A Knight of Passion

by Scott, Tarah

  “It is why you married me.”

  “And what of the bargain you made?” he asked.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Have you made a good bargain in marrying me?”

  “I never dreamed I would have such good fortune.”

  “Because I have taken you away from the duchess?”

  “And Siusan,” Riana added.

  “And Siusan,” he repeated.

  Riana laid a hand on his arm. “I will always be grateful.”

  “Grateful.” He gave a low laugh. “Fate is a cruel mistress to have turned my plans against me.”

  She frowned. “I do not understand.”

  He dropped his gaze to her hand where it still rested on his arm and she snatched it back.

  He stuffed his hands behind his head and regarded her. “How do you know the duchess is responsible for Lord Marr’s death?”

  Riana hesitated, uncertain of his sudden change in mood and topic. “He came to Arundel. The duchess was angry when he refused to financially support Balliol.”

  “Lord Marr is a loyal follower of Sir Andrew. She was a fool to think he would change alliances.”

  “But he supported Balliol at Dupplin Moor.”

  Bryant’s eyes narrowed. “You are mistaken.”

  She shook her head. “He regretted it, but it is true. The duchess threatened to expose his involvement if he did not add to Balliol’s coffers.”

  Sir Bryant grew thoughtful. “If news reached Sir Andrew that Lord Marr had supported Balliol, Lord Marr would be relegated to the ranks of the Disinherited. But the duchess would gain nothing by killing him.”

  “Nothing but the fear of those who would resist her requests in the future,” Riana said.

  Sir Bryant looked nonplussed. “She aspires to rule Scotland?”

  “In her way, yes,” Riana replied. “She cares nothing for politics…”

  “But everything for power,” he ended.

  Riana nodded.

  “Was she successful in frightening her next victim?”

  “I know only of Lord Cormac. He contributed to Balliol’s cause.”

  “You are certain Lord Cormac supported Balliol?” Sir Bryant demanded.

  Before she could stop the thought, her face heated with the memory of Lord Cormac in her bed.

  Sir Bryant’s expression hardened. “Did he tell you while his cock was buried inside you?”

  She couldn’t prevent a small gasp.

  “By God,” Sir Bryant muttered.

  Riana lifted her chin. “You knew what I was before we married.”

  “Aye,” he bit back. “I even fucked you in the bed meant for Sir Dunbar.”

  “You did. And with very little urging.”

  He gave a strangled laugh. “What man could resist that?” He glanced at her breasts and she looked down. She had forgotten she was still exposed.

  Riana yanked the bodice up over her breast. “Only moments ago you couldn’t refuse.”

  “Aye, and even now my balls ache and my cock is so hard you could ride me all night and not wear me out.”

  She drew in a sharp breath.

  His mouth thinned. “You tried once, after having my cock inside you, to fuck another man. Never again.”

  “What—” She leapt from the bed. “How dare you?”

  He gave a low laugh. “I dare because I am your husband.”

  “You had no claim on me then.” She lifted her chin. “You had no right to interfere.”

  “Interfere? I saved your pretty neck from the hangman’s noose.”

  “Which time?” she demanded. “When you saved me from murdering a man by coming to my bed by mistake, or when you burst into the prison as the warden was fucking me?”

  Sir Bryant seized her wrist and yanked her to the edge of the bed. “It seems you owe me twice over.”

  He was probably right, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “The warden would not have harmed me.”

  “Nay, he would only have fucked you sore.”

  “He would not have been the first.”

  Sir Bryant jumped from the bed so quickly she had barely taken a step back before he was pressing her against the wall.

  “And he will not be the last.” Sir Bryant ground his hard length against her belly. “But it will be me between your legs rubbing you raw.”

  She gasped.

  He gave a small nod. “I see the notion appeals to you.”

  Riana pushed at him. To her surprise, he turned and strode to the door.

  Hand on the handle, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “Remember, you are mine. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck.” His gaze bore into her. “Mine to love.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Is his faRiana argued with Siusan, but to no avail. Her younger sister insisted they visit the chapel before the evening meal. Thankfully, there was no priest in residence, and Riana slipped into the back pew of the four pews on the left of the dimly-lit room.

  “You will not pray?” Siusan asked.

  “Not today.”

  Her sister smiled. “God will not fault you for protecting me.” Siusan placed a kiss on her cheek. “Neither will Sir Bryant.”

  Riana startled at the unexpected insight, but before she could respond, Siusan had turned away and was walking down the aisle.

  “Mine to love.”

  In the hour since he’d said the words, Riana had played them over and over in her mind. Lit candles at the altar sent light skimming across small, stained glass windows on the left and right, lending the cut glass an eerie sense of animation. Riana remained motionless as Siusan stopped in front of the dais, crossed herself and knelt.

  Were Sir Bryant’s words a declaration of love? A flutter closed around Riana’s heart with memory of the heat in his gaze in the instant before he’d left the room. She had the odd sense that, despite the fact he’d lain between her legs twice, he was telling her that his true claiming of her was yet to come. Was it possible he saw her as more than the whore she had become?

  He had married her believing she intended to murder his friend. Was Siusan right? Did he understand? Riana allowed herself to relax against the back of the pew. Whatever his feelings, he had proven he was willing to protect her and Siusan. Perhaps Sir Dunbar was right and the duchess feared their combined forces. Was that why she had released them? Or was it the fact that their mother was with child? Sorrow wound through Riana. Why had her mother not told her? If a son was born, he, instead of Riana, would be heir to Fyvie Castle. What kind of man would he grow to be? Her heart went cold. He would be just like his father, a puppet for the duke and duchess—if they survived the sentence of forfeiture Lord Fostar had planned for them.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Soon, the Duke and Duchess of Arundel would be penniless and without authority to harm anyone. Siusan would marry and bear children. She would have a good life.

  What of her? Riana came up short. Would Sir Bryant want children? What would it be like to feel his child growing inside her? A tremor rippled through her. What would her son think of the fact that his mother was a whore? What of their daughters? Riana bowed her head. If God was kind, He would allow her to keep that secret. Would Sir Bryant keep her secret? She recalled his gentle touch. He wasn’t a cruel man.

  Siusan rose, crossed herself again, and started back down the aisle. Riana stood and, when Siusan reached her, linked arms with her. They reached the chapel door and Riana glanced back at the dais. The Christ hung behind the altar, head downcast, eyes upturned. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes. Riana started, before realising it was nothing more than the play of candlelight against the painted irises. She let the door close behind her and they walked along the path leading to the castle.

  Siusan gave a cry and Riana halted at sight of Glen emerging from the small group of trees ahead on the left. Siusan pulled free of her and raced across the short distance to him. She threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her close for a long moment before she strai
ghtened.

  “You are well!” Siusan cried.

  He nodded, eyes soft, then turned his gaze to Riana as she stepped up to them. She hugged him close, her tears bathing his shirt. He drew back and smiled.

  “How?” Riana asked.

  He reached inside his shirt and withdrew a letter. Riana took the paper. She spotted the duke’s seal and fear streaked through her. Glen grasped her trembling hand and squeezed. She looked at him. A corner of his mouth lifted in encouragement. Siusan leaned in close. Riana considered sending her into the castle, but didn't. Siusan was no child. She should understand her fate. Riana broke the seal and read.

  Riana,

  I will not speak of your treachery. Instead, I will give you the opportunity to set things right. As you can see, I have freed Glen. This is only the first of my mercies. I also release Siusan. She may stay with Sir Bryant and we will dower her. All this we will do, if you return home. Glen will escort you to Arundel, where you will immediately wed Sir Ross. Do not fear the sham of a marriage to Sir Bryant will prevent this. I have already dealt with the matter.

  “She cannot annul your marriage,” Siusan cried as Riana read the last lines.

  You will leave Arundel a legally married woman and live with Sir Ross until it is time to occupy Fyvie Castle.

  The Duchess of Arundel

  “How dare she?” Siusan seethed.

  Riana looked at her, surprised at the edge in her sister’s voice. “She dares because she can. Just as she can keep her hold on you, if she pleases.” Riana looked at Glen and sadness entered his eyes as he nodded in agreement. She grasped his arm. “You are free. There is nothing she can do to us now. I will speak with Sir Bryant.”

  Glen nodded, relief obvious in his eyes.

  “Sir Bryant will protect us,” Siusan said with confidence.

  Riana nodded. After all, he’d said she was his to spread her legs, his to fuck and his to love.

  * * * *

  “Murder?” Riana repeated. She stared at Sir Bryant, who sat beside her at the head of the table in the great hall.

  The din created by the men gathered for the evening meal nearly drowned out the word, but he smiled gently, and said, “The assassin was unsuccessful.”

  She envisioned the downward slice of the knife that had grazed his arm instead of plunging into the muscled flesh between his shoulder blades as intended. She dropped her gaze to his left arm, wrapped with a snow-white cloth. Not a spot of blood shone through. Whoever had tended him was skilled.

  “How was he able to enter Chilgoriam Castle?” Riana couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice.

  “Many come and go from Chilgoriam Castle,” he replied. “Sir Dunbar and I have combined our forces and we share men and resources. That makes the keep a focal point for a fifty mile radius.”

  “Your guards cannot keep out a murderer?” she demanded, then remembered that Glen, too, had entered the castle unmolested.

  “Unlike Arundel, Chilgoriam draws few murderers,” Sir Bryant replied. “Our enemies prefer an all-out attack.” He grinned. “I am a bastard, not a nobleman.”

  A bastard who has angered a noblewoman.

  Riana’s stomach twisted. The duchess was behind the attempt on his life. She might have meant for him to die, but she knew that if her assassin failed, Riana would understand that next time he wouldn’t.

  “I am not so easily killed.”

  Sir Bryant’s deep voice pulled Riana from her thoughts.

  “The duchess will not find me an easy victim.” He laid his hand on hers and squeezed.

  She looked down at his larger hand covering hers on the table beside her plate. He was trying to comfort her, let her know that he would protect her as well as himself. But she knew better. The duchess would not stop until Riana complied—or Sir Bryant was dead. Riana would not let him give his life for her.

  She startled from the vision of a burial mound covering Sir Bryant’s powerful body. The serving girl standing beside her snapped into focus and Riana realised the girl had said something.

  “The pears,” the girl said, and Riana shifted her gaze to the tray she carried. “Mrs Carpenter made them especially for you. You do like poached pears?” she asked.

  Riana became aware of Sir Bryant’s scrutiny and took a whiff of the fruit. “They smell heavenly,” she said.

  The girl beamed and spooned a healthy portion onto Riana’s plate, then did the same for Siusan, who sat beside her. Riana took a bite of the pears, keeping her attention on her plate as the girl then reached between her and Sir Bryant to fill his plate. The syrupy sweetness slid across her tongue just as she’d known it would. Sir Bryant fell into conversation with Sir Dunbar, and Riana chewed slowly, afraid the tears she’d barely kept at bay would rise before she could stop them. The fact she wouldn’t see him again after tomorrow morning seemed like a bad dream. Desire to confess all to him rushed to the surface. Riana forced back the idea. She wouldn’t sacrifice him simply because she couldn’t bear to leave him.

  “You do not look pleased.” Sir Dunbar’s voice brought her head up. “You are not happy to be away from Arundel?” he asked.

  “I cannot believe my good fortune,” she answered honestly.

  Sir Bryant smiled. “It is my good fortune.”

  She stilled. An echo of the words my good fortune was followed by memory of the words mine to love. By all that was holy, he did care for her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Riana stared out of Sir Bryant’s bedchamber window. Torches lit the deserted inner bailey. Tall figures on the battlements were silhouetted against the night sky. Tomorrow morning, she and Siusan would ride through those gates for the second and last time.

  There was no doubt what was on Sir Bryant’s mind throughout the evening meal. The looks he cast her way during the evening meal were explicit. Riana should have been relieved, but each passing minute pressed in on her like the increasing weight of every shovelful of dirt tossed upon her grave. She had to live with the consequences of leaving him, but the disgrace she would bring upon him by deserting him wasn’t so easily dismissed.

  Cold wrapped around her heart. Why should it bother her that by this time tomorrow he would believe she had betrayed him? He must be made to believe she had used him. All tender feelings for her would die, but he would live long enough to find happiness with a woman worthy of his trust.

  Behind her, the light scrape of the wooden door on the stone floor sounded. He had arrived. Silence followed. How long would he stand in the doorway staring at her? Riana turned. Her husband locked eyes with her for a long moment, then he closed the door and crossed to the corner table where sat a pitcher and two goblets. He filled both glasses, then picked them up and strode to her. Once within reach, he stopped and extended a goblet. She took it.

  Sir Bryant threw himself onto the cushioned bench beside the window and lifted a brow. “Need I worry about the wine?”

  “What reason could I have to poison you? You are my saviour.”

  He took a long draught of the wine. “Only an hour ago, you were angry with me.”

  “If I poisoned every man who angered me, there would be a string of bodies in my wake.”

  He took another drink of wine. “And you did pour out the poison before leaving me in your bed.”

  She gave him a recriminating look. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. “I have no taste for murder.”

  “For that, I am eternally grateful.”

  The words were spoken with amusement, but Riana saw only the assassin’s knife barely missing a vital organ in his body.

  “I will be all right, Riana.”

  A quiver radiated through her belly. He couldn’t have read her mind, couldn’t know what she planned, but he had read her concern. “Aye,” she replied. She would see that he, at least, was all right.

  He abruptly stood and set his wine on the small desk beside the window. He took her goblet and set it beside his, then brushed aside the curls that had worked free of her plai
t.

  “It has been too long.” He trailed his thumb down her cheek. “You miss my touch.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  She arched a brow. “You are sure of yourself.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, making his eyes crinkle at the edges. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  “I know when a woman craves my touch.” He grasped her shoulders, turned her, and began unlacing the back of her kirtle.

  He freed the laces to her waist and Riana closed her eyes, lost in the feel of the long fingers that grazed her skin as he inched the sleeves down her arms. He shifted and warm breath bathed the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Gooseflesh raced across her exposed skin. Moist lips trailed kisses along her neck to the ear lobe. When his teeth closed around the lobe, she shivered.

  “I have not given you a proper wedding night,” he breathed into her ear.

  Her heart pounded. A proper wedding night. What man cared about such things after he’d already fucked a woman twice?

  He pushed her sleeves downwards, dragging the bodice over her breasts. Pleasure spiked from the sensitive areolae like thin strands of spider web. Sir Bryant grasped her waist and pulled her against him. She sucked in a breath at feel of the hard ridge that rode the curve of her arse. A tingle began deep inside her. Playing the new bride would be an easy role. Too easy. And would make leaving tomorrow all the more difficult.

  Sir Bryant shoved her kirtle down further so that it hung around her hips. She leaned in to him as he thrust against her again. A picture flashed into her mind of him entering her from behind as he had that first night, only tonight, their joining would be all the more intimate, with no one expecting a performance. Her heart broke. No. Tonight she performed for this man alone.

  He dipped his fingers between the kirtle and her hips, and shoved the fabric and low hip belt downwards. They pooled on the floor around her feet. Cool air washed over her legs, a strange contrast to the heated hands he slid around her belly. Riana remained motionless as he continued to run one hand around her waist while the other inched downwards. Her legs felt like pudding. He hugged her tightly against his solid warmth as he grazed her nubbin with his long fingers and dipped them into her moist folds.