Knight's Captive (15 page)

“I have to return, Henry.” The words threatened
to rip out his heart.

“You cannot. If you’re accused...”

“I cannot leave my father to face that alone, and
how can I bring yet more trouble to your doorstep? I’ve caused enough problems
as it is.”

He took her other arm and hauled her close.
Using one hand, he pressed back her damp hair, caring little for the villagers
who had paused to watch them.

“Do you wish to return home? Do you wish to
leave me?”

She shook her head and he spotted tears welling
in her eyes. His heart thudded like canon fire in his ears.

“Then I will do whatever it takes.” He cupped her
face in her hands. “I’m not letting you go, Antonia.”

A small sob bubbled out of her lips and she
threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her hair before drawing
back to kiss her. He had no doubt they had many problems to overcome yet but
that she wanted to remain with him was enough.

“I love you.” He kissed her. “I’m not letting
you go,” he repeated and kissed her again.

Tears
welled in Antonia’s eyes when her father pressed a kiss to her head. She
wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. He had done so much for
her—saved her from a violent marriage, brought her to England and helped her
find another man who loved her just as much as he did. She swallowed the lump
in her throat as he eased out of her hold.

“I must away, sweet Antonia. The villagers
cannot see me leave.”

She nodded. The only way they could conceal her
father’s fate would be if he left now, before the sun rose. The early hour
would ensure none saw him begin the long journey to Scotland. And there he
would find shelter with Henry’s cousins who had agreed to take him in.

“I shall see you soon.”

Antonia nodded again. She knew she would but
Scotland was at the other end of the country and her father could never return
to Dorset. Not once Henry had sent word of his death to her countrymen. No one
would ever look for Don Perdro de Valdés again nor would the finger of blame
for Lorenzo’s death ever land on him. For that, she couldn’t be more grateful.
Henry had ensured her father’s safety and the king had no care to see her
returned, as worthless to the crown as she was.

He kissed her again. “Forgive me that I cannot
see you wed,” he whispered. “I would not hasten away if I did not think Sir
Henry to be deserving of you. I know he shall look after you in my stead.”

“
Si
, he will.”

“I love you, Antonia. I shall send word when I
am safe.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

 Henry appeared in the doorway of her
bedchamber. “’Tis time,” he said softly.

Her father nodded, gave her one last kiss and
squeezed her hand. Henry motioned for him to head downstairs before stepping
into the room and taking her into his embrace. He wore no doublet so the thin
linen of his shirt allowed her to feel the strength and warmth of him. Somehow,
he knew exactly what she needed. She suspected he always would.

When he drew back, he swiped a thumb under her
eye to wipe away the dampness and placed a light kiss on her lips. “I will
ensure your father leaves safely. I shall be back in but a moment. Will you not
get some more rest?”

He guided her toward the bed and she let him
ease her down. Through misty eyes, she watched him check the candles. She
marvelled at those broad shoulders and the obvious strength in them. Admired
the way he kept that strength in check and only ever used it for good. How
could such a man touch her so gently? She would forever be grateful for meeting
someone like him.

“Rest,” he told her before leaving the room.

Antonia pulled her chemise down her legs and
wrapped her arms around them. That little bubble of fear that always remained
trapped in her chest after dark had eased, lessening each night that Henry
joined her in his bedchamber. For three sennights as they worked to have the
prisoners returned, she had slept by his side.

But on this night, they would be husband and
wife.

The ache in her throat vanished. She would see
her father soon enough and this day she would marry the man who had saved her
life countless times. Though he might have captured her, he’d actually freed
her from being trapped by the memories of what Lorenzo had done to her.

A while later, when the first
rays of dawn began to slip in between the curtains, the door eased open and
Henry stole in.
She shuddered and giggled when he put his cool
hands on her to draw her down on the bed next to him.

“Forgive me.”

He smelled of sea air and soap. She slipped a
hand under the open neck of his shirt and touched the coarse hair and hard
muscle there. A small groan escaped him when she reached her other hand down
between them to cup him.

“Antonia,” he warned.

Emboldened, she went further and pressed under
his braies. He filled her hand and she felt the pulse of his desire.

“Antonia,” he said through gritted teeth. “I
intended only to rest with you. We have a busy day ahead.”

“I do not believe you need the rest.”

“Nay, but you do.”

“I am stronger than I look.”

He gazed at her and pushed a hand into her hair.
“I’m aware of that.” She clasped around his arousal again and his eyes closed
briefly. “Do you not wish to wait until our wedding eve?”

Antonia smiled. “Henry, we know each other in
every way possible now. Why wait?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I am trying to be
honourable but, hell’s teeth, you make it hard.”

Stroking him slowly, she kissed the side of his
jaw, relishing how his beard tickled her lips. “You will always be honourable
to me. Giving your lover what she needs now is not dishonourable.”

A smile broke across his face and she failed to
resist brushing a fingertip across the curve of his mouth. She loved to make
her strong warrior smile.

“So, Antonia—” he leaned in to drag the lobe of
her ear between his teeth, making her shudder, “—what you are saying is that
‘twould be dishonourable not to give you what you wish?”

“
Si
, most
dishonourable.”

His lips continued their journey down her neck.
He eased her fully onto her back and drew apart the ribbons of her chemise,
exposing the curves of her breasts. Bold blue eyes met hers, sucking the breath
from her. How was it possible for her to be so lucky?

“I intended to comfort you,” he murmured against
her skin.

“And this is not comfort?”

“I didn’t come here for this.”

And still he was trying to prove his honour to
her. She shook her head to herself. Someday, she would show him that taking for
himself was not always a matter of being dissolute. But for now, she would
enjoy the way he soothed away her concerns for her father with his touch and
how he kissed her as though she was the most precious thing in the world.

Antonia raked her nails over his back while he
used his teeth to tease her nipples through the cotton. Arching her back, she
closed her eyes and savoured the sweet jolt it sent through her. Henry pressed
a hand underneath her and held her up like an offering. He burrowed his nose
under the cotton and she gasped his name when his mouth closed fully over one
nipple.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, his voice
making her skin tingle.

Peppering kisses on the hollow between her
breasts, he used a hand to hitch up her chemise and stroke her leg. Then he
hooked it over his hips and rocked into her. His hardness against her soft
folds made sparks light behind her eyelids.

Eyes open, she flung her arms above her head,
giving herself up to him. He could take everything as far as she was concerned.
Her body, her soul, her heart.
He could have it all.
Soon he would, in the eyes of the law, but she wanted him to know how willingly
she did so.

His hands rasped along her thighs, bunching her
chemise as he pushed up and up, grazing her hips, her ribs, the sides of her
breasts. Henry pulled the garment over her head and threw it aside to admire
her. She tugged him down to her and wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Hell f—” The word broke when she rubbed herself
against him.

He had to know. She was his.
All
his.

He tore away abruptly, leaving her cold and
disappointed. But when he fumbled to tear his shirt and clothing off, her body
grew hot again. Antonia wriggled against the bedding, clasping the sheets in
fists as muscle and sinew became revealed. Between her legs, desire pooled. Her
breaths grew heavy. It was hard to comprehend how much she wanted him. All she
knew was that every part of her craved him. Craved his touch, his body,
his
words.

He kicked away his clothes and put his fists to
the bed. He stalked. Like a beast. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as he
covered her body with his, holding himself up on both hands. She reached for
his arousal and found it damp. Unable to resist, she put her thumb to her mouth
and tasted his essence. His eyes grew dark, unfathomable.

Antonia hardly comprehended the next few
moments. Only that his mouth connected with hers at the same time that he
thrust her legs up so that they hooked over his shoulders. Their teeth clashed,
he even nipped her lip, and then he was buried deep inside her, deeper than she
thought possible. He slid in easily given her aroused state but the sudden
invasion still startled her. He thrust again, making her cry out against his
brutal kiss. Whirling sensations built so rapidly inside her, she hardly knew
what to do. So she clung onto the bedding beside her and let him make use of
her body.

And,
Santa Maria,
what
use he did make.
Every lunge brought her closer and closer to a
peak she knew would simply drown her. She’d never seen him like this, his eyes
wild, his breaths harsh. He stuttered words of her beauty and how much he loved
her but they were broken words, mingled with harsh groans. Even though she was
beneath him, taking whatever he gave her, a sense of power broke over her.
She
had done this to him.

Soon she forgot the power or the surprise. The
tide swept her up and she twined her hands in the sheet and tilted her head
back. The bed creaked and thumped with each powerful thrust. Her cries sounded
distant but at the same time louder than ever before. She could hardly bring
herself to care that the household would likely hear every single one.

Antonia trembled from head to toe and Henry gave
her no quarter. He took and gave in equal amounts, his muscles bunching. She
closed her eyes and felt the trickle of tears escape them when the bliss grew
to new heights. It took one more strong press of his hips for her to come
undone and he claimed her body completely.

“Hell, Antonia...”

She opened her eyes and saw the cords in his
neck stand out. He closed his eyes and his strong pace faltered. He stroked
inside her, once, twice then buried himself deep to fill her. Stroking his
arms, she savoured the connection and tried to gather her breath while warm
flutters of pleasure continued to pulse through her.

Henry stilled and opened his eyes. Their gazes
locked. His expression dropped. He shifted to touch her cheek and she felt him
brush away the tears that had gathered.  He eased away quickly.

“Henry?”

“Did I scare you?”

“Nay.”

“Antonia, you need not lie to me.”

She shook her head and urged him to lie back so
she could straddle him. Fingers skimming down his chest, she gave him a tender
smile. “Do I look like a woman scared?”

“Nay, but—”

“I love you, Henry. I trust you.
With my heart and my body.
I know you shall never do wrong
by me. ‘Twas simply...” She sucked in a breath and eased down to rest her head
against this chest. She listened to his pounding heart for a few moments before
lifting her head to kiss his jaw. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

He kissed the top of her head and held her
close. “Nor I,” he admitted.
“Nor I.”

The
streets were filled with villagers as Henry escorted Antonia from the church.
Pride made him stand a little taller than usual. Good wishes rang out and
flowers were flung their way, scattering over the thankfully dry road. He swung
his gaze briefly her way and tried not to grin like a damn fool lest the
villagers think him addled. Antonia squeezed his hand and he glanced again. His
heart bounded against his chest when their gazes met.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful. With
her hair coiled into an elegant arrangement, strewn with ribbons and fresh
flowers, she revealed her noble blood, yet the earthy beauty beneath ensured no
one forgot the woman she was. To the villagers, she had become the woman who’d
helped rid them of the Spanish prisoners and a woman of knowledge. Over the
past few sennights, she had become increasingly involved
with
the physician’s work. It had certainly helped ingratiate her with the locals.

To him, however, she was more than that. He
could never quite put it into words but all he knew was that he’d die for her.

His wife.

Henry stilled when he spied four conical helmets
making their way through the crowd to the church gate. On instinct, he eased
Antonia behind him, shielding her with his body. The group of four men stepped
through the gate and one came forward, dipping his head in greeting.  

“Sir Henry.”

He narrowed his gaze and recognised the man as
one of the soldiers from Torquay who’d aided with the capture of the
Rosario
.
“De Montford. How can I be of service?”

“The monies owed to the crown were sent over and
taken to London several days ago.”

Henry let his brow furrow. To ensure the safe return
of the prisoners, they had used de Valdés’ money to pay the ransom. Antonia’s
father had willed the money to aid the prisoners in the event of his death.
Someone must have raised suspicion. He felt Antonia’s hand curl about his upper
arm.

 “I am glad but you need not have come all
this way to inform me as much.”

“The Spanish are asking for de Valdés’ body to
be returned,” de Montford said gravely.

“Impossible.”

“Sir?”

“He was cremated.”

“Indeed.” de Montford’s mouth thinned.

“We could hardly bury him in Protestant ground,
now could we?”

“Aye,” the priest came up beside him. “We
couldn’t have him buried here so we scattered the ashes down on the beach.”

Henry managed to keep the surprise from his
face. None but the physician knew of their plan to claim Antonia’s father was
dead and ensure he never had to return to Spain and face judgement for
Lorenzo’s death.

De Montford blinked at the priest and nodded
slowly. “I see.”

“’Twas a fine ceremony,” someone else commented.
Henry didn’t see who it was but he had to tighten his jaw to keep from
grinning. A few murmurs concurred.

“Your people seem to have taken a liking to the
Spaniards,” the soldier commented to Henry.

Henry laughed and shook his head.
“Nay, not at all.
They are glad to be rid of them as am I.
You know well how much trouble we had.” He put a hand around Antonia’s waist
and drew her close. “They do like one, however. Please meet my ladywife,
Antonia.
Daughter of Don Pedro de Valdés.”

Mollified, de Montford dipped his head. “I am
sorry for your loss, my lady, and may I offer my congratulations on this joyous
day.”

“You may,
gracias
.”

Sensing any danger had long departed, Henry
perfected a stern look. “Is that all? As you can see, this is an important day
for us all and I think we are all ready to celebrate after these past few
months of hardship.”

“Aye, sir.
Forgive us for intruding.”

“I hope we’ll not be hearing more on this
matter,” Henry said tightly. “Antonia has been through enough.”

He kept his gaze firm on the soldier and waited until
he backed away slightly.
“Aye, sir.
We’ll inform the
Spanish of what has happened. I think it unlikely there can be a quarrel on the
matter.”

“Excellent. Good day to you, de Montford.”

Taking Antonia’s hand, he pressed past the man
and his soldiers. She leaned into him and gripped his arm tightly. “Do you
think the villagers know?”

“Some, aye.
Fear
not, ‘tis clear where they stand. They’ll not betray us.”

She beamed at him. “You’ve won them over.”

“Nay, ‘twas you.”
Oblivious to the watching crowd, Henry pushed back a loose strand of hair as
the fresh sea breeze caught it. With Antonia at his side, he finally felt
comfortable with his duties. He knew together they would overcome anything life
threw at them. “You won me over too,” he murmured and brought his mouth down to
hers.

THE END

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To Steal a Highlander’s Heart

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