To Tempt a Knight (4 page)

As Siobhan and her unwanted protector rounded a bend in the road, the countryside grew quiet. Absent even was the wind. An eerie white mist formed on the ground, and wraithlike fog twined around the low stone walls and thickets of bracken outlining the tenant plots that bordered the road to Bramble House, her home.

Now and again the fading sunlight pierced the broken, scudding clouds, casting a mottled array of golden light and darkened shadows. The strange combination sent a chill down Siobhan’s spine.

“Do you see anyone, sir?” Siobhan asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between her and the knight as the horse made steady progress toward her home.

He frowned. “Call me William. And nay, we appear to have left them far behind.”

Siobhan heard a soft hissing followed by an unearthly groan. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

She could feel his body tense behind her as they came to the road they had traveled not long ago. The house came into sight. An odd light appeared in the front room’s shuttered windows. The light brightened, intensified, until with a flash, flames appeared, licking hungrily at the wood. Within the span of a heartbeat, flames licked the north side of the house, as well as the upper shutters.

Her home was burning!

Siobhan stared in disbelief. “No!” The raw cry tore from her throat. “This can’t be happening. I have to save the scroll.”

“Why? What’s so important about that scroll?”

“It’s my father’s life’s work. Whatever information you need is most likely there. It’s all I have left…”

William hesitated a moment more, searching the area. For what? The house was on fire. Who would be lurking near such danger?

A moment later, he kicked his horse into a gallop. He raced up the path. The heat intensified as they approached. Something exploded, spraying chunks of wood and ash outward, allowing the flaming tongues to escape and lick upward over the walls and toward the roof.

Siobhan didn’t realize she was sliding from the horse until her feet hit the ground. She ran for the front door, desperate to save the scroll. Her body jerked to a stop.

“Are you mad?” William gripped her arm, pinning her in place.

“Let me go.” Siobhan brought her hand up to cover her mouth, shielding it from the smoke.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

“Inside the large clay urn at the turn in the stairs.” She coughed.

“Stay here.” He released her arm, tore up the front steps, and threw open the door.

Despite the heat, Siobhan shivered. How would he ever make it out alive? How could he expect her to stay outside and wait? She followed him up the steps. Heat and smoke blasted her lungs as she entered the hallway. “William!” Coughing, she fought her way through the smoke to the attic stairs.

“Get out of here,” William called from above.

She turned toward the kitchen. Hungry tongues of
fire marched across the wide, wooden table that sat at the far side of the room. With monstrous ferocity, flames devoured the wooden counters and the dried herbs she’d hung in batches against the wall.

A figure surged down the stairs before her. The smoke had grown dense, and Siobhan could only dimly see William’s strained face. Then she noticed the leather casing in his hands and felt a profound rush of relief.

“Get out,” William said hoarsely as he handed her the scroll and forced her back toward the door.

They burst through the doorway, then stumbled down the stairs. Turning back, Siobhan saw a reddish aura rise from the growing core of heat and flames that spread into the afternoon sky. A heavy rolling mass of choking gray billowed above what used to be her home. A constant roar of flames deadened her ears to any other sound. A dagger whizzed past her head, narrowly missing her. She gasped.

William drew his weapon, angling it at a shadowy figure who emerged from across the courtyard, his sword drawn. “De la Roche thought you may head back here. He left me to tend to you, Templar.”

Siobhan’s heart hammered in her chest. The stranger charged. William’s blade blocked the blow. The sound of steel on steel rang in the air, punctuating the crackle and roar of the flames behind them.

Siobhan had never seen a sword fight before. She’d imagined them in the darkest depths of her dreams. But in those imaginings, there was no blood and no death. Here the threat of both clanged with each sword stroke. William stepped back as his opponent swung his blade in powerful arcs toward William’s torso. He didn’t attack, but watched, seeming to wait for the moment to strike. The man’s blade arced up, and William’s blade followed, blocking the strike, then moved in, leaving a
slash in the man’s sleeve that was soon replaced by a blossom of red that trailed down his sword arm.

Blood. Siobhan hitched a breath and stepped back toward the house, toward the heat and the smoke, not knowing which way safety lay.

She remained there as she watched the macabre dance that stretched out before her as the two men sought to kill each other. The crisp clang of steel echoed loudly, blending with the crackling of the flames.

Another slash from the attacker left a gash in William’s forearm. Siobhan gasped. The sound drew the attacker’s attention to her. His pale gaze fixed on her face.

With a sinister smile, he lunged toward her.

Siobhan jumped back into a wave of heat. William surged forward. Before she could draw breath, William caught the man with a blow to his back. The man crumpled to the ground at her feet.

A chill rooted her to the spot, despite the inferno at her back. He was dead. She couldn’t breathe. The world before her blurred into swirls of orange and red. Blood red. Her knees gave way. Before she tumbled to the ground, William seized her and swung her up into his arms. A few short strides later, he mounted his horse with her in his arms and settled her before him. “This is no time for sentiment.” He kicked his horse into a run. The burning shell of what once was her home disappeared in the distance.

Siobhan clutched the scroll, suddenly feeling heavy inside, so weighed down and full of tears. She’d lost everything that had ever mattered to her today—her father, her home, her way of life.

What was there for her now? She clung to the scroll all the harder. Such thoughts would get her nowhere. She might not be the bravest of all, but she was not a quitter. Her father needed her now, more than ever.

As they rode, Siobhan glanced down at the hands that steadily held the horse’s reins. They were tanned and scarred. Large and strong, well-shaped and masculine, the hands of a capable warrior. The thought comforted her as she settled back against his chest, heading for who knew where.

They rode in silence for a long time until night began to fall. Finally William brought his horse to a stop along a seaside cliff. “We shall rest here tonight.” He dismounted first, then helped her down.

“Where?” Siobhan saw nothing but the great expanse of ocean on one side of her and miles of open land on the other. There were no inns. No houses. No signs of life anywhere.

He ignored her question as he removed the leather satchel from Phantom’s saddle and set it on the ground. He lifted the bit from the animal’s mouth, then rubbed the horse’s neck with a gentle touch, while cooing softly to the beast. She couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from the pair. She was struck by William’s gentleness. How many times had she wished that someone would cosset her in that way?

The knight was tall, taller than her father by at least a foot. The seriousness of his expression did nothing to hide his rugged handsomeness. Whether tending his horse or fending off a villain, he moved with a supple strength that exuded confidence. What would it be like to be that brave?

When she realized he had stopped rubbing his horse and instead fixed his gaze on her, Siobhan looked away. In his gaze she had seen intelligence, curiosity and something else she couldn’t name. “Are we to sleep beneath the stars along with your horse?” she asked, hoping to turn his attention away from her blatant exploration.

“Phantom will not be staying.” The words had barely
been spoken before he patted the horse’s rump, sending him racing off along the cliff.

Siobhan gasped. “How will we ever outdistance those men without a horse?” Suddenly the events of the day seemed to catch up with her. Siobhan swayed on her feet.

In a heartbeat, he stood beside her, supporting her. “Trust me.”

“But the horse…”

“Phantom is well trained. We have used this ploy many times before. If de la Roche’s men are anywhere near, the horse will lead them away from our hideout. Then, when dawn approaches, he knows to make his way back to me.”

The white horse vanished into the hazy darkness. Siobhan shivered as a slight breeze moved in off the ocean.

“Come,” he said, guiding her to the saddlebag. He secured the load over his arm, then held his hand out for the scroll she carried. “Allow me. The next part of our journey could be a bit dangerous.”

Siobhan held tight to the scroll. “I’ll manage,” she said, not willing to sacrifice the one small piece of her old life she still retained.

“As you wish.” He turned toward the cliff and the almost obscured path that headed down into nothingness.

The climb proved far more difficult than Siobhan had anticipated. The rutted, narrow path slanted steeply down and sometimes disappeared altogether. Clinging desperately to the scroll for fear that it would fall into the churning waves below them, Siobhan picked her way down the treacherous trail. When the large opening in the shale cliff came into view, she felt as though they’d been hiking down the cliff face forever. A pale moon pierced the darkness with silver light, creating an unearthly landscape of dark shapes rising from a luminous haze.

At the cave’s opening, William held out his hand to
assist her through the last few steps and onto the solid ledge. “Are you well, milady?” he asked.

She nodded breathlessly as she stepped into the cool moisture of the cave.

“Stay here while I take a look inside.” He disappeared into the darkness.

The moonlight illuminated only the smallest portion of what appeared to be a rather large opening in the cliff face. She could see shadowy walls, with their slight glimmer of moisture, only a few yards back.

When William reappeared, she asked, “How far back does it go?”

“Only a few hundred yards. It’ll be drafty and wet, but at least we are safe here for tonight.” He set his satchel down near the wall and dug inside. A moment later he pulled out a light-colored cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Warmth enveloped her. “My thanks,” she said. “But what about you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, turning from her.

In the light of the moon, the pale woolen cloth nearly glowed. But it was the bloodred cross sewn onto the fabric at the side of the cloak that riveted her attention. A Templar’s cloak.

Her gaze shot to his. “Yours?”

He nodded as he settled himself on the ground next to the opening.

“How long have you been…?” She hesitated, not quite certain how to phrase what she wanted to know.

“Hiding?” he provided for her.

She nodded.

“It feels like a lifetime, but in reality it’s been only four years for me.”

Sorrow lingered beneath his words. “Do you miss your home?”

He averted his gaze, hiding any emotion the darkness might not conceal. “I never truly had a home. All my life I’ve lived by my sword. It shelters me, feeds me and protects me.”

“It sounds very lonely,” she said, casting a glance at his profile in the darkness of the cave.

“It gives me what I need.”

Siobhan hesitated to ask more because of the dour tone of his voice. She’d touched on something that he didn’t want to discuss. As her eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, Siobhan looked around the small cave. Nothing but bare, damp rock surrounded them. The soft surge and retreat of the waves sounded below. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging the scroll close to her, trying to ward off the chill of the night.

“We can’t risk a fire,” he said, as though he sensed the shudder that raced through her just then. “Come, sit beside me.”

She sat, leaning back against the shale wall. With hesitant fingers, she brushed the smooth surface of the leather case on her lap.

“What’s on the scroll?” he asked, his tone even now.

“I’m not certain.”

Despite the darkness she could see his puzzled frown. “You risked your life for that scroll, and you do not even know what it contains?”

She frowned down at the leather that protected the contents inside. “My father sent me to retrieve this moments before he was abducted.” She turned toward William. In the half light his face was a study of dark planes and angles. “I can’t help wondering if he knew something would happen to him today.” She bit down on her lip as she fingered the container’s cap. “This is all I have left.” She didn’t expect him to understand.

“Open it,” he said softly with no accusation in his
tone. Did he understand? Or was he anxious for her to reveal the scroll’s secrets for another reason?

Could she trust him? William had saved her life today…Her own curiosity forced doubts about William’s interest aside.

She forgot about the cold. She forgot about the tragedy of the day. She forgot about everything as carefully, almost afraid to breathe, she opened the case and gently shook out the papyrus scroll inside. She unrolled it. Straining her eyes in the dim light, she stared down at line after line of her father’s dense writing. Even if she’d been able to see it clearly, she doubted she could identify the words he’d hidden in the strange cipher. She angled the paper toward the cave’s opening, trying to catch what light she could. Dark shapes appeared. A map? She sighed. “It’s too dark. I can’t make anything out.”

“Then any discoveries will have to wait until first light.” He shifted beside her and, with a rasp of sound, drew his sword. He set the weapon across his lap, his hand on the hilt. “Just in case,” he said as he settled back against the wall. “You had best sleep. Who knows what challenges tomorrow will bring?”

She knew he was probably right. She rolled the scroll and placed it back in its case, then held the treasure close to her chest, protecting what she had left of her life with her father.