A Knight's Seduction

by Catherine Kean

  Her fingers pressed deeper into the warm bedding. She didn’t want to go with him. Kissing him that afternoon had proven that when it came to him, she had few defenses. If he kissed her again with the possessive hunger and devastating finesse he’d used before, he might shatter all the defenses she had left.

  “Disobey me,” Tye warned, “and Lady Brackendale will suffer.”

  He sounded so frightening, she didn’t dare to disobey. She pulled back the covers.

  Tye’s gaze dropped to her breasts, her nipples round beads beneath the linen. She blushed, even as heat smoldered in his eyes. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he turned his back to her.

  “Come now.”

  “I…should put on a gown.”

  Halfway to the door, Tye shook his head. “A blanket will do.”

  “But—”

  “ Now ,” he snarled.

  At the same moment, a woman’s shrill cry carried in through the open doorway. The sound set Claire’s teeth chattering, for ’twas Lady Brackendale’s voice.

  Claire scrambled out of the bed and pulled a blanket from among the bed linens. The thin, scratchy cloth wrapped easily around her body. She shivered, for the floorboards felt like sheets of ice beneath her bare feet.

  “What has happened?” she asked. “Is her ladyship all right?”

  Without answering, Tye strode out. She followed, almost bumping into one of the guards outside. The lout scowled at her, and she hurried on after Tye.

  He halted at Lady Brackendale’s chamber and knocked three times. The door opened, revealing a mercenary whose grim expression was rendered even more frightening by a scar disfiguring his top and bottom lips.

  “Lady Sevalliere is here to help,” Tye said.

  The mercenary stepped aside, allowing Claire into the room. Candles burned on the nearest table, casting a hazy glow. Lady Brackendale sat on the edge of the narrow bed, a blanket draped around her shoulders, staring at the fire opposite. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her posture rigid with defiance. Yet, her focus seemed to be somewhere other than the present.

  “Did she have a nightmare?” Claire asked quietly. Lady Brackendale had suffered from them since her husband’s death. The day’s events had been enough to give any occupant of the castle night terrors.

  “The second time she disturbed me with her screams,” Tye said from the doorway, “I vowed I would either shut her up or kill her. Her lady-in-waiting was no help; she broke down in tears, so I sent her away. That is why you are here.”

  Claire nodded, even as she felt his gaze upon her back. With the blanket draped around her, little of her body was exposed to his view, apart from her bare lower legs and feet, but her stomach still fluttered wildly, as if she stood before him naked. How shocking, and mortifying, and yet, of all shameful sensations, how incredibly thrilling, to think that a rogue like him would stare at her in that way.

  Beware of the danger he poses to you and all you hold dear. Think not of yourself, Claire, but of helping Lady Brackendale.

  Curling her hands tighter into the blanket, Claire forced calmness into her expression and glanced back at Tye. “Her ladyship will not bother you again.”

  “Be sure she does not.” He spun on his heel and walked away. The mercenary followed and once outside, shut the door, leaving Claire alone with her ladyship.

  “Lady Brackendale,” Claire said gently, crossing to the bed. She sat and took hold of her ladyship’s wrinkled hands. The older woman drew in a ragged breath, but did not stir from staring blankly at the fire.

  “Lady Brackendale,” Claire said again, running her hand down the woman’s loosened hair trailing down the blanket. “Are you all right?”

  The older woman blinked and then met Claire’s gaze. Recognition softened her ladyship’s features.

  “Claire,” she whispered.

  “Did you have a nasty dream?”

  The older woman nodded and then looked at the chamber door. A violent shudder ran through her. “As I woke, a mercenary came storming into the room, shouting at me. He warned me not to scream again. He threatened…” She shuddered again. “Never mind. He did not hurt me, and you are here now. ’Tis a great comfort.”

  “I will not leave you,” Claire promised, gently pressing her ladyship’s hands. “I will stay with you until dawn.”

  “Thank you.” The older woman shook her head. “Having you here… ’Tis a kindness I did not expect of our captors.”

  “Nor I,” Claire admitted. Yet, before she could ponder the puzzling kindness further, her ladyship drew her hands free and reached up to catch the blanket slipping from her frail shoulder. Ugly bruises marred Lady Brackendale’s forearm.

  “Mercy!” Claire gasped. “Did you get those bruises when you were taken from the hall?”

  “Aye.” Easing her age-spotted fingers under the blanket, her ladyship pulled down the neckline of her nightgown to reveal another purplish-red bruise near her collarbone. The injury would not be visible when her ladyship was dressed, but every movement, every brush of cloth against that tender skin, would cause her pain.

  Angry tears burned Claire’s eyes. “How horrible! Who—?”

  “Veronique,” Lady Brackendale said. “She wanted to hurt me, and she did, using the hilt of her knife. I am surprised she did not break any bones.”

  “I am sorry,” Claire said. “The way she hurt you… ’Tis unforgiveable.”

  The older woman smiled wanly. “I am still alive.”

  “Did she hit you anywhere else?”

  “Nay.” Lady Brackendale’s expression sobered. “And you? Are you all right? After that rogue summoned you to the dais, I feared you might suffer grave punishment.”

  Claire fought a hot-cold tremor. “He did not like my challenging him, and told me so quite bluntly. However, I left the hall without being harmed.” Indeed, his impassioned kisses earlier in her chamber had been far more of a punishment; he’d roused within her an astonishing craving that still hadn’t gone away.

  “I am very relieved you were unscathed.” Her ladyship was silent a long moment, her thumb and index fingers worrying the fringed edge of the blanket. “You must be careful of him, Claire.”

  “I know.”

  Lady Brackendale studied Claire’s face. “Whether Tye is de Lanceau’s bastard or not, whether Tye can persuade King John to grant him a legitimate claim to this fortress and its lands or not, are matters beyond our control. They will be resolved soon enough. However, Tye is a ruthless, intelligent, and determined man. He is the kind of man who, when he sees something he wants, will take it.”

  Tye had said as much himself. A flush warmed Claire’s face, for she knew where this discussion was leading. “Milady—”

  “’Tis plain to see that he wants you.”

  “It does not matter,” Claire said, a bit too quickly. “He shall never have me.”

  “Can you really be so sure?” Her ladyship sighed, the sound fraught with concern. “Tye is no fool. He may treat you kindly at first, as he woos you and wins your trust. Like all men lusting after riches and power, though, he knows the best way to secure his rule here is to marry and have heirs.”

  “Marry! Have heirs.” Claire twisted the front of her blanket tightly to her breast. “That has naught to do with me.”

  “You are not married or betrothed. Even better for him, you are an orphan.”

  “Regardless—”

  “He will not have to make many inquiries to learn that you come from a distinguished bloodline. You are, sweet Claire, perfectly suited to his needs.”

  “I have no wish to marry him!”

  “He will not care what you want, only how he will achieve his ambitions.”


  This discussion was becoming more and more unsettling. “Milady,” Claire pleaded.

  “I know ’tis upsetting to hear, but you must fully understand the situation. Tye has, regrettably, taken Wode at a time when the King is struggling to maintain his hold over England. As you may have heard, Lord de Lanceau and many of his allies resent the heavy taxes and fines the crown has imposed in recent years, among other grievances. Before he died, Arthur told me that de Lanceau is organizing an important document, a Great Charter that will put restrictions on King John’s powers. The King is aware of this document and, of course, strongly opposes it.”

  “I see.” Claire had never heard of the Great Charter before, but having met de Lanceau, she could see him pursuing such a course if he believed ’twas necessary and just.

  “Lord de Lanceau’s actions pose a significant threat to the King. If King John believes Tye will be loyal to him, and will further the ambitions of the crown, he very well may grant Wode to him.”

  “Surely not! This castle has belonged to Lord de Lanceau’s family for many years.”

  “ Especially for that reason.” Her ladyship’s gaze shadowed with unease. “What better way to insult Lord de Lanceau, to demonstrate the King’s superior power, than to grant all rights to the estate to someone else? Not just anyone, of course, but the illegitimate son his lordship has never accepted?”

  Claire gnawed her lip. The situation sounded quite dire, but surely more so for her ladyship, who would be forced from her home, than Claire. “If I understand what you’ve told me, milady, the King can cede Wode to Tye if he so desires. Tye does not need to marry and have heirs to have a claim to the castle. So, therefore, he has no reason to pursue me.”

  A wan smile touched Lady Brackendale’s lips. “’Twould bolster Tye’s petition to the King to say you are carrying his babe—especially if he can claim you lay with him willingly.”

  Shame poked at Claire, mocking her for finding pleasure in kissing Tye. Obviously, his kisses were intended to wear down her resistance to him until she surrendered her innocence; he wouldn’t have to force her, she’d eagerly give him what he wanted. How he must be gloating, for she’d hardly resisted at all.

  Unable to sit still any longer, Claire rose from the bed and hurried over to the fire. Closing her eyes against the bright light of the flames, she fought to find logic in her world that was spinning beyond her grasp. “’Surely, milady, what you have said cannot come to be? Tye told us he is a bastard. He is not the first born son of a married lord and lady. By the laws of England, because he is illegitimate, he cannot inherit.”

  Lady Brackendale laughed, the sound harsh. “If King John wishes to grant Tye this castle and a bride, he will find a means to do so. In the past, the King has used bribes, imprisonments, coercion, and even sanctioned murders to get his way.”

  “ Mercy ,” Claire rasped, her eyes flying open. What dangerous words. Yet, they showed how deeply Lady Brackendale trusted her, that she’d share such sentiments.

  “Think about it, Claire,” her ladyship said softly. “If given the choice to award Wode to Tye, a rogue the King believes he can control, or de Lanceau, a man he knows is his enemy, whom do you think will get the castle?”

  Without doubt, Tye would.

  Her ladyship rose and moved to Claire’s side. “I know ’tis a lot to consider.”

  “’Tis indeed.” Claire hated how her voice wavered.

  “We can only pray that de Lanceau’s men arrive soon, and that they will crush Tye and his thugs before the King has had the opportunity to grant Wode to Tye. Better yet, Tye will be killed in the fight, and you will not have to worry.”

  Claire’s innards clenched. While she had no desire to wed Tye, she didn’t want him to die, not from gruesome wounds inflicted in battle. She wouldn’t wish that kind of death upon anyone. “I do not want any more deaths at Wode. Besides, surely de Lanceau will spare his son’s life, even if he is illegitimate.”

  “We will see,” Lady Brackendale murmured. She didn’t sound convinced.

  Claire struggled to contain the emotions still roiling inside her. “For now, I will do all that I can to avoid Tye. The less I am around him, the less chance he has to…to…”

  “Seduce you,” her ladyship finished.

  Seduce . Claire fought a moan. Even the hissing, snakelike sound of the word implied temptation.

  The logs on the blaze shifted, stirring up red sparks. Claire jumped, and her ladyship clucked her tongue and touched Claire’s blanket-covered arm.

  “I am sorry to have unsettled you, although what I told you needed to be said.”

  Torn by the sadness and regret in Lady Brackendale’s voice, Claire held her ladyship’s gaze. The older woman looked tired and fragile in the flickering firelight. “You have made me see my situation here in a much clearer way,” Claire said. “For that, I am grateful.”

  Lady Brackendale smiled. “You have always been courageous, most of all in the difficult weeks since Henry was killed. I admire your strength of will. ’Twill see you well through the coming days.”

  “Thank you, milady, but—”

  “—which is why I hope you will stay strong and not succumb to despair. All is not lost here. Not yet.”

  Confusion sifted through Claire. “Forgive me, milady, but the way you explained Tye’s ambitions…”

  “True.” Lady Brackendale huddled deeper into her blanket and her tone hushed to just above a whisper. “However, as I passed the afternoon alone, watching the shadows shift on the wall, I remembered something Arthur once told me. An important detail he had warned me to keep to myself, unless there was a dire need to share the information.” Hope glimmered in her ladyship’s eyes.

  “What detail?” Claire asked, intrigued.

  “In the lower level of the keep are several rooms used for storage. Do you know the ones I mean?”

  “Aye. One holds wine and ale. Another, weapons—”

  “Exactly. There is a secret door built into the back wall of the chamber used for wine storage. ’Tis part of a hidden passageway that leads to a door in the castle’s outer wall.”

  “I have heard of secret passageways inside keeps,” Claire said. Mary would burst with excitement when she heard of such a passageway at Wode. She’d want to explore it and record the experience in the journal.

  “There are several other secret doors inside the castle, but I cannot remember where they are. My memory… ’Tis not as it used to be.” Grimacing, her ladyship shrugged. “In terms of the passageway in the wine room, the outside door has long become overgrown with vines and ivy. That should not pose a problem. Lord de Lanceau grew up in this keep. He will know where to find the doorway and may use it when liberating the fortress.”

  Claire grinned, her excitement growing by the moment. “We can use the doorway to escape.”

  “Not unless we can get down to the lower level. ’Tis impossible right now with our chambers being guarded day and night. Also, there is the matter of getting through the door at the other end. The foliage outside will need cutting back before the door will open.”

  “I could try, or we could send one of the maidservants—”

  “And have her get all the way to the other end, only to find herself trapped? I cannot imagine the danger if she failed and Tye—or his cruel mother—found her. Such failure would also guarantee that Tye would seal off the passageway so that de Lanceau could not use it.”

  All good points. “’Twill take some considering, then, to come up with a sound plan,” Claire said. “We must do what we can to help. We certainly cannot just sit by and wait for his lordship to rescue us.”

  “I agree.” Lady Brackendale’s eyes gleamed. “We can, at the very least, ensure the doorway in the wine
room is unlocked.”

  “Unlocked?” Claire repeated.

  “The key is under a loose flagstone by the rear wall.”

  “I see. Well, I shall try to think of a way to get down to that room.”

  “You will need a convincing reason. Otherwise, Tye will be suspicious.’

  Claire suddenly felt chilled despite the blanket and the heat of the blaze. She’d never been a good liar. She did not want to know what her punishment would be for deceiving Tye. “’Tis not an easy task,” she finally said, her words competing with the crackle of the fire.

  “Not easy at all,” her ladyship agreed with a weary sigh.

  ***

  Tye lay on his back in the solar, his arms folded behind his head on the feather pillow, the bedding drawn up to his bare chest. Light from the hearth opposite cast shifting shadows on the chamber walls.

  Earlier, two maidservants had put fresh linens and clean blankets on the bed, working quickly so they could finish and leave. Leaning in the doorway, he’d watched them tuck and fold, while two leering mercenaries stood guard close to the bed. While for the most part Tye trusted the thugs he’d employed, he had wanted to be sure the women didn’t steal any of his belongings or trick the men who, triumphant after the successful siege, were itching to spend their enthusiasm between the thighs of a pretty wench or two.

  On Tye’s final walk of the bailey before retiring for the night, he’d seen one mercenary in a shadowed corner, his hands cradling the breasts of a woman pressed up against the wall, his right leg nudged between her thighs. Her eager moans had followed Tye as he’d walked into the forebuilding. He’d clenched his fists, fought the potent stirring of his blood, for so easily, he’d imagined himself caressing the lush fullness of Claire’s breasts, coaxing those same hungry sounds from her lips.

  Desire shuddered through him. Tye groaned, rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm, and tried to shove all thoughts of Claire from his mind. Aye, he wanted sex, but he needed sleep more. He’d gotten little rest in the days leading up to the attack, and his limbs ached from the day’s exertions in battle, especially his formerly fractured leg, which had healed well enough, but still pained him on cold or damp nights. He needed all of his wits about him on the morrow, for there were sure to be new challenges ahead—including those posed by a bright-eyed, willowy blonde.