The Knight's Return

by Joanne Rock

  She’d been drawn to him from the beginning, but the pull was even stronger since the return of his memories. There was an easy self-assurance in him now, an intensity that called to her on every level. Being around him felt familiar and new at the same time.

  A soft hum of pleasure vibrated through her and she loosened her hold on his shoulders so she could simply absorb the feel of him. His muscular form embodied strength, his flesh twitching beneath his tunic with the effort it cost him to hold back. She did not know if she could have done so were she in his place.

  If she was the one determined to make their marriage a union of cold self-denial.

  With that chilling thought, she released him. Pulling away sharply, Sorcha knew the only way she could end that kiss was with quick, decisive separation. Her heart pounded with the loss of his shoulders under her fingers. His hard chest to her aching breasts. His hot, demanding mouth guiding hers to kiss him in a way that pleased him best.

  What if she didn’t know him as well as she thought? She trusted his honor not to abandon her, and she believed he would protect her physically. But could he deal the final blow to an already wounded heart? She would need time to trust him again. To know this new man.

  By the time she raked her eyes open, he stared at her with the same wary respect one might give an enemy in the practice yard. It was a far cry from the yearning devotion she ached to see in a man’s eyes just once in her life. But perhaps it was the best she could expect from this marriage made in haste and practicality.

  “Next time I had better make it clear you should not touch me either.” His statement lacked conviction or else she might have been offended.

  She straightened the bodice of her surcoat, only too glad to reward his cold heart with a glimpse of her breasts as she did so.

  “Since you cannot command me, that would be a difficult vow to enforce.” She stood, seeing no good that could come of remaining beside him, trembling with unfulfilled needs.

  She peered behind her as she stood, grateful to see the men-at-arms were all suitably drunk and oblivious to what went on in the bow amid the chests containing her dowry.

  “I have a mind to enforce it quite easily, Princess.” Remaining in his seat, he reached up to her hair and—before she knew what he was about—he tugged one of her veils free from the silver circlet she wore. “I shall keep this on my person for next time we meet privately.” He waved the thin length of linen for emphasis before he tucked it into the waist of his braies. “And if I feel the need to kiss you, I’ll tie your hands behind you.”

  Her face must have betrayed her dismay—along with the desire—for he grinned like the devil himself.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Her provocation did not come out quite as threatening as she would have liked, but the air seemed to have left her lungs.

  His hands briefly circled her wrists, just long enough to make her jump.

  “Not only would I dare, I am confident you would enjoy every moment.”

  Horrified at both the thought and the treacherous leap of her heartbeat that suggested the knave might very well be correct, Sorcha spun on her heel and walked away to the sound of his laughter in her ears.

  Edenrock appeared as Hugh had expected.

  The journey there had been slow but uneventful with late rains rendering some roads impassable. The wretched weather not only made the trip treacherous, but it had been almost impossible to steal a moment alone with Sorcha. Now, almost a fortnight after their arrival in England, he rode the perimeter of his old keep where the standard of the du Bois family flew. He’d heard reports of this en route to Edenrock. Edward had been quick to spread word of his death after Gregory had struck him with the blow to the head. And while the king had not yet granted him an audience to make the transition official, Hugh’s men had believed du Bois’s claim when Hugh never returned from London three moons prior. They’d admitted Edward freely, no doubt grateful to have an overlord who would maintain their pay.

  “The thieving, murderous bastard.” Sorcha’s outburst was uncharacteristic as she rode her courser beside him, her surcoat artfully arranged for her to ride astride in a fashion that both amused him and earned his grudging respect. They would have never made it through the muddy terrain if the women had not been capable of handling their own mounts.

  But Sorcha had been unnaturally quiet on the subject of du Bois on the trip. After her bold embrace on the ship to England, she had retreated. Hugh had suspected she’d taken his teasing too seriously and sought to avoid him because of that. He refused to regret giving her fair warning, however, since he meant to tempt her beyond reason the next time they found time to be alone that was not consumed by plotting Edward’s downfall.

  “You realize I will have to act quickly.” He had come to admire Sorcha’s political knowledge during their long talks while riding, a faculty he’d recognized in her shortly after meeting her. Her years at her father’s elbow had given her a shrewd understanding of men’s ambitions and how to wield power assiduously. The lure of her intelligence appealed to him as much as the draw of her sensual nature and bold embrace of life. “Henry could approve du Bois’s seat as ruler here at any time.”

  Sorcha’s courser slowed and he had to tug on his own mount’s bridle to remain close to her. He’d been grateful to get her all to himself for a little while, if only to speak of a plan for recovering Edenrock. She’d barely left her son’s side this last fortnight, trusting no one but Hugh or her sister to watch over the child. Onora was with the boy now at their encampment in the woods while all three of the men-at-arms stood guard during Hugh and Sorcha’s absence.

  “Perhaps the king will give it to him as a wedding gift.” She looked up into the walled city surrounding Edenrock. They had reached a low-lying section of lands where the wood and stone walls were built just above a deep ravine to deter invaders, yet the pitch of the hillside allowed them to see into the village all the way to the keep from their position on the other side of the ravine.

  As Hugh followed her gaze, he spied tents being erected and huge slabs of meat being smoked over low-burning pits. Men and women hurried through the village and around the courtyard in a swarm of activity. Wood for bonfires was being assembled in giant piles. Tables and benches were being carried from the hall and from the wealthier homes closest to the keep. A steady stream of people poured into the courtyard from the direction of the city gate.

  Hugh knew at once she was right. No man went to this much trouble for his nuptials unless a king would be in attendance. Unless the event might result in lands and a title to go with them.

  “We haven’t much time.” He couldn’t possibly wage a successful siege before this event. The wedding celebration had to be in the next few days, judging by the level of preparation.

  “You must see the king first. Before Edward has a chance.” Sorcha’s face had grown lean from long days on the road without proper meals or adequate rest.

  He had watched her sleep restlessly many nights, no matter that he took time to build small shelters to keep out the rain.

  Hugh was struck by the thought that he had not cared for her properly. He’d not trusted her father to keep her safe, yet she had known more danger and heartache since meeting him than ever before.

  “But possession of the lands is nine-tenths of the law.” He knew Henry well enough to recall the king would not approve Edward’s claim if he wasn’t already sitting in a secure keep. Then again, he wouldn’t approve Hugh’s claim without the same.

  The king had enough battles of his own without fighting those of his nobles.

  “So you must be at the helm before the king arrives.” She frowned. “How?”

  “Stealth.” He had never been one to fight battles with underhanded techniques, but how could a man wage combat honorably against a foe that excelled in dark and ignoble acts?

  Any man who would harm a child—his own child, no less—had already sunk to unspeakable depravity.

  “We sneak in?�
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  He shook his head. “No. Or rather, I will choose that path, but you must realize you could have no hand in such a dangerous scheme.”

  “I do have Conn to think about,” she admitted, though she did not appear quite as resigned to a passive role as he would have liked.

  “Exactly. But sneaking into Edenrock won’t be so difficult since I have an advantage now.”

  “How so?”

  “Recall there were no survivors in Edward’s riding party back on the beach in Ireland. Du Bois does not know what became of his men or us during that attack at the harbor, so my presence here will take him by surprise.”

  “None of his men know we are alive.” Sorcha nodded, her jaw clenching with grim determination. “We must act quickly.”

  “We’ll start by sending in an advance party tonight.” If Hugh could find out the time line for the wedding and the king’s arrival, he would begin making his plans to take over the keep. “I’ll send someone into Edenrock as a peddler or a jongleur for the wedding. There is so much activity through the gate, no one will notice an extra minstrel or cheese maker.”

  “Who should we trust to play such a role?” Sorcha’s gaze went back to the activity inside the city walls.

  The smoke from the roasting meat was so thick Hugh could almost taste the boar and venison.

  Nay, he tasted imminent victory. The wedding would be a godsend to accomplish his goals and recover the keep that should belong to him. To the woman who had entrusted herself to his care before she even knew his real name.

  “We shall send Eamon.” The Irishman would be ideal. He was young and canny enough to play such a role. “No one at Edenrock will recognize him.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  To refuse Hugh’s assignment would have roused suspicion.

  Eamon strode through the gates of Edenrock with no problem, declaring himself a storyteller to entertain the wedding guests as Gregory had suggested during their meeting in the clearing. Gregory had been displeased with Eamon’s lack of cooperation so far, but Eamon thought he’d successfully convinced the man he needed more time. He’d already learned the wedding ceremony was two days hence, though the king planned to arrive the following day. Many of the meats and preparations were to welcome the sovereign’s arrival.

  Now, striding through the village to bide his time while he came up with a plan, Eamon wondered what to do next. Did he gamble that he could persuade Onora into his bed and keep his alliance with Hugh and Sorcha? Or did he run to Edward to reveal everything he knew in exchange for a lucrative reward?

  He could not truly believe Hugh’s cousin meant to hurt his own brat the way Sorcha believed. Eamon had come to see the fire at the cottage as more of a warning to him that he needed to do his job if he wanted to maintain his standing with Conn’s father. After all, no one had been hurt.

  And by the saints, he hadn’t been making any progress with Onora after leaving Connacht. Eamon paused in the door of a baker’s hut to ask where the town’s tavern was located. It would be the best place to gather information no matter what he decided to do next.

  Taking the route the baker suggested, he wove around the village well and received giggles and glances from a handful of maids filling their jugs. The feminine attention was far more than he’d received from Onora of late. The Irish princess had grown more cautious since leaving her father’s keep, maintaining her distance from him. Could she have sensed his interest and felt threatened somehow? Or was she simply a tease?

  “Ale, please,” he told the tavern wench, a plump mistress with strong arms and an inviting smile.

  She, too, kept her eye on him as she filled his cup, swaying her hips as she crossed the small drinking hall to serve him.

  “Here ye are,” she announced with a flourish, leaning down to set the cup on the rough-hewn table. Her movements placed her ample breasts within tasting distance were he so inclined, an invitation he did not miss.

  Would he toss aside his opportunities to swive at will to seduce a cold princess? As much as Eamon would have liked to know the power and influence that came with being son-in-law to an Irish king, these English girls were pleasing to his eye. And with the kind of coin he could earn from du Bois by revealing Hugh de Montaigne’s presence, Eamon could support himself better than he’d ever done as a groom or even a man-at-arms.

  Waiting to quench his thirst, he tumbled the barmaid into his lap. The tavern was empty save for a few old men who were probably too nearsighted to see what went on under his table anyhow. Eamon would sate another hunger first, then proceed into Edenrock to renew his acquaintance with Edward du Bois.

  “Have you agreed upon a way to breach the keep quietly?” Sorcha asked Hugh late that night after he had finished making plans with his men.

  She hated being left out of much of the discussion, but she understood a foreign woman in the midst of men who did not know her might make the small force uneasy when Hugh had to prepare for the next day. In addition to the men-at-arms who’d accompanied them from Connacht, Hugh had managed to reach a handful of knights who had sworn allegiance to him once. He’d stumbled onto one in the forest on the man’s return to Edenrock for the wedding, and had quickly confided the tale of du Bois’s treachery. That knight had gone on to secretly contact five others who either owed Hugh tribute or had suffered at du Bois’s hands. The company had broken up after talking late into the night.

  Now Sorcha cornered Hugh outside the tent she shared with Conn and her sister. No torchlight ringed the camp, a measure they’d taken to help keep their presence a secret. The only light came from the filtered glow of the moon through the trees and the dying red smolder of ashes in the fire pit. There were no stars to sleep under tonight between the dense trees and the low-lying clouds that made her feel trapped.

  Anxious.

  “We think so, but we will need Eamon’s help when he returns. He probably couldn’t discover all we needed to know before the gates closed at dusk.” Hugh kept his voice down, more mindful of potential spies in the wood than out of concern for her sleeping family members. “He will arrive back at first light.”

  She nodded and, for just a moment, took comfort in his warrior strength so close to her. She had avoided much physical contact with him ever since the incident on the ship. Not out of fear. His teasing suggestion had surprised her, but over time, it had stirred a deeper hunger. She knew Hugh would never harm her. No matter that her trust in men did not come easily after her poorly placed faith in Edward. Sorcha at least trusted herself enough to know she was right about Hugh’s honor. Her judgment was far more keen than it had been two years ago. Being a mother had given her a wary sense of caution to balance out her passions.

  Instead, she had avoided being alone with Hugh because she feared he could hurt her heart, and that he might do so unwittingly. She had come to care about him that day of the cottage fire. And while she had still been reeling with the knowledge that she could still harbor deep affection for a man, Hugh had already been accusing her of being secretive. Deceptive.

  It was a view he might still hold about her and it was a view that stung. What would it be like to care for him all the more, only to have him set her aside because he would never trust her?

  “What will be my role tomorrow?” She had Onora’s help with Conn. That meant she was free to aid Hugh and his men.

  “Let us speak privately.” He waved her toward his tent beside hers.

  The other men-at-arms were surely still awake, though their tents were farther away. Sorcha did not blame him for wishing to keep his plans secret, but a shiver of awareness danced over her skin as he took her by the arm to escort her into his tent.

  “Wait.” He halted her as soon as she ducked inside the tall, narrow shelter. His arm blocked her passage, the thick rope of hard muscle brushing just beneath her breasts.

  “What is it?” Her breath hitched, her heart jumping at his nearness.

  “The fur extends almost to the door,” he informed her, ex
plaining the layout in the dark. “If you remove your slippers, we can sit there to speak.”

  Suddenly, their private discussion took on a whole wealth of new possibilities. She took his arm to steady herself while she slid off her shoes and then tentatively stepped forward.

  Feet landing on soft pelt, Sorcha sighed at this small decadence after their trek through the rain and mud in his cloudy and cool homeland.

  “I did not know a hardened warrior would spoil himself with such luxury,” she chided, grateful he could not see the way her whole body practically melted at the soft, inviting warmth beneath her toes.

  “I bought it in Connacht when I thought I might have a wedding night sooner or later.” Through the dark, he reached for her hands and encircled her wrists, drawing her down.

  The feel of his hands creating gentle manacles around her limbs sent a fierce shiver of longing through her. Memories of his sensual threat to tie her hands behind her spurred a tingle of anticipation in every pore of her skin.

  “Have a seat,” he urged, releasing her when she settled beside him in the dark, cocooned in the warmth of the hide tent and thick pelt. “Tell me what role you think you should take in the conquest of a keep.”

  With an effort, she steered her thoughts away from the warmth and strength of the man beside her to make sure he understood that she was utterly serious.

  “It would be different if you were taking Edenrock by sword. But you said yourself, you must plan a conquest by stealth. I am offering my help.”

  “Tomorrow, I want you to remain here, close to the tents and one of my guards at all times.” Hugh’s warning cooled some of the warm tenderness flowing through her veins for him.

  “All my hopes for the future—for my son—ride on your shoulders tomorrow.” She knew if Hugh was not successful in recovering his lands, she and Conn would be running from the threat of Edward du Bois forever. “If I can help in any way—”

  “I cannot fight this battle if I fear for you and Conn.” His hand cupped her face, his voice steely and soft at the same time. “I swore to your father I would keep you safe.”