He spoke as if each word was a struggle. He seemed to be resisting what he really wished to tell her.
Had he meant to say he cared about her? Nay. More likely, events had occurred aboveground that he regretted.
He hadn’t mentioned his horse.
As Aldwin tossed Peyton’s knife into the river, she said, “What about Rom?”
“He ran into the woods. We will find him.”
Without the horse, they’d have to make their way on foot. They’d be easy prey for the returning poachers. Even more vulnerable than if they stayed in this cavern. “What if we don’t find Rom? What then?”
Aldwin crossed to his saddlebag. After removing his quiver, he retrieved his cloak and put it on. She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but as he shoved his saddlebag and quiver back onto his shoulder, he said, “We will worry about that situation if and when we need to. Now this is what we will do. I will—”
He spoke just like Ward when he’d asserted his “older and wiser than you” authority. How tired she was of Aldwin’s orders. Tired of being cold, damp, and trapped when the situation at Pryerston might be dire.
Brushing past him, she started toward the rope.
“Leona.”
“You said we should leave here as soon as possible.”
His strides carried behind her, followed by the thwap of his wet tunic being snatched from the column. “I did say such, but I will climb up first.”
She reached the water’s edge and leapt to the rock.
His footfalls quickened, and then he landed behind her. He stood indecently close, consuming the miniscule space separating their bodies. “I will go first,” he repeated, his breath stirring her hair.
Wicked heat spiraled through her, while her patience fought his demand to lead. He didn’t want her going first because she might pull up the rope before he’d climbed it, leaving him down here with Peyton.
“’Tis best if I go first,” Aldwin said. “I will make sure the poachers are not waiting for us.”
“How noble of you.” His reasoning, though, made sense. He was better prepared to defend both of them if the ruffians lay in wait. Indeed, ’twas noble of him to put himself in jeopardy.
Annoying, though, that his actions seemed gallant.
Aldwin must have sensed her irritation, because he chuckled. “Protecting you is my responsibility.” He stepped past her to better approach the rope.
“Protecting me while holding me hostage and hauling me halfway across Moydenshire,” she grumbled.
“Mmm.”
He leapt for the rope. When his hands clenched around it, his face contorted with pain.
Just as she planned to ask if he was all right to climb, he started up. His cloak parted at the waist, revealing his strong legs flexing with each movement. His boots whispered against the rope, marking his upward progression. He moved as if ’twere no effort at all.
She glanced back at Peyton who hadn’t yet stirred, glad of something to look at other than Aldwin’s physique. “In truth, I am relieved you are going first. I did not want you looking up my gown.”
Aldwin’s indignant laugh carried down to her.
She squinted up at him. Now he’d say he was too much of a knight to do such a thing? Ha.
A groan carried from across the cavern.
She glanced back at Peyton. Still lying on the ground, he reached up to touch his forehead.
“He is waking,” she called to Aldwin, who neared the sunlight above.
Aldwin grunted, a sound of annoyance and pain. Dirt showered down on the water, and then he was through the opening.
He leaned down into the hole. “Jump to the rope. I will pull you up.”
“What about your wound?”
Scowling, he said, “Do not argue. Just—”
Another groan from Peyton. She glanced over her shoulder, to see him rise up to sitting, his enraged gaze on her.
Leona threw herself to the rope. Its roughness scratched her palms and the insides of her wrists, but, looking to Aldwin above, she started to climb.
The rope jerked as he pulled her higher.
Rocks clattered behind her. “Bitch,” Peyton yelled. “Ye will not get away.”
A fist-sized stone soared past her right elbow and slammed into the cavern ceiling. Dirt rained on her head.
She grabbed higher up the rope, while at the same time, Aldwin hauled her upward. Just a little farther, and she’d be in sunlight.
Another rock flew, barely missing her torso. Aldwin tugged again on the rope. Her head cleared the hole, and then her shoulders. Clawing her hands into the ground, she pulled herself out.
Scrambling to her knees, she spun and reached for the rope, relishing the moment she yanked it out of Peyton’s reach. However, the rope’s end was already in Aldwin’s grasp.
He grinned at her, while a roar echoed up from the cavern.
She brushed off her hands, even as he tossed aside the rope. His crossbow at the ready, he darted toward the fallen tree. Crouched behind it, he studied the surroundings.
Leona snatched a stick from the ground and crept up behind him.
“Do not look beyond the log.”
“Why not?”
“’Tis not a pleasant sight.”
Indeed? Did he think she was weak of stomach?
Raising his weapon, he edged forward, as though to better see into the woods. Curiosity gnawed at her and she glanced beyond the log. Several yards from a fallen stag, two young men lay dead. The closest one was sprawled on his back, a crossbow bolt buried in his chest. The other, his face twisted in agony, curled on his side, his hand clutching the bolt piercing his gut; another bolt jutted from his hip. Blood darkened the ground around them.
Leona tore her gaze away. She’d seen death before. Only months ago, she’d helped bathe her mother’s body and ready her for burial. Still—
“I told you not to look,” Aldwin said, his expression grim.
“Aye.”
“I did not want to kill those men, but I had no choice. They refused to put down their weapons. They would have killed me—us—if I had not killed them. Remember that.” He rose, swung his legs over the tree, and started down toward the woods.
Aldwin hadn’t grabbed her hand, tied her, or ordered her to stay by him. But, Leona realized, he didn’t have to. She’d rather be his hostage than be at the poachers’ mercy. After clambering over the tree, she started after him. He didn’t say a word or glance at her, yet she sensed he knew she followed.
His crossbow poised in case of an attack, he called, “Rom.”
Silence stretched through the forest. A bird rustled in a nearby tree before swooping down to land on a low branch.
“Rom,” Aldwin shouted again.
A rustling came from the bushes a short distance away. Rom appeared out of the forest’s shadows and trotted toward Aldwin. After halting before his master, the horse whinnied, and then exhaled a breathy snort.
Leaves dangled from Rom’s mane. “’Tis all right,” Aldwin murmured, running his palm over the destrier’s neck.
Leona swallowed. He’d spoken to her like that long ago, when he’d knelt beside her in the river and splashed water over her burning skin.
“’Tis all right,” Aldwin said again, while his splayed hand moved over the destrier’s coat. He must be looking for injuries.
Flexing her hands on her stick, she scanned the forest. His attention might be focused elsewhere, but she’d not let the poachers surprise them. Neither would she work herself into a breathless swoon while watching his caresses. With fierce concentration, she scrutinized the bushes and fallen logs.
Still, she couldn’t ignore the imagined feel of his hands roving over her, skimming down her face to her neck, and then to the neckline of her gown . . .
“Stop, Leona,” she muttered aloud, swishing her stick. “Stop—”
Aldwin appeared at her side, aiming his crossbow at the woods. “You saw someone?”
Argh! “Na
y.”
“What did you say, then?”
“I was reminding myself of . . . an important matter.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked about to laugh.
Annoyance crackled inside her like fat spitting in a pan. Waving her stick at the forest, she said, “At least I am keeping watch.”
“As am I. I wanted to be sure Rom wasn’t hurt before we traveled on. He, too, is my responsibility.”
Touching words, spoken by a warrior. ’Twas admirable he cared so much for his horse.
After returning to Rom, Aldwin took the reins and led the animal forward. “I will lead him to the tree stump over there. ’Twill be easier for you to climb onto his back.”
Leona waited for Aldwin to summon her to follow.
He strode on. Sunshine played over his broad back. He looked as strong as his horse.
Aldwin was strong, she recalled with a shiver. And, warm. And, clever. He didn’t have to tell her to follow him, because he knew he’d catch her if she ran—just as he knew she didn’t want to be stranded in the woods when the poachers returned.
A silent groan broke inside her. He had all the advantage. And, he knew it.
Aldwin halted Rom beside the stump. Bowing at the waist in a most elegant way, Aldwin motioned to the saddle.
She rolled her eyes.
“Come, milady. You would not be so foolish as to refuse.”
Leona frowned.
“All right. You might, indeed, be so foolish as to refuse. However, you also know that if you disobey, I will come after you and force you onto Rom against your wishes. Therefore, you realize you are wiser not to refuse. You will come as I ask.”
God above. Her head hurt trying to keep track of his arguments.
“I will come.” She strolled to him. “Not because you wish it, but because I am eager to leave these woods.”
As she walked, the breeze stirred her damp garments and she silently acknowledged the other reasons why she’d agreed: cold and fatigue. While her body ached with exhaustion, she had little hope of outwitting him.
She drew near, and Aldwin dipped his head. “Thank you.”
She smothered an astonished gasp. Why did he bother to be chivalrous? They both knew ’twas irrelevant. “I make no promises for the rest of our travels.” She stepped up onto the weathered stump, fingered her hair back over her shoulder, and smiled down at him.
Aldwin’s glinting gaze locked with hers. “Do not tempt me, Leona.”
He’d bitten out the word “tempt.” The sound held a savage quality that suggested his rational thoughts were losing their fight with his emotions.
“I did not know you were so easily tempted.”
As the words left her lips, she realized how coy they sounded. Ugh!
She clambered onto Rom’s back, smoothed her clothing, and dared to glance down at Aldwin adjusting Rom’s bridle. His jaw looked hard enough to snap.
He hadn’t answered her. Why not?
Sweat dampened her palms. Before she could dry them, he drew Rom to a walk.
***
Sedgewick yanked open the solar door and shoved Veronique inside. His sweaty hands squeezed her breasts while he breathed in feverish pants. “Now,” he said, “my reward.”
“You shall have it,” she purred, her tongue clashing with his in a hot, slippery kiss. “First, I want to see the necklace.”
Sedgewick whined. “Later.” He nuzzled her while edging her toward the bed.
Setting her palm against his chest, she kissed him while easing away. “I want to wear it. Once we sell it, ’twill be gone.” She bit his lip on a wild little moan. “I want to feel that ruby rubbing against my skin, while you—”
“While I what?” he urged.
Veronique laughed. “Whatever you desire.”
His eyelids dropped on a lusty shudder, and she took the opportunity to step toward the small, rectangular chest on the table. Ransley had put the pendant inside during their meeting, promising no one would touch it since this was his private chamber.
She tried to lift the lid, but the box seemed to be locked.
“Where is the key?” she muttered.
Sedgewick sighed. “I do not know.” His hands slid up her waist from behind to fondle her breasts. “Forget the pendant.”
Foreboding gnawed at her, a gut instinct she couldn’t ignore. She had no reason to distrust Ransley. Did she?
“I want to see the jewel.” Veronique pulled out of Sedgewick’s grasp.
“If the box is locked—”
She grabbed it from the table and hurled it against the stone wall. One of the sides splintered, but the wood held together.
Rage flared as she snatched the box from the floor. With an angry shriek, she threw it again. The box collapsed. Bits of wood and items from inside landed on the planks.
She bent and examined the rubble. Gold rings that had likely belonged to Ransley’s wife; a delicate circlet; a heavy silver pin wrapped in cloth; and—
Sedgewick swore, even as shock crashed through her. No ruby pendant.
After pocketing the rings and pin, Veronique stood. Fury blazed inside her. “Where is it?” She whirled on the baron. “Did you take it?”
“Of course not! I saw Ransley lock it away.” Sedgewick scowled. “Which means someone else who knew of the chest came into the solar and took it.”
“More likely Ransley,” Veronique said. “He means to deceive us. Betray us to Geoffrey.”
“He hates de Lanceau.”
“Does he? Or was that all an act?”
The baron’s face paled. “God’s blood!”
Veronique strode to the door, drawing her knife from her sleeve’s hem, aware of Sedgewick’s jostled strides behind her. Without slowing her pace, she hurried down to the great hall, where Ransley was standing beside the lord’s table, one unsteady hand gripping the oak to hold him upright while he raked his other hand through his hair.
He motioned to a maidservant. “Where is Leona?”
Leona. Veronique ground her teeth. She hadn’t been included in the meeting, but mayhap she’d found out about the pendant. Would Ransley’s daughter have decided to take her father’s loyalties into her own hands?
The maidservant curtsied. “I have not seen Lady Ransley today, milord.”
“I wish to speak with her.” He rubbed his brow as though battling a brutal headache. “Tell her I . . . ’twould please me very much.”
The girl’s gaze slid to Veronique and widened with fright before she said, “Aye, milord,” and hurried away.
Ransley’s bloodshot gaze met Veronique’s as she approached. “Have you seen my daughter?”
“I have not,” Veronique said, careful to steel the anger from her voice. “How odd, but I do not remember seeing her since we arrived.”
“Nor do I,” Sedgewick muttered.
Ransley’s frown deepened. “’Tis not like her. She must be busy about the keep.”
“Or she has run off.”
“What?” Ransley roared, and then grimaced. “What do you—” His gaze dropped to the dagger in her hand. “Put that knife away.”
“Where is the pendant?”
Ransley’s mouth tightened. “I ordered you to put the knife away.”
Veronique’s fingers flexed on the handle. “I asked you about the pendant.”
Ransley’s unshaven face reddened as he thrust a finger at her. “You are a guest of my household. When I order you to—”
“Shut up!” She raised the dagger, aiming it at his chest. “Where is the pendant?”
“Why, you impertinent— Guards!” Ransley bellowed. “Arrest this woman!”
Wretched, naïve fool! A harsh laugh grated from Veronique’s lips, an unearthly sound that echoed in the quiet hall.
“Guards!” Ransley bellowed again.
“Summon them all you like,” Sedgewick sneered. “Your men will not help you.”
Ransley motioned to the men-at-arms standing near the wall. They dropped
their gazes. He started toward them. “Look at me! I am the lord of this keep. I order you—”
“I order you,” Veronique said coldly. “The pendant. Where is it? I will not ask again.”
Ransley spun, his eyes as hard as stone. “Do you dare to threaten me?”
She raised her eyebrows. Oh, she dared. Tipping her head, she motioned to the mercenaries lingering near the entrance to the stairwell. “Tie him to his chair.”
Ransley reached for his sword. The scabbard was empty.
“I took your blade last night,” she said, gloating, as the mercenaries grabbed Ransley’s arms and hauled him backward to the dais. He fought, but was no match for the four large men, who bound him hand and foot to the oak chair.
“I demand that you untie me,” Ransley yelled.
“The baron and I make the demands now.” Veronique stepped up on the dais and, pressing her palms flat on the stained tablecloth, leaned over him. “Now, you will tell me about the pendant, or—”
The chair rocked as he struggled. “’Tis safe in the box where I left it. You saw.”
She shook her head. “’Tis gone.”
He stilled. Shock widened his gaze. “Where is it, then?”
“You tell me.”
“I do not—”
Despite the odor of his filthy garments, she leaned even closer, fixing him with a frosty glare. “You might not have taken it, but you could have told Leona where ’twas hidden.”
“Leona?” Worry darkened his eyes. “I told her naught.”
Veronique raised the knife, holding it so light glinted off its surface. Glancing up at the nearest mercenary, she said, “Search the keep. Find Leona Ransley. Bring her to me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Refusing to look back at Leona, even though he sensed her questioning stare, Aldwin led Rom back to the fallen tree where he’d fought the poachers.
I did not know you were so easily tempted.
Her words repeated in Aldwin’s mind. She’d spoken with such guilelessness. But those words were another reminder that he couldn’t trust her. After their tousle in the cavern, she knew the physical effect she had upon him.
He was easily tempted. By her. That knowledge both infuriated and fascinated him, for if she decided to pursue that temptation, he knew, without doubt, he’d lose to his rash nature. God only knew what might happen then.
A Knight's Temptation (Knight's Series Book 3) Page 16
