She opened one eyelid. “Still, you hover over me.”
“Still, I do.”
“Are you waiting for me to concede?” Her tone hardened. “Fine. In this battle, you have won.”
He hated the way her voice wavered. “I do not see this as battle,” he said.
“Conquest, then.”
He leaned in and kissed her brow. “Negotiation.”
“Persuasion, of the wickedest kind.”
He laughed; he couldn’t help himself. “I can think of far wickeder persuasions.” He was familiar with a few, for he hadn’t been celibate until he’d joined the Order.
“You mean you could wrest the ring from my finger?” Amelia challenged. “Indeed, what is stopping you from taking it from me right now?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “As I said before, I want you to give me the ring of your own free will.”
“And I have refused. I will continue to refuse.”
“Then be warned, I will continue my persuasion. ’Twill become wickeder….” He claimed the remaining space between them, pressing his torso and thighs against her. When her startled breath warmed his mouth, and their breaths mingled, he gently pressed his lips to hers. Softness. Warmth. The piquancy of wine. His senses roared with the onslaught of sensation.
He raised his head as she squirmed against him. “Ryder—”
“And wickeder.” He kissed her again. Not just touching her mouth with his, but lightly sweeping his lips over hers, tempting her to join him in the kiss. He sensed her shock, her hesitation, and brushed his mouth over hers again, and felt her push back against the wall and rise up on tiptoes.
All the better for kissing her.
“Wait,” she gasped.
He was done waiting. “And wickeder,” he murmured, cupping her face. His thumbs under her chin, he held her still as he kissed her again. Hunger flared. Desire burned, and he deepened his kisses, indulging all of the yearnings that had built up within him from the moment he’d known she was in the carriage.
At first, she resisted. She caught hold of his wrists, tried to pull his hands away. But, as his lips continued their tantalizing onslaught, her grip on him eased. She slid back down against the wall, and with a helpless sigh, her mouth opened beneath his. Their kisses quickened. When at last he lifted his head, she appeared dazed, her lips still parted.
His desire for her ran as hot as flame. He might have initiated the sensual persuasion, but in terms of who had gained the upper hand….
“You are wicked indeed,” she said.
When her hand rose to her lips, as if to touch where they’d kissed, Ryder turned away and strode for the door. Every part of him wanted to stay, tempt her further, and seduce her, but to do so would be damned wickedness indeed.
***
She’d never imagined a kiss could feel like that!
Once the door had shut behind Ryder, Amelia slowly slid down the wall, until she sat on the planks with her back pressed to the stone. Her whole body—nay, her entire being—felt awakened in a manner she’d never experienced before. Her lips were hot and tingly. An odd, aching heaviness gnawed in her belly, and her skin felt both flushed and cold at the same time.
The sensations were not repugnance, of that she was certain. Enjoyment? Possibly. Delight? Oh, she hoped not. She must be immune to Ryder. Her heart understood that resolve, even if her body didn’t.
She swept her hand over her face, just as the click of claws sounded on the planks. Honor trotted over and nudged her arm.
Taking his muzzle in her hand, she looked him in the eyes. “You were no help.”
Honor’s tail wagged.
“You could have barked, even,” she said with mock sternness.
The dog yawned, and his tail swished even harder.
Amelia rose and brushed the creases from her gown. The servants would arrive soon to take away the table and chairs—if they were not on the way already. If she wanted to escape the keep, she must go now.
Honor fell in alongside her as she crossed to the tapestry and drew it aside to reveal a door. She tried the handle. It didn’t budge.
She fetched a hairpin, pushed the ends into the lock, and wiggled the pin. One summer day years ago, Ryder had borrowed one of her pins to break into Tilden’s room and put slugs in his boots—retaliation for a trick her sibling had played. Ryder had shown her how to throw the lock. She applied more pressure to the pin, wiggled it again, and the lock yielded.
When she opened the door, musty air wafted out. A narrow passageway opened before her, but she could see no more than a few paces in. Honor darted past her into the darkness.
“Wait!” She slid the pin into her hair and fetched a candle from the table. Holding her hand in front of the flame to protect it from going out, she entered the passageway, ignoring the cobwebs drifting into her face. A short distance ahead, Honor glanced back at her then padded onward.
An object winked on the ground ahead. Amelia stooped and picked it up: a thin leather cord with a metal clasp. She wondered who it belonged to as she closed her fingers around it and continued on.
The passageway split, and she followed Honor into the right corridor. A flight of steps led down to an iron-bound door. Sunlight shone through cracks in the wood panels, and she guessed the bailey was beyond. His hind end wiggling, Honor stared at the door, waiting for her to open it.
Finding it locked, she blew out the candle, set it aside, and used her hairpin once again. The unlocked door swung outward, and Honor bolted outside.
Amelia found herself toward the rear of the fortress. The postern couldn’t be far away; she’d slip out of the castle and make her way to the road. She must beware, though, of being seen by men-at-arms on the battlements or any guards at the postern. After calling Honor to her side, she headed for the rear wall.
When she turned a corner, she came upon a young man and woman, pressed against the side of a building and caught up in a fevered kiss. She recognized both of them.
“Nanette!”
The young woman had already seen her. John sprang back, running his hands through his mussed hair and tugging at his garments. Honor, recognizing Nanette, raced to her, all happy wiggles.
“Lady Bainbridge.” John appeared terrified—as well he should. A kiss could be as binding as a betrothal. Was that what he’d intended, to better his position by trapping Nanette into marriage? Or had the young woman initiated the kiss?
“Where is your chaperone?”Amelia demanded, as Nanette approached.
“She was summoned to help in the kitchen, milady,” John said.
“Do you realize the consequences of what you have done?” Amelia eyed Nanette first and then the nervous squire.
Nanette’s chin nudged up. “I do not care if anyone saw us.”
“You should. What of your maidenly reputation? What would your parents say if they learned of this incident?”
The young woman pressed her shoulders back. “I could have died today in the outlaw attack.”
“But you did not—”
“Still, it made me realize there are many things I have not done. I wanted to know what ’twas like to kiss a man…and so I kissed John. I did ask his permission,” Nanette added.
“She did,” agreed John. “If I am to be punished by his lordship for what we did, so be it.”
As the lovers exchanged a longing glance, Amelia silently groaned. How could she remain upset with Nanette when as Ryder had shown her a short while ago, kisses could be quite marvelous and…enlightening?
Matters to ponder at a more convenient moment. The servants might already have reported Amelia gone from her chamber.
“We will speak more of this later, Nanette. Right now, you must come with me.” Amelia resumed walking toward the castle’s rear wall.
“Where are you going? Why—?”
“There you are.” At the sound of Ryder’s voice, Amelia’s heart sank. There was no hope of escaping now.
She faced him while he strode
toward her, his expression one of grim resolve. Had he guessed she’d been trying to flee?
“The servants reported you gone from your room,” he said, stopping in front of her.
“Honor needed a walk,” Amelia replied.
Ryder’s attention strayed to where she’d tucked her hairpin. His mouth eased into a knowing grin. “I see you remembered the trick I taught you years ago.”
***
Thank God he’d found her.
When the servants had informed him Amelia was gone, he’d experienced a sudden, sickening dread that an enemy he didn’t know he had yet had realized her ring was part of the Templar hoard and had abducted her, not only to get the jewel, but to pry information from her. He was most relieved she was safe and well, although she had cobwebs in her hair.
“What trick did you teach Amelia, milord?” Judging by the flush in Nanette’s cheeks, walking with John, who was hovering nearby, had agreed with her.
“I showed her how to unlock a door with a hairpin,” Ryder said.
Amelia smiled. “A useful skill. One every lady should know.”
“How fortuitous that you knew me years ago, then, to learn it.”
Her smile turned wry, and he experienced the overwhelming desire to haul her to him and kiss her again. Their earlier kisses had left him in a state of craving he’d never felt before, not even in his dreams.
“You must teach me that trick, Amelia,” Nanette said.
The last thing Ryder wanted was them practicing on the locks in his keep. Some of the doors were kept locked for good reason, and a few of the secret passageways could be treacherous to those who didn’t know them well. His tone stern, he said, “No more picking locks and exploring hidden passageways.”
Nanette gaped. “I missed exploring hidden passageways?”
“You did.” Amelia held up her hand. “I found this.”
When Ryder saw the cord dangling from her fingers, his brows rose. ’Twas the cord that had held the ring around his neck.
As he held out his hand to take the cord, John wiped his brow with his sleeve. He appeared to be sweating profusely.
Ryder frowned at the lad. “Are you all right?”
“A-aye. Fine, milord. Perfectly fine.”
The lad clearly was not fine. He was a conscientious sort, however, and took his duties very seriously. Mayhap he was overwhelmed by the responsibility of keeping Nanette occupied. “Have you shown her ladyship the rose garden?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Escort her to see the blooms.”
John cleared his throat. “First, milord, I must confess—”
“Whatever you need to say to me can wait. Go, both of you.”
As the two walked away, Amelia sighed.
“You sound troubled,” Ryder noted. “Is there aught you wish to tell me?”
She hesitated, as though debating difficult options. “Not just now,” she finally said.
“Very well. Now, come with me. I wish to talk somewhere private.” Somewhere that I can once again be alone with you.
“You wish to talk about—?”
He indicated the cord.
She fell in beside him as they crossed the bailey and headed for the tiltyards. The afternoon breeze rustled through the wildflowers and long grasses and swept them against her gown. She picked a dandelion head and plucked at the petals while they walked.
Certain they were far enough from the keep so they wouldn’t be heard, Ryder halted.
“So,” she murmured, tossing the dandelion aside.
The cobweb still clung to her hair, tempting him to brush it away. So,” he agreed, his voice turning husky.
“The cord—?”
“—is mine. I wore it around my neck, with the ring on it.”
“That means the thief traveled the hidden passageways.”
“It does indeed. He either dropped the cord by accident or chose to discard it. Can you tell me where, exactly, you found it?”
“’Twas near the door, only a few paces inside the passageway.”
Most intriguing. “I suspect from there, the thief took the right corridor and went out into the bailey,” Ryder said. “He likely wanted to leave the castle as quickly as possible.”
“Do you think the thief was working alone? That you are searching for one man or woman?” she asked.
“One man, I believe.”
Amelia’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Something I have wondered….”
“Mmm?”
“Where did you get the ring? Did you inherit it? I ask because it obviously means a great deal to you.”
As the breeze whispered around them, he mulled what to tell her. He could fabricate a tale, but ’twould mean lying to her—and ’twasn’t chivalrous to speak falsely. Moreover, after what she’d revealed to him about Tilden and the way she’d acquired the ring, ’twas clear she was as integral to the unfolding mystery as any of the Templars who’d brought home treasure. If Ryder wanted to protect her, ’twas only right that she knew the truth.
“In the great hall, you mentioned rumors of Templar treasure,” he began.
“Rumors you dismissed, if I remember correctly.”
“The treasure is real.”
“W-what?”
“The ring you wear. ’Tis part of a larger hoard, brought back to these lands by Templar knights. Those knights included me, Tilden, Gladwin, and Stephen.”
She stared up at him. “Do you speak the truth?”
“I do. I swear it, upon my soul.”
Amelia blinked hard and looked down at the jewel on her finger.
“There were warriors—traitors—in our king’s armies,” Ryder continued. “They would have sold the riches to make John Lackland King of England. We vowed to protect the treasures we were given, until they could be united in these lands in one location.”
“You returned with Tilden and the other in May, but still had the ring.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “Does that mean the hiding spot has not yet been determined?”
“Right.”
She frowned. “Do you think the thief will try and steal the other Templar riches, not just the ring?”
Anger flickered in Ryder’s veins. “I cannot say for certain, but ’tis possible.”
“The day the ring was taken—”
“’Twas stolen late at night. The cord was removed from around my neck by one of the men who drank with me that evening, all of whom have denied robbing me.”
“The thief was very bold, stealing the ring while a guest in your home.”
“Mayhap he hoped he would not be found out. What is most important now, though, is keeping the jewel safe. I took an oath; I am a man of my word. While I failed to protect the ring for the Templars, ’tis my duty to see it returned to them.”
Amelia glanced again at the jewel gleaming on her hand. Then she removed it from her finger and handed it to him.
As the weight settled in his palm, a sigh of relief broke from him. “Thank you.”
“I hope you find the thief.”
“I will.”
Her gaze somber, she asked, “The men who drank with you. Do you suspect one of them in particular?”
His fingers tightened around the ring. “I wish I did not. However, the last person to stay in the chamber you now occupy…was your brother.”
Chapter Nine
Amelia choked down a shocked cry. Tilden wasn’t responsible for stealing the ring. He couldn’t be.
Anguish filled her as denial locked around her heart. “You speak as though my brother staying in the chamber proves his guilt.”
“It does not prove it, exactly, but—”
“Others must know about or have access to the passageways. ’Tis not as though they are a secret of only this fortress. We played in the ones at Callingston. Remember?”
Remorse flickered in Ryder’s gaze. “I remember.” His tone held a roughness that spoke of less challenging days long gone. A dull ache spread through her, for speaking of the
past stirred up difficult emotions, ones that warred with memories of his apology and earlier kiss.
Ryder’s gaze had settled on her mouth, and longing coiled up inside her. Was it wrong, after all that had happened between them, to desire him—especially when he suspected her late brother of a grave crime? Confusion flared, and she turned her back on him then walked farther into the tiltyard, grasses dragging against her skirt.
“You may not like what I have told you,” Ryder called after her, “but you cannot avoid the truth.”
His words stung. Glancing back at him, she said, “I want the truth as much as you do. I do not believe we have found it yet.”
“We have found parts of it, though.” He indicated the ring and cord.
She faced him again. “Now that you have the ring, you have no reason to hold me here. I shall return home. I will seek the truth amongst my brother’s belongings.”
Ryder shook his head, and a mirthless smile curved his mouth. Clearly, he didn’t trust her.
“I would not destroy proof, if I found it.”
“I would not let you destroy it,” he said.
“Does that mean you will journey home with me, then? Help me search through Tilden’s effects?”
“Nay. As I suggested before, you will bring his belongings here.”
So naught had changed? She was still his captive? “You told me—”
“I recall my words. However, I also have a responsibility to protect you.”
“Keeping me hostage is protecting me?”
“Aye.”
Oh, but she wanted to rail at him, to condemn the injustice of her situation, but judging by his expression, he wasn’t about to compromise.
“How I wish we had never kissed,” she bit out.
His mouth flattened.
Run, Amelia. Run!
Nay, said another voice inside her. Stand firm.
Ryder claimed the space between them, his eyes blazing. Her pulse fluttered wildly. His right arm slid around her, pulled her flush against him, and the ring in his hand pressed against her side, before the jewel fell from his palm. With a thud, it landed on the ground.
She thought to step back and pick up the ring, but he said, “Leave it.”
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