Passion Over Time

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “She is a proper lady.”

  “Her title is of feudal rank, not peerage. You will be little better off than you are now.”

  Bryant lifted a brow. “Peerage?”

  “Your father expects you to marry well.”

  Bryant gave a mirthless laugh. “I care nothing for what he expects.”

  “He has done well by you,” Dunbar replied.

  “Nothing he does has ever been out of love for me—or my mother.”

  “You will not forgive him, will you?”

  Bryant met his gaze squarely. “Why should I?”

  “He did not know she was sickly. I knew your mother. She was skilled at keeping her secrets.”

  “He left her in that hovel.”

  “Not a hovel, lad.”

  “Not the lavish warmth his wife enjoyed,” Bryant shot back.

  Dunbar studied him. “Are you certain you do not mean to hurt him by marrying this girl?”

  “I would not give him even that satisfaction.”

  “You could take her as a mistress. That would be paradise compared to her life here.”

  “That would sentence her to the same fate my mother suffered. No, my lord, I will marry her.” Bryant's heart softened. He recognized the old knight’s attempt to ensure his future, and gentled his tone. “I must take her sister with us. That is the only way she will agree to the marriage.”

  Sir Dunbar’s brows shot up. “You cannot believe the duke will let the girl go.”

  “Do not forget, his wife attempted to kill you.”

  Dunbar laughed. “You overestimate my importance, especially when compared to that girl’s beauty. Also, their stepfather still lives. He, too, has control of the girls’ lives. You might save the older sister by marrying her, but that gives you no power over the younger. There is also the matter of Castle Fyvie,” he added. “The duchess will not want the land fall to you.”

  Bryant nodded. “But consider, Neas. If the plotting of your murder is any indication of what she has coerced Lady Ellis into, imagine what other secrets Riana might know. If I offered her protection, she would change her allegiance without hesitation, and her secrets would become ours.”

  The older man was silent for a long moment. “The duchess favors our self-proclaimed king Edward Balliol. Perhaps there is something that might incriminate them enough to count them among the Disinherited.” He paused. “If you marry Lady Ellis and she lies to us—or does not know anything of great import—the duchess will not rest until we are dead.”

  “You were as good as dead when you entered Arundel,” Bryant said.

  Dunbar shot him a recriminating look. “The girl has more reason to lie than to tell the truth.”

  “Not with the right incentive.”

  “Miscalculate, and you accomplish far more than a bad marriage. Your father cannot protect you against the Duke of Arundel.”

  Bryant’s jaw tensed. “When have I ever called upon my father for help?”

  “In that, you are a fool.” Dunbar rose. “So, you intend to bind the house of Arundel to your own by marrying the duchess’ whore? You had better have bollocks, lad. You will either end up dead, or a very powerful man.”

  Bryant smiled. “I prefer the latter.”

  Chapter Six

  Riana choked back a gag at the foul odor of the prison and pulled the hood of her cloak tight around her face as she followed the guard down the tiny walkway between cells that lined the walls to the left and right. How did these men live in such squalor? Was this how Glen was being forced to live? She had to get him out at all costs.

  Thanks be to God that Sir Dunbar hadn’t been in his chambers when Riana sought him out two hours ago. She’d reported to the duchess, who had been furious, but day was fast approaching, and his men-at-arms would soon be rousing themselves. The duchess agreed that he must have been distracted with another tasty wench. Tonight, she would ensure he came to Riana. That gave Riana today to secure Glen’s release. Once free, she would sneak Siusan out of Arundel, and she—A grimy hand shot from the darkness between the bars on the left side. Riana leapt back, then cried out at the vicious yank on her arm that dragged her against the bars on the opposite side. Meaty fingers snaked around her waist and pinched a breast through the thin fabric of her dress.

  “Let her go, you filthy wretch!” shouted the guard.

  Riana twisted and met the feral brown eyes of the prisoner. He seized her bodice and yanked it down past her breast as he jerked her against the bars. Foul breath washed over her face. She gagged in reflex at the rank smell. His greedy mouth latched onto a nipple and sucked. Pain spiked from the sensitive bud. Riana twisted as fingers dug in between her legs. Bile rose.

  The guard’s club slammed down on the man’s arm. The wretch growled. The club beat down upon the man’s arm again, and his grasp loosened. Riana jumped back, then whirled in time to miss a swipe from another large hand on the other side of the room. She dragged the bodice up over her breasts, breath coming in painful wheezes.

  The guard appeared at her side. “I told you to walk directly behind me.” He added something unintelligible, then started forward again.

  Riana stumbled after him, legs so shaky she couldn’t halt her tears. With trembling hands, she tugged the hood over her head, gaze straight ahead as she followed directly in the guard’s footsteps down the middle of the aisle until they passed through a doorway into another narrow corridor, this one, thankfully, without cells. They made a dozen twists and turns through the stone hallways and up and down stairs before finally coming to a large wooden door. The guard rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside.

  “The lady to see you, my lord.”

  Riana entered, legs still trembling so badly she feared they would give way beneath her. Warmth washed over her and she started at sight of the inviting fire that blazed in the hearth at the opposite side of the room—and the tall, dark-haired man sitting behind a desk a few feet front of it. The quill that had been moving across a page stilled, and he looked up. This man didn’t fit the lecherous picture the duchess had painted of the prison warden.

  Not all men looked the part of letches, she reminded herself. But they were.

  Not so. Glen wasn’t, neither had her Stuart been…or Sir Bryant? She shook off the unexpected thought and focused on the man sitting behind the desk. If he wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s body, then he would require coin, and she needed to save every gold piece for Glen and Siusan. Pray God a letch lived behind the intense brown eyes that stared at her.

  She glanced meaningfully at the guard. “May we speak alone, my lord?”

  The warden motioned with his head for the guard to leave. The man snickered, then left.

  Riana waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then crossed to the desk. “I am here to secure the release of a friend.”

  He laid down his quill and looked expectantly at her.

  Fear sliced through her at his lack of response. “You do not seem surprised by my request, sir.”

  “I have many requests to release prisoners.”

  His deep voice unnerved her. “I can pay,” she said.

  His gaze raked down her body, then came back to her face. “Indeed?”

  “Any price,” she added.

  “Who is the friend?”

  “Glen Ramsey.”

  He gave a small nod. “The duchess’ latest pet.”

  Her heart raced. “Is he well?”

  His mouth turned downwards. “As well as can be expected.”

  Fear squeezed her stomach. “What does that mean?”

  “You have seen this place. Who would be well here?”

  “Aye, no one, but is he unharmed?”

  “Last I saw him. He is strong. He can care for himself.”

  “Any price,” she said. “I can pay.”

  “How is it a man like him has won the allegiance of a woman like you? He is a deaf mute.”

  Anger flared, but she forced back the em
otion. She wasn’t allowed indignation. She would fuck the devil if it would get Glen out of hell. “He is my father.” The lie was slight.

  “A woman would do almost anything for a father,” he said slowly.

  “Not almost anything,” Riana corrected. “Anything.”

  “The duchess will expect her pet to be where she left him.”

  Riana snorted a condescending laugh. “Her Grace has never set foot here, nor will she.”

  Though if she knew what Riana was about to do, she well might hazard the foul stench to watch. Riana forced back a shiver. It was one thing for the duchess to have watched while Riana let a man rut between her legs when sprawled on the sweet-smelling mattress at Arundel, but quite another for her to enjoy the picture she’d painted of Riana chained to a wall as a man pounded into her while grunting like the animal he was.

  The warden leaned back in his chair. “The duchess is not a woman to cross.”

  A tremor rippled through Riana. This man was no fool to be easily misled. She eased the hood from her hair, then undid the tie on the cloak and sloughed the garment from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, but the warden’s eyes were on the well-fitting but low-cut bodice that revealed a hint of nipple.

  He lifted his gaze to her face. “Word of your visit is sure to reach her ears.”

  The damnable man was unmoved.

  “I can remain here as long as you desire.”

  A brow rose. “At my word, you would never leave here—and her spies would be no more.”

  Riana’s pulse jumped. Coming from another man she wouldn’t have believed it. But this man might very well wield the power he boasted. Pray God he did.

  “She need never know, then?” Riana stepped toward the desk. “You have that power?”

  “I rule hell.”

  So she would be forced to fuck the devil after all. Though by the looks of him, his breath wouldn’t be as foul as that of the monster who had grabbed her. Or would he share her with those animals, as the duchess predicted? Mayhap he was like her, and preferred to watch? Gaze locked with his, Riana inched the sleeves of her dress down her arms and allowed the dress to fall to the floor beside the cloak.

  Chapter Seven

  Bryant propped an elbow on the mantel in the great hall and leaned toward the fire crackling in the hearth as he nodded to the young warrior he was speaking with. The postern door opened and Sir Dunbar entered. He swept the room with his gaze until he met Bryant’s, and he crossed to where they stood.

  “Leave us,” he commanded the young man. With a nod to Bryant, the warrior left.

  Dunbar remained quiet until they were alone, then said, “Your little bird has flown the coop.”

  Bryant straightened from the mantel. “What?”

  “Easy.” Sir Dunbar gave an almost imperceptible nod in the direction of the duchess, who sat beside Lady Siusan Ellis at the table. “Her Grace is a very observant woman.”

  “What has happened?” Bryant demanded.

  “The stable boy told me Lady Ellis left an hour ago.”

  “That was before dawn. Did he say where she went?”

  Dunbar shook his head. “Nay, but Klenmarnoch is just an hour’s ride north.”

  Comprehension hit like ice water. “By God,” Bryant cursed. “It is. The little fool has gone to the gaol to beg for Glen’s release.”

  “Exactly.”

  Everyone knew of the duchess’ prison. Arundel Castle where the duke and duchess lodged was the largest castle within two days’ ride. The duchess’ ancestral home, Klenmarnoch, lay on the edge of the village of Geary where, ten years ago, they had established a prison. Thirty-seven cells wound throughout the maze of corridors and stairs of the four-storey castle. Riana could enter the prison and never be heard from again.

  “She cannot hope to succeed,” he said through tight lips.

  “Beautiful women often succeed where men cannot,” Dunbar said.

  “But at what price?”

  Bryant envisioned the picture the duchess had painted of Riana’s tender body shackled to a stone wall while the gaol master fucked her until she was too sore to stand. Fury and fear rammed through his veins.

  “You are not taken with the lass, by chance?” Dunbar asked.

  Bryant recalled the exquisite torture of her arse tightening around his cock as he had eased into her and the way she impaled herself on the phallus as he thrust inside, and felt himself grow hard.

  “You knew what she was when you hatched this scheme,” Dunbar said. “You did not expect her to change?”

  “I did not expect her to feel the need to fuck another man.”

  The older knight laughed. “Then you do not know women.”

  Sir Bryant scowled and set the goblet on the mantel.

  “You are going after her?” Dunbar asked.

  “Aye.”

  He sighed. “Then let us be done with it.”

  “You need not risk your neck.”

  “If you wed the wench, my neck is at risk.”

  “I can stand on my own,” Bryant said.

  Dunbar snorted. “The duke would crush you, then the duchess would have your liver for breakfast.”

  If what Riana had said to the duchess was true, Bryant would have the duke’s liver for breakfast.

  ****

  Riana slowly walked around the desk, careful to emphasize the sway of her hips. She stopped in front of the warden and knelt. Cold seeped from the stone through her knees clear to the bone, a strange contrast to the warm fire that bathed the right side of her body. She laid a hand over his groin. The firm cock hidden by his tunic pulsed beneath her fingers, and relief flooded through her.

  She looked up at him. “You have the power to do with me what you will, but is a willing slave not more desirable than an unwilling slave?”

  She lifted the tunic out of the way, bent her head, and, with her teeth, grazed the mushroom tip of the hard length bulging against the thin fabric of his hose. He groaned, and she slowly sucked along the side before straightening.

  He released a slow breath and reached forward. She sat motionless, startled as he smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen forward across her cheek. His thumb traced a gentle line across her cheek, then he dropped his hand onto his thigh and relaxed back into the chair.

  “My life will be forfeit if I release your father,” he said.

  “You said no one would know I had been here, if you so chose,” Riana persisted.

  “Could Glen not be killed in a fight? Surely the duchess would accept your word?”

  She scooted closer and flattened her palms on his muscled thighs, while strategically allowing her breasts to brush his rod.

  His eyes darkened. “How can you be certain I will not take what you offer, then send you on your way without payment?”

  “I cannot.” Eyes locked with his, she rubbed her nipples against his rod. “But if you do not release him, I will not return.”

  The warden studied her. “You are willing to submit as often as I please?”

  “As often as you desire.”

  “A fine arrangement,” he replied. “But once I free your father, you have no reason to keep your word.”

  “Not so, my lord.” Little did he know she might find herself in this prison. Mayhap he would show some mercy if she dealt straight with him now.

  Riana grasped the waistband of his hose and pulled it down. His cock sprang free, pointed directly at her as if in command to suck the hard length into her mouth. She could smell his scent, male musk, ripe for a woman’s tongue. His gaze sharpened as she swung a leg over his, then began to rub against his hose-covered flesh.

  “If I renege,” she said, “you can have your revenge in any number of ways.” Still rubbing against him, she leaned against his leg and lowered her mouth toward his cock.

  “One word from you and the duchess will know I was here.”

  Riana circled the weeping crown with her tongue. The clean tang of his pre-cum burst across her tong
ue and she wanted to weep for relief that this man wasn’t the vile creature she’d feared she would have to give herself to. She took the tip into her mouth and sucked his rod deep inside. He thrust into her. She grasped him at the root and began an in–and-out rhythm.

  He groaned and tunneled long fingers into her hair. She continued the rhythm, slow, sure, and sucking hard. His thigh shifted beneath her cunt and she realized she’d stopped moving on him. Riana slowly slid her moist folds along his leg, careful not to lose the rhythm of her mouth on his cock. He thrust along her tongue until her palm edge met her mouth. He seized her shoulders and yanked her up.

  Before she realized his intent, he had hauled her onto his desk. Her legs hung off the edge and he eased her back onto the desktop. He spread her legs and stepped between her thighs, then bent his head toward her. When his mouth closed around a pebbled nipple, he shifted and slid his shaft along her wet folds and into her curls. Riana recalled Sir Bryant, the feel of his cock buried deep in her channel…then her arse.

  Feather-light fingers made contact with her ribs, and swirled in slow circles. The soft swirls moved downwards into the curve of her waist, across her belly button, the barest ruffle across her curls until he slipped a long finger inside her. She arched into the sure, long strokes. Her channel walls tightened.

  For so long she had only pretended pleasure. Sir Bryant roused more, whispered a voice. The man whose fingers fucked her cunt was almost as large as the knight. Could he rouse passion in her? Might this task be pleasant? She closed her eyes, but instead of the warden, she saw Sir Bryant’s emerald green eyes, dark with passion as they had been only a few hours ago. The warden thrust his finger deeper inside her.

  Had those hours with the knight been a taste of what could have been? God's punishment for not being strong enough to resist the duchess’ threats? When faced with one’s sister being defiled by the Duke of Arundel, blind faith had a sting the priests failed to mention.

  The warden inserted a second finger inside her and quickened the thrusts while sucking harder on her nipple. Riana gasped. He shifted his mouth to the other nipple. She moaned, reaching deep for the pleasure that had come so easily with Sir Bryant. She became aware of the warden’s shaft, hard, insistent, rubbing against her mound.