A Knight in Atlantis

by Diana Bold

  Knowing how it must gall her to think of him pawing through her personal belongings, he turned away. He tried to justify his actions with the fact that he had rescued her from the dungeon. Though she had refused his bed, the little pallet of furs on the floor would be far more comfortable than the stiff-backed chair Simon had tied her to.

  Her gaze bored into him as he sank into his chair and spread her things in front of him. First, he removed a pile of delicately made clothing. He shook out a gown of green silk, frowning as the fabric snagged on his calloused fingers. He had never seen such a finely crafted garment and could not imagine why she wore her current garb when she owned something much more suitable. He set aside other items of clothing, in appearance like to a man’s but clearly sized to the lady. Next, came obvious undergarments, ones made to entice. He tried hard not to imagine how the rosy, soft wisps of fabric would look like against her pale skin.

  Next came small containers of sweet-smelling liquids whose purpose he could not discern.

  He reached deep into the pack to pull out the mechanical instruments Simon had told him about, his hands trembling with suppressed excitement. The half-dozen strange, metallic items were so foreign he could not even think what to compare them to.

  All his life he had searched for solutions to the questions that plagued him. Now, at last, he sensed he was on the verge of some answers. But the metals and materials were so different from those he knew that he could not fathom their purpose. His frustration grew as he examined the odd symbols and writing that marked them.

  Even as a child, he had been able to outthink and outtalk the adults around him. He had studied with voracious hunger and hardly ever come across any problem he could not solve, any riddle he could not answer.

  But as he handled these instruments, he acknowledged the limits of his intelligence for the first time. Whoever had designed these tools had knowledge he could not even imagine.

  He depressed a button on the side of a long, cylindrical tube and light shot out the top, startling him so badly he dropped the thing and surged to his feet.

  “Bloody hell!” His pulse thundered in his chest.

  “Don’t be afraid.” The girl’s soft voice disquieted him even more — he had been so absorbed in his examination of her pack, he had forgotten she was even there. “It won’t hurt you. We use artificial illumination such as this to light our way instead of fire.”

  He cast a quick glance across the room, but shadows obscured her face. He had not even realized darkness had fallen.

  “Push the button again, and it will shut off.”

  Wary, he did as she suggested, and the light extinguished. “I can do that repeatedly? I can have light whenever I wish?”

  How wondrous it would be to have light without the time and effort of building a fire! He depressed the button again, and the crisp beam shocked him anew. He had never seen light so pure and clear, reminiscent of the sun’s brightness. He could read all night…

  “There is a small power source in the handle,” the girl explained. “Eventually, the power will run out, but they are disposable, easily replaced.”

  He gave her a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you.” Questions seethed within him, but he did not want to appear too greedy. Later, he would ask for more regarding the creation of light from darkness and the nature of this “power source.” For now, he was happy she had gifted him this small piece of information. Fate had handed him an incredible opportunity. He must not let his impatience destroy it.

  “Perhaps we can strike a deal.” Her voice quavered with stress and exhaustion. “I will tell you more, but first I must have your assurance you will help me leave this place.”

  He leaned back in his chair, wishing he could see her face. Though his older brother had many faults, his sense of responsibility for the people of Hawkesmere was not among them. As long as Simon suspected she meant his people harm, he would never allow her to leave. “I will speak to my brother. But I can make you no promises.”

  She sighed and settled back amongst the furs, her disappointment palpable.

  “Rest for now, my lady,” he murmured. “We will talk more in the morning.”

  To his surprise, she curled up beneath the blankets with gratifying obedience, and within moments seemed to be fast asleep. He found the soft cadence of her breathing distracting, yet undeniably alluring. Arousal hummed through his veins as he returned to his study of the strange items.

  Need was nothing new to him, but he had learned to tamp down his unbidden urges and desires long ago. He had trained himself to focus on his studies and experiments, keeping himself awake until he fell into an exhausted sleep, too tired to think about the desolate wasteland his life had become.

  But tonight, knowing a beautiful siren slept across the room, beneath the same furs that had warmed his own body on countless nights, concentration eluded him. His thoughts strayed repeatedly to the way her odd clothing clung to her sweet, feminine curves. Shockingly indecent, yet breathtakingly lovely.

  Focusing on the amazing objects, he forced himself to ignore her. Lust is fleeting, he reminded himself, but knowledge lasts forever.

  At last, however, he admitted that he could find no reason or clarity in the outlandish devices without the lady’s aid. Without further preparation, he cradled his head in his arms upon the table and let sleep take him.

  Chapter Three

  As darkness descended over the tower, Rhoswen watched Sebastian through half-closed eyes, trying to decide whether she could trust him. Some small, foolish part of her wanted to believe he meant to help her.

  After all, he’d rescued her from a cold, terrifying night in the dungeon. But she was well aware this could be an act, a way to earn her trust so he could get the information he needed. Then he’d probably return her to his brother’s clutches to be tortured and killed.

  When he finally rested his head upon his arms and closed his eyes, she watched him warily, wondering if he slept or if he tested her in order to see what she would do. Her body tensed in anticipation, though she knew his earlier warning should not be taken lightly.

  Attempting an escape would be suicidal. She might make it out of the tower, but beyond these walls lay an entire fortress of stone. She bit her lip and stared at Sebastian’s bowed head.

  Beautiful, confounding man.

  Despite her anger and exhaustion, despite the danger and fear, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his unique blend of vivid coloring and sharply hewn features — so different from any man of her acquaintance, yet undeniably attractive.

  Trevelan had never engendered this confusing, aching need to press her lips to his or perhaps to stroke a lock of hair from his brow. The realization made her both guilty and sad. For the first time in her life, desire stirred within her, and that frightened her as much as the thought of never seeing Atlantis again.

  If she wasn’t careful, this foolish attraction could get her killed.

  Biting back a moan of pain, she pushed to her feet. She’d made her decision. She couldn’t sit here and meekly await whatever came next. Better she should die while attempting an escape than put all her faith in Sebastian, who couldn’t have her best interests at heart, no matter how kind he seemed.

  With one last regretful glance in his direction, she inched her way toward the open door. Had he left it that way to taunt her? All evening, she’d measured the distance in her mind, but the half-dozen yards stretched endlessly beneath her blistered feet.

  Sebastian slept on, and she snatched her light stick from the edge of the table. She’d need it to navigate her way down the steep tower steps.

  His living quarters were on the third floor of the ancient building, and by the time she reached the ground level, her arms and legs trembled with fatigue.

  Doubt assailed her. She’d pushed her body to its limit and didn’t know how much farther she could go.

  Titania's Tower guarded the entrance to the caverns where the people of Atlantis had lived while the earth
healed. If she could find the tunnel, she could escape far outside Hawkesmere’s gates without running into any of the knights who patrolled the castle’s perimeter.

  She shone her light stick around the stone walls but found no evidence of tunnels or secret doors and wondered if she’d been wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t Titania's Tower after all. Though the tower had looked like the drawings in the history books, she’d gotten hopelessly turned around in her journey from the sea and wasn’t even sure they’d gone in the right direction.

  She wasted several precious minutes circumventing myriad tables and drying racks. Sebastian must use this room to dry herbs and flowers, no doubt to make the various elixirs and potions that lined a large shelf, neatly labeled in small clay jars.

  This further evidence of his obvious intelligence gave her pause, but she pressed on, running her hand over the smooth stone, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  Her heart thundered in her chest as her search proved fruitless. Time ticked by with relentless speed, and she feared being caught before she even managed to make it out of the tower.

  With a small sob of dismay, she turned toward the door. An escape through the castle proper might be impossible, but she couldn’t waste any more time looking for a tunnel that might not even exist.

  Turning her beam of light upon the huge oak portal, she became stymied once again. Smooth as the walls, the door had no handle; she could see no way to open it. Frantic, she threw her weight against the wood, but the ancient entrance had been built to withstand an attack far superior to the one she mounted.

  She ran her fingertips around the edge, where some sort of internal locking mechanism held the door in place. There ought to be a lever or knob close by, but her search of the room yielded nothing.

  No wonder Sebastian hadn’t bothered to close the door to his sleeping chamber. He’d known she wouldn’t make it very far.

  Sobbing in earnest now, she sank into a defeated heap upon the floor, leaning her forehead against the door as the futility of her situation became clear.

  No escape.

  Trapped here for the foreseeable future, at the mercy of a man she didn’t understand, her options had dwindled to nothing.

  The wisest course would be to climb back up the stairs and hope Sebastian hadn’t noticed she’d tried to leave, but all her strength had deserted her. Weary in both body and spirit, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and hope the last five days had been nothing more than a bad dream.

  “Are you well, my lady?” Sebastian’s deep, kind voice sealed her fate.

  She dashed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, then forced herself to look up and meet his rueful, sympathetic gaze.

  “I was trying to escape.” She did her best to insert some sort of spirit into her words. He’d caught her in the act; she might as well own up to her folly.

  “I see that.” He knelt beside her, a glimmer of a smile curving his beautiful mouth. “Do not worry; you are not the first to be laid low by my magic door.”

  “Magic?” She gave a shaky laugh, glad to see he didn’t appear angry. “More like a clever trick.”

  “Ah,” he murmured, his smile fading. “I am afraid you have found me out. I am no sorcerer, just a clever fraud.”

  His words held a touch of sadness and self-derision that didn’t seem warranted or appropriate to the situation. He had nothing to be ashamed of, yet she sensed he was. Blinking up at him in confusion, she let the thought go, too exhausted to pursue it.

  “What are you going to do with me now?”

  He sighed and sank back on his heels, staring at her from behind the curtain of his impossibly long, dark lashes. Such dazzling eyes. She wished she could sink into their cool, emerald depths.

  “I would request you return upstairs with me,” he told her softly. “You need to sleep. I swear to keep you safe.”

  “Can’t I sleep here? I don’t think I have the strength to push myself up off this floor.”

  “You cannot sleep on the cold stone.” Exasperation laced his voice. “I suppose I will have to carry you.”

  He didn’t sound any happier about the prospect than she was. Not only did she doubt his ability to carry her weight up the steep, twisting stairs, she feared the intimacy such a thing would involve. So far, he hadn’t touched her, and she thought it best if he didn’t. She might be far too tempted to rest her head upon that broad chest and give herself completely into his care.

  “I won’t be carried like a child.” Bracing her hands on the floor, she marshaled the last of her reserves and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed unsteadily as the room spun around her.

  Sebastian stepped forward, his face darkening with concern. She tried once again to tell him she was all right, that she didn’t need his help, but the words wouldn’t come. Blackness swamped the edges of her vision and her legs buckled beneath her.

  * * * * *

  Sebastian caught the girl in his arms as she collapsed. She gave him no time to think, no time to do anything but react.

  He stumbled backward, bracing his shoulders against the wall as he struggled to adjust to her weight and the feel of her soft curves pressed against him from chest to thigh. Her breath puffed softly, intimately, against his throat.

  Overwhelming memories — both good and bad — swamped him.

  Jesu, have mercy.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to will his overheated body into submission, reminding himself she certainly had not wanted to end up in his arms. It did not help. With his eyes closed, the rest of his senses became more acute. Every deep breath drew her womanly scent deep into his lungs, and his skin burned with sensation. He wanted to run his hands and mouth over every inch of her, but he managed to step away from the wall and cross the room.

  What sort of a lecherous beast was he, to have such inappropriate thoughts about an unconscious woman? He mounted the stairs, cradling the girl to his chest, and then laid her upon his bed, staring down at her in dismay. He pressed his fingertips upon the slim column of her throat, relieved to find her pulse beating steadily beneath her pale, luminous skin.

  No doubt she had fainted from sheer exhaustion, but he worried for her anyway. She had been through a terrible ordeal during the last few days. Crossing the room, he wet a cloth in the kettle of warm water which still simmered on the fire, wrung out the excess, returned to her side and bathed her lovely face.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and confused. “What happened?”

  He moved away from her, stunned by the strength of his relief. “You collapsed. Fainted dead away.”

  “I’m sorry.” She made a valiant effort to sit up. “I didn’t want you to carry me, and I certainly don’t want to steal your bed.”

  “Do not be foolish.” He placed his hand upon her shoulder and pressed her back against the furs with gentle insistence. “You are no heavier than a sack of flour, and I am just glad to see that you are well. Besides, I do not sleep much.”

  “Why not?” She glanced up at him with what appeared to be genuine concern.

  He gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. “Bad dreams, I suppose.”

  She frowned, looking as though she would like to ask more questions, but her eyelids fluttered, then drifted closed once again. Within moments, her breath leveled off into deep sleep.

  He scrubbed a hand across his face, relieved. He could not believe he had told her about his nightmares, did not understand how she had so easily breached the defenses he had spent so many years erecting.

  The temptation to touch her again, to run his hands across her soft skin or investigate the strange fabric she wore, grew so strong he forced himself to back away from the bed. Better to have left her in the dungeon than to have introduced such chaos into his orderly life. She made him remember the press of bare skin to bare skin, the blissful ecstasy to be found in the arms of another.

  Until she had come into his life, he had not realized how lonely he had become.

  But
what was he to do with her? Sighing, he turned back to the fireplace, stoked the embers into a roaring flame, and forced himself to focus on mundane tasks instead of his rioting emotions.

  She would be hungry when she woke. God knew how long it had been since she’d had a nourishing meal. Starvation had probably contributed to her weakness. She did not seem the type of girl to faint on a whim. He would make her a hearty stew, and then brew a tisane for her discomfort.

  Once he had put a fresh kettle of water on to boil, he grabbed her amazing light stick and traipsed back down to the ground floor of the tower, where he kept his herbs and flowers. He shone the light in a slow circle around the room, assuring himself she had not found the hidden passageway to the hot springs that lay deep below the castle. Fortunately, the large cabinet that hid the tunnel appeared untouched.

  The lever on the floor that opened the door was harder to conceal. Whoever had built the castle had obviously felt no need to hide it, since anyone who might see it would already be in the tower.

  The ancients obviously never had to contain a beautiful, infuriating siren within these walls.

  A small smile curved his lips as he remembered finding her in a pathetic little heap in front of the door. I was trying to escape. So brave, even when thoroughly caught.

  He would have to keep a better eye on her in the future, because the only thing that had kept her from getting away from him tonight was sheer exhaustion. She had been too tired to think clearly, had given up when she could not open the door. If he gave her another chance, she would certainly prove more resourceful.

  With a grunt of effort, he moved one of his heavy drying tables over the floor lever, so that she could not find it.

  That problem temporarily solved, he filled a basket with onions, garlic, and parsley he had harvested from the castle garden a few days ago. He also tossed in a slab of ham he had taken in payment for a love potion he had brewed for a silly village lad. That should make a nice stew.

  What to put in the tisane? Lavender and valerian for pain. Mint to help her rest. Rose petals for aches and to calm her nerves. Essential oil of clove to strengthen the heart.