Loving the Knight: Book 2: Eryndal & Andrew (The Hansen Series: Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew)

by Kris Tualla

  “I can use more able men on the estate. We’ll keep them and put them to work. In chains, of course.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Relief flooded Eryn and she sagged with it. As long as they lived, escape was possible. She waited to be led from the Hall and wondered at the delay.

  “Boy, lift your hood. Let me see your face.”

  Hugh spoke quickly, “My son is shy, my lord. But he’ll work hard for ye, I promise that.”

  The boots shifted, swelled with weight, and stepped forward. They were too clean to have seen any labor. “I wish to see his face.”

  Eryn’s heart slammed hard against her ribs and she felt faint. The hood flew back and a knuckle lifted her chin. She kept her eyes downcast.

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen,” she croaked as low as she could manage.

  A hand grasped her breast and squeezed so hard she knew she was bruised. She cried out in shock and pain, unable not to. The hand moved to her other breast and groped it thoroughly and roughly as well. She clenched her fists until her nails threatened to cut her skin, and told herself not to protest again—and not to punch the oaf.

  “It seems—sir—that you don’t know the difference between a man and a woman. Your ‘son’ is a daughter.” Whether to be certain of her sex, or whether to enrage her ‘father,’ Eryn couldn’t know; but one hand slid down her belly and cupped between her thighs. He squeezed her hard there too, and she cried out her pain again, scorched with shame. She felt she might truly burst into flames on the spot.

  Only one man had ever touched her there in her entire life. And if this pompous lout didn’t remove the offending limb soon, she might just kill him with her bare hands.

  He gave another squeeze and pulled his hand away. “I have different labors for her.”

  “My lord, she’s gently born,” Hugh argued. “I beg ye to let her go. Archie and I will gladly stay and labor for ye all our lives in exchange for her freedom.”

  Eryn heard the dull slap of flesh against flesh. Hugh fell to the floor. Blood dripped onto the stones. “You’ll stay here and labor all your lives as it is!” the man growled.

  Eryn’s head snapped up and she glared at their assailant. “Leave him alone! He only spoke to save me!”

  The lord was her height but easily twice her weight. His muscled physique softened around the middle and his brown hair grayed over his ears. “Do my ears deceive me?” he queried, obviously surprised. “Are you English?”

  “I—I was educated in England. For much of my life,” she stated. And before she could stop herself, she pointedly looked him over head to foot and blurted, “But I prefer Scotland. For obvious reasons.”

  His fist tightened again, as if he would hit her as well. But something in his expression shifted. He gave her a mocking grin. “A spirited wench. And a surprisingly pretty one at that. I shall greatly enjoy myself.”

  Archie threw himself at the man before Eryn could stop him. Two of the guards grabbed him; one struck his face and the other buried a fist deep his middle. Archie crumpled to the ground beside his father, wheezing for air, his blood also staining the floor.

  “Take them to the smith and get them shackled. Then throw them back in the smokehouse until I decide what to do with them.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Hugh and Archie were yanked to their feet. Hugh shot her a look of defeat, blood still streaming from his swelling nose, before he and Archie were dragged roughly toward the doorway.

  “If you ruin me, you cannot ransom me.”

  All movement halted and all eyes turned to Eryn. With a sharp bravado she did not truly possess, she added, “Had you not considered that? I certainly would have in your place.”

  The master’s gaze traveled slowly over Eryn’s ragged hair, worn tunic, dirty hose and heavy boots. She felt undressed, but she held her stance. The knowledge that she was already ‘ruined’ was immaterial and she shoved that little detail away. This man must believe everything she said.

  “If I am safely returned to my home—unspoiled—you will be rewarded.”

  The lord crossed his arms over his chest. Skepticism dripped from the single word, “How?”

  “What do you want?” Eryn lifted her chin and affected the arrogant pose of landed gentry. “Land? Cattle? Coin?”

  He pointed at Hugh. “How can he pay if he is my serf? Do you take me for a fool?”

  Eryn scoffed. “He is not my father! Look at us—do we bear any resemblance at all?”

  The lord did look. His brow furrowed. He was obviously considering the situation before him. “Then why are you dressed so? And in the company of these men?”

  Eryn shrugged and waved one hand. “My father treats me as if I were made of fine alabaster. On occasion I indulge in more active pursuits without his knowledge.”

  One brow lifted. “Such as poaching?”

  “We got lost!” she snapped. “And we gave you the game. What more do you need?”

  The man scowled. “You have a mouth on you, don’t you? Aren’t you afraid of what I might do to you?”

  Eryn blew an impatient sigh and rested her hands on her hips. “Leave me untouched and I’ll write a letter to my father in Castleton. When payment arrives, simply send me home with the messenger,” she pressed. The only thing in this world she could buy was time, but for now that was enough. “Give me pen and parchment and tell me what you want.”

  “Aw, hell!” The lord strode back to his chair. “I don’t want such a sharp-tongued wench. Toss her back in the smokehouse as well while I decide.”

    

  Drew, Kennan and Geoff watched the movements around the manor house from a hidden distance after circling for an acceptable vantage point. The horses were tethered several yards away.

  “There—do ye see? He’s carrying a basket to the smokehouse.” Drew squinted in the early afternoon sun. Clouds scudded overhead and promised precipitation, unlike the previous days of indistinct haze.

  “So someone is in there?” Geoff asked.

  Drew grunted. “Well, he’s no’ feeding the meat.”

  “There’s no smoke. So then there’s no meat in there,” Kennan observed.

  At Drew’s incredulous look, he frowned and added, “No’ that any one would feed meat.”

  Drew turned to Geoff. “Ye’ll ken the horses, aye? We’ll start there. After dark, Kennan and ye bring them to the smokehouse. I’ll get through the lock. If ye need to knock a few heads, do so.”

  Kennan eyed the constable. “Are ye well armed?”

  He nodded. “Bow, arrows, and a hunting dirk.”

  “But ye haven’t a sword,” Kennan grumbled.

  Geoff’s face ruddied. “No. Not with me.”

  “We’ll rest here and take turns keeping watch. MacDougal—ye are first.” Drew rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

  He didn’t care much for Geoff. It wasn’t that there was anything specifically wrong with the man; it was that the man didn’t deserve a woman as vibrant and strong as Eryn. She would roll over him like a siege machine. There would be nothing left of him and she would be alone.

  Not physically alone, mind. But left without true companionship.

  Kennan shook him awake and it took him a moment to recall why he was stretched out under the gray and yellow sky. Clouds thickened and spat on them as the sun weakened. Drew figured they had an hour until a pre-moonrise dark cloaked their actions.

  “Did ye rest?” he asked Kennan. Geoff snored nearby.

  “Aye.”

  “Did ye speak with the constable about the way back to Castleton?”

  “Aye.”

  “Once we have them, we can no’ slow down until we cross the border and there is no question.”

  Kennan nodded. “We are ready.”

    

  Eryn leaned against the stone wall and toyed with the last bit of her cold bread-and-water meal. The smokehouse stank of urine and worse after their three days
of captivity there. They were largely ignored with only the one basket of bread and water delivered midday.

  “That was a strike of genius, my lady,” Hugh said after he and Archie were returned to the smokehouse. Both sported leg irons and manacles. “Offering a ransom to purchase time.”

  Eryn refused to let herself cry when they shuffled into the enclosure; tears would not be in any way helpful. “Thank you, Hugh. Though I don’t know what we shall do to gain our freedom… No one knows where we are.” Only Geoff knew they were taken.

  And he turned and ran.

  Hugh smiled softly. “One step at a time, my lady. Do no’ give up yet.”

  “I’d give my life to save yers, Lady Bell,” Archie effused.

  Eryn realized of a sudden that her efforts to irritate Geoff had unintentionally won her an admirer. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Archie.”

  A rattle at the door jerked her attention and sent a jolt through her frame. Why was someone coming after dark? Had the insolent lord decided to take her honor after all?

  She heard Hugh and Archie’s chains jangling as they moved to flank the doorway. She stood and pressed her back against the wall as far from the door as she could be. Her heart thudded and she struggled to keep her bounding breaths quiet.

  A loud bang against the door made her jump. The door swung open. By pale starlight, Eryn made out a hulking body standing in the opening. No one moved.

  “Who is there?” The words rasped through the space between him and her. “Speak quickly and be saved.”

  Eryn gasped and held her breath without thinking. Was it possible? How was it possible?

  “Drew?” she squeaked.

  “Eryn!” Drew held out his arms. “Come quickly! Are ye alone?”

  “Archie and I are here,” Hugh spoke at Drew’s shoulder.

  Drew’s head twisted toward the voice. “Come. We have the horses.”

  “We’re in chains, Lord Andrew, but we’ll no’ slow ye down,” Hugh said.

  Eryn ran across the room and launched herself into Drew’s arms. “Thank you! I don’t know how you are here, but thank you!”

  “Explanations later, my lady,” Drew’s formal tone cautioned her. “For now, we must mount and be off.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Light rain and sleet fell on them as they mounted their horses. Drew and Geoffrey wrapped their cloaks around Hugh and Archie’s chains to keep them quiet as they did so. Eryn would not have believed she could be colder, but the dampness wicked through her clothing to her skin. Her teeth clattered and a chill shook her.

  Six riders walked, and then trotted away from the manor house before they broke into a ground-covering canter with Geoff and Kennan in the lead. Eryn and Drew rode behind them leading Hugh and Archie—sprawled awkwardly across their steeds and holding on to their saddles. Eryn had no chance to ask Drew how he knew where they were, but she was smart enough to figure out that Geoff had gone after the knight. Geoffrey most likely saved their lives. She sighed. Obviously she must take back all of her uncharitable thoughts.

  A warning bell sounded from the estate behind them.

  “Faster!” Drew commanded. Eryn kicked Rory and the gelding responded.

  They were already more than half a mile from the manor. Another half mile further, Geoff and Kennan led them off the road and into the woods. Forced to slow their pace in the dark forest’s growth, any pursuers must do likewise. They picked their way quickly but carefully until they reached the trees’ edge.

  Bursting into the meadow where they shot the deer, the group picked up speed in the open space. Once across the meadow and back under the cover of foliage, Drew called them to a halt.

  “We’ll rest the horses a bit. Kennan, MacDougal, draw your bows and watch for anyone that follows. When they enter the meadow, take them down, aye?”

  Archie slid off his horse and stumbled before he straightened, his chains clanking. “I’m the best shot. Give me a bow.”

  Drew looked to Eryn and she nodded.

  After a quarter hour, two shapes appeared in the meadow, lit by a half-moon when the clouds let it slip by.

  “Sir?” Kennan whispered.

  “Aye,” Drew answered.

  Bowstrings twanged. One man fell without a sound, but the second one cried out before he crashed to the ground. Their horses pranced in confusion, and then ran off in opposite directions.

  “Let’s go,” Drew ordered. “Quickly.”

  They rode without stopping for almost two hours before they reached Castleton. Eryn was shocked to see how far they had strayed in their quest for game. The only thing that kept her on her horse was pride. With the knight riding beside her, she was determined not to show weakness. She wanted to thank him, but couldn’t relax her jaw without her teeth clattering again with the cold.

  By the time they trotted into the Bell courtyard, every muscle in her body throbbed. Her extremities were numb, as were her cheeks. She was beyond exhausted. She was wet. She stank of smoke and soot. Her stomach was so empty she was certain it wrapped around her backbone. She didn’t know what she wanted first: a hearty meal, a hot bath, or a soft bed.

  Kennan and Geoff took the horses to the stable—along with Hugh and Archie to break their iron bonds. Drew helped her down from Rory and waited for her to stand on her own before he took his hands from her waist. Then he led her toward the manor door.

  Jamie waited in the entry hall, alarm and questions radiating from his entire frame.

  Drew spoke in her ear. “Go up to your chamber, Eryn. I’ll see that ye get what ye need.”

  Confused at first by debilitating fatigue, she understood his meaning when he gave her a little push toward the staircase. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  Eryn applied herself to climbing the stairs while Drew bent his head to the steward. Jamie nodded and hurried away, and then Drew bounded up the steps behind her. He swept Eryn into his arms and carried her the remainder of the way. At her chamber doorway he set her down. Then kissed her.

  His tongue plundered her mouth, ignoring her lack of hygiene. His hands slid under her tunic until they found her chilled skin. The heat of his palms gave her gooseflesh. His arousal pressed against her, and her body responded with an eagerness so powerful that it frightened her.

  “I stink,” she whimpered when he stopped for a breath. She leaned into his arms; reactions other than mere weariness had stolen the strength from her legs.

  “You are alive and safe, Eryn,” he murmured with his forehead bent to hers. “And after ye have had your bath and your supper, I’ll show ye precisely how glad I am about that.”

    

  Drew ate a hearty supper in the kitchen, eschewing the formality his position commanded. He wanted to be certain Eryn’s bath was sent up and that she was fed well and quickly. Then he sent hot water to the master chamber and followed its path up the stairs.

  He stripped off his begrimed travel clothes and turned them over to Ian, who continually remarked how happy he was to see Lord Drummond again, and thanked him profusely for rescuing the Lady Bell.

  “’Tis a knight’s duty, Ian,” Drew demurred. “And your gratitude is a testimony to the Lady, herself.”

  “Aye, sir.” Ian’s head bobbed as he left the room. “She is a Godsend, to be sure.”

  Drew washed himself well with hot water and soap. He dug a clean shirt from his bags and slipped it over his head. Then he set himself to cutting and tying a sheath from the last of his supplies.

  He stepped noiselessly to Eryn’s doorway on bare feet. He pressed the latch and eased the portal open. He slipped inside. And he locked the door.

  Eryn soaked in the wooden tub in front of the fire. Her eyes were closed. A tray holding crumbs, an empty platter, and a goblet rested on the hearth.

  “Could you hand me the towel?” she murmured. Her eyes blinked open and a sultry smile softened her cheeks.

  Drew retrieved the large linen towel from a chair and handed it to her. Eryn
pushed herself to stand in the tub. Her hair was wet and stuck to her skin like golden ivy. Water shimmered in the firelight and slid from her pinkened skin. His body leapt to attention.

  “Ye are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” Drew breathed.

  “And you are the most beautiful man,” she whispered back. She stepped from the tub and scrubbed herself dry with the towel.

  Drew lifted her heavy hair and combed his fingers through it, gently removing tangles.

  “That feels good,” she said; her skin puckered with gooseflesh. “Do you know how to braid?”

  “Aye.” Drew accomplished the task quickly.

  Eryn turned. She was inches from him and his manhood reached out to her. She tugged his shirt’s hem.

  He whipped the garment over his head and dropped it on the floor before he lifted Eryn and carried her to her bed. He pulled the covers over them, then lay alongside her, kissing her tenderly.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” she sighed.

  “How could I no’?” Drew asked. He kissed her again before he admitted more than he intended.

  Eryn pressed her body against his and little moans escaped her. But when his hand moved to her breast she whimpered and pulled away.

  Drew frowned. “What’s amiss?”

  Eryn cupped her breast. “The English lord was not gentle in his determination of my gender. I’m afraid I’m bruised.”

  Rage surged through Drew and displaced his arousal. “Did he press himself on ye?” he demanded.

  “No!” Eryn shook her head. “He threatened to, but I convinced him otherwise.”

  That took him back. “How?”

  A conspiratorial grin lit her expression. “I convinced him that if he returned me unsullied, my father would pay a hefty ransom.”

  Damn, but she’s canny.

  Drew smirked at her. “Unsullied, are ye?”

  Eryn’s eyes darkened to a smoky moss-green and her breathing changed.

  “Well, I haven’t been sullied today,” she murmured.

  Drew trailed slow, wet kisses down her neck. “And what would ye have me do, then?”