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

by Catherine Kean

  Her wet lashes flickered. Anger defined the line of her jaw. Did she not believe he knew of what he spoke?

  “I know,” he said, drawing on the torment he’d tried to suppress, “because I have lived with guilt ever since that day at Sherstowe, when you fell into the well.”

  Her eyes sparked. “When you pushed me in!”

  Shaking his head, he sighed. “When you leaned forward, trying to rescue your sketchbook, I grabbed hold of your waist. I meant to pull you out, but Nara kicked my boot and dislodged my balance. My falling against you caused you to tumble in.”

  Shock glistened in her gaze. “You dare to blame the mishap on Nara?”

  He refused to break her stare. “I do. Kaine witnessed what happened. Ask him, if you do not believe I am telling the truth. Better yet, ask Nara.”

  ***

  Juliana held Edouard’s determined gaze. He didn’t look away. Not the slightest trace of guilt stole into his warrior-tough expression, not even when he blinked, and a sickly sensation wended its way through her.

  All these months, she’d despised him for being reckless. She’d believed him wholly responsible for the frightening plunge into the well that had endangered her life.

  What if he wasn’t to blame?

  “If you knew Nara had caused me to fall in,” she said carefully, “why did you not tell our fathers that day? Why did you choose to keep silent?”

  He shrugged and his lips formed a crooked grin. “I dared not cause offense. My sire made it clear to me that he wanted an alliance between our families, for important reasons. ’Twas simplest for me to take the blame, especially when the day ended up a disaster.”

  How noble of him—and true to the character of the man she’d grown to know.

  ’Twas just like selfish Nara to not worry about putting her own sister in jeopardy. She’d likely been trying to win Edouard’s attention.

  Fighting rising anger toward her sister, Juliana said, “I truly believed you had put my life in danger. And then, with the bet . . .”

  “I would never intentionally put any woman in peril, Juliana. Especially you.”

  The unevenness of Edouard’s tone sent a raw pain racing through her. He looked so solemn, and the honest emotion in his words touched deep in her soul, finding all the secret desires she’d harbored for him, along with the anguish of his betrothal to Nara.

  “In the end, my sister’s antics came to fruition,” Juliana said quietly, memories of that night at Englestowe filling her thoughts. “She got her wish for a betrothal to you.”

  “Aye. ’Tis my duty to marry her.”

  He didn’t sound at all pleased; in fact, he sounded as though he disliked the commitment. Did he not want to marry Nara? Before Juliana could ask him about it, though, he said, “I am sorry for all the anguish I have caused you, Juliana. Every moment of it.”

  She tried to hold back the blush stealing into her face. Did his apology include almost kissing her? Oh, but she found a secret pleasure in that memory. One to which Nara could never lay claim.

  He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he said quietly, “I do not intend to dismiss the issues in our past we have not yet touched upon. However, Azarel and Tye will soon arrive, and there is one vital matter we must discuss.”

  She frowned. “What matter?”

  “You were right to be afraid to let Tye and Veronique know you had regained your memories. ’Tis crucial that you keep pretending you do not remember the past. You must act no differently than when you left this cell earlier today.”

  As Juliana’s gaze instinctively flew to the door, she said, “Veronique may already suspect. The way she looked at me, before I fainted—”

  “Then you must convince her otherwise.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Do you recall when you were in the well, and I called down to you? When I promised to get you out?”

  “I do remember.” The warmth of that memory stirred within her. “Your voice was very calm and reassuring.”

  He grinned. “I am glad to hear you say that. In truth, I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to get you out before you drowned. The danger involved seemed to give me the strength to accomplish what had to be done. Juliana, I know you have endured a great deal,” he said, his voice gentling, “but you are the only one who knows in detail what took place at Waddesford over the past months. You must survive, so that Veronique can be brought to punishment for her part in Mayda’s death and the other atrocities she has committed here. The truth of Landon’s involvement, too, must not be forgotten.”

  “You are right.”

  He glanced at the door, then back at her, his expression becoming grave. “I realize you may no longer want to be in my arms. However, Tye and Veronique have endeavored to force us together. He will be suspicious if he sees you are not seeking comfort in my embrace.”

  Oh, God. To be in Edouard’s arms now, after all she remembered . . . After recalling how intensely she’d craved his kiss . . .

  Nay. Survival, for both of them, was far more important than indulging such thoughts.

  Faint voices carried from outside the door.

  His lips parted, as though to give a warning, but she was already scrambling across the planks. His left arm slid around her, drawing her against his side. She ignored the crush of her breast against him, his enticing scent, and how part of her rejoiced in once again being close to him.

  Just as she tried to control the racing of her pulse, the door opened.

  ***

  “You are a fool, Tye. Juliana is trying to deceive us.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Releasing a furious breath, Veronique came to an abrupt halt in the bailey and glared at her son, who’d been walking at her side. Was he acting witless on purpose? Or had his senses become befuddled by Juliana’s pitiful dramatics earlier?

  “I saw the look in her eyes before she fainted,” Veronique muttered. “She was afraid, not overcome by pain. I vow she remembered the night of Mayda’s murder. Once Juliana wakes, I mean to find out.”

  Veronique scrutinized the folk working nearby. Where was Azarel? None of the servants she’d sent to find her had returned yet. The healer shouldn’t be hard to locate.

  Still sensing Tye’s stare, Veronique scowled at him. He didn’t, as she’d hoped, take his leave.

  “Juliana does have a bad wound, Mother. What if she did faint because of a headache? Forcing her memories when she is fragile—”

  “Is exactly what I will do. I have been more than patient with her. Now I will keep up the relentless pressure, till she has no choice but to surrender the information we want.”

  Impatience chafed at Veronique. After what had transpired on the wall walk, she should be consulting her bones, not wasting moments with Tye. The bones would help reveal what would come to pass with Juliana.

  Tye was still standing before her. “What is wrong? Do you no longer want your father’s legacy? Has her beauty weakened you—?”

  “Of course not!” He glowered. “You know how much I want to kill Father.”

  “Then you will bring Juliana down to the garden, where she and Mayda spent many afternoons together. Once I have found Azarel, she will look at Juliana’s wound there.” Veronique’s gnarled hand curled into a deformed fist. “Tell Juliana that I suspect she remembers all. If she still will not admit it . . .” She smiled, her palm heating with the remembered hardness of a knife hilt. “I will start the killing.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seated on a stone bench in the garden, Juliana linked her hands together in her lap and tried not to heed the clamminess of her palms. “Why did you bring me here?”

  On the opposite bench, Tye sat with his legs parted, elbows braced on his knees, leaning slightly forward. Sunlight bled through the overhead boughs of the apple tree and cast bright splotches over him and the grass stretching like an unruly carpet beneath their feet. His posture, while somewhat relaxed, reminded her of a predator
awaiting the right moment to lunge and ensnare. “You spent afternoons here with Mayda,” he said, indicating the area with a flick of his hand. “Does this place not rekindle any memories?”

  She fought the sickening misgiving that had rooted within her ever since Tye had returned to the tower and told her to come with him. You must act no differently than when you left this cell earlier today, Edouard had warned. He was right.

  Tye had watched her intently as he’d escorted her through the castle, out the forebuilding door to the sunlit bailey beyond, past the stables and kitchens, to this part of the keep. Still, she sensed she was being scrutinized, her gestures analyzed for signs that she had, indeed, regained her memories.

  Juliana worked to keep her expression of wary disinterest—an expression he’d expect to see from a captive who couldn’t remember her past—while her pulse became a hard drumming against her ribs. Daring to tuck a wayward skein of hair back behind her ear, she looked about the overgrown garden enclosed by a low, mortared stone wall.

  To her right, the dirt space of the bailey blended into grass thickened with weeds. To the left, shadows and sunlight defined straggly beds of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. Her gaze slid farther back to the neglected rose bushes. Mayda had loved to pick the rose blooms and set them in vases about the solar, but toward the end of her difficult pregnancy, she’d been abed more often than not . . .

  Beware, Juliana.

  Forcing frustration into her sigh, she looked back at Tye. “I wish I did recall this place. ’Tis very peaceful. I can see why I could have come here with Mayda.”

  “But you do not recall any of your days spent here? Things you and Mayda may have talked about?”

  The urge to quickly look away leapt inside Juliana. She had to stay focused. By keeping Tye fooled, she might be able to find a way to free Edouard. Castle folk were going about their duties in the bailey; if she could convince Tye to walk her through the area on the pretense of jostling her memories, she might be able to make contact with one of the servants she considered a friend. She must try.

  Discreetly easing the painfully tight clasp of her hands, she slowly broke Tye’s stare and took another glance about the area. Recollections, tinged with sadness, teased her senses. Mayda had preferred the bench where Tye sat, because she could see the activity in the bailey. Days before Rosemary’s birth, while Mayda rested, Juliana had visited here alone and sketched the empty bench dappled by sunshine. The light had cast a speckled pattern that had complemented the peppery surface of the stone . . .

  “Juliana?”

  She jumped, a purely instinctive reaction. Had she betrayed herself?

  Forcing down the fluttered breath that had leapt to her throat, she shrugged and looked back at him. “For a moment, I thought a memory was surfacing.”

  “And?” Suspicion darkened Tye’s voice.

  “I tried to make it materialize, but . . . I could not.” She tried to sound disheartened. “Mayhap, if we wait awhile, ’twill arise.”

  He shook his head. An unforgiving smile curved his mouth.

  Before she could say another word, Tye rose to standing. The air froze in her lungs, and she could only watch as he crossed to her bench and eased down beside her, claiming what small space had separated them.

  What was he going to do? Touch her? Force her to accept his lust?

  No one would stop him, for he and Veronique ruled Waddesford.

  She scooted down the bench, even as his broad hand captured hers. His thumb swept against her left wrist, a movement that chilled rather than warmed her skin.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice unsteady.

  “Are you telling me the truth, Juliana?”

  Do not let him see the truth! Do not jeopardize Edouard. “I am,” she said firmly.

  The breeze shifted the boughs overhead, changing the dappled play of light and underscoring the tense silence between them.

  “I have told you all I remember,” she insisted.

  “Have you?” Tye’s fingers shifted to entwine with hers, a gesture not of affection, but entrapment. “Mother believes your memories have fully returned.”

  Oh, God!

  Juliana tried to twist her hand free, but his grip tightened.

  Tye’s gaze slid toward the bailey, and then he released a sigh, a sound that stirred dread in the pit of her stomach. “Mother will be here shortly with Azarel. I will be honest with you, Juliana. Mother grows impatient.” He paused, a deliberate emphasis. “She plans to force your memories out of you today, including where to find Landon’s ring. One way or another.”

  Juliana’s stomach plummeted. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you care for Edouard?”

  “O-of course!”

  Tye smiled. “Then you will do your best to remember. For his sake.”

  “Veronique means to harm him?”

  “Oh, aye. She will likely start with a finger or two—”

  Juliana’s free hand flew to her mouth. Panic whirled in her mind. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely. “I . . .”

  Again, Tye glanced toward the bailey. Shouts carried, followed by sounds of a commotion.

  “Tye!” Veronique bellowed. “Where is Tye?”

  He swiftly rose, drawing Juliana to her feet. “Come.” Without waiting for her reply, he strode forward across the grass, hauling her along after him.

  “W-what is happening?” Juliana cried. Was Veronique about to begin her torture? Had she dragged Edouard out of the tower to make Juliana and all the other castle folk watch him suffer? She couldn’t bear to see him maimed.

  Stones skidded beneath her feet. She could hardly keep up with Tye, and she stumbled, her fingers scraping the ground—long enough to snatch up a pebble—before she righted. When they left the tree’s shade for the bright bailey, she sensed Tye’s pace quickening.

  “There you are!” Veronique advanced on him, shaking out a long garment while holding onto her bag of bones. “How dare you take so long to answer my summons?” Her accusing gaze slammed into Juliana before returning to Tye.

  He released Juliana’s hand. “We were in the garden, Mother, as you ordered of me.” He clearly fought for patience. “What is going on?”

  “The prisoners in the dungeon are attempting to escape. You are to crush their rebellion.”

  Excitement surged inside Juliana. Edouard was safe. Oh, how she hoped the escape attempt succeeded.

  “A bloody fight?” Tye grinned. “Gladly, Mother.”

  Tye raced off, and Juliana swallowed hard as the poisoned heat of Veronique’s stare fixed upon her. With a sharp thrust of her hand, Veronique signaled over one of the men-at-arms who’d joined the mercenaries gathered outside the dungeon’s entrance.

  The man bowed before her. “Aye, milady?”

  When he rose, she shoved the garment and bone bag into his arms. “Return Juliana to the tower cell. Then, deliver these to the solar. Lose even one bone, and I will kill you.”

  ***

  Juliana walked ahead of the man-at-arms, his footfalls and noisy breaths echoing off the passageway’s walls. She shifted the pebble in her palm and anticipation fluttered inside her, for on this walk to the tower stairwell, on the return to accursed captivity, she’d decided to escape.

  This might be her only opportunity. She’d not let it slip away, especially when Veronique had decided to harm Edouard.

  Holding her head high while she walked, Juliana concentrated upon her resolve, coaxing it until it spread like fire within her. Never would Juliana allow Veronique to torture Edouard in order to force her to confess her memories. She’d rather die.

  She turned a corner in the passage illuminated by wall torches, and the stairwell leading up to the tower chamber came into view. Eight steps, at most, till they reached it. A nervous jolt ran through her. Soon, very soon, she would act. She steeled herself for just the right moment.

  Two careful breaths. One . . .

  The guard grunted. “Do not give me t
rouble now. Up—”

  Juliana discreetly tossed the pebble. It clattered away into the shadows.

  The man’s strides slowed.

  “What was that?” She turned partway to face him, pretending surprise.

  Light glinted off his drawn sword. His grizzled face clamped into a scowl.

  Ignoring a pang of uncertainty, she peered at the stone floor. “Did you drop something?”

  “Nay.” He thrust his sword at the stairwell. “Move.”

  She had to distract him. Otherwise, her plan had already failed. “Are you certain the bag of bones is securely tied? If you lost one of them . . .”

  He tipped his chin toward the mantle and bag, cradled in his left arm. The bag lay partly concealed in the folded garment. “They are safe.”

  “For your sake, I hope you are right. We both know how important those bones are to Veronique. If you did drop one . . .” Juliana raised her hands, a gesture of dismissal. “But you know best. I will not worry.”

  The guard leaned closer to her, as though to gauge her expression.

  Managing a little smile, she shrugged, turned her back to him, and started toward the stairwell, fighting an awful sense of discouragement. Her ruse hadn’t worked. She must think of another—

  “Hold.”

  She hesitated, her trembling hands forming fists.

  “Turn around.”

  Her gown whispered as she obeyed.

  Leveling his sword at her chest, he said, “Stand against that wall.” He nudged his elbow at the one nearest, opposite the stairwell’s entrance. “Stand there, where I can see ye.”

  A nervous flush warmed her face. She mustn’t appear anxious, or he’d suspect her of trickery. Narrowing her gaze with what she hoped would appear to be mutinous hatred, she stepped back until her bottom bumped the wall.

  He nodded once, suggesting he thought her well enough secured. His gaze dropped to the floor.

  “I think it fell by the torch.” Juliana gestured farther down the wall.

  The lout glanced where she indicated, before his face cinched into a scowl. Then, keeping his sword trained on her, he took two steps sideways for a better look.