A Knight's Persuasion (Knight's Series Book 4)

by Catherine Kean

  “That explains why you and Veronique want Juliana to survive. You suspect she knows where Landon hid the ring. You want it badly enough to take care of her until her memories return.”

  Juliana gasped again. “Merciful God.”

  “You have overlooked a critical point, though,” Edouard said. “Even if she remembers her identity, she may not know the ring’s whereabouts. Landon may never have confided that to her.”

  “A risk Mother and I are willing to take.”

  “Because she is the only one alive who might know?” A derisive chuckle grated from Edouard. “What if Juliana doesn’t know? Your threat to kill my sire is an idle one, then?”

  Edouard held Tye’s blazing gaze, hoping the bastard would rise to the goading.

  “’Tis not, at all, an idle threat,” Tye ground out.

  “You talk of slaying him face to face. Brave words. Yet I vow you are a coward.” As fury darkened Tye’s gaze, Edouard added, “If you really wished my sire dead, you would have confronted him long before now.”

  “Mother and I—”

  “Mother and I,” Edouard mocked.

  Tye took a step forward, his white-knuckled hands balled at his sides. “Some risks are worth taking; others require money and patience. We will find that ring. When I stand before Father so he can look full upon me, ’twill be with an army of mercenaries to fight at my side.”

  Edouard snorted.

  “Then he will know he is a dead man. Doomed to be slain by his own flesh-and-blood son he cruelly rejected all those years ago.” Tye chuckled. “What perfect irony.”

  God’s teeth. Tye spoke in exactly the same manner as Veronique. How well she’d controlled and prepared her son, so he’d fulfill the murderous ambitions she’d not been able to bring to pass years ago.

  Surely, though, as a grown man, Tye had a will of his own.

  “Your mother hates my sire because he ended their affair years ago. Why, after so many years, she continues to resent him and plot vengeance against him, only she can explain,” Edouard said. “You must realize, though, that all she has told you of him is but her opinion?”

  “’Tis the only one that matters.”

  “Have you tried to contact our—my sire—on your own?”

  Tye laughed, a sound ripe with bitterness. “Why would I? He has made it very clear he wants naught to do with me. Besides, if I tried to set up a meeting, he would agree only so he could arrest me. Then he would try and use me to capture Mother. As we both know, he has wanted her imprisoned for years for crimes including murder and treason.”

  True. Tye might be many things, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “On the other hand,”—Tye’s visage hardened—“he might not even bother to arrest me. He might attack. Once I was overpowered, he would run me through with a sword and leave my corpse for the birds to pick clean. He would eliminate me and the threat I pose to him and his heir.” Tye pointed. “You.”

  “My father lives by the code of honor—”

  “So you say.” Tye’s lip curled. “’Tis your opinion.”

  “Look—”

  But Tye wasn’t listening. “I eagerly await the confrontation to come. ’Twill be a magnificent day when, at last, I make him acknowledge me. I will slay him, seize all that is his, and make it mine.”

  Ruthless, greedy bastard. “You will never defeat him,” Edouard growled, yanking on his chains.

  “Spoken like a naïve, loving son.”

  “Father is no fool. By now, he likely knows you are here at Waddesford. He will anticipate your attack, while he plans one of his own.”

  “We shall see.”

  Indeed, you arrogant whoreson, we shall. Edouard drew upon all the rage and frustration seething within him. “I will never let you kill my sire—”

  Tye laughed.

  “—or let you take control of what, as his heir, is rightfully mine.”

  “You? The helpless son in chains?” Tye chortled.

  Edouard mentally shoved aside the insult. Use Tye’s ambition to make him angry. Lure him closer, and then you will take the advantage.

  “I might be chained,” Edouard said, “but I am worthy of being Geoffrey de Lanceau’s son. You are not.”

  Tye sucked in a slow, deliberate breath. He seemed to grow taller and broader.

  “Edouard,” Juliana whispered. Fear shone in her eyes as she glanced from him to Tye.

  Menace in the slant of his jaw, Tye stepped nearer. “I am not worthy,” he said, “because of my birth?”

  Edouard managed a thin smile. Let Tye make of that statement what he wished.

  As the silence tautened, Tye bared his teeth. He looked furious enough to pummel Edouard into the floorboards.

  Good.

  “You have spoken unwisely, Brother.”

  “Have I, you bastard?”

  Come closer, Tye. Just a little closer. . .

  Tye thrust his right fist down in Edouard’s face. “One more insult, and—”

  Edouard shoved up on his heels and grabbed Tye’s wrist. With a stab of dismay, Edouard realized he was almost too slow; his movements, acutely honed in the tiltyards, were hampered by the added weight of the chains.

  Tye yanked back on his hand. “Hell—”

  As Tye stumbled and tried to catch his balance, Edouard tugged him forward, head first toward the pallet.

  Twisting as he fell, Tye slammed his left fist into Edouard’s jaw. Pain sprayed through Edouard’s cheek. Smothering a groan, he shook his head and punched back. The blow bounced off Tye’s chest, but on a muffled clank, Edouard’s chain hit Tye’s bent leg. Tye grunted in pain.

  With a strong tug, Tye freed his hand. Faster than Edouard expected, another blow flew, this time into his gut.

  “Bastard,” Edouard choked out, fighting the need to brace his arm against his stomach. Shaking hair from his eyes, he grabbed his chain. When Tye scrambled to rise, Edouard looped it around Tye’s neck, forcing him down on his knees.

  His back to Edouard, Tye clawed at the chain. His chin tipped up at an awkward angle as he tried to ease the chain’s pressure.

  Bloodlust pulsed hard in Edouard’s veins. Who was helpless now?

  “Edouard.” Juliana’s voice wove into the haze filling Edouard’s vision. “Edouard, stop.”

  A choked breath snapped his gaze down to Tye’s face. Tye’s skin was reddening, while his mouth parted on strangled breaths.

  “Now,” Edouard said with a smile, “who is the fool?”

  Spittle oozed from Tye’s mouth. “Kill me, then.”

  “Edouard, nay!” Juliana cried. Daring a glance, he found her standing dangerously near, hands open and pleading. “Murdering Tye will solve naught.”

  Tye writhed in Edouard’s grasp. Edouard tightened his hold on the chain. A grisly choke rose from his half-brother.

  “You are a man who lives by honor,” Juliana shrilled, “just like your father. ’Tis not your way to—”

  “You do not remember me,” Edouard bellowed. “How can you say that?”

  Her wide-eyed gaze beseeched him. “From all I have known of you recently, I have guessed your true nature.” Her hands knotted together. “You know I am right.”

  He dragged his gaze away from her, lovely and passionate in her desperation. Never had he imagined killing an unarmed opponent, but here, with Tye at his mercy, he had a chance to end Veronique’s merciless plotting against his sire once and for all.

  Killing Tye just might save his father’s life.

  And yet Juliana’s words gouged into Edouard, running like blood into the parts of him ruled by chivalry between warriors. As much as he hated to admit it, killing Tye in this way held cowardice.

  Edouard looked down at his fingers, pale against the taut iron links, and tried to reason with the powerful rage blazing inside him. Glaring down at Tye’s sweat-beaded profile, Edouard snarled, “Call the guards. I want the key to my manacles.”

  Digging his fingers into the chain, Tye glared back.<
br />
  “Call,” Edouard growled. “Now!”

  “They will . . . not come. Told them . . . not to . . . heed cries.”

  “Do it!”

  “Will have . . . to . . . kill me,” Tye rasped.

  Edouard stared down into Tye’s red-rimmed eyes. In them, Edouard saw a mirror of his own resolve never to yield. “I ask you,” Edouard bit out, “once again.”

  “Please,” Juliana whispered, stepping nearer.

  “Stay away,” Edouard snapped.

  Tye’s lips quivered into a mocking smile. “Go on. Kill me. If you . . . are man enough.”

  The haze of anger nearly blinded Edouard. Man enough?!

  “Do not heed his taunts,” Juliana cried.

  “Juliana!” Edouard roared.

  “Even if you kill him, you will still be chained. How will we defeat the guards outside? How will we escape the keep? We cannot. Please, Edouard,”—her tone hoarsened—“if you will not spare him out of honor, spare him because I ask you to.”

  Blowing aside a skein of hair, Edouard stared at her. God help him, but she was right about killing Tye. It gave them no advantage whatsoever. ’Twould only make their situation even more dire.

  Tears trailed down her face. Her bosom rose and fell on anxious breaths. In her eyes, he saw disappointment as well as an urgent plea.

  Her disappointment in him hurt worst of all. She’d looked at him that way when she’d found him kissing Nara.

  Spitting a foul oath, he loosened his hold on the chain. Tye lurched forward and staggered to his feet. Inhaling on a gasp, he raced to the wall.

  The chains clinked as they tumbled back onto the pallet to lie like iron snakes.

  A wobbly smile lifted Juliana’s lips. “Thank you.”

  Edouard looked away, trying to control the tremendous pressure building inside him. Now that he’d attacked Tye, would Veronique exact punishment upon him and Juliana?

  The scrape of a boot heel on the planks snapped his focus back to Tye. Sucking air between his teeth, Tye flattened his hand against the wall and straightened to his full height. He ran his other hand over his tunic. “I will not forget what you did, Brother.” His voice cracked.

  “Nor will I forget all you have done,” Edouard answered coldly.

  “Please,” Juliana said. “No more fighting. ’Twill solve naught.”

  Tye’s blazing stare didn’t waver. Edouard refused to look away, to back down from the challenge still crackling between him and his bastard brother.

  His mouth set in a sneer, Tye turned toward the doorway. At last, he acknowledged he’d lost and was leav—

  Tye spun. Before Edouard could lunge aside, Tye’s foot slammed into Edouard’s chest, a solid blow between the ribs that propelled him back against the wall. Grunting, he doubled over and tried to get air back into his lungs; each short, sharp breath was agonizing. Hellfire, he should have expected such trickery from Tye—

  “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.”

  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 infi
rmity? “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.”