A Knight of Passion

by Scott, Tarah

Riana didn’t flinch from her gaze. Glen and Siusan had been caught. How? Her insides quaked, but she forced a level voice. “It was sheer luck that you discovered their escape.”

  The duchess gave a spiteful laugh. “Your lack of gratitude is appalling. My husband and I saved you from the whore house.”

  Riana snorted. “This is a whore house.”

  “Your good fortune—”

  “Do not lecture me on my good fortune. Everyone knows that your husband forced my mother to marry Sir Harris so that he could gain control of Fyvie Castle and the land that butts up against Arundel. Just as everyone knows your husband feels it is his right to bed his wards.”

  “I promised your sister would marry well.”

  “You lied.”

  “Your pathetic attempt to distract me with Sir Bryant will not redeem you.”

  “Redeem me?” Riana replied. “I was beyond redemption the moment your husband fucked me.”

  “Many women crave his touch.”

  Riana gave a mirthless laugh. “I am not one of them.”

  “Mayhap your sister will be.”

  “Now you expect me to believe you are the fool,” Riana said. “Allow one hair on her head to be touched, and you will pay alongside your husband.”

  The duchess studied her. “Brave words, but even if you do not fear the hangman’s noose, your gaoler will make you regret being under his watch.” She began a slow walk around Riana. “It is rare that such a delectable piece as yourself sees the dungeons, so you may be sure he will make use of every opportunity to stuff his cock inside you before the noose is placed around your pretty neck.”

  “There will be little difference between that place and this,” Riana replied. “A prison with silk dresses and a king’s table is still a prison, and linen sheets are no better than rags when shared with foul animals like those you send to my bed.”

  “Indeed?” The older woman’s eyes glittered with an unholy light. “Imagine your naked body chained to the cell wall, legs spread as the warden’s grimy mouth devours your cunt. Once he has had his fill of your cream, he will ram his cock inside you and pound into you until your backside is sore from rubbing against the hard stone wall.” She halted and leaned close, breath hot against Riana’s ear as she added, “And all the while, his companions will be watching…waiting for their turn.” She straightened, eyes bright. “He will sell you to every man with the coin to pay. Some will pay well for the privilege of taking you two at a time. By the saints, I may have to watch.”

  Riana lifted the corners of her mouth in a slow smile, “You will be dead.”

  The older woman jerked back as if bitten. Her mouth thinned and the lust that glazed her eyes vanished. “You disobeyed my order to kill Sir Dunbar.”

  “‘Tis not my fault the wrong knight came to my bed.”

  “You handled Sir Bryant well.”

  “Handled him well?” Riana repeated. “I have had much practice, thanks to you.”

  “Do not deny that you enjoyed him. I saw the difference between him and the other men.”

  Riana kept her expression bland. “What you saw was me ensuring that you did not leave.”

  “What I saw was you fucking a man for pleasure. Perhaps in the future you will apply the same techniques and take more pleasure in your…work. Now, Sir Dunbar is in the bedchambers on the third floor where Sir Bryant should have been. I have made sure he has wine. Clean yourself, then go to him and finish the deed.”

  “Where is my sister?” Riana demanded.

  “In her chambers. We are fortunate to have thwarted the escape. Did it not occur to you that the very thing you fear could happen to her would? What if one of Sir Dunbar’s men had encountered her? They would not have protected her as the duke’s men will.”

  “Her maidenhead is a small price for freedom,” Riana replied.

  The duchess’ brows shot up. “They would pass her around until she bled.”

  “Not all men are like your husband,” Riana said, and started to turn.

  “Are you not going to ask about your beloved Glen?”

  Riana halted. “Glen? What of him?”

  “I turned him over to the Sheriff.”

  “The Sheriff?” Riana burst out. “But why? He has committed no crime.”

  “Kidnapping a noblewoman is a crime punishable by hanging.”

  Riana’s insides shook. “Wha—what do you mean? He did not kidnap her.”

  “My husband thinks he did.”

  Her head reeled. Glen in prison? Riana fell to her knees and grasped the duchess’ hand. “I beg you, do not hang him.”

  “It is him or your sister, Riana.” Cold blue eyes stared down at her. “Which shall it be?”

  The duchess knew she wouldn’t sacrifice Siusan. Head bowed, Riana rose and crossed to the door. She closed the door behind her and paused in the hallway. Without Glen, Siusan had no chance of escape, and escape they must, for the duchess now understood that Riana would no longer wait to save her sister. How much time before the duchess gave Siusan to the duke? She wanted Sir Dunbar eliminated. If Riana could forestall his death for even a few hours, she might obtain Glen’s freedom, and find a way to get Siusan out of Arundel.

  Tears burned the corners of her eyes at the thought of the old mute locked in a cell with criminals who would as soon cut his throat as shove their cocks inside his arse. At least he could protect himself…for a time.

  She swallowed, her throat dry. The duchess had unknowingly given Riana the answer to Glen’s freedom. The warden would be willing to grant favours in exchange for a delectable piece such as herself. Riana’s stomach turned at thought of the gaol keeper’s grimy mouth clamped to her mound as he attempted to suck her into pleasure. The fool would never know he hadn’t succeeded.

  Chapter Five

  Fury rammed through Bryant. Using Riana as a whore wasn’t enough. The duchess would have the young woman murder for her. He had wondered why Riana had emptied the wine goblet into the chamber pot. He was gratified to understand she wouldn’t chance him drinking the deadly wine by mistake. She was no murderess, at least not at heart.

  The duchess, however, schemed to murder his mentor, the man who had been more of a father to him than his own father. Twenty-three years ago, Bryant’s father had torn him from his mother’s arms at the age of seven and given him to Dunbar as his page. Now Bryant was a knight to be reckoned with—though he wasn’t powerful enough to stand against the Duke or Duchess of Arundel.

  Bryant’s word wouldn’t be enough to bring her to justice for conspiring to murder, but Sir Dunbar would believe him and, if the older knight saw the wisdom in the plan now forming in Bryant’s mind, together, they might wield some power over the duke and duchess.

  Five minutes later, Bryant entered Sir Dunbar’s room.

  Dunbar cursed and propped himself up in bed when Bryant lit a candle. “‘Tis the middle of the night.”

  “I can leave and take with me the information about the attempt on your life,” Bryant said.

  Dunbar threw back the covers and sat up. “Who have I offended this time?”

  Bryant lowered himself into the chair to the left of the bed. “The Duchess of Arundel.”

  Dunbar’s brows rose in question, and Bryant told him all he’d overheard between her and Riana.

  Ten minutes later, Bryant had finished the tale and he leant back in his chair as Dunbar gulped the last of the wine he had poured.

  He set the goblet on the night stand beside the bed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You are damned fortunate the wench did not feed you the poison just for good measure—and I am fortunate to have caught the eye of that serving maid. Had she not brought me to these chambers, I would have certainly fucked the whore, then drank the poison she fed me.” He grinned. “Your life for mine is a fair trade after all, the times I’ve saved your life.”

  Bryant recognised the amusement in the comment, but gave a serious nod. He would gladly give his life for the older knight.


  “This is the work of Shrewsbury,” Dunbar said. “With me out of the way, he could take control of my forces and seize my land—mayhap yours as well. His army combined with mine would give him a seat at Sir Andrew’s table, and an ear with David once the pup takes his place as king. Curse Shrewsbury,” Dunbar muttered. “The bastard made a pact with that bitch—they are well suited.” Dunbar snorted. “She likely used your little bitch to seal the deal.”

  “She is no bitch” Bryant replied.

  “She is a whore.”

  “I intend to marry her.”

  “Marry her?” Dunbar blurted. “Have you gone mad?”

  “I am a bastard,” Bryant replied. “Who am I to judge her station in life?”

  “Your station will be greatly enhanced once you marry a proper lady—something you should have done five years ago.”

  “She is a proper lady.”

  “Her title is of feudal rank, not peerage. You will be little better off than you are now.”

  Bryant lifted a brow. “Peerage?”

  “Your father expects you to marry well.”

  Bryant gave a mirthless laugh. “I care nothing for what he expects.”

  “He has done well by you,” Dunbar replied.

  “Nothing he does has ever been out of love for me—or my mother.”

  “You will not forgive him, will you?”

  Bryant met his gaze squarely. “Why should I?”

  “He did not know she was sickly. I knew your mother. She was skilled at keeping her secrets.”

  “He left her in that hovel.”

  “Not a hovel, lad.”

  “Not the lavish warmth his wife enjoyed,” Bryant shot back.

  Dunbar studied him. “Are you certain you do not mean to hurt him by marrying this girl?”

  “I would not give him even that satisfaction.”

  “You could take her as a mistress. That would be paradise compared to her life here.”

  “That would sentence her to the same fate my mother suffered. No, my lord, I will marry her.” Bryant's heart softened. He recognised the old knight’s attempt to ensure his future, and gentled his tone. “I must take her sister with us. That is the only way she will agree to the marriage.”

  Sir Dunbar’s brows shot up. “You cannot believe the duke will let the girl go.”

  “Do not forget, his wife attempted to kill you.”

  Dunbar laughed. “You overestimate my importance, especially when compared to that girl’s beauty. Also, their stepfather still lives. He, too, has control of the girls’ lives. You might save the older sister by marrying her, but that gives you no power over the younger. There is also the matter of Castle Fyvie,” he added. “The duchess will not want the land fall to you.”

  Bryant nodded. “But consider, Neas. If the plotting of your murder is any indication of what she has coerced Lady Ellis into, imagine what other secrets Riana might know. If I offered her protection, she would change her allegiance without hesitation, and her secrets would become ours.”

  The older man was silent for a long moment. “The duchess favours our self-proclaimed king Edward Balliol. Perhaps there is something that might incriminate them enough to count them among the Disinherited.” He paused. “If you marry Lady Ellis and she lies to us—or does not know anything of great import—the duchess will not rest until we are dead.”

  “You were as good as dead when you entered Arundel,” Bryant said.

  Dunbar shot him a recriminating look. “The girl has more reason to lie than to tell the truth.”

  “Not with the right incentive.”

  “Miscalculate, and you accomplish far more than a bad marriage. Your father cannot protect you against the Duke of Arundel.”

  Bryant’s jaw tensed. “When have I ever called upon my father for help?”

  “In that, you are a fool.” Dunbar rose. “So, you intend to bind the house of Arundel to your own by marrying the duchess’ whore? You had better have bollocks, lad. You will either end up dead, or a very powerful man.”

  Bryant smiled. “I prefer the latter.”

  Chapter Six

  Riana choked back a gag at the foul odour of the prison and pulled her hood of her cloak tight around her face as she followed the guard down the tiny walkway between cells that lined the walls to the left and right. How did these men live in such squalor? Was this how Glen was being forced to live? She had to get him out at all costs.

  Thanks be to God that Sir Dunbar hadn’t been in his chambers when Riana sought him out two hours ago. She’d reported to the duchess, who had been furious, but day was fast approaching, and his men-at-arms would soon be rousing themselves. The duchess agreed that he must have been distracted with another tasty wench. Tonight, she would ensure he came to Riana.

  That gave Riana today to secure Glen’s release. Once free, she would sneak Siusan out of Arundel, and she—

  A grimy hand shot from the darkness between the bars on the left side. Riana leapt back, then cried out at the vicious yank on her arm that dragged her against the bars on the opposite side. Meaty fingers snaked around her waist and pinched a breast through the thin fabric of her dress.

  “Let her go, you filthy wretch!” shouted the guard.

  Riana twisted and met the feral brown eyes of the prisoner. He seized her bodice and yanked it down past her breast as he jerked her against the bars. Foul breath washed over her face. She gagged in reflex at the rank smell. His greedy mouth latched onto a nipple and sucked. Pain spiked from the sensitive bud. Riana twisted as fingers dug in between her legs. Bile rose.

  The guard’s club slammed down on the man’s arm. The wretch growled. The club beat down upon the man’s arm again, and his grasp loosened. Riana jumped back, then whirled in time to miss a swipe from another large hand on the other side of the room. She dragged the bodice up over her breasts, breath coming in painful wheezes.

  The guard appeared at her side. “I told you to walk directly behind me.” He added something unintelligible, then started forward again.

  Riana stumbled after him, legs so shaky she couldn’t halt her tears. With trembling hands, she tugged the hood over her head, gaze straight ahead as she followed directly in the guard’s footsteps down the middle of the aisle until they passed through a doorway into another narrow corridor, this one, thankfully, without cells. They made a dozen twists and turns through the stone hallways and up and down stairs before finally coming to a large wooden door. The guard rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside.

  “The lady to see you, my lord.”

  Riana entered, legs still trembling so badly she feared they would give way beneath her. Warmth washed over her and she started at sight of the inviting fire that blazed in the hearth at the opposite side of the room—and the tall, dark-haired man sitting behind a desk a few feet front of it. The quill that had been moving across a page stilled, and he looked up. This man didn’t fit the lecherous picture the duchess had painted of the prison warden.

  Not all men looked the part of letches, she reminded herself. But they were.

  Not so. Glen wasn’t, neither had her Stuart been…or Sir Bryant? She shook off the unexpected thought and focused on the man sitting behind the desk. If he wasn’t a man to be swayed by a woman’s body, then he would require coin, and she needed to save every gold piece for Glen and Siusan. Pray God a letch lived behind the intense brown eyes that stared at her.

  She glanced meaningfully at the guard. “May we speak alone, my lord?”

  The warden motioned with his head for the guard to leave. The man snickered, then left.

  Riana waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then crossed to the desk. “I am here to secure the release of a friend.”

  He laid down his quill and looked expectantly at her.

  Fear sliced through her at his lack of response. “You do not seem surprised by my request, sir.”

  “I have many requests to release prisoners.”

  His dee
p voice unnerved her. “I can pay,” she said.

  His gaze raked down her body, then came back to her face. “Indeed?”

  “Any price,” she added.

  “Who is the friend?”

  “Glen Ramsey.”

  He gave a small nod. “The duchess’ latest pet.”

  Her heart raced. “Is he well?”

  His mouth turned downwards. “As well as can be expected.”

  Fear squeezed her stomach. “What does that mean?”

  “You have seen this place. Who would be well here?”

  “Aye, no one, but is he unharmed?”

  “Last I saw him. He is strong. He can care for himself.”

  “Any price,” she said. “I can pay.”

  “How is it a man like him has won the allegiance of a woman like you? He is a deaf mute.”

  Anger flared, but she forced back the emotion. She wasn’t allowed indignation. She would fuck the devil if it would get Glen out of hell. “He is my father.” The lie was slight.

  “A woman would do almost anything for a father,” he said slowly.

  “Not almost anything,” Riana corrected. “Anything.”

  “The duchess will expect her pet to be where she left him.”

  Riana snorted a condescending laugh. “Her Grace has never set foot here, nor will she.”

  Though if she knew what Riana was about to do, she well might hazard the foul stench to watch. Riana forced back a shiver. It was one thing for the duchess to have watched while Riana let a man rut between her legs when sprawled on the sweet-smelling mattress at Arundel, but quite another for her to enjoy the picture she’d painted of Riana chained to a wall as a man pounded into her while grunting like the animal he was.

  The warden leant back in his chair. “The duchess is not a woman to cross.”

  A tremor rippled through Riana. This man was no fool to be easily misled. She eased the hood from her hair, then undid the tie on the cloak and sloughed the garment from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, but the warden’s eyes were on the well-fitting but low-cut bodice that revealed a hint of nipple.

  He lifted his gaze to her face. “Word of your visit is sure to reach her ears.”