To Tempt a Knight

by Gerri Russell

  Siobhan felt the thudding of her heart. The sound pounded in her ears like the hammering of a nail into wood. Please forgive me…The formless prayer circled through her brain with dizzying repetition as she waited for some sign that he would, someday.

  A heartbeat later he scooped her into his arms and held her close against his chest. “I forgive you—for the Spear and for every other misunderstanding that may happen between us in the future.”

  “Truly?” She pulled back, memorizing every detail, every nuance, every line of the face before her—a face she loved. A man she loved.

  “Truly.” He kissed her then, a slow, gentle, loving kiss that set her heart and soul afire.

  When he released her lips, she opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “No more talk. Let me show you how much I forgive you.” His hands fumbled with the fabric of her cloak, with the linen sheeting she’d wrapped around her body, until she lay naked before him.

  It took him only a moment to disrobe. Then he too was naked, and boldly aroused.

  She opened her arms. He came into them, pressing her naked breasts hard against the coarse hair of his chest. He rubbed against her, making low, groaning sounds deep in his throat.

  He rolled so he was beneath her, settling her atop his thighs. She could feel his pulsing manhood against her own apex, but he did not penetrate. Instead, he first took one, then the other of her nipples into his mouth, teasing each straining peak.

  Heat flashed through her. The muscles of her stomach clenched. She arched her head back and cried out as his teeth closed gently on the small nub, nibbled, then pulled. She cried out as sensation after sensation burned through her.

  Her fingers stroked his chest, gently, as she could feel the cuts in his flesh beneath her fingertips. The healing waters had worked their magic on him as well, but it would be several days more before he fully recovered.

  His muscles bunched and relaxed as she moved her fingers across his chest. Again, she marveled at her power, at the way she could please him with a simple touch. She stroked each of his nipples, gaining a deep-throated groan for her efforts. She brought her hand lower, down the ripples of his abdomen, to where his rigid manhood pressed against her.

  “Please, William,” she pleaded, hoping he understood what she needed. His hands moved from her ribs to her waist. He lifted her and guided her slowly down on him. Heat engulfed her as he filled her. She clutched desperately at the bed linens. Holding her hips, he moved her up and down, the tempo wild, exciting.

  “Only like this can two people take up the same space and become one,” he said in a strained tone. “We are one, you and I, in this moment.” He lifted her up and then lowered her until she took all of him inside her.

  “We are one.” Siobhan gave a low cry of wild satisfaction.

  He stopped, gazing up at her with eyes that glittered with primitive pleasure. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “I never imagined it could feel so good,” she replied, her heart beating so rapidly she could scarcely breathe.

  With a low growl, he flipped her onto her back. His hands delved beneath her body to cup her buttocks, to pull her against him as he thrust into her with frantic urgency.

  She moved against him, trying to meet his passion.

  He thrust desperately, wildly, beyond control, as she slipped over the edge of the abyss. She climaxed, the tension exploding with a force that sent a fiery release through every muscle in her body. She opened herself to him until his life force pulsed and throbbed deep into her very soul.

  A heartbeat later she could feel William spasm again and again within her, shuddering with the force of his release. He collapsed on top of her, his heart racing in his chest, his breathing ragged. As they lay there, contentment seeped into all the places his passion had touched.

  Finally, when their breathing slowed, he lay back, pulling her against his side as though yet unwilling to release their bond. He had said they were one. In that moment they had been.

  His breathing slowed, and he drifted off to sleep with an arm tucked securely about her. Siobhan smiled as she felt herself slipping into utter contentment wrapped in his warmth.

  “Why is my nephew not yet dead?” Alasdair Keith growled as he strode through the great hall toward where de la Roche waited. His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight.

  De la Roche narrowed his gaze on the tall and imperious older man. How dare the Scottish bastard talk to him in that way! He was master of the Spear, ruler of the world, an unstoppable force.

  His lips tightened as Keith, dressed in black breeches and a plain linen shirt and tunic, came to join him on the dais at the front of the chamber. The bastard didn’t bow to him, merely stared into his face as though expecting an answer to his ridiculous question.

  De la Roche held his tongue. If he’d been able, he would have delivered William Keith’s head on a platter when he’d arrived here. But the Templar had outmaneuvered him at the broch. And de la Roche now needed Alasdair’s troops if he was to succeed in massacring the Templars—William Keith included. “Soon you’ll have what you desire,” he said.

  “’Tis not soon enough,” Keith said coldly with a thin, contemptuous smile.

  De la Roche’s gut twisted in anger and he gripped the Spear tighter. If he didn’t need the man’s troops so much, he would take great pride in skewering him through the heart right now. His fingers itched, but he forced himself to hold back.

  The doors to the great hall flew open. The ranks of his own and Alasdair Keith’s men filed into the chamber until nearly two hundred men stood before him. A rush of excitement replaced his earlier anger.

  It was time to put the Spear to the test. Informants had sent him word that Templars traveled from all areas of Britain toward Crosswick Priory.

  De la Roche intended to capture all those men before they could get that far, crippling William Keith and annihilating the Templars once and for all. “Hear me out, men. Hear me out,” he shouted above the din of voices.

  One by one the voices in the chamber fell silent, and the earnest faces turned toward him. “I need four groups of twenty-five soldiers to head north, south, east and west. Your mission is to capture any armed men you come across. They are our enemy. Treat them as such. The rest of you, prepare for an attack on the castle.”

  De la Roche smiled as he thought of how angry William Keith would be when he discovered his men had been slaughtered like sheep.

  Everything that he wanted would come to him without effort and with great efficiency—all because of the Spear. With the Spear he would triumph over anyone and anything. With the Spear he was a god.

  “How much longer will I have to wait for you to hold up your end of this bargain?” Alasdair Keith’s grating voice cut into his thoughts.

  De la Roche muttered an obscenity as fury filled him. How dare the bastard interrupt his thoughts? The tip of the Spear edged in the older man’s direction. A heartbeat later, de la Roche forced his arm to stop, his anger once again in control.

  Even so, something had become abundantly clear to him this day. Once he’d wrung all he needed from the irritating Scotsman, the man would have to die.

  The thought was all that comforted him as he sent his troops out to do his bidding.

  Siobhan drifted back from a dreamless slumber sometime later. Faint pink light filtered into the room through the cracks in the shutters and from beneath the door. She and William were still curled together. She drew a deep, contented sigh.

  “Siobhan?” His voice was steady, as though he’d been awake for some time, waiting for her to open her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  His hands played with her breasts, stroking, cupping them in his callused palms. His fingers moved lower to stroke her belly. “Do you think I’ve given you a child?”

  She came instantly awake. “A child?”

  “Had you not thought of a child? There is a possibility—”

  “No, it couldn’
t be.” She sat up, her mind spinning. She should have started her flux a couple of days ago. Yet she hadn’t. In all the chaos, she hadn’t even considered it. Panic thrummed within her. Sweet Mary! How could she have not considered a child?

  His hand came to rest upon her belly once more. “More than anything else in the world, I want my child to be within you, here.” His voice was tight. He shifted his body to gaze into her face. The fierceness that usually existed there faded to tenderness. “I don’t know what it is I feel for you, Siobhan. But every time I think about life without you, I feel empty and confused.”

  Siobhan stared at the man beside her. Heaviness consumed her. A child? Why had she never considered such a fate? God would never be so cruel. Would He?

  He smiled. “Why do you say nothing?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll marry me.”

  She stared at him, stunned. “What about the Templars? The treasure? Your vows?”

  His face became shuttered. “I have work to do there still. But know this, my desire for you is honest.”

  “I have no doubts about your honesty or your desire, but you are not free to ask me such a question.” She dropped her gaze to her hands. “You belong to the Templars, just as my father still does. Even though he wanted to be free from them, look what happened. He never managed to sever the ties. Would it be the same for you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I lived in absolute isolation with my father. It was my choice to remain, I realized in the later years. But I don’t want that for my children. I want any child of mine to have experiences, to know the world. To be free, not fearing discovery of some Templar secret or that someone like de la Roche might someday take their father away. As a Templar, you can’t be committed to me or a baby.”

  Siobhan reached for the linen that had served as her gown and pulled it over her breasts, no longer comfortable with her nakedness.

  “You are refusing me?” He frowned.

  “I’ve never spent much time thinking about marriage, although I knew the possibility might exist someday soon.”

  “That someday can be with me. I’ve realized over the past several days that my vows are to the Lord, not necessarily to the Templars. I could never separate the two before, but I can now. The Lord has led me in a different direction. Once I leave the Templars, I will reclaim all that I have in the way of worldly possessions. I’m a very wealthy man, Siobhan. You’ll never want for anything.”

  “You’re not free of the Templars, William. Until then…”

  With a finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “You’re right. I’m not free to ask you to share my life. But I shall be soon. I’ve served out my purpose with the Templars. A new calling beckons.” His voice vibrated with emotion. “Then I’ll have you, Siobhan. I’ll persuade you to my way of thinking.”

  “So much remains to be done,” she said, not knowing how else to respond to his words.

  The gentleness she had witnessed earlier returned to his eyes. “Aye, it does.” He bent down to brush his lips sweetly, tenderly against hers. The kiss had just begun when he moved away, leaving her longing for more. She drew a sharp breath. That was exactly as he’d planned. He wanted her to crave his taste, to yearn for his touch so that when the time came, she would surrender herself freely.

  She wrapped herself in the linen, then pulled the cloak around her shoulders while she watched William dress. Marriage? She had never considered such a thing until her father had brought up the subject just a few days ago. Her existence had always been devoted to helping him.

  Her father.

  Pain centered in her chest at the thought of what he’d suffered since he’d been abducted. “William, do you think my father is still alive? After what de la Roche did to us in only one afternoon…” Her words died off.

  “Your father is a strong man.”

  “He’s been gone for days.”

  Again the vulnerability she’d seen earlier emerged from the tough exterior he tried to present to the world. An answering ache awoke within her, and she moved to his side.

  “The men are assembling. We’ll ride out as soon as we are able, ma chère. Have faith that all is well.”

  Faith.

  She had faith in William, and in the troops he would mass. But she also knew from her own experience that de la Roche would do anything he could to get what he wanted from her father. What had he divulged already under the torture he no doubt had suffered?

  Faith. She had to have faith.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Upon their return from the cottage, Simon met Siobhan and William at the monastery gate. He held an amber-colored gown, a linen shift and a pair of boots. When the two of them approached, Simon assisted Siobhan down from the horse, then handed her the garments. “For you, milady.”

  “My thanks,” Siobhan said. A flash of eagerness filled her eyes.

  William dismounted. “Go change,” he encouraged her.

  She darted into the monastery, no doubt eager to shed her makeshift garment for something more acceptable.

  “What brings you out here? It is unlike you to play the greeter.”

  “Templars are coming from Wales, Ireland, the Isles to join your forces.”

  William nodded. “That is good news.”

  Simon’s features remained pensive.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “De la Roche must have anticipated that the men would come to you, because our scouts report his troops are everywhere. They’re arresting men before they can reach us,” Simon said tightly.

  “How many men do we have?”

  “No more than forty-five.”

  “Damnation! So few?” William snapped. “But we must go. We’ll prepare to leave with what we have.”

  “De la Roche has the Spear,” Simon countered. “Does that not mean anything to you?”

  “It means everything to me. It’s why we cannot risk staying here and doing nothing.”

  “’Tis suicide. And you know it.”

  William narrowed his eyes. “No man is all-powerful, not even with the Spear.”

  “But the legends—”

  “Say that the bearer of the Spear can conquer all. But now that I’ve actually held it in my own hands, I believe the Spear reacts to the person who possesses it. It is a neutral force until it picks up the character of its bearer—whether good or bad.”

  “De la Roche will use the weapon for ill.”

  “Against us, first, before he ventures anywhere else. ’Tis up to us to take the weapon away from him.”

  “Much easier said than done.”

  William nodded. “Nothing that we have ever done together, Simon, has been easy. Yet we prevailed.”

  “What then?” Simon asked. “Will we hide the Spear once more?”

  “Nay, the Spear’s place is in the world, not hidden away. We will see the Spear into the hands of good people who will use the weapon for good causes.” William placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “We have always fought for what was right.”

  Simon straightened. “And we will continue to do that.” William patted Simon’s shoulder, then drew his hand back and put it on the hilt of his sword. “Aye. The Brotherhood will preserve justice and protect the innocent.” He offered his other hand to Simon in a salute often used by the Templars to show affection and respect.

  The two shook hands just as Siobhan returned. She strode toward them. She moved with grace, her shoulders back, her spine straight. Elegant yet strong. She stopped before Simon. “Thank you for the gown. It’s the finest garment I’ve ever worn.”

  William took in the sight of her. The unadorned and simply cut velvet gown the monks had found for her in the village was a rich amber shade. The sleeves hugged her arms from shoulder to wrist. Her gown was straight and graceful, falling from the low, square neckline of the bodice, which revealed the soft swell of her breasts and the long line of her throat against the ri
ch fabric. Her hair fell in loose waves across her shoulders. Beneath the fading light of day, her tresses shimmered like fiery gold. “You are a vision.”

  She dropped her gaze and curtsied, but not before he saw the pleased little smile that tugged at her mouth. Hope blossomed inside him. She wasn’t entirely impervious to his charms.

  “When do we leave?” she asked.

  “As soon as the men can gather.” He reached for her hand. “Would you not rather stay behind, where it is safe?”

  “No,” she said with determination. “I’m as much a part of this as you are. I need to see it through.”

  “Aye, you are.” William squeezed her hand before releasing it. “May we find only success in the trials that lie ahead.”

  “We are united in purpose and spirit,” Simon said.

  “To the end,” Siobhan added.

  Gooseflesh pebbled William’s skin at the eeriness of their chosen words. Similar words had been spoken by the Brotherhood on the eve of the Battle of Teba.

  No such disaster would befall them at Stonehyve Castle. William closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.

  The massacre could not happen again.

  Fate would never be so cruel twice.

  Twenty-five men managed to make it past de la Roche’s patrols and joined the twenty already at the monastery. As soon as the men arrived, William and Siobhan rode out.

  What their small army lacked in number, they made up for in strength. The air fairly crackled with hope and a renewal of spirit that William hadn’t seen in these men for years. The Templars might be disbanded, but they were not destroyed.

  The mists were reluctant to leave the coves and the inlets near the shore as the men, some on horseback, others on foot, followed William’s lead. Once, as they approached Stonehyve lands, he glimpsed the distant silhouette of the battlements. His home. A home he’d been forced to leave. And one he was willing to attack to bring peace back to the Brotherhood.

  They reached the inlet below the castle just as the sun dipped low against the blue-black Cairngorm Mountains. “We’ll make camp here for the night,” William announced, reining in his horse. He wanted the men rested and well fed before they made their attack in the morning.