by Julia Latham
Talbot and the soldiers fell back behind him, and Diana absently noticed their fierce looks of triumph and relief. Their belief in their lord had been answered.
Cicely had risen at her side, and now the smile she bestowed upon Lord Bannaster could guide a man in from the cold.
“I am Thomas, Viscount Bannaster,” he said, sweeping his cap from his head and bowing low.
Up close, Diana could see his stained garments, but knew that Cicely would not care about that. No one would, once they knew what she’d done. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the incriminating words, but still he did not look at her.
Cicely walked around the table but remained on the dais, which brought her face to an even height with his. She curtsied low, with a smooth grace that Diana had always reluctantly admired.
“I am Cicely Winslow, my lord,” she said in her sweet, quiet voice that still managed to carry through the stunned hall.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I have heard much of your beauty, mistress, and glad I am to finally behold you and see the truth of those words.”
He was taking the time to flirt? Diana thought in disbelief.
“Where have you been, my lord?” Cicely asked. “Your men have been frantic with worry for you.”
“I did not mean them to suffer on my account,” he said. “My journey is quite a tale.”
He still did not look at Diana, whose throat was tight. It took all of her effort not to shout at him to just denounce her and be done with it. Would he take pleasure in putting her in the same dungeon where she’d held him?
“But I hear you have a lovely sister,” Bannaster said to Cicely.
Diana saw the frown that Cicely shot over her shoulder, hidden from Bannaster’s view.
“My lord,” Cicely said, sweeping her arm gracefully toward Diana, “may I present my older sister, Diana.”
She stressed “older” quite purposefully. Diana rose to stand behind the table as if it were a barricade. At last Bannaster looked at her, and she found herself clenching the table. She waited, her head held high, knowing her impulsiveness had brought her to this end.
Once again, Bannaster bowed low, then lifted his head and held her gaze as he straightened. Those dark brown eyes were mesmerizing, and she saw a hint of challenge, a hint of amusement, that perhaps others did not see.
“Mistress, it is a pleasure to meet you.” His voice was almost…silky with satisfaction.
Somehow she kept her mouth from sagging open in disbelief. She didn’t know what to think, what to say, and of course, Cicely did not give her the opportunity to speak, which was a good thing. Diana’s tongue was surely stuck to the roof of her mouth, so shocked was she. Where was his speech against her? Or was he just dragging out his torture as a means of revenge? And how had he escaped?
“So tell us, Lord Bannaster,” Cicely was saying. “We are all so anxious to hear what has kept you from us, from your men.”
Bannaster partially turned until he could also be heard by his men and the rest of the hall, since everyone had been silently gaping. “In my haste to meet the two beautiful Winslow sisters”—Diana saw Cicely stiffen when Bannaster didn’t single her out—“I could not sleep, so I left Richmond before dawn, knowing that my men would soon follow behind me.”
Diana watched Talbot and the other soldiers glance at each other uncertainly. Were they wondering at the stupidity of a nobleman who would travel alone instead of waking his guards?
Why was Bannaster making up lies?
“But a storm made me lose track of the road, and I wandered exhausted for hours. Somehow I found a crofter’s cottage, and the family took me in and cared for me. They say I developed a terrible fever, but I remember little of what happened. Only yesterday did I come to myself, and I spent the day regaining my strength. Today they drove me here in their cart because I had lost my horse in the storm. They refused to come in and be rewarded with a meal, claiming that they only did God’s work helping the unfortunate.”
While murmurings of sympathy circled the hall, Diana stared at him. She wanted to say how fit he looked for a man recently ill, but surely her voice would rise with disbelieving hysteria. He had created a fictional story, rather than reveal her treachery. She couldn’t relax or feel safe, for at any time he could turn on her. What was his plan?
“My lord,” Cicely was saying, “how dreadful for you! I do wish we could show our gratitude to those kind people who took you in. Know you their names?”
He shook his head. “They wanted nothing from me, and I owe it to them to respect their wishes.”
Diana wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not take her gaze off him, as if he were a snake hesitating just before the strike.
“My lord, you must be ravenous,” Cicely said, taking his hand and leading him onto the dais. “Your hands are so cold. Someone build up the fire! Please come sit with me and eat.”
Diana knew her sister well; Cicely meant to put the viscount on the other side of her, away from Diana. But Bannaster smoothly moved in and sat in the seat next to Diana, forcing Cicely to sit on his left side.
“Mistress Diana,” he said in a carrying tone, “you have no idea how good it feels to finally be here, enjoying your hospitality.”
She only inclined her head, knowing that he was also enjoying his new feeling of power over her.
He sat back and looked between the sisters. “And to be here amidst such loveliness, why it is as if I am dreaming.”
Diana could not keep quiet. “There are no beautiful women in London?” she asked quietly.
If Cicely could have thrown daggers with her eyes, Diana would be impaled.
Bannaster laughed, and to Diana’s dismay, his rich, deep voice seemed to burrow inside her, unsettling her. As if she was not already distracted enough!
“Mistress Diana, you are far too clever for me,” Bannaster said. “I can see that simple praise will not work with you.”
“And why would you need to praise me?” Diana asked. “My sister is the one you are here to see.”
He looked overly surprised. “Was my missive not clear?” He gave a winning smile to Cicely, then turned back to Diana. “The king has sent me to meet both of you.”
Diana narrowed her eyes and waited for the rest. This lie was surely part of his plan against her.
Bannaster took both of their hands, and she fought the urge to pierce him with her nails. She hated feeling vulnerable.
“I eagerly look forward to seeing if I would suit either of you as a husband.”
Diana watched the way Cicely blinked in surprise and confusion. He almost sounded as if he were letting them make the decision about his suitability, but it was only misdirection. He knew he had set up a competition between the sisters, at least in Cicely’s mind. Diana would be forced to contend with Cicely’s fury—and Bannaster’s courtship. Why was he doing this? It seemed a foolish way to punish her and torment Cicely.
But to Diana’s surprise, Cicely rallied from her shock, and her smile could beckon a man to lose himself in her.
“My lord,” she murmured, “how sweet of you to include my sister. I thank you for your kindness toward her.”
Diana barely resisted the urge to smile in reluctant admiration. Cicely had controlled her own fury, shown generosity, and made Diana appear pathetic all at once. Her sister had certainly won the first contest of what would probably be many, Diana thought with resignation.
The servants began to swarm the head table with offerings of food, sumptuous platters piled with lamb and oxen, tarts made with Kirkby’s autumn bounty of fruit, and vegetables spiced and roasted. Diana could not help watching Bannaster’s enthusiasm for the food, and he overloaded his plate. It wasn’t as if she’d starved him, she thought, feeling annoyed.
While he ate, Cicely saw that his wine goblet was refilled, that the butter was close at hand when he wanted bread, and that her sweet smile was always in his line of sight. If only Diana could tell her sister that she
was welcome to every bit of Bannaster’s attention.
But of course that wasn’t true, she reminded herself, her wariness changing into growing determination. If Bannaster had decided to keep her secret, for whatever reason, then she would use it to her advantage until he chose to denounce her. Her mission for the League wasn’t over. Bannaster had just given her the perfect excuse to be near him while she formed her opinions about him for the League. Annoying Cicely was only a happy coincidence.
Oh, that wasn’t a very sisterly thought, Diana admonished herself. They were adults now. Diana had always been more than ready to tolerate her sister, but Cicely continued to take out her frustration on her. It did not make for a harmonious family.
She suddenly felt Bannaster’s hand on her thigh. She stiffened and swiftly glanced at him, but all she saw was the back of his head as he continued to converse with Cicely. She tried to push his hand away, but he would not be budged. If she used greater effort, people would see her struggle.
She felt furious and helpless. And to her dismay, she noticed the pressure of each of his long fingers, far too close to where no man had ever touched. Did he think she would offer him something sordid if he would keep her secret? His hand slid between her thighs through her gown. She reacted instinctively, grabbing his smallest finger and bending it backward. When his hand retreated, she let it go, noticing that he never stopped listening and responding to Cicely.
When Bannaster was finished eating, Cicely said, “My lord, your journey to visit me had great hardships. Now let me show you civilized entertainment. We have the finest minstrels, and if you’d care to dance—”
Bannaster held up a hand and shook his head. “If you do not mind, I wish to retire, mistress, and save such a generous offer for another evening.”
“Oh, of course you are still recovering from your illness,” Cicely continued, obviously hiding her disappointment behind sympathy.
“But I want you to enjoy yourself,” he said. “There is no need to shorten your evening.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, looking at him with admiration.
“I will escort you to your bedchamber, Lord Bannaster,” Diana said. “I, too, am retiring early.” She ignored her sister’s shocked fury, which wasn’t well concealed. Cicely would think Diana was only doing this to have the viscount’s undivided attention. And Diana was, but not for the reasons Cicely would assume.
Bannaster gave her a polite smile. “You have my thanks, Mistress Diana. I am so tired that I might wander about and lose my way.”
“You seem to be good at that,” she murmured, then held her breath, wondering what he would do to her for her insolence.
He only grinned.
She turned away, knowing he was behind her, following too close, watching her. How obvious was he being, before all the castle residents? But of course, he had just told them all he would be looking her over, like a prized horse to be bought. Every maidservant and valet was grinning at her, thrilled that a viscount was noticing her—even if he was only looking at her backside. Diana’s anger and fear subsided in the face of her people’s concern for her. She had come here as almost a stranger a few years ago, and they had become like family to her. If only she could feel safe here, but she knew she was at Kirkby Keep only on her brother’s whim, and he could change his mind whenever he wanted.
And now another man controlled her fate.
She ascended the main stairs, then walked down the torch-lit corridor, past several servants, to the circular stairs going up to the next floor. She had earlier won a battle over Cicely, who had absurdly wanted the viscount to have a bedchamber near theirs.
On the next floor, Diana gestured to a closed door.
“Should you not open it for me out of courtesy?” he asked, still wearing that perpetual smile.
Shaking her head, she did so. Someone had come up the moment he had arrived at Kirkby Keep, for candles were lit, and a cheerful fire already eased the castle’s chilly dampness.
The door slammed behind her. Bannaster grabbed her about the waist and shoved her up against the wall. Stunned, she hadn’t imagined he would punish her physically. He pinioned her hips with his, spread her hands wide when she would have hit him—and then covered her mouth with his.
Her vaunted ability for self-defense fled, her mind went blank, and she forgot everything that had gone between them, except the pull of awareness. There were only his lips exploring hers, his tongue teasing and winning entrance to her mouth. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, pressing his body the entire length of hers. And though he was still almost cold to the touch, she burned where his hard flesh met hers. Her breasts ached where they were flattened against his chest; a feeling of hot need pooled low in her belly.
He pressed his thigh between hers, sending a searing wave of desire pulsing through her, and she moaned her defeat into his mouth.
Chapter 8
She tasted like the sweetest wine, Tom thought, lost in the pleasures of her mouth. Her tongue met his with little reluctance, although there was a touch of innocence that surprised him. And then he couldn’t think anymore, because his mind was overwhelmed by sensation. Her body was long and firm, not as delicately soft as most women were. Her small breasts pressed so alluringly to his chest, making him long to explore each sweet curve.
He had only meant to kiss her, to dominate her, to show her who had the power now, but all of his intentions faded away beneath the onslaught of powerful passion. Her hips were destined to cradle him; the urge to rock into her became overwhelming, and he slid his thigh between hers.
Her moan, so low and erotic, was his undoing. He released her hands, sliding his fingers across her arms and shoulders then down her torso, just touching the edges of her breasts, the goal being her round hips. He wanted to cup them, lift her, press deeper and—
Her fist slammed hard into his stomach, and he stumbled back, gasping. When he caught his breath, she was still standing there, wiping her mouth with one hand and wringing the other one, the one she’d hit him with. Her eyes were wide, and he thought he glimpsed fear over what she’d just done to him.
He didn’t have to ask why she’d done it. She’d imprisoned him to keep him from her sister—and for God knew what else—and at his first kiss, she’d melted.
He’d melted, too, which was dangerous. How could he forget what she’d done to him, what she was capable of? He could not let his anger be submerged beneath lust. He slowly straightened, ignoring the ache in his stomach, and they faced each other like combatants once again.
He knew he had to eventually earn her trust to discover her secrets, but for right now, she had to be kept off balance. She would believe that he meant to reveal her deception, and she would not trust his denial.
And perhaps she deserved some punishment.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” he said in a low voice.
He thought her breath came too fast, which pleased him. But she still met his eyes in challenge.
“So you like being held captive?” she retorted.
“Only by you.” He allowed his gaze to wander down her body, saw that her breasts rose and fell even faster. “And apparently you’re aroused by having a hostage.”
Her face flushed a deep red. “You just forced yourself on me.”
Although a buried part of him flinched, he said, “It was a long while before you broke the kiss.”
She had no answer for that. They continued to stare at each other in stalemate, her eyes storms of gray. For all of her control, there was passion roiling beneath the calm surface of her, and it aroused him more than any woman he’d ever known. She had an uncommon strength and intelligence—but a woman’s desire. And he would prove to her that she wanted him, and she would admit it freely.
“How did you escape?” she suddenly demanded in a low voice. “Speak quickly, for the servants will be bringing you a bathing tub soon.”
He smiled and reached for her hand. “That will make our nex
t kiss more pleasant.”
Eluding him, she spat on the floor. “That is what I think of your kisses. Answer my question.”
He laughed. “I broke the shackle, of course, after many hours of effort. As to the rest, you’ll just have to imagine how I escaped your dungeon.”
She narrowed her eyes. “The door wouldn’t lock yesterday and today.”
“I wonder why.” He cocked his head and frowned.
“So you could have escaped yesterday?”
He shrugged.
“What were you doing?” she asked, looking appalled.
He only smiled.
She stalked toward him until they were face-to-face. She was showing him a lack of fear, and he greatly admired her for it. He just didn’t believe it. She had to be afraid of him and what he could do to her.
“You had your chance to denounce me in the great hall,” she said, “to show everyone what I’d done to you, to see me punished. Why did you not?”
He spread his hands wide. “I didn’t realize I had to accomplish everything in a certain order.”
“That is not an answer,” she said, scowling.
He liked the way her blond eyebrows arrowed down over her forehead in a fierce display. He wanted to smooth his fingers over them, to tease her into a softer expression. He remembered the laughter he’d seen on her face when she hadn’t known he was watching. When he realized the way his thoughts meandered, he silently scolded himself.
“If I wanted you in a dungeon, I could put you there personally,” he said, keeping his voice playful. “Why should I let another do it for me?”
She groaned and whirled away from him. “I do not understand you! You know I want to keep you away from my sister. You could have her all to yourself by revealing what I’ve done. Yet you claim that the king sent you to look over me, as if anyone would believe that!”
“You are an eligible noblewoman. Why would I not compare you and Cicely?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I cannot believe you would feel yourself inferior to your sister.”
