A Knight's Temptation (18 page)

She shrieked. Kicked up water. Dug her fingernails into his arms restraining her.

His hold shifted—her only warning—before he slammed her face first into the river.

She submerged, her scream swallowed by the cold water. It flooded her nostrils and filled her ears with a heavy dullness. Her hands flailed. Trying frantically not to cough underwater, she fell deeper, the sunlit remains of a column looming on the river bottom before her.

She thrashed to break her fall. Twisted sideways. Kicked out. Her foot hit Aldwin’s thigh. Despite being submerged, she heard him growl. When she tried to surface, his hand plunged into the water and grabbed for her. His fingers narrowly missed her arm.

She darted backward, water rushing against her shoulders. Lungs burning, spluttering, she broke through to air.

He was there. Waiting for her.

She lunged back once more, but he’d clearly expected such a tactic. Water swirling between them, he grabbed her elbow. Ignoring her coughing, he hauled her forward, against the slick planes of his body, to pin her arm between them. Forced to stand flush against him, she gasped for breath. Her entire being seemed to feel his borrowed tunic scratching against her thighs. His body warmth seeping through the thin cloth separating them. His maleness, pressed against her.

She twisted her trapped wrist. He held it in such a way that she couldn’t curl her fingers to scratch his chest.

Or push aside the hair dripping in her eyes.

She pulled back on her arm.

Aldwin drew her even closer, his hold like a manacle. When she continued to struggle, he pulled her elbow up, so she had to rise on tiptoes. “Stop fighting,” he said between his teeth. “I will not warn you again.”

Her free hand flew toward him. He ducked, trying to dodge the blow, but she caught him across the ear. His head jerked with the impact, sending water droplets flying.

His eyes cinched into slits, and then he yanked her sideways. With an angry yelp, she lost her footing. She careened toward the water, while fighting to regain her balance.

He tugged her again.

She was falling!

Suddenly, she was hurtling backward through the depths, like a fallen tree caught on a rushing current and propelled by a more powerful force.

Her back hit firm ground.

With a watery
crunch
, her head smacked down on a mat of leaves and branches. The muted golds, grays, and browns of the cavern swirled overhead. She blinked, her dazed mind struggling to focus, as water lapped against her legs.

A heavy weight came down upon her.

Aldwin
.

Her hands flew up to fight him, but he grabbed one of her arms, and then the other. She bucked beneath him, but he wrenched her arms above her head and held them to the ground.

Sucking in furious breaths, she glared up at him. Leaning on his left forearm, his lower body pressed upon her in a most indecent way, he looked down at her.

“Get . . . off . . . me!” she ground out, trying again—in vain—to dislodge him.

He said nothing, merely raised one eyebrow. Water slid down his face to drip onto her cheek. The droplet’s soft
tap
sent a shiver trailing through her.

Why did he simply stare? At least when they were fighting, she knew what to expect from him. “Are your ears full of water? I said—”

“I heard you.”

Each word broke from his lips like chipped stone. She shivered. Not because she was afraid—of course not!—but her soaked tunic seemed to magnify the chill seeping up from the ground.

When another shiver ran through her, his hands pinning her wrists shifted their grip. His head tilted, enabling his gaze to travel down her face and throat. The muscles in her neck pinched, stopping her from lifting her head to follow his stare, but she felt his heated gaze lingering upon her breasts.

And then, with a little growl, his focus shifted. She sensed him studying her belly, and then the tunic bunched around her thighs.
Oh, God
. The fabric hadn’t ridden high enough for him to see her womanhood, but still . . .

“Stop,” she choked out.

His attention slowly returned to her face. She almost gasped, for his smoldering stare burned into her. “Stop what, Leona?”

“Staring.”

“There is no harm in a look. You do not seem to be hurt, only cold.”

“Then—”

“Quiet,” he growled. “God help me, I am angry enough to . . .” His voice trailed off.

To do what?
her conscience shrilled.

His gaze fixed upon her lips, causing a sudden yearning to tighten her innards. Her mouth warmed, recalling his kiss.
Look away
, a voice inside her cried.
Don’t taunt him. If he kisses you, you will forfeit this battle
. Trying to stop the unwelcome tingling, she squeezed her lips together.

The faintest chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he shifted above her.

“What—”

His thighs nudged hers farther apart, allowing him to lie more fully upon her.

She gasped. Writhed. “Hold! You cannot—”

His hips flexed, and she gasped again. A hard, warm weight nudged her thigh.

Her eyes widened.

“Aye,” he rasped.

Leona swallowed, not daring to acknowledge the quivering in her womb. Anger. Wariness. She mentally grabbed for them. “Aye, what?” she demanded.

“Despite my anger, despite all I know of a knight’s honor . . . you tempt me.”

“
Tempt
you?”

“Aye, Lioness. You make me
want
.”

A dangerous shudder seared through her.
Want
. How well she understood that word. She bit back the moan tickling her throat.

Aldwin had almost caused her death years ago. He’d taken her captive and kept her from aiding her father. He’d thwarted her escape attempt. To feel aught but loathing for him was . . . madness.

Yet of all indignities, the heat simmering within her wasn’t hatred.

His lower body shifted. His manhood pressed against her again.

She glared at him. “Do that again, and—”

“You will wallop my other ear?” His gaze shifted to her pinned wrists. “Not likely.” He grinned. “But I know you are pondering it.”

Pondering that and far more
. “I cannot
wait
to knock you senseless.”

“Mmm.” Something flickered in his gaze. “Curious, that. Most young women cannot wait to be lying beneath me.”

Leona snorted. Next, he’d be lauding his sexual prowess, and she’d have no choice but to listen.

“Only one woman, in all my years, has despised me.”

Disquiet whispered in the back of her mind. “Imagine.”

“This woman—but a girl when I met her—believed herself as much of a boy as her older brother. She even wanted to duel with sticks.”

Long-ago memories swarmed into Leona’s mind. She struggled to fortify her emotional barriers and maintain her fury. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she was like no girl I had ever met. She did not swoon, giggle, or blush when I spoke to her. I liked that. She made me . . .
feel
.”

“Feel?”

“Infuriated. Intrigued.” He paused. “Alive.”

She’d intrigued him? Was that why he’d insisted on that ridiculous kiss?

“You claim to be that girl, Lady Leona Ransley.”

“I am.”

His eyelids lowered a fraction. “I am not convinced.”

She hissed a breath. “Why not? What proof—”

“Exactly. Proof.” His bold blue gaze pierced her. “Tell me what only you and I would know.” His attention slid again to her mouth. “For example, the first time we kissed.”

He wanted her to admit to that mortifying moment? Why? So he could remind her how she was at his mercy then—as she was now?

She must have uttered a sound, because Aldwin leaned closer. “What did you say?”

“Naught.” Turning her head to the side, she stared at a mottled stone.

His sigh swept across her cheek. For one, idiotic moment, she wondered how it would feel if he brushed his lips across her skin. Would his mouth be warm and gentle, or icy and possessive? Would she feel those same, wondrous sensations in her belly?

Oh, God
. She shouldn’t have such thoughts.

“Well?” he demanded.

That one word fired the dread—and the fury—within her. She scowled, refusing to look at him. She wasn’t his to command. Last evening, she’d told him the truth about who she was; her account held more than enough proof. If he didn’t believe her, well—

Aldwin’s right hand suddenly slid up to take hold of her wrists. His left hand brushed the side of her neck. Before she guessed his intentions, the matted leaves beneath her cheek shifted. He’d pushed his hand between them and her face.

She thrashed beneath him. “You—”

His thumb and fingers closed on her chin. With gentle but unrelenting pressure, he forced her to look at him. His eyes blazed beneath the tangled fall of his hair.

“Arrogant turd?” he finished for her. His mouth, dangerously near hers, crooked up at the corner.

Leona inhaled on a startled rush. He even remembered her cursing him?

Her head spun, a sensation akin to falling out of a tree and landing in the grass. She fought to reclaim her anger, to raise that fury like a shield and deflect his unexpected parry.

But as the air left her lungs, her fury melded into anguish. In his gaze, she saw the hint of him as a boy, leaning over her, sluicing water over her swollen body to drown the bees.
’Twill be all right
, he’d said, his voice shaking.
’Twill be all right
.

Fight, Leona
. But she couldn’t stop the deluge of emotions. Memories of horrible sensations—helplessness, fear, and pain—hovered, threatening to drown her. Tears stung her eyes.

Leona! Don’t cry before him!

Even as she rallied a retort, he muttered an oath. Still holding her jaw, he dipped his head. His lips touched the bridge of her nose, and then the side of her cheek, in the gentlest of kisses.

A choked breath wrenched from her. Before she could think to stop him, his mouth was moving again, kissing a path down to her chin.

To her mouth.

Her pulse jolted. Aldwin had
no
right to kiss her. Did he really think she’d let him? That soon, she’d lie willingly beneath him like the other women he’d mentioned?

She fought to turn her head. “N-nay! Do . . .
not
—”

His mouth brushed hers, catching her refusal, breaking each word into nonsensical sounds that melted on her lips.
Why
did he kiss her? Hatred, she welcomed. But this . . .

His kiss deepened, and she groaned.
Warm and tender
, she acknowledged, while her stomach seemed to dive right down to her toes.
And, he tastes glorious
.

***

Capturing Leona’s provocative groan with his lips, Aldwin couldn’t hold back a shudder. The desire within him roared, glorying in the passion of their kiss. He slid his tongue between her lips, and her sigh mingled with his.

She tasted as he remembered, a blend of spice and sweetness. Through the long night, he’d thought about all she’d told him, what he’d noticed about her when he took her captive, and the ways she tormented him. Sleep? Impossible. While he’d sat watching the fire burn down, his exhausted mind had turned to her kiss. How their animosity could create a kiss that good was yet another question that needed answering.

Watching over her while she’d slept, he’d craved her. As he wanted her now.

Her eyes closed, and, sensing her rallying another fight, he moved his mouth in a lazy dance over hers. He’d make her completely and utterly aware of him.

As he’d been aware of her when he’d roused in the dawn light, stripped off his clothes, and slipped into the river, hoping the water would cool his desire.

And then, she’d taunted him with escape.

He caught her full bottom lip and grazed it with his teeth. Her breathing hitched, and heat shot to his loins. Never had he felt such astonishing sensations from just a kiss. Need so intense, it overruled his anger.

Kiss her again
, his mind taunted.
Make her need as much as you
.

Don’t
, his conscience shrilled.
If she is Lady Ransley, you shouldn’t treat her so
.

True. But she’d provoked his anger. And, he was powerless to draw away. Her scent, warmth, and the desire humming within him all refused to let him go.

He swept his tongue into her mouth. How his body
ached
. He nibbled, sucked, drew upon her lips as though to sap every drop of mutiny from her.

“Stop”—she moaned—“kissing me.”

“Nay.”

Before his reply had left his lips, she matched his tongue’s thrust. Met each nibble with fierce bites of her own. Desire licked like fire over his skin.

God’s bones! He wanted to run his hands all over her, to
feel
every warm bit of her, but if he released his grip on her wrists . . .

A muffled sound stole into his thoughts.

A distant shout.

Aldwin stilled, his lips still pressed to hers.

She bit his upper lip, even as he raised his head to listen.

“—by the water,” a man said. He sounded furious. Snapping branches marked his footsteps close to the fallen trees above.

Another man answered, his words indistinct.

Aldwin looked down, to find Leona’s eyes open. She’d heard the voices.

Before she could scream, he clamped his free hand over her mouth.

Her eyes sparked with fury.

“Hush,” he whispered, his lips close to hers.

“Mffgghh!”

“You think those are your men, looking for you?” He held her gaze. “They are more likely to be poachers.”

Scowling, she tried to dislodge his hand.

Maintaining his hold, he strained to hear more from aboveground.

“—clean cut. Someone used a knife. When I find the bastard—”

A horse whinnied. The
thud
of hoofbeats carried.

“Get that horse!”

“Rom,” Aldwin whispered. If the poachers had found Rom, they knew whoever had destroyed their traps—Aldwin had while pursuing Leona last night—was still in the forest. Moreover, Rom wasn’t a scruffy work animal, but a destrier. The criminals would realize the man who owned him was of the nobility, loyal to his lord and king; he’d be honor bound not only to protect the king’s deer from poachers, but see the criminals punished.