A Knight of Passion

by Scott, Tarah

  A gentle smile moved across his face. “It takes courage to risk the fires of hell for someone you love. God does not abandon a courageous woman.”

  “God cares nothing for courage.”

  “Open your eyes,” Father Vaughn said. “Who else but God could orchestrate such a miracle?”

  “Why do you think the duchess wanted me dead?”

  Riana startled at the sound of Sir Dunbar's voice, and the question. She shrugged. “Either you offended her, or have something she wants.”

  "She wants me dead so one of her favourites can seize control of my army. That alone would be worth murdering me. If he takes my land, the assassin may command his own price.”

  Riana didn’t flinch from his gaze. They believed she had been going to truly murder him. And why not? They couldn’t know the truth.

  “Yet she found an assassin who cost her not a single piece of silver,” she said.

  To her surprise, his eyes softened. “I suspect the cost would have been greater than she expected.”

  Riana blinked, unable to think of a response.

  “My army and Sir Bryant’s are allied,” he went on. “To declare war on one is to declare war on the other. That is no small threat.”

  Riana frowned. “You would battle the duke for me? Why?”

  Sir Dunbar laughed. “Because it would please me to bring his wife to her knees.” He turned his grin on Sir Bryant. “I would pay half my gold to see that.”

  Sir Bryant nodded, then said to Riana, “I will not let the duke harm Siusan.” He surprised her with a grin she felt clear to her toes, and added, “It would not be the first battle waged over a woman.”

  Riana couldn’t prevent a hoarse laugh, but the amusement was gone as quickly as it had come. “We may already be too late.”

  “The duchess is no fool,” he said. “She will not make a move until she is sure of the outcome. But we cannot delay.”

  He was right. Time had run out. The duchess knew that Riana wasn’t the malleable servant she’d thought her to be just a few hours ago. Her life was forfeit—and Siusan would now take her place. Riana’s pulse skipped a beat. Was there a chance they might escape this fate?

  Warmth flushed through her at memory of Sir Bryant’s hands on her as he eased his cock into her channel, his moist mouth on her nipples, his sure finger inside her slick heat. She knew what sort of lover he was. What sort of husband would he be?

  She locked gazes with him. “If you fail to rescue my sister, I will kill the duke and you will be wed to a murderess.”

  “If I fail, I will kill the duke.” He pulled her to his side and faced the priest. “Be quick about it, Father. There is no time to waste.”

  For the second time in her life, Riana stood in front of a chapel and pledged her body and goods to a man. Her stomach did a somersault when she agreed to be loyal to him and him alone. The possibility of giving her body to only one man for the rest of her life was a dream she hadn’t dared allow herself to contemplate.

  Sir Bryant would eventually grow tired of her, as all husbands did of their wives, but he was an attentive lover…a passionate lover, and she would not vex him when he finally found her lacking. How much better to be respected as a wife for the remainder of her days, rather than to be passed from man to man until her cunt dried up to the point she could no longer accept a cock?

  When the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Sir Bryant rose from where they knelt and gently pulled her up beside him. He grasped her chin and tilted her face upwards. A soft smile played on his lips as he lowered his mouth to hers. She remained still as stone, certain the fierce pounding of her heart echoed in his ears as loudly as it did hers. Moist lips brushed hers as if afraid she might break or, she realised, as if uncertain she would accept him. Riana slid a hand around his neck and pressed closer.

  He thrust his tongue inside her mouth with a fierceness that took her breath. He tasted, sucked, then flicked his tongue against hers just as he had her sheath only a few hours before. Her core tightened, and heat spread through her like wildfire. Her knees weakened and she couldn't halt the whimper deep in her throat. He broke the kiss, then crushed her to him. Riana startled at the loud thump of his heart. He remained unmoving, and she dared not break the spell for want of understanding his strange mood.

  At last, he grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “One thing yet remains to finalise the marriage.”

  She frowned, then grasped his meaning. “But last night —” She cast an embarrassed glance at the priest.

  “Last night was before we took vows,” Sir Bryant said.

  “How can we possibly consummate the marriage now?” Riana looked at Father Vaughn. “Surely this is not necessary?”

  “No marriage is considered truly valid until consummated. If there is reason to believe the marriage will be challenged…”

  “Could we not just say it was done?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Who is to know?”

  “Perhaps no one,” the priest replied. “But it can be known that you did consummate the marriage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come with me.” He turned towards the door.

  Sir Bryant followed, pulling Riana beside him, then called over his shoulder to Sir Dunbar, “You too, my lord. If anyone arrives, it is better they do not find you until this business is finished.”

  “This business?” Riana repeated.

  Father Vaughn led them back inside the church and around the altar. They hurried through a door in the right hand corner, and down a narrow corridor to a door on the left. He opened the door and stepped aside. Riana gasped at sight of a small bed located against the right side of the room.

  She jerked her gaze to Sir Bryant. “This is sacrilege.”

  “We have the sanction of a priest,” he replied.

  Riana swung to face the priest. “Surely this is not permitted?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? You are married.”

  “But that is your bed,” she insisted.

  Her husband bent and whispered in her ear, “We need not use the bed.”

  She jerked her gaze up to his.

  Confusion played across his face. “I did not mean—” He cast a helpless glance at Sir Dunbar.

  “Do not look at me, lad. She is your wife.”

  “Go.” Father Vaughn gave them a gentle push across the threshold and closed the door behind them.

  Riana stood frozen as her husband faced her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bryant took three steps to the small table beside the bed, undid the belt that held his sword in place, and set belt and weapon on the table. He turned and faced his wife. She stared, eyes wide, as if she expected him to eat her. His cock was already hard as rock. Eating her was exactly what he wanted to do. But she was his wife, and they were in a chapel.

  Did a man fuck his wife as he had Riana last night? Would she expect him to treat her differently now that she was a wife, instead of the woman who had found a stranger in her bed? He recalled her cool fingers on his neck when she brought his mouth to her nipple, the way her fingers had wrapped around his shaft and squeezed until pleasure tightened his balls to near pain. By God, he would not last a day, much less a lifetime, being nothing but gentle with her. But today, now, he must be gentle.

  He crossed to her and stopped inches in front of her, then lifted a hand to her face. She jumped. Bryant slowly traced her cheek with a finger. Her brow furrowed in obvious confusion. She clearly had no idea what to expect. He couldn’t help a private laugh. He had no idea what to expect himself. He had never been married, had not planned to marry any time soon, and wanted nothing more than to back her against the wall and fuck her so hard she would forget all the other men who had come before him.

  With great care, he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her, careful not to pull her close enough to feel the erection that pressed against his hose with a vengeance that threatened to force him past reason. If she knew his cock had remained
rock hard from the moment he’d laid eyes on her sitting on the warden’s desk, she would attribute his sudden marriage proposal to pure lust and consign him to the devil. She wouldn’t be wholly wrong.

  Riana exhaled a shaky breath, and he nibbled on her lower lip. She grasped his shoulders and satisfaction tightened his abdomen with the realisation that she was steadying herself. He kissed her hard. She entwined her arms around him and pressed herself close. Her hips bumped his, and her sharp intake of breath told him she was well aware of his hard shaft. He pictured her spreading her legs and riding his cock as she would a stallion. He undulated his hips, digging into the soft flesh of her mound.

  Her head fell back in open invitation and he trailed a kiss from chin to breast. He drew back and stared at the creamy swell of flesh visible over her bodice, then tugged down the dress. His cock jerked at sight of the hardened, rose-coloured nipples. She belonged to him and he had done this to her—but he wasn’t finished, not nearly finished. Bryant took one areola between his teeth and gently bit. She moaned and arched into his mouth. He sucked hard. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder.

  He yanked up her skirt, slid a thigh between her legs, and rubbed against her mound. Her cream moistened his hose. Riana began to rock against his leg. Bryant breathed deep and his balls tightened in response to her musky scent. He grasped her waist, eyes glued to the breasts that stretched taut with each thrust of her chest towards him as she rode his thigh.

  “By God, you tempt me,” he growled.

  Her head snapped up and she stilled, gaze locked on his face. Bryant grasped her dress and pulled it over her head. She lifted her arms as he tugged it free. He let the fabric fall to the floor, gaze fixed on the glistening thatch of curls pressed against his leg. He reached between them and traced the seam of her cunt lips. She shivered. He slipped a finger inside her folds. By God, she was so wet even her swollen nub dripped with juices. He began to massage the pleasure point, and her nails bit into his shoulders. He massaged faster. She moaned and began to rock against his hand. With a quick motion, he flicked her engorged sex.

  He slid a finger inside. Riana gasped. He plunged hard and fast. Her moans of pleasure echoed in the tiny room.

  “More,” she begged.

  Bryant yanked down his hose and wrapped thick fingers around his erection. He milked his cock from base to crown as he continued to finger-fuck his wife. Unexpected emotion washed over him. Wife. He shoved harder and faster inside her. She belonged to him. No other man would ever again give her this pleasure. She cried out and arched into his hand. Her walls closed around his finger in a strong convulsion.

  Need rammed through him. He squeezed his cock. He would spend himself by his own hand if he wasn’t careful. When they left this room, he needed to be able to say he’d sheathed himself inside her hot, wet channel. She must be fully and completely his. No one would be able to challenge their union. Her head fell forward onto his shoulder. The final convulsions faded. He pulled his finger from within her. How many more times could he make her come?

  * * * *

  Riana’s knees weakened, but Sir Bryant steadied her with sure hands as he removed his leg from between her thighs. His cock, long, hard, and glistening at the slit, pointed in her direction as if to command her to her knees before him. Enthralled, she traced a finger around the crown.

  He sucked in a breath. “Do not stop.”

  Her heart fluttered. He craved her touch. Slowly, she trailed a feather-light finger down his length. The rod pulsed. Her heart jumped into an erratic beat. She had been fucked by many men, seen their lust drive them to use her over and over, but had never been thrilled by the power she held over a man as she was now. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his girth and stretched the skin taut over the head. He groaned and thrust into her hand, his length stretching well beyond her palm edge.

  Still gripping him tightly, Riana knelt. He remained stock still as she leaned in to him and traced her nipple with the tip of his shaft. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his fisted hands. She tracked the underside of his length with her nipple, pressing her breasts against him, and lapped at the pre-cum seeping from his slit. Its salty tang burst across her tongue. A groan rumbled from his chest and she looked up to see his head back, eyes closed. His arousal, the effect she had on him, clenched her stomach.

  She reached between his legs and cupped his balls. He jerked, but didn’t command her to stop. Lightly, she ran her fingers over the sac. The tremble in his legs sent a thrill through her. Riana fitted the tip of his shaft to her lips and slowly sucked him in a few inches then pulled back, grazing the sensitive crown with her teeth. With both hands, he grasped her head, keeping her steady as she again sucked him inside, this time until his cock bumped into the roof of her mouth and her lips met her palm edge. His cock hardened even more.

  With her free hand, Riana reached around him and grasped his arse, pulling him tighter against her mouth. He pulled out, then thrust in with her sucking, the muscles in his buttocks bunching with the obvious effort of not cramming his cock down her throat. She pulled back, letting his cock slip free of her mouth, but quickly sucked the underside from tip to root then, slowly, back up again.

  “Riana,” he growled.

  Taking him into her mouth again, she lifted her eyes as she sucked him deep. He stared down, green eyes dark with desire. Her pulse quickened. He wanted her—not the duchess’ whore, but her, Lady Riana Ellis, now Lady Riana, his wife. She squeezed his balls. He tunnelled his hands into her hair as he thrust deeper into her mouth, eyes fixed on her face.

  She moved faster. His jaw tensed. Once he had come inside her mouth, would he remain hard enough to fuck her cunt? He tunnelled his fingers into her hair. His scent filled her nostrils. She wanted to taste him and have him inside her when he exploded. Faster, he thrust into her mouth.

  “Riana,” he gasped, “we must—”

  Shouts outside the room broke into their private moment. Sir Bryant’s head snapped towards the door as it burst open. Four men-at-arms stood in the doorway. Riana froze, Sir Bryant’s cock still in her mouth, and the lead warrior’s gaze riveted onto her. Sir Bryant seized her shoulders and dragged her to her feet. He shoved her behind him as he dragged his hose up over his erection.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

  “We are here to take Lady Ellis back to the duke.” The man in the lead stepped forward.

  Sir Bryant widened his stance. “Touch my wife, and die.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The horse Bryant rode lowered its head and strained with effort of spanning the last few feet of the rise they were climbing. Arundel came into view, beyond where Riana rode between the two men-at-arms ahead of him and Sir Dunbar. Bryant gripped the reins tighter. Panic had filled her eyes when the duchess’ men ordered them to Arundel, but he had been able to whisper only a few words of warning before the men separated them. Bryant knew it wasn’t her safety but her sister’s that made her fear. She couldn’t know he had formed a plan to save the girl.

  Bryant cursed his stupidity. Had he been thinking with his head instead of his cock, he would have better predicted the turn of events. His mentor might pay for that stupidity. He glanced at Sir Dunbar. The older knight lifted a questioning brow.

  “You are determined to see this through?” Bryant said in a whisper, so as not to be heard by the half a dozen warriors cresting the hill behind them.

  “I have come too far to turn back.”

  “If threatened, the duchess will ensure we do not leave Arundel alive,” Bryant said. “Once we are safely away, we can deal with her as we please.” Anger shot through him. And he did plan to deal with her and her husband. “I must persuade Her Grace that she wants Riana gone—at least for now.”

  Sir Dunbar chuckled. “Have you a magician to accomplish that miracle?”

  “That is not the most difficult part.” Bryant cast him a sidelong glance. “We must kidnap the younger Lady El
lis.”

  A corner of Dunbar’s mouth twitched. “I never kidnap a lady I do not intend to keep.”

  “If you can persuade my wife, she is yours.”

  He grimaced. “No woman is worth that much trouble.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “I will need time.”

  “When we arrive, I will distract the duchess with—”

  A man-at-arms appeared at Bryant’s side and he fell silent.

  Twenty minutes later, Bryant stepped aside for Riana to precede him and Sir Dunbar into the duchess’ private parlour at Arundel. The warrior escorting them grasped Riana’s arm and started to shove her through the doorway. Bryant seized him and shoved him against the wall.

  “Touch her again and I will kill you.”

  He sneered. “She is nothing more—”

  Bryant slammed his fist into the man’s belly. He doubled over, wheezing hard. Bryant turned and took two steps to where Riana stared. She turned frightened eyes to him and his chest tightened. Damn the duchess and her spies. If he found out who had reported that Riana had gone to the prison, he would split them from sternum to cock. He would also take Riana over his knee for being foolish enough to go to the prison…then he would kiss her reddened arse and every other part of her until she begged him to fuck her so hard she couldn’t see straight. Until then, he prayed she would trust him.

  She grasped the front of his shirt. “He is right,” she whispered. “This was a mistake. The duchess—”

  “I can deal with the duchess.” He gently disengaged her fingers from the gambeson, then guided her to the couch inside the room and eased her onto the cushion.

  She rose. “I must see my sister.”

  Riana started to rise again, but he firmly eased her back onto the sofa and squatted so that they were eye-to-eye. “Riana, we must talk before—”