Five Unforgettable Knights (5 Medieval Romance Novels)

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Chapter Eleven

  It took Cambria a moment, reeling in a lusty fog, to realize what he’d said. Even then, she couldn’t for the life of her frame an appropriate reply.

  “What?” she whispered at last. “You know? How did you know?”

  He answered with more raw desire than he’d intended. “Did you think I hadn’t memorized every inch of you, watching you sleep beside me?”

  The mist began to clear from Cambria’s mind. She drew a ragged breath. Part of her wanted to collapse in relief―Holden hadn’t been unfaithful after all―but that emotion was soon squelched beneath a landslide of other, far more powerful ones.

  “You let me make a fool of myself,” she said as the truth dawned. Then anger ignited in her faster than a spark on a thatched roof. “You made me suffer in this damnably hot cloak...forced me to wait on your knights, hand and foot, when... You commanded me to your pavilion like a common―“

  “Enough!” He halted her with a shake, realizing too late that he should never have stopped seducing her. He’d had her in the palm of his hand. Now, she was slipping from his grasp. “The fact remains that you’re here, garbed as a peasant, and I want to know why.”

  Cambria fumed, struggling against his renewed grip. She felt utterly humiliated. She wished to God she’d never come. She should have just let him march off to his death.

  “I don’t have to account for my comings and goings!” she snapped. “I’m the laird of Gavin!”

  “Laird you may be,” he countered firmly, “but you’ve wed me, and now I am your overlord.”

  She jerked against him. “Am I a prisoner?”

  “Until you comply with my command and tell me why you’re here, aye.”

  She clamped her jaw shut and gave him her most withering glare, even though it was wasted in the darkness. She’d be damned if she’d tell him why she’d come. He’d only laugh at her misplaced concern.

  Holden whispered against her cheek. “Perhaps you came because you missed my kisses.”

  Before she could retort with some cutting remark, Holden took her jaw firmly in one hand and pressed his lips hard against hers. Predictably, she squealed in outrage, kicking and swatting at him like a wildcat. But when he released her abruptly, she was forced to grab onto him to keep from toppling from his lap.

  “Let me go!” she hissed even as she clutched at him for balance.

  “Not until you answer me.”

  She refused.

  “Why have you followed me, Cambria?” Threat tainted his murmur as he trailed one finger down her throat, dangerously close to her breast.

  “We had a bargain, husband,” she protested, batting at his roving hand, “or is your word worthless?”

  “I’ve never broken my word,” he answered calmly, capturing her wrist. “Rest assured I’ve no intention of bedding you.”

  Holden wished his body would believe that. It was taking every ounce of discipline he possessed to hide his increasing ardor. Wincing as Cambria squirmed against his loins, he trapped her other wrist and held both arms down with one of his hands.

  Then, as swiftly as a falcon swooping down on its prey, he captured her by the hair, drawing her head back to press his voracious mouth against her neck.

  For one crazed moment, as his teeth raked her fragile skin, Cambria thought he meant to bite her. Then his mouth slipped upwards, and she whimpered in dread as he neared her sensitive ear.

  “This is a battle you can’t win, Cambria,” he breathed gently. “I have far more experience on this battleground. Sooner or later, you’ll surrender.”

  Cambria shivered. God help her, he was right. His voice was honey-sweet seduction, and already her blood warmed to his touch.

  She should never have come to his pavilion. She had to get away. Yet she was like a fly in his web, unable to do more than wiggle in his lap, and she blushed to think what she’d feel against her bottom if she did that.

  He kept her head still as his tongue began to lave her ear tenderly, and instantly, all thought of escape spun away like maple seeds in the wind. She could neither stop her moan of sweet agony nor resist when he released her to slide his fingers under the neck of her kirtle and along the valley of her bosom.

  He cupped one of her breasts beneath the linen, squeezing gently, slowing circling the nipple with his thumb. She protested faintly, a protest he silenced with soft words―words of encouragement, words of praise, words that left her breathless.

  “I want to suckle there,” he whispered.

  Her face grew hot as the blood surged in her veins. No one had ever said such a thing to her. It was unthinkable. Yet she quivered, imagining the subtle strain of his lips and tongue upon her breast. A shaft of desire as sharp as an arrow shot through her. She offered small resistance as he tipped her back against one arm, sliding his other hand across her ribs and drawing back the kirtle to bare her.

  She felt the tickle of his rich mane upon her breast a moment before his mouth came down upon her nipple. He tugged gently at first, and then drew her firmly between his lips until she felt his power all the way to her toes. Nothing could have prepared her for the ecstasy of his tongue as it moistened her flesh and seemed to suck her will from her. To her horror, she actually groaned in complaint when he stopped to speak again. She was appalled to discover she’d tangled her own desperate fingers in his hair.

  “Tell me, Cambria,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, “why did you follow me? Did you think to betray me to the rebels?”

  Cambria froze. His words struck like a clear bolt of lightning on a black night. She suddenly realized what he was doing. The knave was torturing her for information. He wasn’t here as her husband tonight. He was on a soldier’s mission.

  She felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her own husband didn’t trust her.

  Cursing herself for believing he could possibly be overcome with lust for her, she growled with the fury of a trapped animal and thrashed upon his lap. Although the pain of this rack had been sweet, it had obviously been contrived to elicit a confession from her, and that she wouldn’t forgive. Now she had no intention of ever revealing why she’d come. He could rot in hell, as far as she was concerned. Somehow she had to steel herself against his persuasion. Somehow she had to resist him and maintain control of her body.

  That control lasted a good dozen heartbeats after Holden reached down determinedly and lifted one of her legs over the far side of his own, inching her kirtle up over her spread knees.

  Cambria knew she was in danger. She began struggling anew, trying to bring her legs back together, but Holden’s held them apart. When he pulled her back full against him, she was immobilized more from the shock of the iron-hard evidence of his desire beneath her than the bands of his arms around her.

  Holden felt her stiffen. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice the effect she was having on him. A woman could too easily have an aroused man at her mercy. Lord, he thought as he boldly stroked his fingers along her inner thigh, closer and closer to the soft down between her legs, perhaps he wouldn’t win this fight after all. It felt as if the seams of his hose were about to burst.

  “Why?” he murmured raggedly. “Why have you come?”

  Cambria arched away from his seductive touch and clamped her mouth and her eyes shut as his hand hovered but inches from her nest of woman’s curls.

  “Answer me.”

  Cambria’s pride screamed at her to resist. She opened her mouth to protest, but when his warm palm pressed down against her loins, the words that came out were not what she intended. “Ah, God,” she moaned, despising her own weak will. “Will you cease if I tell you?”

  Holden bit the inside of his cheek. She was so hot and wet and tempting, he wondered who was the more tortured. He spoke with difficulty. “Tell me,” he replied, keeping his hand firm against her.

  “I came, like I told you, to watch your back,” she whispered hastily, eager for release.

  He didn’t release her. “At one time, you
wanted a dagger in my back,” he reminded her, easing up slightly on the pressure. “You’re certain you didn’t come to aid the rebels?”

  She frowned, only half capable of coherent thought. How could he think that? She was laird of her clan. Why would she aid the rebels? “That’s a stupid question.”

  “Answer it.”

  She balked, but when Holden let one finger delve momentarily between the folds of her womanhood, she smothered a shriek and could not reply quickly enough. “I didn’t come to aid the rebels!” She almost wished she had betrayed him, and, God, she wished he wouldn’t touch her there.

  “You came to protect me?”

  “Yes, damn you!” Bloody hell, why wouldn’t he remove his hand?

  Holden was silent for a long while, digesting what Cambria had said. If she was this adamant about Owen’s guilt and his threats, if she was so sure of it she’d left her precious Blackhaugh to follow her husband into battle, could there be some truth to her fears? He needed to find out what had transpired during her capture.

  “Tell me everything about that night at the inn.”

  “You didn’t listen before,” she said with a scowl. “Why would you listen now? Why should I waste my time?”

  He curled his fingers down over her nest of curls again. Faith, she was a stubborn woman. “Because if you don’t, I’ll do wonderful, terrible things to you till you beg for my caresses. You don’t want that, do you?” Lord, what was he saying? This was the strangest interrogation he’d ever conducted.

  Cambria didn’t doubt his threat. She’d already had a taste of his warfare. “All right, then. Let me go,” she sulked.

  Holden tossed her skirt back over her knees and helped her up, still clutching to one of her wrists so she wouldn’t flee.

  She told him what she knew, naturally omitting details that might incriminate her, or embarrass her, or make her seem the least bit less than perfectly innocent. And for once he listened. At least, she supposed he listened. In the dark, he might have been dozing off to her discourse, for all she knew.

  When she finished, Holden spoke quietly, like the calm before a maelstrom. “Guy and Myles told a different story. They heard you threaten to kill Roger.”

  She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Kill Roger?” she squeaked. “I suppose...that is, I may have said...”

  Unprepared for the growl of anger from Lord Holden, she was even more unprepared for his next move. In one moment she was standing beside him, and in the next, he had picked her up off her feet and tossed her onto her back across the fur-covered pallet. His palms pressed her shoulders hard into the mattress.

  “You little liar,” he said tightly. “I’ll have the truth from you, the entire truth, if I have to torment you half the night!”

  Holden felt furious with her now, enraged with her deceiving tongue, hurt by her betrayal. He dropped his hands to the neckline of her threadbare kirtle and tore the frail garment asunder, baring her for his onslaught. He wouldn’t hurt her, of course―he never let his temper interfere with his control―but he’d wring the facts from her if it was the last thing he did.

  Cambria could feel Holden’s rage as she thrashed beneath him. What was wrong with him? She’d told him the truth about the inn...well, most of it. What more did he want? She felt completely vulnerable now, lying there half-naked, her heart beating a rapid cadence against her ribs.

  She swung at him with her fists. A few of her punches landed on firm flesh before his arms snaked around her wrists. Then he settled his formidable weight upon her hips, and she found herself pinned to the pallet. Damn him, he was straddling her like a palfrey.

  What he did next astonished her. Slowly, deliberately, he raised one of her fists and pried it open with his strong fingers. He nipped the palm of her hand with his teeth, and then let his tongue trail across her skin until he was licking at the webbing between her fingers. She gasped at the current that rushed through her as he grazed the length of each of her fingers with his teeth.

  “You threatened to kill him, didn’t you?” His voice was dangerously soft.

  Holden’s body was fast becoming dangerously hard. He used all his power of concentration to ignore the lusty woman-flesh so warm against his loins as Cambria squirmed beneath him. He joined her wrists above her head with one of his hands, freeing the other to do as he pleased. Wary of her sharp teeth, he caught her jaw firmly and turned her head to the side.

  Cambria stiffened as she felt his warm breath upon her cheek. Then, without warning, his tongue delved deep into the hollow of her ear. She nearly bucked off the bed.

  “Did you threaten to kill Roger?” he whispered.

  “Aye!” she hissed, angry at the way her body was responding, the way it actually craved his touch. God, she’d tell him anything if she could just have her control back.

  “Good,” he said smugly. “Now you’re telling me the truth.”

  She tried to shake her head free, but he impertinently licked her eyelids with the tip of his tongue as he turned her head to the other side.

  “Myles and Guy told me they heard sounds from the room,” Holden breathed, making her cringe in anticipation, “sounds of heavy objects striking the wall.”

  Cambria clenched her teeth together so tightly she thought they would crack. She wished she had a heavy object right now.

  “Did you throw anything at Roger?”

  His words tickled her neck, but in spite of bracing herself for what she knew was to come, her body still betrayed her, writhing in delicious agony when his mouth closed over her ear.

  “Nay!” she sobbed.

  “Nay? You didn’t throw anything?”

  “Aye!” she said fiercely. “Aye, I threw anything I could find―a candlestick, a pot―“

  “A dagger?” he asked carefully, releasing her jaw. “Hmm?”

  He moved the fingers of his free hand along her collarbone, then lower, brushing the crest of one nipple with his palm. She winced at her body’s eager response. He lowered his head to the other breast and impudently licked across the nipple, blowing a cool breath upon it that stiffened it instantly. She moaned.

  “Damn you, what do you want from me?”

  He shut his eyes tightly. He knew what he wanted from her. Her uneven breathing and involuntary groans incited him almost beyond his control. Aye, he knew exactly what he wanted.

  “I want the truth,” he said instead.

  “I didn’t kill your knight.”

  Holden’s voice grew deathly quiet. “Did Roger touch you?”

  She hesitated, then chose to deliberately misunderstand him. “Of course he touched me,” she muttered. “I’ve told you he dragged me up to the room of the inn.”

  “Cambria,” Holden growled in warning.

  He slid his hand down her belly. She tried to roll over onto her stomach, but his thighs trapped her. He buried his fingers boldly in her curling thatch of hair and pressed firmly against her. Her hips answered him, pushing upward of their own accord.

  “Did he touch you like this?”

  “Damn you to hell!” she groaned.

  “Did he touch you like this?”

  Cambria wanted to hurt him. “Nay!” she shouted. “His touch was much more pleasing.”

  He seemed unaffected by the lie. “Thank God I don’t please you so well, or I might find a dagger buried in my chest.”

  Then he began moving his fingers, sliding across the moist folds of her skin. She thought she’d die of mortification, yet didn’t want him to stop. Surely he possessed some secret power, the ability to leave her helpless with the gentle touch of a single fingertip.

  “Did you kill Roger because he...raped you?” he murmured.

  “He didn’t rape me,” she breathed, surrendering at last, adrift on an erotic sea beneath his touch. “He tried, but he was too besotted for it.” She sighed, her voice gone soft and womanly. “And I swear on the grave of my father, I didn’t kill your knight.”

  Holden closed his eyes and nodded slo
wly in the darkness, relieved. She was telling the truth. He could hear the resignation in her voice.

  “Do you believe Owen killed his brother?”

  “Aye,” she said thickly.

  “And that he intends to kill me?”

  “Aye.” She sucked in a breath as Holden’s thumb moved over her in lazy circles. Dear God, it felt as if her mind was not her own. She wanted him to cease, yet she wanted something more. “Please,” she sighed.

  “Please?” Holden’s breath caught in his throat. He halted his movements. Surely his stubborn Cambria wasn’t ready to surrender...everything. “Please stop or please go on?”

  Her long moment of indecision evoked a chuckle or irony from him that ended in a frustrated groan. “Oh, wife, there is nothing I’d like better than to take you here and now.”

  A surge of desire swept through his loins as if to lend credence to his words. It took every bit of his willpower not to tear his trews away and drive that aching part of him deep into her soft, wet sheath.

  “But I’m a man of my word. I must hear assent from your own lips.”

  Please, God, he silently begged, deliver me from this torment. But God paid no heed, and the silence dragged on as Cambria battled her own desires. It wasn’t to be, he decided, not tonight. He drew his hand from her and released her wrists.

  “I regret I must leave you so unsatisfied,” he said tautly, “but it’s an oath you yourself have bound me to.”

  He wondered if she ached half as much as he did. He swore he was throbbing from his waist to his knees. Never had a woman aroused him so completely nor left him so shaken. He let out a ragged breath, his body exhausted from long denial, and cursed the wretched honor that kept him from swiving his own wife.

  Cambria buried her face in the crook of her arm. Never had she known such torment, such confusion. Her body was suffused with a nameless longing, every fiber of her being stretched taut as a bowstring. The Wolf had brought her to the border of an undiscovered country, and now he was abandoning her there. He’d humiliated her, conquered her, disgraced her. He’d beaten her soundly in this battle, as he’d promised he would.