To Tempt a Knight

by Gerri Russell

  Seated, she tipped her face up and let the slight wind dry the pearls of moisture from her forehead and neck.

  “Here.” He offered her a bladder of water.

  She was grateful for the cool liquid that slid across her tongue. After a few more minutes of rest, she asked, “How did the Templar treasure end up here in Scotland?”

  He offered her a slight smile. “That is a long and sordid tale.”

  She looked down at the distance they had covered so far today, then glanced up at the height they had yet to go. A lot of the mountain still remained before them. “It appears we have plenty of time.”

  He laughed. “Too true.” His expression grew more serious. “Are you ready to continue? If you are, I’ll tell you what I can as we climb.”

  “Aye.”

  He stood and offered her a hand, pulling her easily to her feet. “How much do you know about the Templars?” he asked as they began to hike up the mountainside once more. This time they forged their own trail.

  “I know what most people know. How they began as protectors of pilgrims to the Holy Land,” she said, falling into an easy stride beside him. “I’ve heard tales about their bravery in the Crusades and of their chivalry. And I remember my father talking about King Philip IV of France needing financing for his wars. When he asked the Templars for money, they refused him.”

  “That’s where the trouble started for the Templars and when the treasure left France,” William explained. “When King Philip was refused, he then tried to get the pope to excommunicate the Templars, because we answer only to the Church.”

  “The Templars were very powerful,” Siobhan admitted as she kept pace with William.

  “Aye, they were. But the French king had the power to murder Pope Boniface VIII and his successor, Benedict XI, when neither would do as the king wanted. The next pope, Clement V, was brought into power with the help of the king.”

  William turned to face her as they continued to hike. “Two days before the Templars were arrested in France under orders from the new pope, eighteen ships left the port of La Rochelle in the middle of the night, sailing for Scotland with the treasure and as many men as possible.”

  The features of his face softened. “It was your father who met those ships and instructed the men aboard where to take the treasure.”

  A chill chased across Siobhan’s neck. “That was when my father was still a Templar.” She frowned. “He must have been very important to be in charge of hiding something so precious.”

  “Aye, he was.” William’s voice was gentle.

  “Why was he not arrested with all the other Templars?” Siobhan asked.

  “Because Scotland was at war with England in October of 1307, and in the chaos, the papal bulls dissolving the Templar Order were never proclaimed in Scotland. So the Order was never dissolved. As a result, Scotland became a sanctuary for Templars. Robert the Bruce, being excommunicated himself, welcomed skilled warriors with open arms. Others, such as Archbishop Lamberton of Saint Andrews, gave the Knights Templar his protection. Archbishop Lamberton always believed in the Templar cause. He risked much to support us, and he has been a good friend to me.”

  “If the Templars are protected here by the Crown and the Church, then why are you so secretive? Cannot the monks at the monastery admit who they are and live in peace?”

  “With agents of the French Crown like de la Roche combing the country for them, there is no hope of that.”

  Siobhan nodded her understanding. “Then why risk your life by staying in the Order?”

  He offered her a pained smile. “Because it was divine intervention that led me to the Templar Order. They took me in when I needed them. My brothers have been constant companions as we fought to protect the faithful, then later our king and country.”

  His explanation was simple, yet she realized there must be so much more that he hadn’t said. She longed to question him further about the things he’d passed over. Why did the Order take him in? Where was his family? How had he earned the right to protect the king himself? “Those men back at the monastery, they are your family?”

  “Aye.”

  She reached over and patted his arm, wanting to console him, but not knowing exactly what to say.

  William stared down at his arm where her hand touched him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Come, let us pick up the pace a bit. We have much ground to cover before dusk.

  His stride lengthened, and Siobhan had to push herself to match it. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to talk, as her heart thumped in her chest at the extra effort. Is that what he wanted? To stop her pointed questions?

  She frowned. They would have to rest eventually. Then she would ask more about his life. For she still was not certain why he was helping her. What would he gain, besides having the treasure for himself?

  She might have lived for years in isolation with her father, but she was wise in some things. William would have to earn her trust before she led him to the Templar treasure.

  Chapter Ten

  “How do we know we’re heading in the right direction?” Siobhan asked between halting breaths as she kept pace with William.

  It was the first time she had spoken in quite a while. For a moment William felt guilty that he’d pushed her so hard. “Let’s rest.” He stopped and turned to face her.

  She nodded breathlessly as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck with the back of her hand. She scanned the area, then headed toward a fallen log a few paces away. “I’m going to sit for a—”

  The sound of wood snapping echoed through the forest. Her words fell away. She screamed as she plunged from sight.

  William’s heart jumped to his throat. “Siobhan?” He whipped the saddlebag from his back and lunged to where she had vanished. A huge hole gaped in the ground. “Siobhan?” he called into the dark pit.

  Nothing.

  A thrill of fear pulsed through him. His gaze tripped over the snapped branches that jutted out from around the pit. He’d seen similar traps before, built by his fellow Templars. She had wondered how they’d know if they were on the right track. This trap proved they were. If she wasn’t dead or injured, he would delight in telling her so.

  William found little comfort in the thought as he sped back to his saddlebag and grabbed a long rope. Quickly, he tied one end to a nearby tree and tested to make certain the line was secure. Climbing would be easier without his mail, but he didn’t want to waste valuable time taking it off. He stepped to the edge of the pit and leapt into nothingness.

  He hit the side of the pit. Pain radiated through his injured body. He bit back a groan. Siobhan needed him. Rock. A good sign. It would be harder with a rock bottom to line the pit with sharpened stakes, as was usual in this type of trap. “Siobhan?”

  William’s voice echoed all around him. His feet slid down the rock walls of the pit and the rope slid through his fingers in his haste. His palms burned. He quickened his pace. He had to reach her.

  He strained to see in the darkness. A dark mass appeared off to his right. It had to be Siobhan. A heartbeat later, his feet touched the ground. Smooth, even ground devoid of stakes. He released his pent-up breath and raced to her side.

  She lay facedown, unmoving. Carefully, he reached around her and placed his hand above her lips. Warm air brushed the back of his hand. She breathed.

  “Siobhan?” No answer. Slowly, he rolled her onto her back. He had to get her out of there to assess what damage had been done.

  Praying he didn’t do her any further harm, he lifted her in his arms and draped her slight body over his shoulder. He grasped the rope and climbed, bracing his feet against the wall, and began to half walk, half pull the two of them toward the light.

  They would survive this trap. His fingers were bleeding, he noticed vaguely as he left blotches of red on the rope. His arms trembled. His shoulders ached. Then the pain was gone, numb with strain and weariness.

  He could see daylight ahead.

>   Sweat stung his eyes, but he remained riveted on the light ahead. He put one hand over the other until finally he reached the edge of the pit and pulled them both over the top.

  He carefully set Siobhan on the ground, then collapsed beside her, panting. He stayed there a moment before pulling himself up and crouching beside her. He rolled her over. A bright red gash marred the side of her forehead. Blood flowed from the wound across her delicate temple and onto her cheek.

  William reached beneath his mail, and with one mighty jerk ripped a section of linen from the shirt he wore beneath his padding. He quickly folded the fabric and pressed it firmly against her wound. “Siobhan?” he called softly. “Please open your eyes.”

  She groaned. Her eyes fluttered. They snapped open and fixed on his face. Fear and confusion darkened her gaze.

  “Do you remember what happened?” he asked. Please let her be well.

  She studied his face. Her brow knitted, then cleared. “I fell,” she said, her voice thready and weak.

  “You’ve cut your head. Does anything else hurt? Your legs? Arms?”

  She started to shake her head, then groaned. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

  He bent over her. “Might I have your permission to check your limbs for further damage?”

  “As you wish.”

  Carefully, he lifted each of her arms and worked her shoulders, elbows and wrists. Apart from a few scrapes, she appeared unharmed. Methodically, he searched her gown for rips or telltale splotches of blood. When he found none, he moved on to her legs.

  He brushed the hem of her gown up her calves and brought his big hands down on her slender legs. His callused hand stroked her flesh, searching for injury, yet as he touched her his body awakened.

  She gazed at him as if caught in a spell, her pulse fluttering wildly in the hollow of her throat.

  Her skin was as velvet soft as it looked, and warm, so warm, despite her recent suffering. He could feel the hot pounding of her pulse against his fingertips. And it gave him a moment’s satisfaction to know his touch affected her as well. When he’d finished examining one leg, he slipped his hands up the other.

  A shudder trembled through her. Her gaze flew to his face. Wild color flooded her cheeks. His palm moved up her calf and onto her thigh, then back down again. “You appear to be unharmed.”

  “But not unaffected,” she breathed.

  He instantly released her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He startled. “For what? Falling into a well-hidden pit?” He moved to a sitting position, then cradled her head in his lap, continuing to apply pressure to her wound. With his other hand, he reached up and gently stroked the hair from her forehead. “There is nothing to apologize for. In fact, you answered your own question about us being on the right track.”

  Her eyes widened in her pale, drawn face. “What do you mean?”

  “That trap was set by the Templars. It proves we’re exactly where we need to be.”

  Her hand drifted to the folds of her skirt. “The scroll appears to have survived my fall as well.” She attempted to sit up. “We should continue.”

  He pressed her back into his lap. She looked as delicate as the most fragile of blossoms. Why could it not have been he who’d discovered the trap? He was used to the abuses of war, whereas she had no such experience. He would have to be far more careful to protect her from danger. He offered her a reassuring smile. “We’ll make camp here for the night.”

  “In the open?”

  She had suffered enough. “The sky is clear. There will be no rain tonight.” He wouldn’t move her until he was certain she was perfectly capable of continuing their journey. “I’ve spent many a night in the open with the stars as my blanket.”

  Her body relaxed back into his. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed. “I admit I’m quite weary all of a sudden.”

  “Siobhan.” His voice was sharp.

  Her eyes flicked open.

  “You must stay awake, at least for a time.” Once again he brushed the hair from her brow and across her temple. So soft. So incredibly soft. “It’s been my experience with soldiers who’ve had head wounds that if they fall asleep too quickly after the injury, they don’t wake up. I need you to stay with me until we’re certain you’re well.”

  She smiled. “It’ll take more than a pit to put me under, Sir Knight.”

  A pang of tenderness stirred within him. It did his heart good to hear her make light of the circumstances. He’d been in far too many situations of late that had gone desperately wrong. He gazed out at the forest surrounding them.

  Off to his right a bush rustled. His muscles locked with tension as he stared at the place. He caught a glimpse of brown. A deer? Or had someone else besides de la Roche followed them up the mountain?

  At Siobhan’s soft gasp, his gaze returned to her face.

  “Too much pressure,” Siobhan said. Her hand came up to his, releasing the bandage he’d pressed a little too firmly against her skin. “I think this has stopped bleeding.”

  He allowed her to remove the compress. After noting that the bleeding had indeed stopped, his gaze shot back to the bush. All was silent now. He scanned the area. Had the motion truly been an animal of some sort? How would he keep them safe without moving Siobhan?

  He spotted a wall of rock farther back from the pit. “Stay here.” He shifted from beneath Siobhan, resting her head upon the forest floor while he stood, then gathered the saddlebag from where he’d dropped it. He moved between the pit and the wall and laid down his cloak before returning to her side and helping her up. “Come, rest here between the pit and the wall.” The open pit and the solid wall would serve as protection. That left only his right and left to guard as the night approached.

  He drew his dagger from his boot and extended the grip toward her. “I think you were right to ask me to teach you how to defend yourself.”

  She accepted the weapon. “You want to teach me now?”

  “Nay, but I must leave you for a moment. I won’t go far. I need to gather wood for a fire.” His gaze dropped to the dagger in her hand. “This is just in case.”

  Before she could question him further, he turned and headed for the bush. He would not rest easy until he made certain the area was clear.

  He crept through the dense foliage, searching the ground for footprints, anything that might reveal whether he’d seen man or beast. He halted as the proof he sought lay before him. Two boot prints were clearly discernable in the dirt.

  Not an animal. A single male pursued them.

  William’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. His gaze pierced the surrounding area that was bathed in the dappled light of the late afternoon sun. Nothing stirred. But he’d been warned. And once he’d been warned, no one got the best of William Keith.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Siobhan.”

  Siobhan snapped her eyes open to see William standing over her. “You must stay awake, at least for a short while.”

  She let the words run through her as he sat down on the fur cloak beside her. With an effort she opened her eyes and focused on the trees in the distance. The distinct leaves shifted, blurred as her eyelids grew heavy once more. She knew she should keep her eyes open, but suddenly they seemed so heavy.

  “Siobhan,” his voice crept into her thoughts. “You have to try.” He scooted closer until his thigh rested against her own.

  Silence hovered between them, but it wasn’t a silence filled with tension. It felt companionable, soft, relaxed. Without thinking, she leaned her head on his shoulder. He leaned closer, providing more support. Gradually, Siobhan relaxed and became aware of the coolness that laced the late evening air, the sound of the birds twittering endlessly overhead, the scent of loamy soil beneath them that still held a slight dampness from the rain. The warmth of William’s body enveloped hers. Heat radiated between them, prickling her flesh. She forced herself to think about something other than the feel of
his leg and the firmness of his muscular thigh.

  For the first time she wondered if it could be true…if the Templar treasure existed. “William?”

  “Aye,” he shifted his head to glance down into her face.

  “Have you ever seen the treasure?”

  He shook his head lightly. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “It is said to contain legendary pieces of every culture, ancient to modern, along with many holy relics.”

  Siobhan frowned. “Why aren’t others besides de la Roche after it?”

  “Its location has always been a well-guarded secret. Many people no longer believe the stories.”

  Her father had been part of that secret. The thought still met with much disbelief. “If someone were eager enough to discover that secret, then nothing would stop them.”

  William shrugged, jostling her head slightly. “Perhaps that’s why your father sought to keep the two of you hidden from the world for so long.”

  She brought her fingers to her throbbing temple. “It worked for a while, until de la Roche came along.”

  William offered her a soft smile. “Does your head still pain you?”

  Siobhan nestled deeper against his shoulder, feeling more relaxed as darkness started to fall. “It’s getting better.”

  “Then close your eyes and let sleep come. I’ll stay awake and make certain you are safe.”

  His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw the weapon this time, but left it sheathed. Siobhan took that as a sign that the danger to them was not as imminent as it had been last night. Perhaps if she closed her eyes for just a moment…A short reprieve was all she needed, and then she would keep William company for what remained of the night.