“Will you accept my apology?” he asked.
He seemed to genuinely want her forgiveness. “I accept your apology,” she murmured. “’Tis only fair, after your heroism today.”
A faint smile touched his lips. Yet, he didn’t seem entirely at ease.
If they were tackling outstanding issues between them, she’d like them all resolved now. “Is there aught else?” she asked.
“Indeed, there is. I believe you have something of mine.”
***
“I have naught that belongs to you.”
Ryder had expected a denial. Either Amelia was a good liar, or she had no idea of the provenance of the jewel she wore. Gesturing to her right hand lying in her lap, he said, “Your ring. ’Twas stolen from me weeks ago.”
Her mouth gaped, even as the fingers of her left hand instinctively moved to touch the gold band. “Stolen?”
He nodded. “From within this keep.”
“Are you sure ’tis the same ring?”
“Fairly sure. I will know with certainty once I have taken a closer look at it.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I do not understand. How would Tilden end up with your missing jewel?”
“I do not know, but—”
“He would never have stolen it.”
How Ryder wished he could believe that. “If that is true—”
“If that is true?” Hurt and anger sparked in her eyes. “You and Tilden were as close as brothers.”
“Amelia—”
“You know he was not a thief.”
Ryder exhaled a harsh breath and again looked down at his hands, callused from years of training and battle; most of those years he’d spent alongside Tilden. “He was one of the best men I have ever known: loyal, generous—”
“Exactly!”
“I do not want to believe that he took the ring—”
“But you think he did.”
“What I believe is far less important than getting the ring back.”
Her left hand curled tightly over her right, as though to keep him from the jewel. He could easily wrest it from her if he so desired. But, he’d rather not.
“My brother gave me the ring the day he died,” she said, her voice wavering. “He….”
Ryder remained silent, hoping she’d reach the right decision on her own.
“I am not parting with it,” she said firmly. “Not until you prove ’tis yours.”
He had to admire her fortitude. Yet, he had a sworn duty to reclaim the jewel. “I could simply take it from you—”
“You would not!”
“—but that might also be considered theft, and ’twould make us enemies again.” Ryder’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “I ask that you give me the ring, and once you have done so, that you think no more of it.”
Amelia frowned. “Will you tell me why ’tis so valuable to you?”
If only he could tell her, but ’twas best—safest—for her not to know about the Templar riches. “All I can tell you is that ’twas entrusted to me.”
“By whom?”
“I cannot say.”
“When was it given to you?”
A silent groan burned in his throat, for he mustn’t tell her that, either. “As I said—”
She huffed. “You obviously do not plan to provide me any proof whatsoever. You expect me to just hand over the ring.”
A harsh laugh broke from him. “To be fair, as lord of this fortress, I do not have to offer any proof.”
“Mayhap not, but ’twould be chivalrous of you to do so.”
His jaw hardened. He was not going to be drawn into a debate about whether or not his actions were honorable. “Enough, Amelia. I want the ring. I ask that you give it to me.” He held out his right hand, palm up.
She remained still, her gaze defiant.
“Let me be clear,” he said quietly. “You, Nanette, and your men will not be leaving here until you relinquish the jewel to me.”
Chapter Six
Amelia glared at Ryder. Sunlight rendered her fair skin the color of porcelain and enhanced the brightness of her eyes. She was beautiful even when furious; her loveliness stole his breath.
“You dare to hold me hostage?”
Since she clearly wasn’t ready to give him the ring, Ryder lowered his hand to the bench. “Hostage is a rather harsh word.”
“But ’tis the truth, aye?”
He smiled. “I would prefer to consider you my honored guest. After your ordeal today, folk will understand that you are not well enough to travel.”
She snorted. “I am hardly a helpless damsel.”
“On that, we both agree.” When she appeared startled, he continued: “Today’s attack would have been upsetting for anyone. If folk question your stay here, I will tell them that you did your best to remain strong, but having known you since we were children, I saw through your façade and knew that in truth, you were suffering from shock.”
“Oh, for God’s—”
“I will also say that for your own wellbeing, I advised you to remain here. So did the healer. You accepted.”
“I will dispute your words.”
“You can try,” he said. “Here, I have final say on all matters.”
She abruptly stood, her hands fisted at her sides. “I am not staying here, Ryder.”
“Give me the ring, then.” He held out his hand again.
She glowered as if he offered her a white-hot piece of iron that would scorch her skin.
Ryder shrugged. “I can be patient for a little while longer.”
“And I can be very stubborn.”
“I know. I remember.”
She crossed her arms. “Am I to be an honored guest here forever, then?”
Bold words. He couldn’t leave them unchallenged. “If necessary, I could make that happen.” Indeed, he could if he married her. By taking her for his wife, he’d have legal claim to all that was hers, including the ring.
She’d never wed him willingly, though, and he’d rather not be bound for the rest of his life to a woman who despised him.
Ryder rose from the bench to see tears glistening in her eyes. He hardened his heart to the tug on his conscience.
“Against my better judgment, I chose to trust you,” she said, “to believe you offered me hospitality because you wanted to repair our friendship. I realize now that all you cared about was getting the ring.”
Ryder scowled. He hadn’t just cared about the jewel. He still didn’t.
“How foolish I was to have ever believed you had changed.”
The anguish in her voice cut him deep. Words crowded on his tongue. He wanted to take hold of her hands, insist he was as worthy of her trust and friendship as Gladwin; but, if he admitted now how he really felt about her, she’d never believe him.
Amelia turned her back on him and strode away.
***
Ryder was the most infuriating man. Infuriating, arrogant, and…regrettably, the most fascinating male Amelia had encountered in months, which was even more infuriating!
Amelia marched toward the garden gate. Ryder watched her; she sensed his gaze upon her back, but she wasn’t going to glance over her shoulder and reveal that he unnerved her.
She also was not going to be his captive. As soon as possible, she’d find a way out of the keep—even if that meant she had to walk all of the way home to Callingston.
Amelia was halfway across the bailey when Nanette called to her and waved. The young woman stood with a group of squires who’d obviously just come from weapons training. Their faces sweaty, the young men had stripped off their tunics and shirts to wash by the well. The bare-chested lads were enjoying Nanette’s ogling, and she appeared delighted to have their attention.
Upon reaching Nanette, Amelia drew the giggling young woman away from the men.
“I am still talking with them,” Nanette grumbled, turning back toward the well.
“If one of them wishes to see you further, he will make his
intentions known.”
Nanette sighed as she smoothed her hair. “You are right. Besides, I was only chatting with them while on my way to find Ryder.”
Oh, nay. “I do not—”
“Stop trying to dissuade me. ’Twill not work.”
“You are going to end up disappointed and hurt.”
The young woman grinned. “Will I?”
Nanette might not be so enthralled if she knew they were Ryder’s hostages. “I just came from speaking with him,” Amelia said. “You should know that he—”
“Oh, look. He is headed toward us. Tell me what you were going to say later, aye?”
Before Amelia could say a word, Nanette strolled away.
Amelia shook her head. She’d done her best to warn the young woman. Hopefully, Ryder would be gracious and not crush Nanette’s feelings too badly…unless, of course, he was interested in wooing her.
Not possible. Not when he’d taken Templar vows.
She stole a glance at Nanette to see Ryder had stopped to talk to her. He grinned down at her, while the young woman smiled up at him. Confusion and jealousy knotted inside Amelia, and she hurried to the chamber where she’d bathed. Entering the room, she found the tub gone, all evidence of the bath cleared away.
Honor lifted his head from where he lay by the fire. Someone had given him a padded bed covered in fabric that looked fit for a royal hound. A gift from Ryder, no doubt.
She shut her chamber door, leaned back against it, and groaned.
***
“My father enjoys hunting boar,” Nanette said, her lashes fluttering. “Mayhap one day soon, you and he can hunt together.”
“Mayhap,” Ryder said. Such activities were excellent for forging alliances and sharing news of import. Yet, from the excitement in her eyes, the young woman clearly hoped such a hunt would end up with her betrothed to him.
Unfortunately for her, that would never be.
As the young woman chatted on, Ryder’s attention shifted to Amelia, her glossy braid swaying as she walked to the forebuilding. How he longed to undo her plait and slide his fingers into her hair, as he’d dreamed many times at Acre. He’d savor the soft silk of her tresses against his skin while he kissed her and persuaded her anger to become desire.
“—know each other better,” Nanette said.
“Mmm?” As his gaze returned to the young woman, she smiled, stepped closer, and trailed her index finger across his tunic. Warning stirred, for some folk at the castle knew he was leaving the Order. They might see him and Nanette together and make assumptions.
She was not going to convince others that romance was blossoming between them or trap him into marriage.
He caught her hand and pushed it away.
She tittered, her expression coy. “Milord.”
“I am sorry, but I do not care for you in that way.”
Dismay touched her gaze. “Not even a little bit?”
“Nay.” Determined not to bring her to tears, he said lightly, “You deserve a roguish lad closer to your own age, who will spoil you and make you laugh every day.”
“I hope there is such a lord for me.”
“I am sure there is.”
“My parents said….” She cleared her throat. “Never mind.”
A twinge of sympathy brushed his conscience, for he knew very well the expectations noble parents imposed upon their children. His father had been relentless; how relieved Ryder had been to join the Templars and go to the East, and to experience life free of his sire’s control.
Jovial shouts and laughter drew his attention to the well, where squires were tossing buckets of water at each other. As Nanette stole a longing glance at them, an idea flickered into Ryder’s mind. “If you will excuse me, there is a matter I must see to.”
Chapter Seven
“You were right about Ryder.” Looking glum, Nanette crossed to Honor’s bed near the hearth. With a dramatic sigh, she flopped down beside it, rested her chin in her hand, and stared into the fire.
Shutting the chamber door, Amelia frowned. Nanette never sat on the floor or intentionally creased her garments. The situation must be dire.
“Tell me what happened,” Amelia soothed, ignoring the parchment, quill, and pot of ink that had arrived a short while ago and that waited on the nearby table. Later, she’d write down her recollections of the outlaw attack. She sat on the opposite side of Honor’s bed and, stroking the sleepy hound’s back, waited until the young woman felt ready to share her misery.
After sighing again, Nanette told of Ryder’s rejection in the bailey.
“Why do men have to be so unyielding?” the young woman moaned.
Amelia scratched the dozing hound’s ear. “At least you now know how Ryder feels about you,” she said gently. “Your heart is free to find love with someone else. Someone better suited to you.”
Nanette shrugged, but she seemed to have found some solace in Amelia’s words. After a brief silence, the young woman asked, “What did you want to tell me earlier?”
Amelia’s fingers curled into Honor’s warm fur. She couldn’t believe Ryder would hold them captive, and yet, she’d seen resolve in his eyes. “You should know Ryder is—”
A knock sounded on the door.
Amelia had told the guards in the passageway outside that she didn’t want to be disturbed…but mayhap the captain-of-the guard or one of her wounded men-at-arms needed to speak with her?
“Aye?” she called.
“Milady, please open the door.”
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice. “For what reason?” Amelia called.
“We ’ave items ta deliver.”
“From whom?”
“’Is lordship.”
“Please thank him, but we would prefer not to be disturbed,” Amelia replied.
“Milady, Lord Stanbury’s orders—”
“Whatever his lordship has sent,” Amelia said firmly, “please take it away.”
Murmurs carried from outside. Then: “We also ’ave a message fer Lady Nanette.”
“For me?” The young woman pushed to her feet. “What message?”
“John enjoyed meeting ye by the well earlier.”
Nanette’s eyes widened. “John is a squire?”
“Aye. He wonders if ye’d like ta walk with ’im in the garden.”
Nanette squealed and excitedly stamped her feet. “I want to go. I absolutely must.”
Chuckling, Amelia rose; ’twas good to see the young woman’s confidence had returned. “I think the walk is a fine idea.” She went to the door, Nanette following close behind. Outside in the passageway, Amelia found a handful of servants, one of them a blond lad she recognized from the bailey. Some of the folk held chairs and linens, others a table, as though readying to set up for a meal.
Nanette brushed past Amelia to stand with John. His face scarlet, the young lad smiled at her.
Amelia met John’s shy gaze. “You will take a chaperone.”
He pointed to a red-haired maidservant. “She will come with us.”
“All right, then.”
John offered Nanette his arm, and with the maidservant in tow, they strolled away.
Amelia faced the rest of the servants. “Thank you, but what you have brought will not be needed. Please tell his lordship I wish to be left alone.” She shut the door.
More muttering—the voices sounding concerned—reached her through the door. She leaned back against it and listened, until at last, the corridor fell silent.
Amelia’s shoulders lowered on a sigh. She was a bit hungry, and had to wonder about the table and chairs. Had Ryder sent them because he’d guessed she and Nanette would prefer to eat in the chamber and because he’d wanted them to be comfortable while dining? Or had he some other motive?
Whatever the reason, after their conversation in the garden, she refused to go along with what he wanted. ’Twas a matter of principle.
If she proved to be as obstinate as he was, mayhap Ryder would re
consider holding her hostage.
Honor yawned, stretching his legs toward the fire before his eyes closed again. She crossed to the table, opened the ink pot, and began to write down what she remembered of the ambush.
Some moments later, the quill scratching on the parchment as she started a new paragraph halfway down, a draft blew across her ankles. How odd that she’d only noticed it now, but castles were drafty places even in the middle of summer.
She set the quill to the parchment again…and the hairs at the back of her neck prickled.
She was no longer alone.
Amelia dropped the quill and spun around. Ryder stood leaning against the opposite wall.
Glancing at the door, she saw ’twas still closed. That meant he’d come in from a secret passage. Years ago, they’d played hide-and-seek in such passageways at Callingston.
“Not fair, Ryder.”
“Mayhap not, but I did not think you would let me in if I knocked.”
The wall behind him bore a tapestry that covered a portion of the stonework. He caught her gaze, and clearly guessing her thoughts, nodded.
How silly she was not to have searched the room earlier, but she’d had other matters on her mind, and she’d never expected him to enter without asking her first. “’Tis not very chivalrous to surprise a lady in her chamber,” she said.
“Agreed. Deception would not have been necessary, though, if you had let the servants fulfill my orders.”
“What if I had been undressing?”
A subtle tension crept into his features. Was he reacting to her accusatory tone, or the scandalous notion of seeing her without all of her garments?
“I did not even hear the door open,” she quickly added.
“The locks and hinges of my keep’s hidden doors are well oiled. ’Tis important in case of a siege.”
Even as she acknowledged the wisdom of such a decision, Ryder strode past her and opened the chamber door. “You can bring the things in now,” he said.
Men brought in the furniture and set it near Honor’s bed. A maidservant draped a linen cloth on the table, and others set out a vase of roses, candles, goblets, a wine jug, silverware, and a lidded pot, along with a wooden board laden with bread and cheese. They left, shutting the door behind them.
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