her tongue and she wanted to weep for relief that this man wasn’t the vile creature she’d feared she would have to give herself to. She took the tip into her mouth and sucked his rod deep inside. He thrust into her. She grasped him at the root and began an in–and-out rhythm.

He groaned and tunnelled long fingers into her hair. She continued the rhythm, slow, sure, and sucking hard. His thigh shifted beneath her cunt and she realised she’d stopped moving on him. Riana slowly slid her moist folds along his leg, careful not to lose the rhythm of her mouth on his cock. He thrust along her tongue until her palm edge met her mouth. He seized her shoulders and yanked her up.

Before she realised his intent, he had hauled her onto his desk. Her legs hung off the edge and he eased her back onto the desktop. He spread her legs and stepped between her thighs. When his mouth closed around a pebbled nipple, he shifted and slid his shaft along her wet folds and into her curls. Riana recalled Sir Bryant, the feel of his cock buried deep in her channel…then her arse.

Feather-light fingers made contact with her ribs, and swirled in slow circles. The soft swirls moved downwards into the curve of her waist, across her belly button, the barest ruffle across her curls until he slipped a long finger inside her. She arched into the sure, long strokes. Her channel walls tightened.

For so long she had only pretended pleasure.
Sir Bryant roused more
, whispered a voice. The man whose fingers fucked her cunt was almost as large as the knight. Could he rouse passion in her? Might this task be pleasant? She closed her eyes, but instead of the warden, she saw Sir Bryant’s emerald green eyes, dark with passion as they had been only a few hours ago. The warden thrust his finger deeper inside her.

Had those hours with the knight been a taste of what could have been, God's punishment for not being strong enough to resist the duchess’ threats? When faced with one’s sister being defiled by the Duke of Arundel, blind faith had a sting the priests failed to mention.

The warden inserted a second finger inside her and quickened the thrusts while sucking harder on her nipple. Riana gasped. He shifted his mouth to the other nipple. She moaned, reaching deep for the pleasure that had come so easily with Sir Bryant. She became aware of the warden’s shaft, hard, insistent, rubbing against her mound.

Riana reached down and brushed her fingertips across the velvety tip. He groaned and grasped the hand touching him. His fingers closed over hers as he wrapped them around his warm shaft and thrust into them. He broke off from her nipple and covered her mouth with his. Riana twined her free arm around his neck, drew him close until his chest pressed her breasts flat beneath the steely muscle.