Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)
Page 20
“Stop!” Juliana shrieked. Footfalls pounded on the floorboards. Edouard raised his head to see Juliana standing between him and Tye, her hands fisted, hair a wild tangle down her back. Sunlight poured over her, turning her chemise to the pure white of fresh snow.
Tye’s gaze prowled over her. Edouard gritted his teeth, for he knew the sheerness of her garment. Lit at just the right angle, it might become transparent, baring all her innocent beauty to Tye’s view.
Stubbornly ignoring his pain, Edouard rose.
Tye didn’t cease his lustful inspection that left no doubt what he wanted to do to Juliana. Clearly sensing a physical threat, she raised her fists as though to ward him off.
“Tye,” Edouard croaked. His voice was barely audible to his own ears; he drew more gasped breaths and willed strength to return to his words.
“You want to fight me now, fierce little Juliana?” Tye chuckled like the gutter-born rogue he was.
She didn’t move; not even the slightest flinch. “I want you to leave Edouard alone.”
“Such passionate words.”
“Please,” she said. “Just go.”
How proud Edouard was of Juliana for being so brave. Another part of him, though, resented that she felt she must do battle for him. “Listen to her,” he managed to growl. “Leave.”
With lazy disdain, Tye’s attention shifted from her to Edouard. “This fight between us is not done, Brother.”
“I agree,” Edouard said. “’Tis not.”
Tye smiled. “I vow it has only begun.”
A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As soon as the door slammed behind Tye, Juliana whirled and dashed to Edouard’s side. He leaned back against the wall, sitting with his legs bent and his arms braced on his knees. Leaning his head back against the stone, he shut his eyes.
Tears still wet on her cheeks, she dropped down on her knees at his left side, took his face in both hands, and tilted it to her view.
He winced and his eyes flew open. “Ah—!”
“What?” Lifting her left fingers, she spied the purpling bruise on his jaw. “Oh. Sorry.” Cringing inside, she dropped her hands into her lap. As Edouard carefully flexed his jaw, she asked, “Are you all right?”
“Aye.”
“Do you hurt anywhere else?”
Edouard’s gaze slid away. He looked mutinous, angry, and she sensed him struggling with an inner torment. Most likely, he didn’t want to admit to his other injuries. He doubtless saw himself as a bold, brave warrior, and he’d endure, congratulating himself for suffering in silence.
New tears dampened her eyes while she studied the taut planes of his face. His expression, when he’d held that chain wrapped around Tye’s neck . . . Frightening. Her heart had squeezed so tightly within her rib cage, she couldn’t breathe, for in that instant, she knew he’d kill Tye if circumstances left him no alternative.
There had been a choice, though. Edouard had listened to her. Respected her plea. Spared Tye’s life, and for that, Edouard was all the more noble to her.
Tye’s kicking of Edouard? Unscrupulous. In a fight governed by chivalry, Tye would have been disqualified and sent off in dishonor. Yet ’twas clear he didn’t care about gallantry. He wanted to appear to have won the scuffle, by whatever means he deemed necessary. Another reason why Edouard’s actions were even more admirable.
Still looking at a point beyond her, Edouard swallowed; her attention fell to his Adam’s apple, moving beneath his tanned skin. How she ached to tell him how grateful she was that he hadn’t committed murder. How she wanted to voice the emotions churning inside her: admiration; relief; . . . and something wonderful she couldn’t quite name.
“Edouard,” she whispered, willing him to meet her gaze.
He closed his eyes again. He didn’t answer.
Juliana fought the dismay gnawing at her. He didn’t move, but he was withdrawing from her, taking refuge behind a mental barricade. She shifted on her knees and her breast brushed against his bent knee—an unplanned contact that she felt, with shocking intensity, in places she dared not name.
At her sharp inhalation, his eyes opened. His gaze, smoldering with emotion, settled on her mouth.
Did he want to kiss her, as she’d secretly dreamed? ’Twas shameful that she yearned for the intimacy.
“Edouard,” she murmured, “I—”
“You should not have confronted Tye.”
At last, Edouard spoke to her. Not, however, in the tender manner she’d hoped.
Tamping down a pang of disappointment, she said, “He looked about to kick you again.”
“I can defend myself,” Edouard gritted, each word edged with frustration.
So he suffered from wounded pride, as well as a battered body. Was being rescued by a woman more distressing to him than his other discomforts?
Gentling her tone, she said, “Of course you can defend yourself. But you are at a disadvantage, being chained as you are.”
Edouard’s stare bored into her. Was he angered by her honest words? Did he resent her pointing out his infirmity? “Juliana,” he growled. “The brazen way he looked at you—”
An icy shiver rippled through her. “Aye, but—”
“But all is well?” Edouard threw his arm wide, causing a dissonant clank of the chain. “But he left us alone, so we should simply forget the matter?”
The intensity of Edouard’s gaze snatched her next breath. Did she see fury in his eyes, or an emotion even more startling: jealousy? She struggled to speak calmly. “I did not say—”
“I am glad you did not try. I will not forget that insult to you.”
Tears again moistened her eyes. For him to speak so fiercely . . . To feel so strongly on her behalf. . . . Had any man ever been so passionate about her?
“Tye will answer for his disrespect, along with all his many other crimes.”
She blinked the wetness from her vision, even as a thrill rushed through her to flit like a moth in her stomach. She’d thought Edouard noble before; she now wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him like a giddy fool.
But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Nara, what a fine husband you have found. I can only hope one day to find a man even half as gallant.
Squashing a flare of jealousy, she said, “Thank you, Edouard.”
He nodded once, and then his chains shifted. Before she guessed his intentions, he slid his fingers into her hair and wound a generous fistful around his hand. At the startling, unexpected entrapment, she tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold a fraction. Gently, but firmly, he pulled her head toward his.
“What . . .?”
His narrowed gaze locked with hers. Beneath the fall of his lashes, his blue eyes gleamed as though lit with cold fire, and she caught her breath, wary, yet at the same time, enthralled.
“Do not,” he ground out, “speak so—”
“Edouard—”
“—to Tye again.”
She sucked in a quivery breath and tried to wrest her gaze from his. But she couldn’t. His blazing stare captured her with its heat, commanded her to obey him. In the corners of his gaze, though, she caught traces of his fear for her, and of his wish to protect her.
“I know you are going to disagree,” he said roughly, “but I will not have you come to harm. Not on my behalf.”
Juliana frowned, even as his fingers relaxed their grip on her tresses, for her earlier encounter with Tye had given her an idea. One that might aid their escape.
As she sat back on her heels and smoothed her hair, Edouard muttered, “I was right. I see it in your eyes. You are going to disagree with me.”
“Aye, because you make demands I cannot possibly keep. How can I not speak to Tye? He will grow suspicious if I refuse to acknowledge or answer him.”
Edouard sighed. “Of course you can speak to him. Just do not challenge him.”
“Are you asking me to do that, Edouard, or ordering me?”
Concern darkened his expression. He shook his head. “Look, Juliana—”
“I know Tye is a dangerous man.”
“You cannot imagine. The less you must associate with him, the better, for your own safety. From now on, you will let me—”
“I will not promise to never challenge Tye again, Edouard. That may be our way to get free.”
Edouard’s mouth flattened into an uncompromising line. “What do you mean?”
The enormity of her plan welled up to loom inside her like a grinning specter. However, she wouldn’t lose her courage. Not if it meant she could save Edouard and his noble sire and put a stop to whatever cruelty Tye and Veronique were plotting.
“One of us must get out of this chamber and get the key to your shackles,” she said with surprising calmness. “Also, the more I see of this castle, the better chance I have of my memories returning. Then, when we escape, I will be able to guide us out of the keep to safety.”
Edouard said naught. He was, however, watching her attentively.
She rallied her courage, sensing she walked a precipitous path. “I thought I would try and convince Tye to take me from this room. Only for a short while, of course.”
Edouard exhaled through his teeth.
She threw up a hand to stop any protest from him. “I realize ’tis dangerous, but if we do not escape soon, we may both die here.” Softening her tone, she added, “Nara is waiting for you to return to her. Do you really want to give up your wedding to her?”
His impassioned gaze glowed even brighter than before. His love for Nara must be true and precious. Juliana struggled with a fresh pang of jealousy.
“How, exactly, will you persuade Tye to take you from this chamber?” Edouard demanded.
Dread coursed through her. ”I shall entice him.”
***
“Mother.”
Tye’s voice cut through the clang of swords wielded by two mercenaries dueling in the sun-drenched bailey. What did he want now?
Biting back an oath, Veronique braced her hands on her thighs and rose from squatting before the woolen mantle she’d stretched out on the dirt. The prime spot not only allowed her to accomplish her fortune telling, but watch the fight and decide which mercenary would be most useful to her.
Now that she was standing, the arrangement of bones upon the mantle looked slightly different, but equally uninformative.
Tye halted beside her and frowned. “Why did you bring those outside? Whose garment—?”
“Edouard’s.” Veronique gnawed on her fingernail. “I had hoped, by casting my bones upon a garment belonging to him, that I might gain insight into the coming days.”
“And?”
“The future remains unclear.” She sighed and glanced at the tantalizing display of male prowess close by; her gaze settled on the taller of the bare-chested men, then the stockier one.
Her hand instinctively smoothed over the gown she’d tugged into place a short while ago, after walking, flushed and weak-kneed, out of the stable. Fornicating helped to clear her concentration; she’d insisted upon it before casting her bones. She’d almost torn her skirts in her frantic, gasping, womb-shuddering rut with a young, blond mercenary, a friend of these two warriors who’d given up his turn to fight to lie with her.
Her bodice wasn’t quite straight, but Tye might not notice.
His lips broke into a smile that flashed all of his straight, white teeth. He looked at the mercenaries, then back at her. “Accomplishing two desires at once, I see.”
“Whatever do you mean?” She arched her eyebrows.
The glint in his eyes warned he knew full well what she’d done.
He laughed. “Do not play coy with me, Mother. The glow of sex still warms your face.”
Sometimes she wished he wasn’t quite as wretchedly perceptive, but then again, she’d raised him to be so. He had to be quick-witted to defeat and kill his noble sire, the destiny she expected of him. But that didn’t give him any right whatsoever to remark on her sexual liaisons.
“That is enough, Tye.” With luck, her tone, fit for a disobedient infant, would silence his teasing. However, she silently admitted with a twinge of regret, he was far from a child. His impressive physique proved he was all man; so did the trysts she’d caught him in over the years with serving wenches, courtesans, and even widowed ladies. If he wasn’t her own flesh and blood, she’d have lured him to her bed long ago.
Tye’s attention shifted to the mercenaries, grunting as their swords locked. The weapons slid together with a shriek before the men sprang apart, their faces shiny with sweat. “The question is,” Tye said quietly, “have you had enough? Or are these two next?”
She wrinkled her nose. A fresh tug of lust, though, wove through her. Her son—wicked and clever boy—might well be right.
The sooner she finished with Tye and sent him away, the sooner she could focus on other matters, such as the men at hand.
“What do you need of me, Tye?” she demanded. “Did you come merely to pester me, or do you have news?”
A sly gleam lit his eyes. “I do have news.”
Veronique drew an excited breath. “Juliana’s memories have come back?”
“Not that I know of, Mother.” Clearly anticipating her demand for his information, he raised a staying hand. “However, I found her and Edouard lying together this morning.”
“Did he deflower her? Do you think . . ?”
Tye shook his head. “She did not have that look about her.”
“Mayhap this evening, then,” Veronique said with a wicked cackle.
“That might, indeed, come to pass. You see, Juliana challenged me in the chamber after I kicked Edouard. She clenched her fists and looked about to punch me in the stomach.”
A grin curved Veronique’s lips. “What a brave but foolish girl. Did she not realize you could have knocked her to the floor with one strike?”
“I believe her emotions were so heightened they diminished her sense of caution.”
“Ah. Juliana has developed feelings for Edouard.”
“Aye, Mother.”
“Feelings,” Veronique murmured, caught up in her evolving thoughts, “she must realize are not at all proper, when Edouard is her sister’s betrothed. When I spoke to Azarel earlier, Tye, she did not advise another potion for Juliana. She said Juliana’s memories would likely return when prompted by strong emotional reactions, such as anticipation, or fear—”
“Or desire?”
Sometimes, Tye could be such a bright boy. A smile born from that ingrained, often inconvenient sense of maternal instinct burgeoned inside Veronique. Still, she couldn’t keep herself from bestowing that affection upon her son as she patted his cheek. “Aye.”
Tye smiled back. Mischief glinted in his eyes. “What do you suggest?”
Veronique laughed, a gloating sound that carried across the bailey. The two fighting men paused and looked her way. “We shall tighten our grip on Juliana’s fragile emotions. We must, after all, find Landon’s ring. If what I have in mind works, we will not only revive her memories today, but have her seeking comfort again in Edouard’s arms. You, Tye, are just the man to accomplish what needs to be done.”
A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What do you see?” Edouard asked, his gaze on Juliana standing before the window, peering out.
The ring of swordplay carried up from the bailey. Not enough noise to signal a rescue, but his men might be attempting an escape. Impatience chafed at Edouard. If only he could see for himself! He hated having even that small freedom denied to him.
“Two men are dueling with swords,” Juliana said. “I do not see much else.”
“Look to the edges of the bailey.” He tried to envision standing before the window’s iron grille, looking down, and using all that his warrior training had taught him to analyze the scene before him. “Who else is there with the fighters? Are other armed men standing around? Is anyone lyin
g on the ground, injured? Do you see saddled horses, or—?”
Juliana flicked a hand at him. “Patience. Please.”
Tenderness softened her voice. He silently groaned, for when her memories returned, she’d realize how much she despised him. Would she resent having trusted him enough to sleep beside him? Embarrassed by the thoughts she’d shared about her feelings for him, she might avoid him for the rest of their living days.
A crushing ache pressed upon Edouard. Her laughter, her beauty, the way his heart soared when she smiled at him . . . He’d never care for Nara the way he loved Juliana. He should have listened to his father’s wise words years ago and insisted on a betrothal to her. Then neither he nor Juliana would be in this wretched mess now.
As Edouard blinked away his regrets and focused again on Juliana, he noted she’d curled her hands around the grille and risen on tiptoes to lean farther into the embrasure. Standing that way, her body looked even more lithe. Her gown clung to her bottom, emphasizing its enticing roundness. He curled his hands into fists, feeling the pinch of his manacles against his wrist veins, as his desire flamed anew.
“Wait!” She pressed her brow to the grille, tension now in her posture. “I see Veronique.”
“What is she doing?”
“Speaking with Tye, who is beside her now.”
Just hearing that bastard’s name, especially when his blood ran hotter, made Edouard want to slam his hand into the wall. A broken wrist, though, would only be a hindrance in an escape.
“What else?” he asked, shifting his stance on the pallet. He rolled his shoulders, more to tamp down his impatience than because he felt the need. “Are Tye and Veronique holding any objects? Are they speaking with any others?”
“Not that I can tell. The men are continuing their swordfight.” She sighed. “I do not believe aught of consequence is happening.”
“When Veronique and Tye are together,” Edouard said, “aught of consequence is most definitely—”
Veronique’s shrill laughter carried up from the bailey.
Juliana glanced his way. “I vow you are right.”