Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)

by Catherine Kean, Anna Markland, Elizabeth Rose, Laurel ODonnell, Barbara Devlin, SueEllen Welfonder, Amy Jarecki

  “Whatever they intend, we will defeat them. We must escape, Juliana. Today.”

  Juliana faced him, her expression solemn. “I agree.”

  “I have tried to think of a sound plan that does not put you in jeopardy, but—”

  “There are few options,” she finished for him. “’Tis why I must focus on Tye.”

  Edouard exhaled on a frustrated growl. He couldn’t stand to think of her alone with Tye. What he might do to her . . .

  “I know you do not like the idea,” Juliana rushed on. “However Tye, like Veronique, depends upon my memories returning to find the gold ring. He will not risk harming me. At least not until he has the information he wants.”

  Bitterness gouged Edouard like an invisible knife. He, the trained warrior, should be protecting Juliana, confronting danger to rescue her, not the other way around. “I have another suggestion. Azarel will likely visit you again today to check on your injury. When she does, you will lure her over to me. I will take her hostage.” He regretted using a woman for leverage, especially one who already seemed terrified, but Veronique valued the healer’s skills; for all he knew, Veronique might depend upon them.

  Juliana frowned. “Azarel is a kind woman. If she was hurt—”

  “She won’t be. I would make sure of it. Never would I harm a woman.”

  “You might not, but what of the others?” Juliana rubbed her arms, as though chilled. “We do not know what Veronique might do to prevent you from getting free. She might order Tye or her lackeys to kill Azarel while she is your captive. Then we would have accomplished naught, except the death of a woman devoted to caring for others.”

  He loosed a silent groan. Juliana was right.

  “My plan is the only choice, Edouard.” Her determined gaze held his. “I must get my memories back, and if I leave this chamber, that might happen. I will look for anything to aid our escape. A weapon. Keys . . .”

  Edouard squeezed his eyelids shut, struggling against the battle waging in his heart. He felt her hand upon his arm and opened his eyes to look down at her.

  “I can save us,” Juliana whispered. “I want to try.”

  “I cannot protect you,” he said hoarsely.

  She smiled. “When you are free of your chains, you will rescue us all.”

  Her brave words sent anticipation racing through him, rousing anew his rebelliousness. Aye, he would rescue Waddesford Keep. He’d give Veronique and Tye a fight to make his father proud.

  Edouard nodded. “All right. Promise me, though, you will be careful. Promise me—”

  A muffled exchange of voices came from beyond the door. An instant later, there was the rasp of the key.

  Juliana’s posture stiffened. “If ’tis Tye,” she whispered, “I must act now.”

  Edouard’s teeth ground together. Sheer luck only that they didn’t break apart in his mouth, but he forced himself to nod.

  “’Twill be more convincing”—she darted away—“if you seem reluctant and even . . . jealous.”

  Pretend to be jealous? If she only knew what raged inside him.

  The chamber door opened. Tye sauntered in, one hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His other hand clasped what appeared to be a garment, along with a pair of leather shoes.

  His gaze fell to Juliana’s vacant pallet, before he quickly glanced about the chamber. When he found her by the window, he grinned. “There you are.”

  She didn’t answer. Facing him, she linked her hands together. Sunlight poured in through the window, surrounding her in light.

  “Why are you standing there, Juliana?” Tye took a step toward her in that slow, almost predatory way of his.

  “I wanted to catch the sun’s warmth.” Her voice held the faintest waver.

  “Leave her be,” Edouard snapped, hoping he sounded suitably annoyed.

  “I am not speaking to you,” Tye shot back, while he moved closer to Juliana. He clearly meant to trap her against the wall with his body.

  Edouard cursed. He couldn’t reach either of them while chained.

  As Tye neared her, his focus slid to the sunlight outside. “Not spying on me, love, were you?”

  Her mouth pinched, and he chuckled.

  “Do not call me such,” she said.

  “What?” Tye feigned a gesture of innocent surprise. “Love?”

  “Aye. You are not my love. Neither am I yours.”

  “Ah, Juliana, but you could be.”

  An image of Tye and Juliana lying naked together, his hand trailing over her virginal skin, brought an angry red haze to Edouard’s vision. “Pretend to be jealous,” Juliana had said. Hellfire, he’d show her jealous. “Cease, Tye,” he snarled.

  Reaching for her, Tye set his hand upon her shoulder. His fingers trailed down her shoulder blade to the swell of her breast in a slow, purposeful caress.

  Her back flattened to the wall, Juliana shuddered.

  Blinding rage seared through Edouard. “Do not touch her.” He sounded jealous all right—just as he felt.

  A mocking laugh broke from Tye. He glanced at Edouard. “You want to stop me, Brother? Go ahead.” His gaze returned to Juliana and he shoved the garment and shoes at her. “Put these on.”

  “Why?”

  “You are to come with me. We cannot distract the other men in the keep with your”—his lustful gaze skimmed over her—“state of undress, despite how fetching you look.”

  How dare Tye ogle her as though she was intended for his pleasure! Lunging to the end of his chains, Edouard dragged in a shaky breath. “Where are you taking her?”

  Tye stepped away from Juliana. “’Tis not your concern, Brother.”

  “’Tis indeed my concern. I brought her to Waddesford. Thus I am honor-bound to protect her.”

  Edouard caught the pride and resolve in Juliana’s gaze before she dropped the shoes on the floor and shook out the garment, a plain, woolen gown. Turning her back to Tye, she drew the garment over her head and smoothed it down over her chemise.

  “Honor-bound?” Tye’s lips curved in a nasty smile. “How pointless, especially when you will soon be dead.”

  ***

  When the door to the tower chamber slammed behind Juliana, she flinched. She squared her shoulders and tried not to heed her thumping pulse.

  She met the gazes of the two guards, standing with their swords drawn. Any hopes she had, however remote, of racing down the stairs and escaping Tye fizzled like raindrops on a hot stone.

  One of the men stepped behind her and, with the jangle of keys, locked the door. Tye brushed past her, close enough to stir the skirt of the gown he’d given her. The coarse fabric scratched her skin through her chemise, but she’d tolerate the discomfort even if she broke out in a rash; at last, she was out of the chamber.

  Tye paused at the entry to the stairwell and studied her, his face rendered an eerie mask of light and darkness by the burning wall torch nearby. “Do not even think about escape, Juliana. If you so much as try—or I believe you are contemplating it—I will haul you back here and you will never leave this chamber alive again. Understand?”

  Fear welled inside her, but she forced it aside and nodded.

  A hard grin tilted his mouth. “You might think you can trick me, pretend to obey while you’re secretly looking for a way to save yourself and Edouard. I assure you, all of the folk in this keep are loyal to me and Mother. You can trust no one.” His lewd gaze ran over her. “Not even me.”

  “I would not be foolish enough to trust you.”

  He laughed softly. “So says the willful but innocent little lamb.”

  The two guards snickered.

  Juliana stiffened. “’Tis in my interest, as well as yours, for me to recall my past. I am eager to see as much of the keep as possible.” Fighting a nagging trepidation, she gestured to the area enclosing them. “I see naught here that I recognize beyond the past day.”

  Tye raised his brows. “You have not forgotten your boldness, Juliana.”

 
“What makes you say such?” she asked, but her words were drowned by the tramp of his boots as he took the first few steps down.

  “Come,” he said.

  She had no choice but to follow; no other passage led away from the chamber.

  Juliana crossed to the stairwell and started to descend, pressing one hand against the stone wall to guide her way. Down into the unknown, her mind whispered

  Around and down the stairwell went, like an uncoiling serpent. The musty smells of stale air and ancient rock surrounded her. In the farthest reaches of her mind, the darkness stirred, akin to dense fog shifting in a breeze.

  Willing the sensation to gather into a memory, she continued her descent. Hope quickened her pulse. How fervently she hoped her recollections returned. Then she’d finally, completely know who she was.

  Some distance down, Tye halted several steps below her and glanced back. “Well?”

  “Naught yet,” she said.

  He stared at her for a long, grueling moment, as though debating whether she’d lied to him. Then he turned and continued down the stairs.

  When some distance along, they came to a passageway opening off the stairwell, Tye waited for her to catch up to him. “You will go ahead of me.” His hand slid along her lower back to nudge her. “That way, I can keep watch upon you.”

  You already told me I couldn’t get away, a voice inside her sniped. I know your warning was genuine. She kept silent, though, and did as he bade.

  On they went, through the shadowed corridors of the keep, until she saw an iron-banded wooden door on the left.

  Somehow, this passageway seemed familiar.

  An ominous pressure, very different from the earlier stirring, crawled up from the base of her skull. It slipped into her thoughts and rammed against the void in her mind: a memory, fighting to break free. So strong was the sensation that she stumbled, fingers pressed against her brow.

  Closing her eyes, she willed the recollection to materialize.

  “What is wrong?” Tye demanded, sounding a distance away.

  She thought of lying and saying “naught.” However, if he grew suspicious, he might send her back to the cell without her being able to experience more. “I sensed . . . something.”

  Heaving in breaths, she straightened, opened her eyes, and glanced about the corridor, wisped with smoke from the wall torches. Tye stood a few paces away, hands on hips, his hard gaze upon her.

  Hot, sharp tension buzzed inside her as she let the emotions of the place sift deeper into her consciousness. A terrible event had happened here. She must remember.

  Her head began to pound. “Where are we?” she whispered.

  Tye gestured to the door. “The solar.”

  The solar. Where she’d wakened yesterday and met Veronique. Where Juliana had previously lived and cared for Mayda’s babe. She would have traveled this passageway often. No wonder her senses had roused. But something—something!—awful had taken place here and left its imprint upon her soul.

  “What do you see?” Tye urged.

  Tears moistened her eyes. She struggled to probe the void in her mind. Please. She wanted to remember all. She wanted to understand why she felt this way.

  “Juliana?” Anger now darkened Tye’s tone.

  Frustration broke from her in a sob. “I see naught. I am trying to remember, but . . .” She grimaced. “My head.” She touched her throbbing forehead. “It hurts so fiercely.” She fought a threatening wave of dizziness, determined not to faint. Not when she seemed so close to remembering.

  “The torches are giving off lots of smoke,” Tye said. “Mayhap you need fresh air.”

  She nodded. ’Twould be good to clear her head.

  He crossed to her, took her elbow, and propelled her onward to a narrow stairwell. A draft swept over her ankles, indicating an upper door opened to the outside.

  As Tye pushed her into the stairs, fear swirled into the emotions churning inside her. She’d climbed these stone steps before. Around the same time the terrible event had occurred?

  Edouard, I am horribly frightened.

  Thinking of him, though, of mayhap finding a way to free him, gave Juliana the strength to take the last stairs and push through the doorway to the wall walk.

  Sunshine lit the squared merlons and rough hewn walkway before her. An armed sentry farther down looked her way, then resumed his watch on the landscape beyond the keep.

  As her gaze traveled the wall walk, a monstrous sense of dread swept through her. Something gruesome had transpired here, too. Panic seared her thoughts, urged her to turn around and flee back down the stairs, but Tye was behind her. If he sensed her memories were returning, he wouldn’t let her past.

  What had happened here? Oh, God, what?

  Pressing a trembling hand to her forehead, she moved forward. Her inhalation rattled in her throat, for the foreboding pulled at her like a malicious ghost. It dragged her consciousness down, down, as though she were falling into dank, smothering blackness.

  Into . . . icy water.

  She gasped, eighteen years old again, the well’s coldness swallowing her.

  “Juliana.”

  Was that Edouard’s voice, as he called down to her from the rim of the well?

  Nay, not his voice. Tye’s.

  She realized once again that she stood on the wall walk. The breeze stirred her gown and she shivered, hugged herself tight, for she still felt the frigid water sucking her down. The chill seeped into her skin, her heart, her bones . . . Deathly coldness.

  Tye was beside her now. “What is wrong, Juliana?”

  She held up a hand, staying Tye before he tried to catch her arm. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. With each painful beat, she sensed the onslaught of more insight.

  The wind gusted through the space between the nearby merlons; the sound was like a wail.

  Like an infant’s cry.

  An image flashed into her thoughts. A baby, crying. Struggling in her arms.

  Rosemary!

  “You look very pale,” Tye said. “Are your memories returning? Do you recall what took place here?”

  Beware, Juliana. Tye is a part of what happened.

  Rubbing her brow, she forced her lips into a weak smile. “My head aches very badly. ’Tis almost unbearable.”

  “I will tell Mother, so Azarel can prepare another potion.”

  “Hopefully after I have breathed the morning air awhile, the pain will ease.”

  His stare sharpened, as though he suspected she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but then he nodded and glanced away. While she blew out a relieved breath, she became aware of conversation carrying from down the wall walk. The sentry’s head turned as he spoke to someone standing beside him, blocked from Juliana’s view.

  Darkness suddenly whirled into Juliana’s mind, rousing the sense of nighttime. Raised voices. Landon and Mayda arguing on the wall walk. Mayda cradling her face, as again they fought.

  Juliana swallowed hard. What had she witnessed?

  Landon’s fist slammed into Mayda’s head. She fell against the merlon. Tried to get away, but Landon shoved her. She fell, screaming, over the side. To her death.

  “Oh, God,” Juliana moaned.

  “Juliana,” Tye snapped. “If you are lying to me—”

  She clawed her hand into her hair. “My . . . head,” she managed to say, despite the grief and panic swarming inside her. She mustn’t let Tye know she remembered Mayda’s murder. If he guessed her memories were starting to come back, he and Veronique would force her to reveal the location of the gold ring. Then Edouard would die for certain.

  She fought to steady her tattered nerves. But then Veronique strolled from behind the sentry, her hair a garish hue in the sunlight.

  “Well?” Veronique called. “Has she remembered anything?”

  Juliana froze, captured by the memory of moonglow on Veronique’s red locks as she stepped out of the night shadows, applauding Landon’s actions. More memories careened, one afte
r another: Veronique blocking the passageway by the solar so Juliana couldn’t escape with Rosemary; Veronique smiling while the armed thugs seized Juliana; Veronique grabbing the baby from Juliana’s arms and thrusting her at a mercenary to be slaughtered.

  Anguish and hatred boiled up inside Juliana. She wanted to scream at Veronique, scratch her painted face, rip out handfuls of red hair. But that would help no one, especially Edouard.

  She shook, struggling to keep her emotions from being discovered. She mustn’t fail Mayda, Edouard, everyone she cared about.

  “Juliana?” Veronique’s eyes narrowed.

  Oh, God, did Veronique guess? Did she know?

  “She claims she has a bad headache,” Tye said.

  A rasp echoed. The scrape, Juliana vaguely realized, of Tye’s heel, but her mind filled with an image of Landon, his lip curled, his sword aimed at her, while thugs spun her around.

  “She is fainting,” Veronique shrieked.

  In her darkening mind, Juliana saw Landon’s sword slam into the back of her head.

  A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Juliana,” Edouard said in a gentle voice. Squatting on his pallet, he studied her ashen face, watching for the tiniest response. She lay on her side on her bed, where Tye had left her moments ago.

  The sight of her unconscious in Tye’s arms had sent fear lancing through Edouard. From the moment she’d left the cell, he’d worried. Tye and Veronique might use any means to get the information they wanted from her, including threats and the infliction of pain. His imagination had refused to give him a moment’s rest. Unable to focus on digging out the bolts, he’d counted the torturous moments until her return.

  When the door had opened and Tye had carried her in, a lethal roar had torn from Edouard. Rising to his feet, he shouted, “What have you done to her?”

  “She collapsed,” Tye said, his nonchalance fueling Edouard’s rage another notch.

  “Why? What torture did you force upon her?” A vile taste flooded his mouth. “Did you . . . defile her?”

  Tye raised his brows and knelt beside Juliana’s pallet. Her body slid down on the mattress, while her gown tangled about her legs. Standing again, Tye said, “Your fury is unwarranted, Brother. While we walked the passageway near the solar, she complained of a headache. I took her up to the wall walk in hopes the clear air would ease her discomfort. Whether pain caused her to swoon, or another reason, we will not know till she wakes.”