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

by Catherine Kean

  Juliana frowned, even as his fingers relaxed their grip on her tresses, for her earlier encounter with Tye had given her an idea. One that might aid their escape.

  As she sat back on her heels and smoothed her hair, Edouard muttered, “I was right. I see it in your eyes. You are going to disagree with me.”

  “Aye, because you make demands I cannot possibly keep. How can I not speak to Tye? He will grow suspicious if I refuse to acknowledge or answer him.”

  Edouard sighed. “Of course you can speak to him. Just do not challenge him.”

  “Are you asking me to do that, Edouard, or ordering me?”

  Concern darkened his expression. He shook his head. “Look, Juliana—”

  “I know Tye is a dangerous man.”

  “You cannot imagine. The less you must associate with him, the better, for your own safety. From now on, you will let me—”

  “I will not promise to never challenge Tye again, Edouard. That may be our way to get free.”

  Edouard’s mouth flattened into an uncompromising line. “What do you mean?”

  The enormity of her plan welled up to loom inside her like a grinning specter. However, she wouldn’t lose her courage. Not if it meant she could save Edouard and his noble sire and put a stop to whatever cruelty Tye and Veronique were plotting.

  “One of us must get out of this chamber and get the key to your shackles,” she said with surprising calmness. “Also, the more I see of this castle, the better chance I have of my memories returning. Then, when we escape, I will be able to guide us out of the keep to safety.”

  Edouard said naught. He was, however, watching her attentively.

  She rallied her courage, sensing she walked a precipitous path. “I thought I would try and convince Tye to take me from this room. Only for a short while, of course.”

  Edouard exhaled through his teeth.

  She threw up a hand to stop any protest from him. “I realize ’tis dangerous, but if we do not escape soon, we may both die here.” Softening her tone, she added, “Nara is waiting for you to return to her. Do you really want to give up your wedding to her?”

  His impassioned gaze glowed even brighter than before. His love for Nara must be true and precious. Juliana struggled with a fresh pang of jealousy.

  “How, exactly, will you persuade Tye to take you from this chamber?” Edouard demanded.

  Dread coursed through her. ”I shall entice him.”

  ***

  “Mother.”

  Tye’s voice cut through the clang of swords wielded by two mercenaries dueling in the sun-drenched bailey. What did he want now?

  Biting back an oath, Veronique braced her hands on her thighs and rose from squatting before the woolen mantle she’d stretched out on the dirt. The prime spot not only allowed her to accomplish her fortune telling, but watch the fight and decide which mercenary would be most useful to her.

  Now that she was standing, the arrangement of bones upon the mantle looked slightly different, but equally uninformative.

  Tye halted beside her and frowned. “Why did you bring those outside? Whose garment—?”

  “Edouard’s.” Veronique gnawed on her fingernail. “I had hoped, by casting my bones upon a garment belonging to him, that I might gain insight into the coming days.”

  “And?”

  “The future remains unclear.” She sighed and glanced at the tantalizing display of male prowess close by; her gaze settled on the taller of the bare-chested men, then the stockier one.

  Her hand instinctively smoothed over the gown she’d tugged into place a short while ago, after walking, flushed and weak-kneed, out of the stable. Fornicating helped to clear her concentration; she’d insisted upon it before casting her bones. She’d almost torn her skirts in her frantic, gasping, womb-shuddering rut with a young, blond mercenary, a friend of these two warriors who’d given up his turn to fight to lie with her.

  Her bodice wasn’t quite straight, but Tye might not notice.

  His lips broke into a smile that flashed all of his straight, white teeth. He looked at the mercenaries, then back at her. “Accomplishing two desires at once, I see.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She arched her eyebrows.

  The glint in his eyes warned he knew full well what she’d done.

  He laughed. “Do not play coy with me, Mother. The glow of sex still warms your face.”

  Sometimes she wished he wasn’t quite as wretchedly perceptive, but then again, she’d raised him to be so. He had to be quick-witted to defeat and kill his noble sire, the destiny she expected of him. But that didn’t give him any right whatsoever to remark on her sexual liaisons.

  “That is enough, Tye.” With luck, her tone, fit for a disobedient infant, would silence his teasing. However, she silently admitted with a twinge of regret, he was far from a child. His impressive physique proved he was all man; so did the trysts she’d caught him in over the years with serving wenches, courtesans, and even widowed ladies. If he wasn’t her own flesh and blood, she’d have lured him to her bed long ago.

  Tye’s attention shifted to the mercenaries, grunting as their swords locked. The weapons slid together with a shriek before the men sprang apart, their faces shiny with sweat. “The question is,” Tye said quietly, “have you had enough? Or are these two next?”

  She wrinkled her nose. A fresh tug of lust, though, wove through her. Her son—wicked and clever boy—might well be right.

  The sooner she finished with Tye and sent him away, the sooner she could focus on other matters, such as the men at hand.

  “What do you need of me, Tye?” she demanded. “Did you come merely to pester me, or do you have news?”

  A sly gleam lit his eyes. “I do have news.”

  Veronique drew an excited breath. “Juliana’s memories have come back?”

  “Not that I know of, Mother.” Clearly anticipating her demand for his information, he raised a staying hand. “However, I found her and Edouard lying together this morning.”

  “Did he deflower her? Do you think . . ?”

  Tye shook his head. “She did not have that look about her.”

  “Mayhap this evening, then,” Veronique said with a wicked cackle.

  “That might, indeed, come to pass. You see, Juliana challenged me in the chamber after I kicked Edouard. She clenched her fists and looked about to punch me in the stomach.”

  A grin curved Veronique’s lips. “What a brave but foolish girl. Did she not realize you could have knocked her to the floor with one strike?”

  “I believe her emotions were so heightened they diminished her sense of caution.”

  “Ah. Juliana has developed feelings for Edouard.”

  “Aye, Mother.”

  “Feelings,” Veronique murmured, caught up in her evolving thoughts, “she must realize are not at all proper, when Edouard is her sister’s betrothed. When I spoke to Azarel earlier, Tye, she did not advise another potion for Juliana. She said Juliana’s memories would likely return when prompted by strong emotional reactions, such as anticipation, or fear—”

  “Or desire?”

  Sometimes, Tye could be such a bright boy. A smile born from that ingrained, often inconvenient sense of maternal instinct burgeoned inside Veronique. Still, she couldn’t keep herself from bestowing that affection upon her son as she patted his cheek. “Aye.”

  Tye smiled back. Mischief glinted in his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

  Veronique laughed, a gloating sound that carried across the bailey. The two fighting men paused and looked her way. “We shall tighten our grip on Juliana’s fragile emotions. We must, after all, find Landon’s ring. If what I have in mind works, we will not only revive her memories today, but have her seeking comfort again in Edouard’s arms. You, Tye, are just the man to accomplish what needs to be done.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do you see?” Edouard asked, his gaze on Juliana standing before the window, peering out.

  The rin
g of swordplay carried up from the bailey. Not enough noise to signal a rescue, but his men might be attempting an escape. Impatience chafed at Edouard. If only he could see for himself! He hated having even that small freedom denied to him.

  “Two men are dueling with swords,” Juliana said. “I do not see much else.”

  “Look to the edges of the bailey.” He tried to envision standing before the window’s iron grille, looking down, and using all that his warrior training had taught him to analyze the scene before him. “Who else is there with the fighters? Are other armed men standing around? Is anyone lying on the ground, injured? Do you see saddled horses, or—?”

  Juliana flicked a hand at him. “Patience. Please.”

  Tenderness softened her voice. He silently groaned, for when her memories returned, she’d realize how much she despised him. Would she resent having trusted him enough to sleep beside him? Embarrassed by the thoughts she’d shared about her feelings for him, she might avoid him for the rest of their living days.

  A crushing ache pressed upon Edouard. Her laughter, her beauty, the way his heart soared when she smiled at him . . . He’d never care for Nara the way he loved Juliana. He should have listened to his father’s wise words years ago and insisted on a betrothal to her. Then neither he nor Juliana would be in this wretched mess now.

  As Edouard blinked away his regrets and focused again on Juliana, he noted she’d curled her hands around the grille and risen on tiptoes to lean farther into the embrasure. Standing that way, her body looked even more lithe. Her gown clung to her bottom, emphasizing its enticing roundness. He curled his hands into fists, feeling the pinch of his manacles against his wrist veins, as his desire flamed anew.

  “Wait!” She pressed her brow to the grille, tension now in her posture. “I see Veronique.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “Speaking with Tye, who is beside her now.”

  Just hearing that bastard’s name, especially when his blood ran hotter, made Edouard want to slam his hand into the wall. A broken wrist, though, would only be a hindrance in an escape.

  “What else?” he asked, shifting his stance on the pallet. He rolled his shoulders, more to tamp down his impatience than because he felt the need. “Are Tye and Veronique holding any objects? Are they speaking with any others?”

  “Not that I can tell. The men are continuing their swordfight.” She sighed. “I do not believe aught of consequence is happening.”

  “When Veronique and Tye are together,” Edouard said, “aught of consequence is most definitely—”

  Veronique’s shrill laughter carried up from the bailey.

  Juliana glanced his way. “I vow you are right.”

  “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 ot
her 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.”