Knight's Captive (7 page)

Wrapping a careful hand around her arm, he
pulled open the door and led her to his room. She found herself going willingly
instead of wanting to battle him.

“Sleep here,” he
commanded,
a slight bite to the words. Then he said more softly, “I never would have let
you come to harm, Antonia. Not on that ship and not now. Enemy or not, your
welfare is my duty.”

Duty.
She
almost wished it was not and then she could be led to believe that his care of
her was motivated by something else.
Admiration for her
perhaps?
Mayhap even desire. But that kiss...was that not desire? She
couldn’t be sure for she had never experienced anything so sweet and sacred
before. Men were led by their needs, she knew that much, so what need drove him
to merely lay his lips gently upon hers and not take more?

He went to retreat but she put a hand to his
wrist. It had been instinctual, so the contact startled even her. His gaze—now
a little haunted—searched hers.

“
Gracias
, Henry.”

Henry gave a gentle nod of his head and left
her. She waited until he’d shut the door before turning around and eyeing the
bed that had offered her comfort last night. Had it only been last night? It
seemed so long ago now. The terror that had been imbued in her had ebbed to a
sort of gentle ache. And knowing this was his room, smelling the scent of him
in the air dulled it further.

She removed her gown, shaking loose the flecks
of sand before draping it over the back of a chair. A bowl of water waited on
the washstand, so she dipped her hands in and scrubbed her face and neck.
Antonia finished her ablutions and checked all the candles. None would burn out
any time soon and all were safely away from fabrics. She yawned. In this room—
his
room—she could almost feel safe.

Climbing into his bed, she settled against the
feather pillow and let his scent cocoon her. For the first time in a long time,
her mind wasn’t a whirl of fears and nightmares. It didn’t take sleep long to
claim her.

Every
muscle in his body ached when he awoke the next morning. The small bed in the
guest chamber wasn’t suited to someone his size. The aches and pains addled his
wits, he concluded. That was why he had paused outside of Antonia’s room.

With the door slightly ajar, he could see her
walking around the room in her shift. He’d paused in the doorway to his chamber
when she’d called to one of the maids then stepped out to find her slipping
back into her bedchamber but leaving a gap for him to peer through. Those aches
wracking his big frame must have worked their way up to his brain because he
found himself pausing.

And watching.

The previous day he simply had
fatigue to blame.
That was why he’d been unable to resist
skimming his
lips
over hers. Instinct had taken over.
His instinct had been wrong. He should never have kissed the woman under his
protection. If he let her burrow any farther under his skin, she’d have him
releasing her into the wild and God knows what would happen to either of them.
He had to fulfil his duties and get back in the Queen’s favour. He had to erase
any notion of dishonour from his family.

Damn, if he could only forget the feel of her
sweet lips beneath his. He’d do it all again if he could.

Instead he was standing outside her door,
watching the sway of her hips beneath cotton that was too thin. He swallowed
hard. Antonia padded over to the washbowl and swiped a cloth over her arms and
neck. Her hair was loose and wavy. She must have just unbound it. Henry longed
to thrust his hands into it.

She raised her shift to reveal one leg, propping
it on the end of the bed. He knew she had long legs. He knew they were slender.
His imagination hadn’t done them justice.

Hell fire.

Long. Endlessly long. The kind of legs a man
imagined wrapped around him. Antonia scrubbed her leg to the top of the inside
of her thighs and his mouth became drier than Torquay sand. Then she switched
legs, giving him a fine view as she rubbed the cloth all the way to the top of
her leg. Her fingers were so close to the apex of her thighs. All she need do
was lift her chemise just a—

Someone coughed at the top of the stairs, and he
jumped back to see Kate with a fresh bundle of garments. He braced himself for
her to say something and reveal his dishonourable behaviour but instead she
gave him a knowing look and breezed past him into the bedchamber before firmly
shutting the door.

Henry shook his head and pushed his fingers
through his beard. Damnation.

When he entered the hall, he paused and held
back a groan. The priest, Reverend Reed, awaited him. The young man, two years
his junior, dabbed his sleeve to his forehead and dipped his head. Henry
concluded the man must have rushed up the hill to ensure he met with him first
thing.

“Mr Reed, ‘tis a pleasure.”

“Good morrow, sir.”

“Will you take a drink with me? Is the day very
warm?”

“Not yet, but it promises to be.”

Henry cast his gaze over the balding man.
Reverend Reed had been raised in Torbay and they knew each other well—though
there was no love lost between them—but had only been in the Parish for a year
and was determined to be seen as a true shepherd to his flock. Yet he lacked
any leadership skills or the charisma that many successful clergymen had.

“A drink then?” he prompted, leading him into
the dining room. Reed gratefully drank down
an ale
and
Henry turned his attention away from the man and his noisy way of drinking to
eye the table set for the morning meal. Would Antonia be joining him soon? Was
she still washing? Had she stripped down so Kate could help her wash her back?

God’s blood, if he was there, he would scrub
every inch of her, all the way down to the curve of her bottom and then he’d
turn her around and—

“You have a Spanish woman here, I believe?”

He jerked his attention back to the priest. What
was he doing? Could his thoughts get any more depraved? And while speaking with
a man of the cloth... He gave himself a mental shake.

“Aye, she’s the daughter of the commander of the
ship we captured.”

Reed began to pace the room and he dabbed his
upper lip with his sleeve. “There are some...murmurs of discontent from the
villagers. These prisoners are using our food stores.” The priest met his gaze
before dropping his head to make a show of studying one of the books left lying
on the table. “Having a Catholic woman under your charge may not be wise, Sir
Henry.”

“How so?
Am I
meant to lock her up with three hundred men who have not laid hands on female
flesh for months while her father is abed with a broken leg?”

Colour burst free on the priest’s cheeks. “I
understand that you are in a difficult predicament...”

“There is no difficulty in my predicament,” he
barked. “I am charged with ensuring these prisoners are looked after and returned
safely. Would you not hope the same for our Englishmen should the roles be
reversed? Am I to abandon this woman to their desires and stand idly by while
they ravish her and worse? Pray tell, how am I meant to control three hundred
men when I thrust a woman amongst them?”

If he paused, he might reconsider his words. He
might try to reconcile with the priest. But what the man was suggesting made
his skin burn. Reed clearly had little compassion for Antonia and that riled
him most of all.

“Of course not.
But
she is Catholic, Sir Henry, and your uncle...”

“Was a heretic, aye.
But my
father proved his worth and the shadows of his deeds have long been banished.
Showing compassion to another—Catholic or not—should not cast me as a heretic
and if I hear speak of such, I shall assume the source of these scandalous
words are very close to me indeed.”

He stepped closer and gave the priest a grave
look. He wouldn’t be surprised if Reed had ignored any talk from the villagers
and jumped to his own conclusions. But this man could lead opinion if he tried
hard enough. Charismatic or not, the villagers still looked to him for
guidance. If Henry was to be betrayed, he thought it would likely come from
this small, balding, uncharismatic man.

“I assure you,” he stammered, “I would counsel
anyone who would utter such falsities against—”

“I should hope so, Reverend. These are trying
times and the smallest rumour can ruin a man.” He stepped back, aware the
priest was darting his gaze from side to side as though searching for escape.
“That woman remains in my home, under my protection until her safe return has
been arranged. In the meantime, I suggest you calm the villagers and assure
them that they will be rewarded for their generosity in looking after the
prisoners.”

Reed nodded frantically.
“Of
course, of course.
I see that you are busy so I shall leave you to your
day. Good day, Sir Henry. Good day.”

The man scurried away, leaving Henry glaring at
his back. His glare softened when Antonia slipped past the man, offering a
quick dip before lifting her brows in question to Henry.

“I have caused you trouble?”

“No more than I expected.”

He allowed his gaze to trail over her. This day
she wore forest green. Again, the gown was simple—cut to reveal this lacy
chemise below at the sides and elbows. The way it followed the gentle curve of
her hips made him want to slip his hands over those same curves and
pull
them tight against him. She might be slender but there
was no mistaking the way her breasts strained against the fabric. Whoever Kate
had borrowed the gown from was not so blessed as Antonia.

And of course, when he skimmed his gaze down, he
recalled those long legs now tucked away under the wool. Henry snapped his gaze
back up.

“Why did you not just put me with the other prisoners?”

“I could not guarantee your safety.”

“And that is of great import to you?”

He scowled. Was it so hard to believe that he
would not wish a woman under his care to come to harm? Had he not already proved
as much by saving her from drowning? It should not aggravate him that she had
doubts about his character. After all, she hardly knew him.

“I would not see you harmed. I would not see any
of the men harmed if I can help it and I vowed to your father that I would keep
you safe.”

She nodded slowly and strolled around the table
to sit. He followed suit and turned his attention to the morning meal, but the
tension that drifted through the air and coiled itself around him like an adder
stole his appetite. Yet it was not the uncomfortable tension he’d felt
before—the one borne of uncertainty. His altercation with the priest had at
least done one thing—reassured him of his actions.

Nay, the tension came from a sizzling awareness
that ran between them. She had wanted him to kiss her. Hell fire, she had
wanted more. He likely could have continued kissing her until she was nothing
but a mass of quivering limbs and then he could have taken her with ease.

But just as he would protect her from those who
would wish to harm her, he would protect her from himself. Henry was past the
days of bedding any woman who showed interest and in truth, he’d lost interest
himself. None of the serving girls or wenches who had paid him attention had
sparked his desire.

God’s blood, it would have to be his prisoner
that would ignite it again, would it not?

“The priest spoke of your uncle...”

He clenched his jaw tight and hissed out air
between them. Why would the ghost of his uncle forever linger over their
family? 

“My uncle was killed for heresy when I was but a
boy.”

“That is awful.”

Henry lifted a shoulder. “Many men and women
have suffered the same. My father managed to distance himself and prove his
loyalty. He worked hard to regain our family honour. I only hope I can continue
to do so.”

“Your conduct in this capture will surely prove
your honour.”

“The successful return of the prisoners—and
yourself—will ensure my family’s name is no longer linked to my Uncle’s
treachery.”

“Is practicing another religion really
treachery?”

He stared her down. “In this country it is.
Catholics still practice but they are wise enough to stay silent on the
matter.”

She sighed and rubbed a finger across the table.
“’Tis sad that men and women have to lose their lives over
the love of God.”
Antonia lifted her head. “Can I visit with my father
today?” she asked.

Henry tried not to reveal his surprise at her
asking so meekly rather than demanding. It might have only been two short days
since he had taken her into his care, but he had grown used to the way she spat
demands at him.

“Of course.
I must
check on the holdings to the east of the village and speak with the farmers so
I can take you on my way.”

A tiny smile graced her lips, making him forget
his fears. He gripped the table lest he find himself toppling backwards. It had
to be the first time she had smiled and her beauty near stole his breath. The
smile creased the corners of her eyes, enhancing their slightly exotic shape.
And the way those lips curved made him want to taste them all over again. He
swore he could almost feel them touching his all over again.

It took all his control not to stare at her the
entire time they were sitting at the table together. She sat to his right with
several chairs between them. He couldn’t even claim she was too close for
comfort. Still, he eyed her profile and watched those long lashes dash over her
skin every time she glanced down. Once or twice, their gazes connected and she
looked quickly away.

By the time they were ready to leave, the
overnight clouds had cleared. It must have rained the previous night but he
doubted the farmers would complain. Puddles filled the bumps and ruts of the
path leading to the house but they’d had an unusually dry summer.

Something else for him to worry
about.
He hoped their harvest would not suffer for it.

The mounts were waiting for them as requested.
Antonia took a moment to greet the horse again and the sharp scrape of envy on
his insides made itself known.
Envious of a horse.
His
wits really were addled by this woman. He’d have to make a better attempt at
keeping his distance.

After this day, that was. First he had to escort
her to her father and then she’d have to accompany him to the holdings. He dare
not leave her alone, firstly, for fear of what someone might do to a Catholic
in their midst and secondly, because he still did not trust her.

“Are you ready?”

“
Si
.”

With the image of her proud and beautiful atop
one of his favourite horses burning in his mind, they headed toward the village
and the physician’s house. It didn’t take them long to navigate the path to the
seaside village but it was long enough for him to peer back several times and
admire the way the wind blew her hair free from its tight braid and how another
smile reached out to him when she glanced over the headland and took in the
view. With the skies clear, they had a fine sight of the cliffs stretching down
to meet the rolling seas and the sun reflected off the water, giving it an
almost ethereal blue colour. Henry paused and waited for Antonia to join him at
his side.